Page 42 of The Cosy Christmas Chocolate Shop

‘Yep, I’ll give that a try. Thanks.’

They got their drinks, Max insisting on paying, and Emma led them across to a table in the far corner. If they were going to hit the village grapevine soon, she didn’t want every last word of their conversation repeated too.

The pub must hardly have changed since the fishermen came in centuries ago, with its low ceiling, dark-wood bar, slate floor, wooden tables and chairs – but at least some of the chairs had comfy seat pads now and a real fire was lit at each end of the room. They had opened out a new area for eating some years ago, which had lovely views out over the bay, and in the summer months there was a beer garden where you could enjoy fish and chips or crab sandwiches whilst you watched the boats bobbing in the harbour.

Old sepia photos on the walls showed the weathered fisherfolk of years gone by. The nets, the cobles, the smoking house for the kippers. There were only a few working boats and fishermen left now.

Max sat down in an old-fashioned spindle-backed wooden chair beside a small round table with a beaten copper top. ‘Was it just me, or were everybody’s eyes following us then?’

‘Hah, yes. They were sussing you out. It’s a small village. And they probably haven’t seen me with a man in here before.’

‘Ah, really? I thought they’d be queueing up.’ He grinned.

‘Not quite.’ She tried to keep her tone light. ‘I’ve kept myself to myself for a while.’ That was as much as she intended saying on that particular matter. ‘Anyway, by tomorrow the Warkton-by-the-Sea grapevine will be in full swing. And they’ll be checking you out while you’re here, too. You put a foot wrong and I daren’t think what will happen!’ She wasn’t joking either. It was like having your own personal team of minders, or sometimes snoopers. The community spirit was great here, but at times it could feel a little overwhelming.

‘I could be attacked with a draughts board or anything,’ Max joked.

‘They have a darts team too. So be extra nice to me.’ She smiled.

‘Oh, crikey.’

They chatted for a while, about the village, her shop, how she got into making chocolate and the courses she went on to train in its craft. She purposely avoided any mention of the main event that had altered her world so dramatically, that had changed the course of her life for good – just kept it vague about wanting a change of career. She moved the conversation on to talk about how things quietened off in October tourist-wise and how that gave her the chance to build up her stocks in advance, ready for the Christmas boom.

Emma felt she’d said enough about herself and wanted to find out some more about Max. ‘So, you mentioned you have a building business, yeah? What are you working on at the moment?’

‘We’re halfway through two new-builds. Need to get them done in time for Christmas. As well as a big extension and renovation to a town house down in Jesmond, in the suburbs of Newcastle-upon-Tyne, for a friend of a friend. And there’s a couple of new jobs I need to go and price, ready to start in the New Year.’

‘Sounds pretty busy.’

‘It is. But I’m not complaining. After the recession in the building trade this is food for the soul. I like being busy. In fact, I need to be getting off soon for an early start tomorrow. So my next drink will have to be a Coke. Can I get you another wine?’

She must have been nervous as she realised that she had nearly gulped the first glass down already.

‘Yeah, sure, but let me get them this time.’ Emma reached for her purse.

‘Okay, thanks, but at least let me go to the bar.’

‘Thank you.’ She passed him a ten-pound note. Then took a sneaky look at his rear in jeans as he strode to the bar; slightly rounded and firm, very nice. She quickly averted her gaze as she realised one of the locals had clocked her. A middle-aged lady with brassy-blonde hair who waitressed sometimes at the café in the next village was sitting on a stool at the bar. In fact, it was probably Max who the woman was clocking judging from the intent, slightly hungry look on her face as he approached the bar. He did make a fine figure of a man, Emma had to admit.

Was this just a quick trip to a place he liked, to say ‘hello’ whilst he was here, but then head back to his life, his work? Would she ever see him again after tonight? And, would that matter?

Max came back over with the drinks, then settled himself into his chair by the fire, stretching out his long legs. He sat quietly for a while, as if he was thinking about something.

‘Emma, when I didn’t come back for all those months …’

He had her full attention now.

‘I wanted to, but I was with someone. That day, I was down there on the beach, just thinking about it all.’

Emma felt a jolt of shock. So, there was someone else involved. She really didn’t know this guy, did she?

‘We’d had Christmas together,’ he continued. ‘We were staying in a cottage just outside of Warkton. It was meant to be romantic and special, a chance to chill out and relax, but it turned into a bit of a nightmare. I had to get out that morning, get some air, do some thinking. I knew inside that the relationship was wrong, that we weren’t going anywhere. But it seemed pretty cruel to jack it all in just before Christmas, so I went along with it. But the holiday wasn’t great, just went to prove how far apart we were. Different values, different goals …’

‘But, you kissed me – and you were with someone then?’ It started to sink in. All the while, her lovely memories of that kiss, and he’d been seeing someone at the time.

‘I know. It took me by surprise too that day. Meeting you … you were just so different, like a breath of fresh air. Like I’d dreamed you up or something crazy. It just proved, even more so, that I had to finish it. I was all set to tell her. But when I got back to the cottage, I found her in pieces – she’d just had a call from her mum. Her dad had been rushed to hospital. He’d had a stroke.’ Max paused.

‘Oh no, I’m so sorry.’