Page 101 of The Cosy Christmas Chocolate Shop

‘It’s a great place, isn’t it?’ Max said.

‘Have you been here much before?’

‘Just a couple of times. The food is always good.’

‘I’m sure it will be.’ She wondered then who he’d been there with. Siobhan, maybe, and weirdly felt a twinge of jealousy. But the past needed to stay exactly where it was tonight. Tonight was a night for moving forwards.

Emma ordered a scallop starter and turbot with a hollandaise sauce for main, Max, a crab cocktail, followed by seafood ‘Frito Misto’ – ‘fried in delicate breadcrumbs’. They were served homemade breads whilst they sat chatting, and Max asked for two glasses of Chablis, checking that Emma liked that. ‘If it’s a dry white, that’ll be fine,’ she said, smiling. She’d possibly had some at her parents’ before, but expensive wines were not something she could indulge in lately.

They chatted about work, the busy build-up to the festive season in The Chocolate Shop, their plans for Christmas. Emma realised she hadn’t actually got that far yet, but perhaps she ought to invite James and his family and her parents and cook a roast turkey dinner for them; after all, they had helped her so much this year. Yes, that’d be nice. In fact, having two days off in a row for Christmas and Boxing Day would be absolute bliss.

Max said he was likely to be staying at his parents’ house over Christmas; they lived in Morpeth, about forty minutes away from Warkton, and as he was an only child, they’d no doubt be looking forward to spoiling him. His mum was a good cook, so he said he’d be well fed and looked after. It sounded like he was on the meals-for-one syndrome too – something quick and easy after work.

‘So, what do you cook, then?’ Emma was curious. ‘Or is it all ready meals and takeaways?’

‘Hey, cheeky. I can cook! It’s just not that inspiring after a full day on site sometimes. But I can make a mean curry, from scratch I’m talking. I make a passable roast chicken. And pasta, yeah, bolognese, carbonara – I can manage those. Otherwise quite a few jars come in handy. Or yes, I confess, the takeaway down the road.’

‘It’s okay. I like cooking, but after a whole day making and serving chocolates, sometimes it’s just cheese and biscuits for me, or something easy on toast. So tonight is a real treat.’

The starters were served, and Emma was soon tucking into the most exquisite scallops thermidor, with flavours of cream and cheese, and the most juicy scallops.

‘Well, this is certainly a step up from beans on toast. Delicious.’

Max’s crab was served in a large v-shaped cocktail glass, with a crab claw and a huge shell-on prawn hung decoratively over the side of the glass that looked amazing.

The food was fabulous. Emma’s turbot was served with crisp-cooked asparagus and yummy herb-buttered new potatoes and Max’s plate was piled with a selection of seafood all in a light crispy-coating of breadcrumbs. Emma tried a piece of calamari, which she’d never had before because she’d feared it might be rubbery from its thick, elastic-looking appearance, but it wasn’t; it was more like a delicate white-meat ring. Oh, it was good to try new things, new places, new experiences.

‘I’ve never been anywhere as nice as this,’ she admitted.

‘Well, you deserve to. Just relax and enjoy it. And tonight is my treat, okay?’

‘I will, and thank you.’ And with that she dipped another forkful of her thick white flaky turbot into the superb hollandaise sauce, wondering if she might yet have room to try a dessert. She didn’t want this experience to end just yet.

‘So, how did you first discover The Chocolate Shop?’

She paused and took a sip of her wine. ‘After Luke died, I used to come up to the coast just to get away from the house, go someplace else that wasn’t too near the home that no longer felt like home, and walk Alfie. We’d go for miles. And then one day I headed further than normal and found Warkton. I was walking up the street, heading back from beach, when I saw that the little cottage with its shop was up for rent. I was already making chocolates as a hobby for all my friends – just focussing on crafting something helped me get by – and everybody seemed to love the end result. I saw the cottage and I remember that feeling of possibility, like it was something I had to do, as I wrote the number down. I got in touch with the agent, went and saw the property the next day, got myself booked on a formal chocolatier course. I had some savings, which I used to buy the equipment I needed to set up the shop, and the rest, as they say, is history.’

‘Good for you.’

They clinked glasses.

She realised then that her life in the past six years had focussed on work, work, work. It had kept her days structured, kept her busy, and she’d felt safe in its day-to-day confines, but this evening was just lovely, spending a little time out away from the shop, however much she loved her job. And her world was suddenly full of maybes, of new possibilities, all stacked up for her. She still wasn’t sure if she was scared or excited, but she knew she had to give it a try.

46

It was Friday evening, just before closing, when a call came from Adam.

‘Emma, we’ve had a bit of a nightmare here at the hotel. I really need your help.’

‘Okay, what’s happened?’

‘A mouse, or probably a whole family of bloody mice by the looks of it, got into the storeroom and had a right go at all the mini chocolate boxes for the turndowns. The little bastards – excuse my language, but they’ve made a right mess – nibbled through the boxes, pooped everywhere. We’ve had to throw the lot out – over a hundred boxes in all. That was our stocks to take us right up to Christmas. Rentokil are here right now, or we’ll be having Environmental Health on our case next.’

‘Oh, how awful, the little devils.’ Mice loved chocolate – she’d had an incident in The Chocolate Shop soon after she had bought it, when they munched their way through two very expensive packets of the chocolate callets. She had been extremely careful with storage and keeping traps down ever since.

Damn, Emma had been looking forward to a few hours’ chill out with Max, who was probably heading up from work right now. It had been one hell of a week and her wrists were aching from crafting chocolates every day as it was. She could feel a very late night coming on, and was racking her brains, wondering if she had enough supplies to make an extra two hundred or so chocolates out of the blue.

‘Okay. Leave it with me, Adam. I’ll do my best. I can get you, say, the first fifty boxes for now and some more in a few days’ time, because I’ll probably need to buy in extra supplies, and being the weekend …’ She let the words drift.