The Chocolate Lovers' Diet

by Carole Matthews

  He stops struggling and there’s a muffled, ‘Eth,’ from the depths of the towel.

  ‘Now calm down like a good boy,’ she tells him, ‘and someone will let you out real soon.’ Chantal gives his bonds the once-over again. Looking good.

  Checking that the coast is clear, we all exit the cupboard. As a finishing touch, Autumn holds up a sign that says NOT IN USE. ‘Found this,’ she says, speaking in a stage whisper. ‘Thought it might come in useful.’

  Our friend hangs it on the door knob at a jaunty angle. Tiptoeing away from the cupboard, we all huddle together. Nadia rubs her hands together in the manner of a job well done. ‘Do you think that will hold him until we’re out of here?’

  ‘I hope so,’ Chantal replies. ‘Let’s pray that the housekeeping staff don’t need any fresh towels until the morning.’

  ‘It’s a quiet corridor, so not many people are likely to come this way,’ I point out. ‘I just hope there’s no one waiting in his room for him.’

  ‘The thought of it makes me shudder,’ Chantal says.

  ‘I just had a horrible thought too,’ I say to my friend. ‘That man could be the father of your child.’

  ‘Don’t remind me.’ Chantal shivers. ‘I hope to God that it’s anyone but him.’

  ‘Bloody hell,’ I say. ‘This is too much excitement for one day. My heart’s still banging in my chest.’

  ‘Mine too,’ Chantal adds with a weary exhalation.

  ‘My knees have turned to jelly,’ Nadia says.

  ‘Do you think he’ll cause trouble for us?’ Autumn, out of all of us, looks the most concerned.

  Chantal shakes her head. ‘Not if he knows what’s good for him.’

  ‘Collectively, we’ve had three run-ins with him so far. The score is two to the members of The Chocolate Lovers’ Club and only one to the handsome criminal. I think he should realise that he’s no match for us.’

  We all enjoy a good laugh to relieve the pressure. ‘I have to go back to the party,’ I say. ‘See what else has gone wrong in my absence. Come on.’

  ‘You go on,’ Chantal says. ‘We’ll be right behind you.’

  ‘Don’t be long,’ I tell them. ‘There’s still a chocolate fountain for us to decimate.’

  As I leave, I don’t see my good friend bend down to pick up my little silk bag that I dropped in the struggle with Mr Smith. The girls wait until I’m out of sight, then Chantal pulls my mobile phone out of it and brandishes it, gleefully, at the others.

  ‘If Lucy won’t phone Crush,’ she says to Nadia and Autumn as she flicks through the list of numbers, ‘then I think it’s about time that we did.’

  Chapter Eighty

  ‘Thanks for looking after Lewis,’ Nadia said to Jacob. Her son was on the dance floor, strutting his funky stuff with Jacob who was holding carefully onto his small charge’s hands. One of them, she noted, had a very cute, wiggly bottom – and it wasn’t necessarily her son. The sounds of Madonna’s ‘Like a Virgin’ pumped out. The way her son was dancing, he didn’t seem unduly worried that it wasn’t ‘Bob the Builder’.

  ‘No worries,’ Jacob said, slightly breathlessly.

  ‘Come and sit down, Lewis,’ Nadia said.

  ‘Don’t go yet,’ Jacob urged. ‘Let’s all dance together.’

  She shrugged her shoulders and smiled. ‘Okay.’ So she joined Jacob and her son, taking hold of one of Lewis’s hands and not objecting when Jacob reached out and took her other one. They danced in a cosy circle to Britney Spears, Beyoncé and the Black-Eyed Peas. Laughing, Nadia felt freer than she’d done in months. Yes, she was grieving – but there was a release in there too after the stress of trying to deal with Toby’s gambling. All that was finished. She had no need to worry now.

  When the music slowed to Robbie Williams’s ‘Angels’, Jacob pulled them both in close. He hoisted Lewis up to his shoulder and they huddled tightly together, both embracing her son as they moved slowly in time to the music. Jacob’s hand rested lightly on her shoulder but Nadia could feel the heat from it. It felt so good to be touched by a man again. He wasn’t coming on to her – there was nothing salacious in his touch, just warmth, caring and concern. She’d missed Toby so much today, but she’d managed to get through it all relatively unscathed. There would be hard days to come, no doubt, but she knew that she’d be able to cope. A tear came to her eye and she squeezed her son. She noticed that both of his arms were around Jacob’s neck. Perhaps Lewis would miss a man in his life even more than she would.

  Jacob ran his thumb tenderly under her jaw. ‘Chin up,’ he said softly. ‘You’ll both be fine.’

  ‘We will,’ she answered. ‘It’ll just take time.’

  ‘If you ever need anything,’ he said, ‘you only have to ask. I know that you have all of your friends – and they’re great. But there are some things for which you need a man.’

  Nadia gave him a sideways glance. Maybe he was thinking of making a pass at her, after all.

  ‘That came out wrong.’ Jacob laughed. His eyes were sparkly, sincere. Nadia could see why Chantal had been tempted to pay handsomely for his services. She should ask her friend one day whether he was good value. ‘I’ve definitely given up my old profession. What I meant to say was that I’m pretty handy with a hammer and a drill. I can lift heavy objects too.’

  Nadia relaxed and laughed too. ‘Always an attractive attribute in a man.’

  ‘Just call me,’ he said, ‘if you ever need any help. As a friend – nothing more. No strings. I mean it.’

  ‘I’ll remember that,’ she replied. He spun them both round again. Lewis shrieked with laughter. ‘Thanks, Jacob.’ Nadia reached up and kissed him lightly on the cheek. ‘You’re a really great guy.’

  The tempo had been upped again and the dance floor was full. Now they were bopping again to Kylie’s ‘Can’t Get You Out of My Head’. Nadia was la-la-la-ing along quite happily. She didn’t think she’d danced like this for years. She was really getting into her stride, remembering long-forgotten moves when suddenly a fist came out of nowhere and cannoned straight into Jacob’s jaw.

  Ted stood over him. ‘That’s for having an affair with my wife,’ he shouted at him above the thump of the disco. ‘And for possibly being the father of my child.’

  With that, Ted marched away.

  Jacob lay on the dance floor, stunned, rubbing at his jaw.

  ‘Cool,’ Lewis said, jumping up and down with excitement.

  Nadia bent to help him sit up. ‘Are you okay?’ It was a stupid question, she realised. The guy had just been knocked flat.

  ‘What was that all about?’

  ‘Sounds like the game might be up,’ Nadia said. ‘Ted suspected that you and Chantal might have had something going. I don’t think he knows all the details though.’ Jacob’s hourly rate was probably still a secret. And the fact that he once had an hourly rate.

  Jacob was still looking dazed. That Ted packed a mean punch. ‘What did he say about a child?’

  Nadia pursed her lips. ‘Maybe you need to talk to Chantal about that,’ she advised.

  Chapter Eighty-One

  I’m deliciously, gloriously and thoroughly pissed. Hurrah. And I’m hogging the chocolate fountain. Lovely, scrummy chocolate is cascading before my eyes, filling my vision, and I’m gorging myself with strawberries, marshmallows and fudge slathered with the stuff. Yum. I let the molten chocolate drizzle over my tongue. Yum. Yum. Yum. I’m sure I have a ring of chocolate right round my mouth in the style of a messy five year old.

  I cast one slightly squiffy eye back to the proceedings on the dance floor. My parents are flirting outrageously as they gyrate to ‘He Wasn’t Man Enough’ – which, again, my mum is singing along with way too enthusiastically. She’s waggling her bosoms at my father in a manner that’s not altogether seemly for a wedding. Perhaps she’s working on the theory that this, technically, isn’t one and so has thrown caution to the wind. I can’t see The Millionaire anywhere in sight. He seems, probably wisely, to ha
ve disappeared into the night. My dad’s other half, The Hairdresser, is currently rubbing herself up and down against Marcus’s dad – giving Dave the Groper every chance to live up to his nickname, even though it seems he acquired it somewhat unfairly. My absent groom’s mother, Hilary the Hun, is currently wrapped around Clive like one of those creepers that try to squeeze the life out of hapless trees. She appears to be in the process of trying to convince him that he isn’t really gay. What’s happening to everyone? Have they all been drinking too deeply at the chocolate fountain and are all loved-up inappropriately on its aphrodisiac qualities?

  Clive looks over Hilary the Hun’s shoulder and mouths to me, ‘Help!’

  I smile and decline to rescue him. Being manhandled by a forceful woman might well take his mind off Tristan’s ill-timed departure with the beefy drag queen, Raunchy Roberta. When everything gets back to normal, I’ll introduce Clive to my hairdresser, Darren, as I’m sure they’d have a lot in common or, at least, Clive might be able to get free haircuts for a while. New haircut, new man – that usually works out well. It’s probably the same for both sexes.

  Out of the corner of my eye, in the car park, I see Marcus trudging across the gravel. I’ve never seen anyone look quite so alone. The morning suit has gone and he’s wearing jeans and a shirt that I bought for him. He seems like a man who has the weight of the world on his shoulders – as well he might. In his hand is his small suitcase and I watch as he loads it into the boot of his car. I wonder, will he go on our honeymoon by himself; or will he take Joanne or some other woman with him? I try to feel jealous or angry, but I only feel sadness.

  Marcus walks round to the driver’s door, opens it and then takes a good long look back at Trington Manor. Can he see that his dreams have gone up in smoke, like mine have?

  It would be so easy to go out there – right now. If I ran straight away, I could stop him before he drove off. I could tell him that I’ve changed my mind and that despite his betrayals and his abandonment that I will give him yet another chance. My stomach is gripped with a feeling of panic. I know that I’m watching Marcus walk out of my life for ever. My heart is thudding erratically. If I want to stop him, if I have any desire to keep him in my life, then my brain needs to do something to make my feet move.

  My ex-lover, ex-fiancé, ex-everything gives one last rueful glance at the hotel and then he sees me watching him through the window. He raises his hand in an uncertain wave. I hold my fingertips up against the glass. Marcus blows me a long and lingering kiss. If I could move, I might reciprocate, but I don’t. I stay frozen like a statue. His mouth moves and I think he’s saying, ‘I love you,’ but I can’t hear him any more.

  With that, Marcus lowers his eyes and turns away. He slides into his car and closes the door. I can’t hear his car start either, but I imagine him putting the key in the ignition and firing the engine. I’m still standing in the same spot as I see Marcus steer his way smoothly round the curve of the drive, missing all the flowerbeds, and out of the ornate gates. A tear squeezes out of my eye, rolling slowly over my cheek as I watch him until he’s out of sight, a tiny speck of darkness in the distance.

  Good grief, I need more to drink. I think you’ll agree that it’s been quite a day. Grabbing another glass of champagne, I swig some down. Taking another one of the dear little cocktail sticks provided, I spear a strawberry and dip it into the flowing chocolate. Then I decide ‘to hell with it’ and ditch the cocktail sticks and the strawberries and simply stick my tongue into the delicious stream. Chocolate fills my mouth, running over my chin and splashing all over my wedding dress. I think some ricochets into my hair. I want to be drunk on chocolate. To feel it inside and out of me. The sensation is wonderfully decadent and, frankly, I’d like to strip off all my clothes and stand naked under it. Perhaps that would be the perfect ending to the proceedings – though it might shock the vicar.

  ‘Hello, Little Miss Plastered,’ a voice behind me says. A voice I know so well.

  I spin round. A bit unsteadily. ‘Crush?’

  Are my eyes deceiving me? There, grinning widely and standing right in front of me, taking in my chocolate-y mouth, my chocolate-y wedding dress and my chocolate-y hair is, indeed, Mr Aiden Holby.

  Chapter Eighty-Two

  ‘Ohmigod! It’s you! What are you doing here?’ I babble. ‘How did you get here?’

  ‘Your friends called me and invited me,’ Crush says. ‘And I drove here.’ He smiles tenderly at me. ‘You look a little worse for wear, Gorgeous.’

  I burst into tears. ‘I’ve had a very terrible day.’

  Crush grabs hold of a napkin from next to the chocolate fountain. He gently brushes my tears away and then traces round my mouth with a corner of the fabric, wiping away all the traces of chocolate. I cry a bit more at his tenderness.

  Then he takes me into his strong arms. ‘Ssh, ssh. I’m here to make it better,’ he says softly. I blub some more. Crush holds me tightly even though I’m probably putting chocolate all over his lovely, lovely suit. He starts to circle us slowly in time to Toni Braxton’s ‘Unbreak My Heart’ which happens to be playing. I think of making a token protest, but by now, most of my guests are so drunk that they don’t even bat an eyelid that I’m smooching with another man.

  ‘Marcus stood me up at the altar,’ I snuffle.

  ‘I know. I know.’ Crush smooths my hair from my face. ‘I’m so sorry, Lucy.’

  ‘I’m not,’ I sniff. ‘I’m glad really. It would have been the wrong thing to do.’

  ‘It would,’ he agrees. ‘Actually, I’m not sorry at all. I’m deliriously happy. I couldn’t stand the thought of you being married to Marcus, and although I wouldn’t have wished this on you, I’m pleased that the wedding didn’t go ahead. I couldn’t wait to get down here when Chantal phoned me. Good job you never took my name out of your contacts list.’

  I smile. ‘Isn’t it.’

  ‘I probably could have flown here without the aid of a plane, I was so high on joy.’

  ‘You don’t think I’m horrible and unlovable?’

  ‘No,’ he says. ‘I think you’re gorgeous. I always have.’

  ‘I thought I’d blown it with you. I thought that we wouldn’t be able to make it.’

  ‘Ssh.’ He puts a finger to my now chocolate-free lips. ‘That’s all in the past.’

  ‘I’m sorry for all the stupid things I’ve ever done.’

  Aiden laughs. ‘That’s why I love you.’

  ‘You love me?’

  ‘I do,’ he says.

  ‘I do too.’ I’ve gone all moony. ‘Love you, I mean.’

  By now, the guests are moving off the dance floor until Crush and I are the only ones left. The DJ puts the spotlight on us. Then he plays ‘If I Ain’t Got You’ by Alicia Keys. Crush and I grin stupidly at the soppy lyrics. This is going to be our song.

  ‘Shame that the vicar is passed out drunk in the corner,’ Crush murmurs.

  ‘I think it’s been very stressful for him. He’s probably only used to a drop of Communion wine.’

  ‘When we get married I’d like both the vicar and you to be sober.’

  Giving Crush a sideways glance, I say, ‘Is that a proposal?’

  ‘Not yet,’ he answers. ‘But I’m dropping not-so-subtle hints so that we both start to get used to the idea.’

  I hug him as if I never want to let him go. ‘Sounds good to me.’

  At the edge of the floor, I see my fellow members of The Chocolate Lovers’ Club linking arms, swaying in unison. They all stick their thumbs up at me and I feel a laugh gurgle in my throat.

  Crush whispers in my ear, ‘Shall we get out of here, Gorgeous?’

  ‘I have a room booked for tonight,’ I say. ‘It’s not the Honeymoon Suite.’ I glance across the dance floor – my mum and dad are still entwined around each other like teenagers. Yuk. I do hope they’re not going to get down to it later. I’d hate to think that I was responsible for that. I try to block the image as I say, ‘Somehow, I
think my parents might be sharing that.’

  The music comes to a halt and all the guests applaud us – even Marcus’s mum and dad, although they’re at opposite ends of the room and are glaring at each other with unbridled hostility. Aiden and I take a bow.

  ‘Let’s split,’ he says.

  ‘I have one last task to perform,’ I tell him. ‘Wait here.’ I scurry off towards the chocolate fountain where I’ve dumped my bouquet. I wasn’t going to do this, but what the hell? Grabbing the slightly wilted flowers, I risk one last fingerful of warm chocolate to fortify myself. There’s nothing quite like chocolate to mend a broken heart. Crush winks at me as I glance back at him. Chocolate and a fabulous man telling you that he loves you, of course.

  I go back to the centre of the dance floor and strike a bouquet-tossing pose. The DJ, obligingly, puts on some bouquet-tossing music. I’m trying to aim this squarely at Autumn so that fate might formalise Addison’s vague proposal.

  ‘Ready?’ I nod in her direction

  My friend nods back. Then I turn away.

  On the count of three, I swing the bouquet and throw it gently in the air. It sails over my head and I spin round to see whether it’s going towards its intended target. Autumn has her eyes turned to the ceiling, hands held out, following the bouquet’s trajectory. I purse my lips. Looks like it’s falling a bit short to me.

  ‘Go for it!’ Chantal and Nadia shout in unison and they give Autumn a helping push forwards.

  Perhaps too much of a helping push. She stumbles forward, arms aloft. I think she’s going to fall, so I rush forward to try to catch her. Ohmigod! Now it looks as if the bouquet is going to clonk her right on the head. That bouquet is bloody heavy. I can’t let that happen. Jumping up, I reach out and snatch my bouquet from the air, saving my friend from a severe headache.

  My guests let out a cheer. ‘What?’ I say. ‘What?’ Then I realise that I’ve caught my own bouquet. How did that happen?