The Chocolate Lovers' Christmas

by Carole Matthews

  ‘I have to go,’ Tasmin said, apologetically. ‘I need to open up the stall. I’m mad busy for Christmas.’

  ‘I’m so delighted to hear that. I’ll come down and have a look. I need to do some Christmas shopping with you.’

  ‘I’ll give you mates’ rates,’ Tasmin teased.

  Autumn resisted the urge to hug the girl again. She felt a rush of affection and love for her and wondered what it would feel like to be so proud of your own child. The thought nearly had her undone. ‘Thanks for stopping by.’

  Tasmin held up a hand in a wave and turned for the door. ‘Catch you later. Merry Christmas.’

  Autumn watched her go and then she turned the ruby glass pendant in her hand. It caught the wintery sun from the window and glowed. Sometimes Tasmin felt like a daughter to her and it was wonderful and painful at the same time. Then she let the tears flow; she cried for the thoughtfulness of the gift, for the joy of seeing a life turned around and for the shame of not being able to help her own daughter in the same way.

  Chapter Forty-One

  A short and busy week later and I’m standing waiting at St Pancras Station. I check my watch. Chantal should be here by now and she’s not. I’m watching the departures board and the time of our train is getting perilously near the top of the list. I’ve texted her a couple of times but there’s been no response. I’m hoping that the lack of replies from Chantal means she’s in the Tube or has accidentally packed her phone in her suitcase.

  On one side I’m being jostled by hordes of French teenagers wearing navy blue jumpers, skinny jeans and talking loudly. On the other there are parties of tourists, mainly elderly, pushing and shoving their way to the front in a determined and slightly bad-tempered manner. Relaxing, this is not. I had envisaged Crush and I sitting in the champagne bar on the platform before departure, sipping fizz – even at this hour – and looking longingly into each other’s eyes. Fat chance.

  Every time the phone tings I get a rush of hopefulness, but it’s always Crush wishing me luck, telling me he’s so sorry that he’s not with me. Which is lovely, but it’s still not Chantal. As I headed to St Pancras Station this morning, Crush jumped on the Heathrow Express to catch his plane up to bonnie Scotland.

  Just as I’ve bitten my fingernails down to the quick with worry, my phone rings. Again, it’s not Chantal. It’s Marcus. I get elbowed in the back by a pesky pensioner as I pick up and have to bite down my weary sigh.

  ‘Just wanting to wish you the very best for your trip to Bruges,’ he says smoothly. ‘You must be about to leave.’

  ‘Yes. I’m at the station now.’

  ‘Well, you and . . .’

  ‘Aiden.’

  ‘You and Aiden have a great time.’

  ‘He’s not coming.’ I blurt out my confession. I never could lie to Marcus. ‘He had to go up to Scotland for an important meeting.’

  ‘Oh,’ Marcus says. ‘That’s a terrible shame.’

  He doesn’t sound like he thinks it’s a terrible shame at all. ‘Chantal’s coming with me instead.’

  ‘She is? Oh. Great. Good plan.’ He doesn’t sound like he thinks that’s a good plan either. ‘Except that she’s not here. And now I’m worrying.’

  ‘You’ll be fine, Lucy,’ he says. ‘Open yourself to new experiences. Embrace all that might happen in Bruges.’

  ‘I’ll give it a go,’ I tell him. ‘And thanks, Marcus. Thanks for setting it up for me.’

  As soon as I’ve hung up, my phone rings again. This time it is Chantal.

  ‘Where on earth are you?’ I ask. ‘I was starting to panic.’

  ‘With a sick child. I’ve been up with her half of the night, Lucy.’

  ‘Oh, no.’

  ‘I’m really sorry, but I’m not going to make it. I can’t leave Ted on his own to cope with this. This baby is making her own version of The Exorcist. There are unspeakable things coming from both ends of her body.’

  ‘Oh, man. Too much information!’

  ‘I know. I hate to let you down. If she’d been showing any signs of picking up then I’d come. But I’m thinking this might involve a trip to A and E rather than Bruges.’

  ‘It can’t be helped,’ I say while my heart is plummeting to my boots. ‘Lana must be your priority.’

  ‘You’ll still go?’

  That’s currently under debate. I look anxiously at the departure board. I only have a few minutes in which to make up my mind.

  ‘You’ll be absolutely fine, Lucy,’ Chantal assures me. ‘Remember you’re a rufty-tufty businesswoman bringing them knowledge of British chocolate. Go and kick their asses.’

  I should go alone. I so should.

  ‘I’m frightened,’ I admit.

  ‘Feel the fear and do it anyway,’ she advises. ‘Remember there’ll be chocolate waiting for you at the other end.’

  That convinces me. ‘I’ll go.’

  ‘That’s my girl.’

  ‘I’d better dash,’ I say. ‘This train will wait for no man.’

  ‘Be bold. Be ballsy.’

  Bold. Ballsy.

  ‘Ring me as soon as you get there,’ Chantal urges. ‘I’m with you all the way.’

  ‘Thank you. I hope Lana gets better soon. Give her a kiss from me.’

  ‘I am holding that stinky child at arm’s length,’ she says.

  ‘I’d better go, Chantal. The train’s due to leave soon.’

  ‘Take care. I love you. Have a great time. Bring us back some fabulous chocolate.’

  ‘I will.’

  So I hang up and, taking coals to Newcastle, I wheel my suitcase filled with chocolate supplies towards the security scanner and the Eurostar train to Bruges.

  It’s a sad indictment of my life that I’ve hardly travelled anywhere alone. That’s not very Modern Day Woman, is it? I find my seat and pretend that I’m being very cool as I settle myself, but my knees are shaking.

  I have a Wispa or two to calm my nerves. I’m quite disappointed when we go through the actual tunnel as I thought it would be more exciting to be under the sea on my way to France. But I can see nothing. At all. Nothing. I thought there might be fishes or something.

  So I have nothing to distract me from what lies ahead and my anxiety level inches ever upwards. At this moment, I’d even be happy to see Marcus on the train.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Nadia was on tenterhooks all day at work in case Tarak came in and she was by herself. The last thing she wanted was another awkward situation. But she needn’t have worried. Thankfully, Tarak had been busy at the other shops. She wasn’t sure whether he was deliberately avoiding her or whether it was a welcome coincidence. Either way, it made her life easier.

  She and Anita worked together all morning, selling several dresses and a few handbags that they had to get out of the window. As Christmas was looming large, Anita had brought in some strings of fairy lights and a big carrier bag full of decorations that she’d retrieved from her loft so they could give the inside of the shop a festive air. They gave the whole place a good clean, Anita dusting vigorously while Nadia vacuumed every nook and cranny. After that, they’d dressed the ends of the racks with baubles and put a little tinsel round the counter. After lunch Anita had gone home and had left Nadia happily adding to their Christmassy window display.

  The fairy lights her sister brought in stretched far enough to go all round the edge of the window and Nadia had woven some in and out of the handbags on the floor. She’d strung baubles together and had hung them from the fingers of the mannequins. Tinsel was draped around their necks like feather boas. It was cheap and cheerful, but it had lifted the window display considerably.

  It was late afternoon now and she was just taking a five-minute breather before putting the finishing touches to it. She made a cup of tea in the small kitchen at the back of the shop and was looking forward to a small bar of chocolate that she’d grabbed from the Co-op as a much-needed pick-me-up. She hadn’t slept very well last night, tossing and turning
, thinking about her brother-in-law. She hoped that he wouldn’t become a problem, as she liked this job. It didn’t exactly pay the best rates but, much to her own surprise, she really enjoyed the bright lighting, the racks of dresses – more neatly presented since she’d arrived – and the regular flurries of chatty customers.

  She heard the bell at the shop door ding an arrival and hoped that it wasn’t Tarak at this late stage. When she took her tea back through to the shop, she was relieved and delighted to see that it was Jacob who was standing there.

  ‘Surprise,’ he said.

  ‘Jacob!’ Nadia grinned at him. ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘Just passing. I had a meeting in the next street and thought I’d come to see how you are.’ He nodded back towards the front of the shop. ‘The window looks great, by the way. Your handiwork?’

  ‘Yes. Glad you like it. I’ve nearly finished. You can give it the once over with your stylist’s hat on.’

  ‘Looks good enough to me exactly as it is.’ Jacob glanced up and down the shop, and then lowered his voice. ‘Are you alone here?’

  She nodded.

  ‘To be honest, I was worried about you after your call the other night. I was in two minds whether to get dressed and come straight round.’

  ‘That’s really kind, but I’m fine,’ she assured him. ‘Tarak is being such a pest, but there’s been no sign of him all day. Thank goodness.’

  ‘I don’t want this to be a problem for you.’

  ‘I think I put him right. I’ve made it very clear that I’m not interested in him. He’s my sister’s husband, for heaven’s sake. But it might help if you can carry on being my imaginary boyfriend.’

  Jacob pursed his lips and looked as if he was about to say something more, then stopped himself.

  Nadia flushed. Why did she say that? It was stupid of her. She hid her discomfort by rushing out, ‘I can make you a cup of tea, if you’ve got time?’

  Jacob checked his watch. ‘My next appointment isn’t for an hour. That would be great.’

  ‘I’ll even let you share my bar of chocolate.’ She pushed it towards him across the counter.

  ‘Wow,’ he said. ‘I am honoured. However, I can do better than that.’

  He put down the brown paper bag that he was carrying and Nadia saw that it bore the name of one of her favourite bakeries. ‘One of the lessons that I’ve learned in life is that you never approach a member of the Chocolate Lovers’ Club without being suitably armed.’

  Nadia laughed and then peeked inside the bag. There were two double choc chip muffins nestled inside. ‘Excellent choice. We should make you an honorary member, Jacob. I think you’ve earned your stripes by now.’

  ‘I’m not worthy,’ he teased.

  ‘Don’t dare start eating these until I get back.’ She disappeared into the back and made him a cup of tea.

  When she returned, Jacob had pulled a tall stool up to the counter.

  ‘Come to the house tonight,’ she said. ‘There’s plenty of extra for supper and then we can watch a film together. If you’re not doing anything else.’

  ‘I can’t tonight.’ He looked disappointed. ‘I have an event on. A new idea at a big hotel. They’re hosting their first literary salon. That’s where I’m heading next. I’ve set it all up, so I can’t miss it.’

  ‘Oh. Never mind.’

  ‘What about tomorrow?’

  ‘I’m going to be busy all weekend,’ she rushed on. ‘Autumn and I are looking after Chocolate Heaven for Lucy. She’s gone off to a chocolate festival and the Christmas market in Bruges. Crush was supposed to be going too, but he had to work.’

  ‘Poor Lucy.’

  ‘Chantal stepped into the breach but she called me earlier to say that Lucy’s gone on her own. She had to pull out because Lana has been taken poorly.’

  A worried frown creased his brow. ‘Nothing serious?’

  ‘No, no. Usual kiddie things. It’s probably a twenty-four-hour bug, but she couldn’t leave Ted to manage by himself.’

  ‘She’s such a little beauty,’ Jacob said wistfully.

  ‘Just like her mum,’ Nadia added.

  ‘Yeah. Well . . .’

  She noted that Jacob flushed. ‘I hadn’t planned on cooking tomorrow,’ Nadia said. ‘I was going to pick up a takeaway on the way home.’

  ‘Let me cook something for you and Lewis,’ Jacob offered. ‘I’m always ligging on your hospitality.’

  ‘I never mind.’

  ‘Perhaps I can take my turn, though,’ he said. ‘I’ll get a Disney movie in. We’ll watch something early.’

  ‘That would be nice,’ she conceded. If she was honest, the last thing she’d want to be doing was going straight home to an empty house after her working day. The thought of Jacob, in his apron with a hot meal ready for her, was very appealing indeed.

  ‘Great. I’ll do it.’

  Nadia smiled. ‘It’s a date.’ Then she flushed furiously again. It wasn’t a date. It most definitely wasn’t a date.

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Bruges looks flipping fabulous in its festive garb. The medieval buildings, the narrow streets, the canals are all clothed in a sprinkling of snow, just as they should be. The main square, the Markt, is host to the Christmas fair and I’ve just got time to have a quick look around before I have to head to the convention centre for my talk.

  It’s mid-afternoon, getting dark now, and all the buildings have their crenulations picked out in fairy lights, making them look magical. There’s a huge Christmas tree covered with myriad white lights shining out in the dusk. A few delicate flakes of snow flutter in the air. Overlooked by the towering belfry, there’s an ice rink in the middle, busy with families and couples skating. Even standing to watch them, I can feel the chill rising from the ice. Though the happy shouts from the skaters tell me that it’s not bothering them too much. There’s a host of wooden chalets around the borders of the square selling Christmas decorations and a mouth-watering range of foods, including the ubiquitous Belgian frietkoten, scalding hot chips with mayonnaise. Yum. I can feel Christmas seeping into my pores.

  To my delight, chocolate abounds too and I can’t believe that I haven’t visited here before. As Marcus promised, this isn’t just chocolate heaven, this truly is chocolate paradise. It’s really beautiful and I wish with all my heart that Crush was here to enjoy it with me. I work my way along the stalls, weaving through the crowds and sampling some of the wonderful chocolates on offer. I’ll have to take some of these back for the ladies of the Chocolate Lovers’ Club.

  I rush back to the hotel, vowing to come and spend more time here tomorrow when my brief stint of work at the chocolate festival is done. As he said, Marcus has booked me into the most beautiful hotel. It’s a quaint, old-fashioned and half-timbered building with leaded windows overlooking the prettiest bit of the canal. This is possibly the most romantic place I’ve ever seen and is the best hotel in Bruges, by all accounts. It’s stunning and I can’t believe how lucky I am being able to stay here. The reception is decked with garlands and a pretty Christmas tree fills the space by the roaring fire.

  As I retrieve my key from the receptionist, she hands me an envelope. ‘A message for you,’ she says.

  ‘Thanks.’

  I nip up to my room, in a hurry to get changed now. The room is also wonderful. Marcus might have a lot of faults, but his taste in hotels is impeccable. My bedroom is up on the top floor and the view over the canal is spectacular. It has a vaulted ceiling and is heavily beamed. The wallpaper is pale blue, adorned with cherubs; the bed linen is cream and a deep shade of blue. Above the ornate headboard there’s an elaborate lamp in the style of a candelabra. There’s also a gold chaise longue and a small writing desk beneath the window. If I were ever going to write a novel, I would want to do it here in this very room.

  On the desk there’s a box of chocolates, a bottle of champagne on ice and a lavish bouquet of red roses which have been delivered while I’ve been out. These
can only be from Crush. How very thoughtful of him. Even though he’s miles away, it makes me feel close to him.

  Bouncing onto the bed, the covers cradle me with comforting softness in the absence of my lover’s arms. Ahhhh.

  I rip open the envelope in my hand. My dear Lucy, it says. Hope you like the room and your welcome gifts. I hope your stay in Bruges is wonderful. Your talk has been moved to tomorrow morning. Details to follow. Have a wonderful time at the ball tonight. Marcus xx

  My heart sinks. My talk has been shifted and these lovely flowers, chocs and booze aren’t from Crush after all. Bloody Marcus. Why does he always have to be such a smoothie?

  I send him a text. Thank you, Marcus. That was very kind of you. No kisses or anything.

  I don’t want to go to the ball alone. I’ll be Mrs No Mates. I’d hoped that during my scheduled session this afternoon, I’d meet some friendly faces who I could perhaps join up with. Fellow comrades in chocolate. What exactly does one do at a ball by yourself?

  I could simply not turn up and stay in this room all night. Or go back down to the Markt and have a skate. Skating on your tod isn’t such a bad prospect, is it? But that seems madness. I went to extraordinary lengths to get my best dress here without too much crumpling and I also have totally bling-di-bling jewellery borrowed from Chantal and everything. I have to go, don’t I? Besides, Chantal would kill me if I didn’t. I could ring one of the girls for a pep talk, but I know exactly what they’d say. They’d tell me to man up, get my gladrags on and go to the party. Of course, I must. It would be a wasted opportunity otherwise.

  However, I have plenty of time now, so I pop open the champagne, aiming the bottle out of the open window so that I don’t take out one of the medieval windows. The cork shoots out in a pleasing arc and lands straight in one of the tourist canal boats sailing beneath, causing them all to shriek. I hold up a hand in apology. ‘Sorry. Very sorry!’