The Chocolate Lovers' Christmas

by Carole Matthews

  ‘Some days it does feel as if I’m going out of my mind with boredom.’ She tucks into her cream with a spoon. ‘On other days I feel that I never want to work again and will spend my whole life just gazing at my little girl.’

  ‘That might be awkward when she gets a boyfriend.’

  ‘She’s never going to have one,’ Chantal counters. ‘We’re going to keep you away from all those nasty men, aren’t we? We are. You’re not going to make the same mistakes that Momma made, are you?’

  Lana gurgles happily and we both grin at her, completely smitten.

  ‘How’s Ted?’ I ask. Chantal and her husband have never had the best of relationships, but it seems to have been very strained of late.

  ‘He’s fine. Busy at work. Loving Lana. He’s trying very hard to be a good father.’ She raises an eyebrow. ‘To both of his girls.’

  I hate to bring this up, but there was a question over the paternity of little Lana when she was born as Chantal enjoyed a fling with our dear friend Jacob Lawson – among others. Ahem. She classes it as her Wild Period.

  She wasn’t the only one sowing her oats at the time, either. While Chantal was seeing Jacob, Ted fathered another Baby Hamilton too. So now their family arrangements are complicated to say the least. Enough to drive a woman to chocolate. But whose aren’t tricky in some way, shape or form these days? This is the age of the extended family. But a swift DNA test proved that Lana is, indeed, one hundred per cent Hamilton baby and, after a shaky time, Ted and Chantal are trying to make things work for the sake of the baby. Which we’re all relieved about, not least of all Chantal.

  ‘He adores Lana.’

  ‘Of course he does. She’s so cute.’ I want to kiss her chubby, pink cheeks. Just looking at her pulls at my heartstrings. Nearly as much as for my beloved Crush and they get pulled for him quite a lot too. ‘What’s not to love?’

  ‘Think you’d like to join me?’ Chantal nods at Lana.

  ‘Me? Have a baby? I don’t know. Maybe one day.’ I feel a pang of longing. It happens a lot when I look at Lana. I think I would like a baby with Crush as he’d make a wonderful dad. It’s all very well being a thrusting, ambitious businesswoman, but I have to put everything else on hold for now. I shrug off the question, not trusting my own emotions. ‘You know what I’m like. I have trouble keeping my own body and soul together. How could I ever hope to look after someone else without breaking them?’

  ‘Don’t leave it as late as me. I’d pretty much accepted that I’d never have children. Once you’re over forty and on the downward slide in the fertility stakes, it’s not exactly impossible, but it’s not that easy either. You’re young.’

  ‘I’m in the fresh flush of my thirties. I thought I had years yet.’

  ‘Not necessarily. You need to think about getting on with it.’ She gives me a sage stare to reinforce the message. ‘I can’t say that Lana was actually planned, as you know, but I wouldn’t be without her now. I’d love to have another baby, but it needs to be sooner rather than later.’

  ‘What’s stopping you?’

  ‘There is the slight issue that Ted and I are not, well . . . you know. Close in the bedroom department.’

  ‘Still not?’

  Chantal shakes her head. ‘No action at all since Lana was born. We’ve not even held hands.’

  We both laugh at that.

  ‘The only thing I want to do in bed now is sleep,’ she adds.

  It’s fair to say that Chantal has had a colourful love life. At one point it was the other way round. She was sex-starved and couldn’t get Ted interested. How times change! ‘It would have saved you a lot of trouble if you’d discovered that some years ago.’

  ‘Ain’t that the truth, sister,’ she agrees and we have a giggle together.

  ‘You’re going to have to do more than sleep with Ted if you want Lana to have a sister or brother.’

  ‘I can’t keep using Lana as an excuse.’ Chantal looks away and sighs. ‘Our relationship has changed. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but we’re not the same together anymore. In many ways we get on better now as we have Lana to focus on, but there’s definitely something missing.’

  I put my hand on her arm. ‘This should be a happy time for you both.’

  ‘Perhaps it just happens when you have a child to consider. The dynamics change. If you’re strong, it pulls you together, but if you’re on shaky ground, well, maybe the cracks start to show. I keep trying to remember that we’re both in uncharted territory and are experiencing a whole new level of exhaustion and commitment.’

  ‘If there’s anything I can do, you only have to ask.’

  ‘Thanks. I’m sure we’ll work it out,’ she says. ‘Given time.’

  ‘Pass that delicious baby to me again while you concentrate on your brownie,’ I say. ‘She needs another cuddle with her Auntie Lucy.’

  ‘She might need her nappy changed too.’ Chantal wrinkles her nose.

  ‘Above my pay grade,’ I tell my friend. ‘Aunties are for playing, talking about boys and educating the next generation in the mysterious ways of chocolate.’

  ‘Are the other Chocolate Lovers’ girls coming today?’

  ‘They should be here any minute.’

  And, on cue, the door chimes again.

  Chapter Three

  Nadia Stone and Autumn Fielding sweep in together and, Lana still nestled in my arms, I rush to greet them. ‘Hey. Good to see you both.’

  Chantal goes to stand to say hello to them and gives up. ‘I so need to get down to the gym,’ she mutters darkly.

  ‘I’ll swear this baby gets more beautiful every day,’ Autumn says. ‘Hand her over.’

  I duly give her Lana, who has quickly become accustomed to being passed like a parcel between us. Autumn snuggles her. The baby grabs a fistful of Autumn’s flowing auburn curls and sticks it straight into her mouth. My friend’s gorgeous green eyes are dull though, and she looks like she needs a cuddle as much as the baby.

  Autumn is the youngest of us – a mere twenty-nine years old – but, in some ways, the wisest. She is the one who likes to commune with the earth, can meditate in yoga classes without shouting ‘get on with it’ – which got me thrown out of mine – and, generally, likes to help make the world a better place. She is the optimist, the glass-half-full person among us. Whereas I am the wine-glass-frequently-half-empty person.

  ‘Congratulate me!’ Nadia says, clapping her hands together. ‘I’ve only got a job interview!’ She does a little happy dance. ‘Yay!’

  It makes me smile to see my friend so excited. It’s about time that she had something good happen to her as she’s had a truly terrible year. ‘That’s great news. I wondered why you were looking so spruce.’

  ‘Like the suit?’ She gives us a twirl.

  ‘You look beautiful. Even more than normal, if that’s possible.’ Nadia has an Indian heritage, but has lived in England all her life. She’s dark-skinned with long, glossy hair that hangs heavily down her back and she regularly turns heads. Until Chantal had Lana, she was the only one who was a mum. Her little boy, Lewis, is four now – a sturdy and demanding chap.

  Nadia’s been having a tough time recently – understatement. Only a short while ago, her husband died and she’s still grieving. Terrible for anyone, but she’s only in her early thirties. I know she’s trying to hold it all together for Lewis’s sake, but it’s never going to be easy. I think it’s too soon for her, but she’s trying to get back to work. Breaking down at interviews, as she did at first, isn’t going to go a long way to convince potential employers that she can cope. Yet she needs a job and fast. She’s got Lewis to bring up and she’s been left by her dear departed Toby in what might be classed as ‘difficult circumstances’. Up shit creek, sans paddle and with some serious bills to pay.

  I give her a hug. ‘I’m sure you’ll get this one. Have confidence in yourself. You’re brilliant, bright and sassy. They’d be mad not to snap you up.’

  ‘Thanks, Luc
y,’ she says. ‘I feel much better, but I could do with a bit of bolstering up. The competition out there is fierce. This is a bit of a McJob in an office and one that I could easily manage, but I’m so nervous. How can I convince them that they need my services more than anyone else’s? There are people out there with a dozen degrees doing basic admin work. Lots of them are working as unpaid interns. How can I compete when I actually want a decent salary? It scares me just to think of it. This calls for chocolate, Lucy, and fast.’

  I turn up my hands. ‘Why is everyone in such a rush today?’

  ‘This is in lieu of breakfast. It took me all of my time to get Lewis ready for nursery.’ Nadia scans the counter, homing in like a missile. ‘I’ll have a cappuccino and a slice of that fabulous-looking coffee and chocolate cake.’

  ‘Coming up.’

  ‘Good grief,’ she says with a giggle. ‘It still seems really weird that you’re on the other side of the counter now. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to it.’

  ‘Weird in a good way?’

  ‘Yes,’ she agrees. ‘Poacher turned gamekeeper. Still enjoying it?’

  ‘Loving it.’ I stifle an unbidden yawn. ‘I’m worn out, though. I feel I have a responsibility to keep the business healthy for when Tristan and Clive return. I’d be mortified if their profits took a nosedive.’ I look guiltily at the chocolate that I’ve just picked up and put it down again. ‘Thankfully, you lot are still keeping me busy.’

  ‘The Christmas decorations look great,’ she says. ‘But that’s another thing I could do without.’

  ‘Your first Christmas without Toby is never going to be easy.’

  She nods in agreement. ‘It will be weird, just me and Lewis.’

  ‘Well, we won’t let that happen,’ I tell her. We must organise something to take your mind off it. What do you say, Autumn?’

  ‘Of course we must. Addison and I haven’t decided what to do either. I know he won’t want to go to Mummy and Daddy’s house again. Last year was a total disaster.’

  If I remember rightly, Autumn’s wild-child brother, Richard, turned up drunk and high and did unspeakable things with the turkey.

  ‘Whatever we do, it won’t involve my parents.’ She shudders at the memory. ‘Besides, it’s hardly likely that they’ll miss me.’

  Autumn, at best, has a ‘remote’ relationship with her folks. ‘We’ll sort something out. Don’t fret. Now, what can I get for you?’

  Scanning my lovely range of delights on the counter, she comes to the conclusion, ‘I’ve no idea what I want.’ She gives a weary sigh. ‘I’ll have the same as Nadia.’

  Someone else who’s too tired to think. ‘How are you doing?’

  Autumn sighs. ‘I’m hanging on.’

  She’s also still mourning the death of Richard who, tragically, had an addiction to drugs much stronger than chocolate.

  Forcing a smile, she juggles taking off her coat while still holding Lana.

  ‘Be kind to yourself.’ I look at her with concern. Autumn’s fiery hair looks dry and lifeless. Her face looks completely washed out. Even her lovely freckles look faded.

  ‘I’m trying,’ she says.

  ‘You need time. It’s a great healer.’

  ‘Time and chocolate,’ she tries to joke. ‘I was going mad staring at my four walls. That’s why I desperately need this moment of escape.’

  Chocolate Heaven is still a place of refuge to all of us in times of need. A little corner of this earth that wraps us in cosiness, comforts us and feeds us chocolate. Hurrah! Long may it thrive.

  I hug Autumn again, and then go to start their order while my friends kiss and fuss over Chantal and Lana. Eventually, they sit themselves down in a huddle around her while I tend to business.

  Two more regular customers come in for takeaway orders and I load them up with goodies. Kick-starting the coffee machine into life again, I set about slicing up the cake. Then I pour the boiling milk onto shots of espresso, sprinkle them with a liberal dusting of chocolate flakes, plate up the cake, add napkins, little forks and, as an extra, take one of those warm brownies for myself. Hmm.

  ‘Here you go,’ I say as I cross the floor, tray held high. My waitressing skills have improved vastly in the last few months and I rarely trip over or spill anything on the customers now. ‘Let the meeting of the Chocolate Lovers’ Club commence.’

  I set the tray down on the coffee table in front of my friends and dish out their drinks before sitting myself. I’ll have to keep one eye on the counter – as always – but, for now, my best girls are the only customers here.

  ‘News,’ I say. ‘Tell me all the news. Quickly. How are the wedding plans going, Autumn?’

  ‘They’ve come to a bit of a grinding halt.’ Pensively, she twirls one of her curls round her finger. ‘I haven’t felt much in the mood since Rich died. The last thing I want to do is organise a wedding. I’m not in the right frame of mind. Besides, neither Addison nor I can agree what we want to do.’

  ‘Choices?’ Chantal says.

  ‘Addison just wants a quiet register office do. Close friends only. I’m happy with something small, but I want it a little more meaningful than that. I’ve been looking at something that gets us back to nature. Maybe a beach or woodland wedding.’

  ‘Why on earth you live in London is a mystery,’ Chantal says.

  Autumn laughs. ‘I’ve never really thought about it. Family ties, I guess. I’m here because that’s where Rich is.’ She falters slightly as she realises that’s no longer the case. ‘Was,’ she corrects sadly.

  I squeeze her hand.

  ‘My boarding school was in the country,’ she adds, ‘and I did love it.’

  My dearest Autumn will always be a tree-hugger at heart. That’s why she’s still attached to tie-dyed material, eats meals involving Quorn and probably should have been a surfer chick in California or a hippy. I think this is why she’s also the most socially responsible one among us and works with disadvantaged kids who are trying to get off drugs.

  ‘Why don’t you rope in Jacob to help you?’ Chantal suggests. ‘He made a fabulous job of planning Lucy’s wedding.’

  ‘Non-wedding,’ I correct.

  Let me fill you in. My troublesome ex-fiancé Marcus and I were due to tie the knot on Valentine’s Day, but by the time I got to the church, barely a few minutes late, Marcus had changed his mind and done a runner. But all’s well that ends well. I consider myself to have had a lucky escape. If Marcus had held his nerve and had waited just five minutes more, I could now have been Mrs Marcus Canning and would be lumbered with Marcus and his Many Women rather than lovely Aiden ‘Crush’ Holby and his loyalty only to me.

  Nadia checks her watch. ‘I’d better go. My interview is soon and I’ve got to get across to Fenchurch Street.’

  ‘Don’t worry about rushing back for Lewis,’ Autumn says. ‘I’ll pick him up from nursery for you and take him home.’

  ‘You’re an angel.’ She kisses Autumn and then stands up. ‘Wish me luck, ladies.’

  ‘You don’t need it,’ Chantal says. ‘You’ll knock them dead.’

  ‘I’ve been for a dozen interviews already and I haven’t got one offer yet,’ she reminds us.

  ‘Don’t think about that now,’ I tell her. ‘Just give it your best shot. You can do no more.’

  ‘I’d better get going too,’ Autumn says. ‘I said that I’d drop into work for an hour or two today.’ Reluctantly, she hands Lana back to Chantal.

  ‘Well, I’m not going anywhere in a rush,’ Chantal says. ‘I’ll have another of your fabulous brownies please, Lucy.’

  ‘Coming right up, madam.’ Though I’d like nothing more than to sit with Chantal and have a gossip and another cuddle with Lana, I yawn and heave myself out of an oh-so-comfortable chair which seems intent on dragging me back down. At the risk of being lynched by Chantal, I think I’ll put on some Christmas music to get me going.

  Chapter Four

  It’s late when I leave Chocolate He
aven, turning off the Christmas lights as I do. After the girls went, I had a rush of customers for the rest of the day that kept me busy. We’re doing some special Christmas cakes to order, decorated with gilded, chocolate holly leaves which are really beautiful. As everyone seems to be getting into the festive mood, they’re going great guns. I make sure that I’ve got all the orders from today collated.

  Thankfully, I don’t have to make all these delights myself, as my culinary skills lie in the gutter. I don’t know what to do with food unless it comes frozen. Very sensibly, Clive and Tristan have employed one of their oldest friends, Alexandra, to do all the baking for me. She’s the one who keeps me supplied with all my customers’ confectionary requirements and very good she is too. In previous incarnations, she’s been a chocolatier and pastry chef at some of the top hotels in the world, but now she has three ankle-biters and has downsized to work from home.

  Occasionally, when it all gets too much at her own place, she comes to work in the kitchen here, but mostly she delivers on a daily basis and, conveniently, lives only a few streets away. She’s here first thing most mornings to drop off a fresh batch of cakes, cookies, muffins and brownies.

  Alexandra is also trialling some mince pies with a sliver of brownie topping for us to sell. I’m hoping they’re going to be ready soon. Perhaps she could do us a festive version of the rocky road too, with cranberries, almonds and white chocolate. Christmas is hurtling towards us now like a speeding train and I’d like it to slow down so that I can enjoy it.

  Last year my Christmas was totally rubbish. Crush was AWOL in the Australian outback, lost and near death. And, fool that I am, I thought he’d dumped me. Given my history, an easy assumption to make. But, no, he was actually stumbling round the desert without food or water or mobile phone, barely clinging to life. So I spent Christmas Day at a homeless shelter dishing out turkey dinners. Then, to my eternal shame, out of sheer loneliness – nothing else – I shagged my bastard ex-fiancé, Marcus, beneath my Christmas tree. Something I’ll regret to the end of my days. I know. Kill me.