Page 40 of The Cosy Christmas Chocolate Shop

‘It’s over now … I hadn’t forgotten you.’ His green eyes held her own. They seemed earnest, trustworthy, but how could you tell?

Me neither, she thought but didn’t say. She felt fragile, unsure of what was going on here.

‘Right.’ She finally spoke. She wanted to know more, but they’d only just met and it didn’t seem right to launch into twenty questions. She realised she hardly knew this guy at all: most of it had been created in her own mind.

‘Well then, tell me all about life here at Warkton?’ He sounded like he wanted the focus off him. ‘What’s been happening here? It looks pretty sleepy, but I bet there’s more to it than meets the eye.’ Emma felt that could apply to Max too.

‘Well, it’s been an interesting year. I’ve been trying to source some new business as well as keep the shop going. And with making all the chocolates myself, that takes a lot of time.’

‘Yeah, running your own business is never easy, is it? You work all hours, have your staff to look after, and there’s a million rules and regulations to comply with. Our industry is a health and safety nightmare, keeping up with all the latest stipulations. Only right, really, but sometimes, honestly – how to climb a ladder training, how to hold a hammer?’ He gave a wry grin. ‘We’ve been climbing ladders and hammering nails in for twenty bloody years and now we’ve got to train for it?’

‘Tell me about it. I’ve got to keep up with all the health and hygiene regs, and all sorts. It’s not just making chocolate. I didn’t know the half of it when I started.’

‘I bet.’

‘I do love it, though. Can’t imagine doing anything else now. And yes, though the hours are long, it’s great knowing the business is mine and I can run it how I want. There’s no one to tell me what to do.’

They passed a middle-aged couple out walking their terrier. Said a brief ‘hello’ as the dogs circled each other, then resumed their stroll.

‘What did you do before then? I take it you came to chocolatiering from another career.’

‘Yes, I was a teacher. Secondary modern. I used to teach home tech, so cookery basically. That was the link really, baking, trying out recipes with chocolate.’

‘Ah, okay.’

‘Now teaching, a whole other ball game, that was. I didn’t mind the actual teaching of the kids. But the powers that be kept changing the rules, and the testing and paper trails you needed to record and monitor everything … The worst thing was, you’d just get used to one way, and then the whole system would change again. For me, it just felt that teaching had lost its heart, somehow. And then – then life changed for me, personally.’ She stopped. It was her turn to hold back, realising she had said too much already.

Max politely left it at that, for which she was grateful, turning the conversation to movies and music.

They reached the far end of the bay where the rock pools started and carpets of lime-green seaweed clung to craggy outcrops, making walking over them slippery and dangerous. Alfie wasn’t put off, however, and dived in to one of the deeper pools, then came out to shake himself off vigorously beside them – an arc of spray showering them with salty droplets.

‘Thanks, Alfie.’ Max shook his head.

‘Oops, sorry,’ Emma added. They both laughed. ‘Think we’ll turn around here,’ Emma continued. ‘It’s probably time to be heading back, anyhow.’

The light was fading fast. A hint of dusky peach framed smudgy-grey clouds above a lilting sea. The evening colours were soft and fluid, like a watercolour painting, and already an autumn inkiness was creeping into the horizon. A solitary tern swooped gently above them in the sky. It was calm, peaceful.

Emma felt comfortable walking along beside Max, chatting. She found out he was an only child and his family now lived in the Morpeth area, but he’d been brought up in Newcastle. She mentioned her brother and his family. As they talked, she took a sneaky glance at Max’s tall frame, his dark, cropped hair, lightly stubbled chin. He had a presence about him, and a calm inner strength as well as that muscular build that she had to admit was very attractive.

Nearing the car park now, and she felt a little nervous flutter in her stomach. Might he try and kiss her? Would it be as lovely as last time, or feel awkward?

‘So, are you still up for coming out for a drink later?’

Should she? It had been really nice chatting and walking. He was easy company, and that way she’d get the chance to get to know him a bit more. But this was such unknown territory. Her very sporadic other dates had fallen flat on their faces since Luke. This felt strangely different, her emotions confused to say the least.

‘Okay, yes,’ she found herself saying. ‘That’d be nice. The Fisherman’s Arms in the village is good.’

‘Great, I’m staying at a B&B down the road in Beadnell, so I can easily pop back. I’ll go and shower and freshen up. Just say a time that suits.’

She had a sudden image of what he might look like all wet and naked in that shower, and felt her cheeks flame. ‘Oh …’ She checked her watch. ‘Let’s say eight o’clock at the The Fisherman's Arms. It’s just along from the harbour.’

‘Yes, I know it,’ he replied.

And they were there, back at the dune car park, virtually at the same spot as Boxing Day, and a knot of hopeful anxiety clutched inside her.

He moved to give her a very gentlemanly kiss on the cheek, his aftershave and the slight scratch of stubble provoking a flood of memories. But before it developed to something more she stepped away: she needed time to think about all this, not rush in.

‘It’s been lovely to see you again,’ she managed.