Page 30 of The Cosy Christmas Chocolate Shop

‘Naturally. But hey, keep going. Chin up, sis. Your chocolates are just amazing. Just look at how thrilled the girls are with those brilliant Easter Bunnies.’

‘Thank you.’

‘And if you need any help at all, me and Chlo are always here. Even if you need a short-term loan or something.’

‘Thanks, but it’s not quite come to that yet.’ The last thing she wanted to do was to borrow from her brother without knowing how on earth she might pay it back. She would keep trying and thinking of schemes, but at times it all felt like a juggling act – keeping the shop financed, supplied, and stocked with all the gorgeous chocolate creations she needed to make. With the massive rent hike, the end of every month was always tainted with anxiety and angst over finances; she was working all hours as it was, but it never seemed to be quite enough.

17

It was a Saturday afternoon in late May. The Easter boost to finances had now been spent and Emma had managed to pay most of this month’s rent payment and was intending to send over the final £100 after this weekend, when she’d have – hopefully – taken it over the till. It would only be a day or so late.

Emma and Holly were both in the shop, Em just putting a tray of Baileys white chocolate truffles into the refrigerated counter, when she spotted the unmistakeably greasy head of Mr Neil (the Eel) lurking outside the shop window. She stayed low, hidden by the glass counter and the rows of chocolate therein, watching his next move.

As he pushed the shop door open, she ducked down to the floor right beside Holly’s legs. Her assistant gave her a quick, confused glance but then seemed to realise what was going on.

‘The Eel,’ Emma managed a low whisper.

Holly’s face settled into a pasted-on smile. ‘Good afternoon. How can I help you?’

‘Can I speak with Emma, please?’

‘Oh, I’m sorry, she had to pop out to Alnwick this afternoon.’ Holly was cool as a cucumber, though Emma was in fact a quivering wreck at her feet. This was no place for a thirty-something grown woman, but it had been her first instinct, and she just couldn’t face him and his snide comments today.

‘She had to do some banking,’ Holly followed up.

It was a Saturday, were the banks even open? Em mused.

‘Interesting …’ He let the word linger.

God, he was such a sleazeball.

‘Well, when might she be back?’

‘Umm, might be an hour or so … she did mention a couple of other errands she had to run as well.’ Bless her, Holly was keeping it deliberately vague.

‘Hmm, I may well call back in later. But,’ he added almost to himself, ‘I do have another appointment – very inconvenient.’

Well, if he’d said he was calling … Em thought from her coiled, extremely uncomfortable position on the floor … she’d have really made sure she was in Alnwick!

‘I’ll be phoning. And there may well be a letter to follow. Will you make sure to tell her I called, it’s a Mr Neil.’

‘Eel, yes,’ Holly mouthed as though repeating his name, which nearly made Em chuckle out loud and reveal her hiding place. ‘I will do.’ Holly held her nerve and gave another helpful smile.

Em held her breath as there seemed to be a second or two where he lurked beside the counter, then she heard footsteps retreating, and the chime of the door. As the door swung to a close, Holly announced brightly, ‘Mr Eel has called.’

Em stayed low, just in case he popped back for a second check, but she had to laugh.

‘That was far too close for comfort,’ she said to Holly. ‘Keep an eye out for a little while, he may well come back.’ And with that she crawled on hands and knees towards the back hallway, heading for the safe-zone of the kitchen. ‘We’ll need some kind of code if he does,’ she added.

‘Jellied eels?’ Holly laughed.

‘Yes, jellied eels it is – but won’t that sound a bit odd if you just shout it out as he comes in? Like you’ve got Tourette’s or something?’

‘I could sing it, like I’m just singing along to the radio.’ And with that she launched into ‘Oh, je-llied eels’ in the tones of ‘And so, Sally can wait’ from Oasis’s ‘Don’t Look Back in Anger’. Emma poked her head back in to the shop and they laughed together. Emma knew she had to laugh, or else she might just end up choking with tears – the threat to her beloved shop was very real.

‘I’m sorry to hear that the shop’s having to close, pet.’ Old Mrs Clark had just ambled up to the counter and was still slightly out of breath from her walk up the hill. ‘It’s a bit of a bugger, that.’

‘Pardon?’ Emma was taken aback.