The Chocolate Lovers' Diet

by Carole Matthews

  Chapter Eighty-Seven

  So. Life is back to normal. We’re all gathered in Chocolate Heaven. We’ve bagged our favourite spot on the comfy sofas and have dug in for the afternoon. We have plates of chocolate brownies and chocolate chip cookies – already half-devoured – in front of us. I have some of Clive’s extra-special single Madagascar truffles working their magic. There are blissed-out smiles on all of our faces. I’m exhausted by all the excitement I’ve been through in the last few days, but I do feel – at last! – as if I’ve stepped off the emotional rollercoaster and am once more cruising aimlessly down life’s highway. I put my feet up on the coffee-table and lay back my head. This is what it all should be about.

  The only person that’s struggling in here is Clive. Tristan has officially departed with Raunchy Roberta, the drag queen – sorry, female impersonator – and our dear friend is having to manage Chocolate Heaven alone. The queue at the counter is getting steadily longer and Clive has a harassed flush to his cheeks. He’s managed to fix himself up with a date with Darren the hairdresser tonight – as they were both checking out of Trington Manor, they were checking out each other too. So it seems my skill as a matchmaker wasn’t required after all. I was worried that it might take Clive a long time to get over Tristan, but perhaps this is a long time in the gay world. I don’t know. But I do hope that he manages to shut up shop in time.

  Things are going well for me too. Crush has just texted me to say that he loves me, leaving me with a silly grin on my face. I haven’t seen my best girls for just a few days but, already, we’ve got heaps of stuff to catch up on. Aiden’s moving in tomorrow – the prospect of having a new roommate is filling me with nothing but joy and excitement. Frankly, I can hardly contain myself. I’m going to take home one of Clive’s sublime chocolate tortes to mark the occasion. Though whether it will last in the fridge overnight is a moot point. We might have to celebrate early.

  ‘I brought your ring back, Lucy,’ Autumn says. ‘Addison and I are going to pick up mine this afternoon. Thank you so much for the loan of it.’ No doubt Autumn has chosen something more ethnic, made by someone in the ‘developing world’ with a material that’s easy to recycle. But I don’t care what her engagement ring looks like, so long as she’s happy. And, patently, she is.

  I take back the huge rock that until so recently graced my finger. ‘What am I going to do with this now?’

  ‘Bank it,’ Chantal says. ‘One day you might need the money and you can sell it.’

  ‘I couldn’t do that.’

  ‘Believe me, honey, one day it will cease to have any sentimental value and it will be just an asset that you can dispose of if you want to. Marcus isn’t likely to want it back.’

  She’s probably right; he’s hardly going to pass it onto the next person he decides to get engaged to. I slip it into my handbag and think that I’ll figure out what to do with it later.

  ‘Have you set a date for the wedding yet?’ Nadia wants to know.

  Autumn shakes her head. ‘We don’t seem to have had a minute to discuss things. But one thing’s for certain – it’s going to be a very quiet affair.’

  ‘Hear, hear to that,’ I chip in.

  ‘To quiet weddings,’ Nadia says, and we all raise our mugs of hot chocolate in a toast.

  Then I pull Nadia to me. ‘You and Lewis both got through the wedding day brilliantly,’ I tell her. ‘I’m so proud of you.’

  ‘You did a good job yourself, kid,’ she says.

  ‘I did,’ I agree with a small flush of pride. ‘It was certainly a wedding to remember.’

  ‘I have a lot to thank Lucy for,’ Chantal says. ‘Ted and I decided to try to make a go of things. I’m giving up my apartment and I’m moving home again.’

  ‘This is after Ted punched out Jacob’s lights?’ I query.

  Chantal acknowledges it with a rueful smile.

  ‘Well, I’m pleased to hear that some good came of it.’

  ‘None of us wanted you to marry Marcus,’ Nadia says. ‘You’re better off without him.’

  ‘I know.’ I nod sagely. ‘You all tried to warn me.’

  ‘Any more news from the fall-out after your non-wedding?’ Chantal asks.

  ‘My mother’s moving back in with Dad,’ I say with a sigh. ‘She’s gone back to Spain to bring all her stuff over.’ That should tie up an entire fleet of removal lorries for the foreseeable future.

  ‘You don’t sound too pleased.’

  ‘I can’t see it lasting and then we’ll have to go through the upset of them splitting up all over again.’ I’m actually very worried about the possibility of my mother ending up on my couch. She’s not the easiest of people to live with and my dad seems to have forgotten all that in the heady rush brought on by a few cheesy songs and a few glasses of champagne too many. Let’s see how long their rediscovered love lasts when my mother is back in the cold, windswept fields of Blighty on my dad’s unnecessarily tight budget. He might have plenty of cash but he doesn’t like to splash it about – particularly where my mother’s concerned. Another reason why they split up in the first place. I can see that flush of love fading quicker than her tan when she’s not lounging by the pool at her eight-bedroom villa in the year-round Spanish sun with a limitless charge account and a doting Millionaire to cater for her every whim. Hmm.

  And I hope they don’t decide to have another wedding as I just don’t think I could stand the strain. With a bit of luck they’ll slink away to a desert island together and all I’ll have to do is send a card. From now on, I’m going to be permanently traumatised every time I hear the ‘Wedding March’.

  ‘The Millionaire doesn’t seem to be unduly concerned about my mother’s departure,’ I tell my friends. ‘Neither he nor Marcus’s mother have been seen since the reception.’ I wonder if Marcus’s mum got fed up with trying to convince Clive that he wasn’t gay and set her sights on the balding playboy instead. Maybe they’ve flown off somewhere wonderful in his private jet to start a new life together.

  They all laugh. ‘It’s not funny!’

  ‘I wonder how Marcus’s dad is taking it?’ Autumn worries about everyone. Frankly, I think Dave the Groper had it coming to him. Last I saw of him, he was still wrapped round The Hairdresser. Perhaps his lust will wane when he discovers she’s incapable of having a conversation that doesn’t involve straightening irons or volumising shampoo.

  ‘You haven’t heard from Marcus?’ Nadia asks.

  ‘No.’ I shake my head sadly. ‘It seems strange not to have heard anything at all from him. I don’t know where he is or who he’s with. I was going to give him a call, just to make sure he’s okay . . .’

  ‘Lucy!’ they all chorus.

  ‘But I didn’t!’ I hold up my hands. ‘I didn’t. Okay?’ But it’s hard to get my last image of Marcus walking away all alone out of my head. I know my friends would kill me if I even mentioned it . . . and who could blame them?

  Then the door opens and we all watch as Tristan walks in. Despite the fact that Clive has a great long queue, his former boyfriend goes straight to the front and announces, ‘I’ve come to collect my things.’

  ‘Fine,’ Clive says tightly over the heads of his customers. ‘Don’t let me stop you.’

  Tristan looks tired and pale, his normal ebullience missing. I wonder if it’s Raunchy Roberta who’s responsible for the downturn in his appearance. That’s got to be a whole lot of man/woman to handle. ‘I don’t have to go,’ Tristan says.

  ‘Is that your way of saying you made a mistake by running off with that . . . that . . . gorilla?’ Clive’s goatee is trembling with rage and his customers have stepped away from the counter, jaws falling open. He doesn’t wait for Tristan’s answer. ‘Don’t do me any favours. Go on, get out. Pack your bags and get out.’

  Clive reaches for a cappuccino fairy cake and hurls it, missile-like, over the counter. His customers duck for cover. Even the members of The Chocolate Lovers’ Club who, after my non-wedding, are more used t
o these displays, stop with their own chocolate cakes halfway to their mouths. Tristan covers his head with his hands as the fairy cake bounces off his brow. You can never fault the lightness of Clive’s sponge.

  ‘Ohmigod,’ I say.

  ‘I’ve learned all that I need to know about unfaithful men from Lucy,’ Clive shouts.

  Gee, I think. Glad to be of service.

  ‘I am so not going there.’

  I’m out of my seat. ‘I have to stop this before Clive ruins his business,’ I mutter to the girls.

  When I get to the counter, I put myself between Tristan and the fairy-cake grenades. ‘Now, boys,’ I say like a strict schoolteacher. ‘Perhaps you should go upstairs to the flat and continue this discussion in private.’

  I walk Tris to the end of the counter, still providing a human shield, and then I pick up an apron. ‘Clive, I’ll take over here for the time being. Go and sort this out once and for all.’

  Clive, now cowed, obeys. Digging out a scrunchy from my pocket, I pull back my hair with it. I tie on the apron and give my hands a good wash. The boys disappear towards the staircase that leads to their first-floor apartment, giving each other a wide berth.

  I clap my hands together in the manner of someone who’s in command of the situation. Clive’s customers shuffle forward, jostling to regain their previous positions in the queue. This is the first time I’ve been on this side of the chocolates, brownies, cakes and cookies. The view from here looks pretty good too.

  ‘Right,’ I say to the first customer. ‘How can I help you?’

  Chapter Eighty-Eight

  ‘I kinda like this one,’ Ted said. He scanned the sales literature. ‘It has “true off-road capabilities. Ideal for both city and rugged landscapes, the new XRS will make light work of whatever the terrain throws at it”.’ He looked suitably impressed. ‘Sounds good, right?’

  ‘It sounds great,’ Chantal agreed.

  ‘This thing has a heap more features than my Mercedes.’ Ted looked at it with something approaching awe as he checked out the meaty tyres and its sleek bodywork. ‘Locking swivel wheels, gate-style opening bumper, fully adjustable suspension.’

  Chantal smiled to herself. Who’d ever have thought that she and Ted would be looking at strollers together. Yet here they were in an upscale department store browsing through their range of Out and About products – or prams, pushchairs, buggies and strollers to the uninitiated.

  ‘It has a buzz box,’ he told her.

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘I have no idea. But it sounds great.’ Her husband circled the stroller once more. ‘There’s a portable shopping assistant too.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘I think that’s the deep basket contraption at the bottom.’ He rubbed his chin, taking in all the features. She had had no idea that her husband would take this so seriously, and she loved him all the more for it. If this baby could be willed into being Ted’s daughter then it certainly would be. She hoped that eventually the DNA tests would prove what her heart was already sure of. ‘We can get an add-on Climate Control Pack.’

  ‘And that would be?’

  He checked the notes. ‘A multi-position raincover and hi-tech sun canopy.’

  ‘Essential.’

  ‘It says here that this is no ordinary Infant Transport System. Apparently, the minimalist design brings the pushchair back to its very essence while incorporating contemporary and classic features.’

  ‘Wow. Then we really can’t argue with that,’ she said with a smile. ‘Does it have wipe-clean upholstery?’ She was sure to pass on her chocoholic genes to her daughter, so as the next five years or more were likely to be spent sponging chocolate-y fingerprints off stuff, it was better to be safe than sorry.

  ‘Yes. And we can have it in Lulu Guinness fabric complete with colour coordinated changing bag, mat and fleece-lined footmuff.’

  Chantal shrugged happily. ‘That’s sold it to me.’

  ‘Let’s order it then.’ He turned to head toward the tills.

  She put her hand on Ted’s arm. ‘Are you sure you want to do this?’

  ‘You mean you like the TSi RockBaby better?’

  Laughing, she said, ‘No, I like this pushchair just fine. I meant, are you sure that you want to bring up this baby together no matter the outcome?’

  Ted slipped his arm round her and pulled her close. ‘I want us to be back together, to be husband and wife again. If that means bringing up someone else’s child then I think I can live with that.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Chantal kissed him tenderly. ‘I love you so much.’

  Ted grinned. ‘Then let’s buy this buggie. Only the best for Baby Hamilton.’

  ‘There’s just one other thing. Shouldn’t we be ordering two of these?’ she asked, gently reminding him that there was another Hamilton baby on the way other than her own.

  Her husband sighed. ‘This situation sure is complicated.’

  ‘We can all handle it like adults,’ she assured him. ‘We are doing so. Our arrangements may not be conventional, but I guess they’re not so unusual these days. I think I should meet Stacey, sooner rather than later. If this child and her child are going to be half-brothers or sisters then we should all make an effort to get along.’

  ‘The strange thing is,’ Ted said, ‘I think that you’ll really like her.’

  She linked her arm through his and steered him toward the pay-point. ‘Then there should be no problems at all.’

  Chapter Eighty-Nine

  They were being jolted along on the bus, heading to see Richard at the hospital. Autumn’s head rested on Addison’s shoulder and she stared at the beautiful ring on her engagement finger. Addison had taken her shopping for something more suitable for her. They’d settled on a young, up-coming designer who created engagement rings that suited her rather Bohemian tastes – a traditional, solitaire rock just wasn’t her. The members of The Chocolate Lovers’ Club would love it instantly and she couldn’t wait to show it to them.

  She smiled as the last of the weak winter sunlight came through the grimy window and caught the diamond in her ring. It was a small, tasteful stone bounded by delicate petals of amethyst, pink sapphire and aqua marine in a flower design, set in white gold. It was soft, gentle, unique and sparkled just for her. Toying with it on her finger, she tried to get used to the newness of its comforting presence.

  ‘A penny for them,’ Autumn said when she realised that her fiancé was deep in thought.

  Addison roused from his reverie. ‘Oh, nothing much,’ he said.

  ‘Come on.’ She nudged him gently. ‘I can tell a worried frown when I see one. Is it because of Richard?’ They were on their way not only to see if her brother was improving, but to tell him of their commitment to each other. They also needed to discuss the thorny subject of what was going to happen to the bag of money that was now safely paid into Autumn’s bank account rather than stashed under her bed.

  ‘No. No.’ Addison shook his head. He turned to her with a tired smile. ‘But I bet you’re worried about him.’

  ‘I called his consultant earlier. Apparently, he’s not improving as he should.’

  ‘His immune system is probably shot to pieces after all those drugs,’ Addison observed rather succinctly. ‘It will take him longer to heal than the average Joe.’

  ‘And he only has himself to blame for that.’ Autumn sighed. Sometimes she found it difficult to cope with the frustration and the futility of it all. ‘If it’s not my dear brother, what is it?’

  ‘I wasn’t going to bother you with it today,’ Addison said. ‘I know that you’ve got more than enough on your plate.’

  ‘A trouble shared is a trouble halved,’ she quoted.

  ‘I thought I’d got some funding in place to help Tasmin set up a jewellery stall at Camden Market.’ He tutted to himself. ‘It looks like that may not happen now. The sponsor pulled out at the last minute. I’m not sure where else to go.’

  Autumn rooted in her hand
bag and pulled out a bar of Fairtrade organic dark chocolate. ‘Here.’ She snapped off a couple of squares. ‘This will make you feel better.’

  Addison laughed. ‘Is chocolate your answer to everything?’

  ‘Sometimes.’

  The bus halted at their stop and they stood up to make their way to the doors.

  ‘Don’t worry about Tasmin’s situation just yet.’ Autumn winked at Addison. ‘Maybe all is not lost.’

  Outside, the dusk was gathering quickly to blend into night. In Richard’s ward it was perpetual daylight. As well as turning down the heating in these hospitals, Autumn thought, maybe they should consider shutting off some of the dozens and dozens of bulbs that blazed all day long. That would go a long way to helping the National Health funding crisis.

  Her brother lay in his bed, still hooked up to as many machines as the day he’d been admitted. Surely, if he was on the road to recovery, there’d be a reduction in the amount of technology needed to keep him alive by now? He looked thin and wasted, almost skeletal. Autumn wondered if he was managing to eat properly. Since Lucy’s non-wedding she hadn’t been in here at all. More than a week had gone by before she felt able to face Richard and confront him about the drugs drop he’d duped her into doing. Anger was an emotion that she didn’t like to embrace, but Autumn didn’t think she’d ever been as angry with anyone in her life as she was with Richard.

  But, one look at him and the fire went out of her and she felt nothing but sorrow. He made a pathetic sight. The cheeky, charming cad that he’d once been was long gone. His skin was pale, mottled, his hair greasy. With every heaving breath, his lungs rattled and complained. Each one sounded like it might be his last. She wondered if some of the kids from the KICK IT! programme would mend their ways if they could see how low Richard’s love of recreational drugs had brought him. His story was certainly a salutary one against drug use in any form.