‘This?’ He gestured at the snow-capped mountains, the lake, and then shook his head. ‘Never. I was born and brought up here, yet I still feel my heart beat faster when I look at the mountains.’
‘I can’t imagine what it must be like to live somewhere like this. My house is a tiny, terraced place in a rather scruffy part of London.’
‘Then I’m glad that you’ve come to see my part of the world.’ He held up his bottle. ‘Can’t stay long, but I thought I’d bring this to wish you all merry Christmas.’
‘You must come and say hello to the others. They’d love to meet you.’
‘I have things to do,’ he said. ‘But my mobile number is up on the chalk board next to the big fridge. The signal can be a bit erratic, but text me and we can fix up a time for you all to come over.’
He handed over a bottle of fine port.
‘Thank you. That’s very kind.’
‘No bother.’ He turned and started to walk away. ‘If there’s anything you need, I’m just down the road. I’ll speak to you soon. Merry Christmas, Nadia.’
‘Merry Christmas, James,’ she echoed and was surprised to find herself smiling.
Autumn and Miles came out of the kitchen.
‘Wow,’ Autumn said. ‘Who’s the hottie?’
‘Our nearest neighbour, apparently. James Barnsworth, gentleman farmer.’ She held up the bottle for examination. ‘He brought us this to say merry Christmas.’
‘Hmm. Nice. Him and the port,’ Autumn concluded. Then she grinned at Nadia. ‘He’s certainly put a smile on your face.’
Nadia beamed back. ‘Yeah,’ she said, still aware of the unfamiliar fluttering in her stomach. ‘He has.’
Chapter Eighty-Seven
It’s Christmas Eve at Chocolate Heaven and I’m rushed off my feet, keeping the café customers happy and serving those simply calling in to collect their Christmas orders or to buy a few last-minute gifts.
After I close up here I have a long drive up to the Lake District tonight. By myself, too. I don’t feel like going at all. I was so looking forward to this, being with Crush at Christmas in the company of good friends, surrounded by kids and presents. Now I’ll be on my own again and I really hoped that this year things would be different.
It’s snowing outside and laughing people laden down with carrier bags filled with presents pass by the window. It’s so very Christmassy and I wish with every fibre of my being that I was going home to Crush, that we would make love on the rug in front of the fire with me wearing nothing but a fetching garland of tinsel. But it’s not to be. I haven’t heard from Crush at all. Not a card with a smiley Santa or a cheeky snowman. Nothing. It’s been ages now – I could actually tell you exactly down to the days, hours and minutes, but that would be too, too sad.
The last stragglers are finishing up their coffees now and are heading home for the holidays. As I watch them go out into the snow, my phone pings. For a moment, my aching heart surges with joy. It could be Crush. He could have had a change of heart this Christmastime. He could have heard a sentimental song – ‘It’ll be Lonely This Christmas’, ‘All I Want For Christmas is You’ or ‘Last Christmas’ – there are plenty of them to choose from and maybe it made him think of me. Suddenly, he’d be overwhelmed with a sense of loss and realise how very much he missed me and that it wasn’t too late to get me back.
That’s what it could be.
But, of course it’s not Crush. It’s Chantal.
Don’t you even think about not coming, she texts. The motorway is clear and the roads up here aren’t too bad either. You can still get through OK. Drive safely. We’ll see you later. Love you loads. xx
Sending her two kisses in return, I pocket my phone again. There’s no way out. I’m going to the Lake District whether I like it or not.
My mood darkens again. I wanted it to be Crush. I so wanted it to be Crush. But if I could will something into being then he’d have phoned me by now.
Instead, before I can think better of it, I pick up my phone and call him. Even though I have vowed not to. It’s Christmas and I can’t get him out of my mind. I punch in his number. As always, it goes straight to voicemail. I feel he must be screening my number.
Before I speak, I take a deep breath. It was a mistake to attempt this without eating chocolate beforehand – a bad mistake – but I launch myself in anyway.
‘Hi. It’s Lucy,’ I say. ‘Again. I just wanted to wish you merry Christmas and to let you know that I’m thinking of you. A lot. All the time.’ I wait in case he’s really listening and may pick up. He doesn’t. So I press on. ‘I may be ditzy. I may drive you mad. I may do ridiculously stupid things. And I admit that taking my clothes off with a stranger in a hotel is up there among the worst. Letting Marcus trick me into going to Bruges wasn’t that bright either, come to think of it. But I still love you with all of my heart and surely that counts for something?’ Still nothing. ‘Anyway, merry Christmas, Aiden. I hope you have a wonderful time, whatever you do.’ He might be making love to someone else draped in nothing but tinsel on someone else’s rug in front of someone else’s fire. ‘And, if you’re not busy and you ever feel the need to call me, then I’ll be very happy. More than that.’
Then, as I’m in danger of rambling, I hang up. Bugger.
At least I wasn’t drunk.
Probably better if I had been.
Then, as if I’m not depressed enough, the now-familiar red Ferrari pulls up outside the door. Marcus. That’s all I need.
‘Hey.’ He comes in as the last of my customers departs, so we’re alone in Chocolate Heaven. ‘Don’t look so miserable, it’s Christmas.’
‘I had noticed.’
‘I’ve only come to wish you the very best of the season.’
‘Merry Christmas, Marcus,’ I say. ‘Now you can go. I’ve got to lock up and get on the road.’
‘Oh, yeah. You’re off to the Lakes.’
‘Chantal has rented a cottage for us just outside of Keswick.’ Then I realise that I should only tell Marcus things on a Need To Know basis. And he really doesn’t need to know where I’m going.
‘Is . . . er . . . wotsit . . . not going with you?’
‘Aiden,’ I supply. ‘And, no. We’re still . . . estranged.’ The word cuts me to the very quick.
‘Estranged?’ Marcus raises an eyebrow. ‘That sounds pretty terminal to me.’
‘Whether it is or not, it’s none of your business.’
‘So you’re heading up to there alone? It’s a hell of a drive. Especially in the snow.’
‘That’s why I can’t stand around chatting, Marcus.’ I glance pointedly at my watch. ‘I need to get going.’
‘I haven’t got any plans for Christmas. I’m going to spend it by myself.’ Marcus puts on his little-boy-lost face. ‘I don’t suppose you’d consider squeezing in another small one? I don’t take up much room.’
I look at his face and it melts my heart. No one should be alone at Christmas and it’s on the tip of my tongue to invite him.
‘We could even share a bed, to save space,’ he suggests.
Then I remember what Marcus is like and that the girls will kill me if I turn up with him in tow and I step back from the edge.
‘I really do have to be going, Marcus,’ I say sadly.
‘I bought you this.’ He hands over a small and beautifully wrapped box. ‘Just a little something.’
I stare down at it. I know that from Marcus, it definitely won’t be a ‘little something’. ‘I’ve already got a diamond bracelet from you that I won’t wear. You really shouldn’t buy me anything.’
‘I told you that I’d prove to you how much I love you.’
With a sigh, I go to undo the scarlet red ribbon.
‘Don’t open it now,’ he says. ‘Save it until Christmas Day.’
I put the box on the counter.
‘Just one Christmas kiss and I’ll be gone?’
‘A hug,’ I say. ‘No kissing. No tongues. No nuzzling m
y neck. Nothing.’
Marcus laughs. ‘When did you become such a cruel woman?’
‘Shortly after you tricked me into going to Bruges with you.’
Marcus shrugs. ‘You can’t blame me for trying.’
No, I guess not. Realising that it is pointless resisting, I go round the counter and into Marcus’s open arms. He holds me tightly.
‘I love you,’ he whispers against my neck. Which is very nearly almost nuzzling despite what I said. ‘Never forget that.’ Then he breaks away from me. ‘Merry Christmas, Lucy Lombard.’
‘Merry Christmas, Marcus.’
He goes to the door and blows me a kiss and mouths, ‘I love you.’
As Marcus leaves, I stand and watch him drive away. He always leaves me in such turmoil – regret, sadness, frustration, exasperation, annoyance, attraction and, maybe deep down in there, still some love.
Heavy of heart, I tidy up inside Chocolate Heaven. It’s just me here, alone. I turn off the lights and stand in the café for a moment, thinking about all the fun we’ve had here, the Chocolate Lovers’ Club. It feels as if an era is coming to an end. Things have changed for me, for Nadia, Autumn and Chantal. I suppose that’s the fluid nature of friendships. We’ve been here for each other through thick and thin, but maybe we’ll all be moving on now. The ties that have bound us together may be loosening as time passes. Nothing ever stays the same. I’m the best one to tell you about that.
There are other cafés where we could quite happily meet, I know, but there was something very special about this place and, with new owners, that could be lost for ever. I don’t even know if they’re going to carry on with the business as it stands. As a minion, I’m not even in the loop. For all I know, my dear Chocolate Heaven could be a noodle bar by the end of January. The thought floods me with sadness.
It’s Christmas and I should be happy. But I’m not.
I want to stay here, linger as long as I can soaking up the atmosphere, but I can’t. I need to be on the road. So I take the goodies that I’ve packed for the Lake District from behind the counter. We’re there for four days and it wouldn’t do to run short of chocolate, so I’ve made sure I’ve got plenty. No one will go wanting for the lack of a chocolate reindeer. Besides, what am I to do with them in January? Then I realise that it may not even be my problem. I could be out on my ear. I might have been running this place, but I have no contract, no rights, no severance pay. Nothing.
With a weary sigh I head to the door. I have a long drive ahead of me and all I want to do is lie down on the pavement and let the snow fall on top of me.
Possibly for the very last time, I lock the door behind me and then I stand and look up at the sign. Chocolate Heaven. A place of happy times and great memories and exceedingly good chocolate.
‘Goodbye Chocolate Heaven,’ I say out loud. ‘I’m sad to be leaving. You were a lot of fun.’
The tears that roll down my cheeks feel hot against my chilled skin. Well, there’s nothing more to be done. Laden with boxes of chocolates and goodies, I go round the corner, find my car which is loaded up to the gills. I’m relieved to see that it doesn’t have a parking ticket – perhaps even the vulture-like traffic wardens round here had a bit of Christmas spirit today. I climb into my car and sit and hold the steering wheel, just trying to still my mind. My thoughts are racing, none of them coherent. Some would say no change there. I attempt a bit of deep breathing, but that only steams up my windscreen.
Having failed to reach any sort of inner serenity, I start the engine. I have a long drive ahead of me so I’d better brace myself and get started. It’s going to be midnight before I reach the cottage in the Lakes and for one silly, stupid fleeting moment, I wish that Marcus was coming with me.
Chapter Eighty-Eight
It’s gone midnight when I finally arrive at the cottage. Despite Chantal’s assurances, the motorway wasn’t clear and the roads up to the cottage were nearly impassable. More than once I was terrified that I was going to end up in a ditch. At some points on the journey, my poor little car was nearly up to its axle in snow and I was almost driven mad by the constant clacking of my windscreen wipers as they battled to swipe the continually falling flakes away. But I’m here. Somehow, we’ve made it through.
I nearly weep with relief when I turn into the drive and see the lights of the cottage shining out in the darkness, welcoming me. The moon is high and the snow on the ground glitters like blue diamonds in its light. As soon as I pull up outside, Chantal opens the door and runs out to greet me. She has a shawl held over her head to ward off the snow.
‘You made it,’ she says.
Now I do cry. Big, fat tears to match the big, fat snowflakes. She lets go of her shawl and holds on tightly to me instead. ‘Come on, we’ve all waited up for you.’
She takes my bag and, huddled together under the shawl, we slither our way back to the door. The warmth from the massive country kitchen hits me the minute I walk in. I can feel it right down to my bones and it’s so soothing, comforting that I can feel all my tension disappear.
‘There’s some chicken casserole left. Do you want tea or hard stuff?’
‘Both.’
‘Fab. Start with this.’ She sloshes some red wine into a glass and I gulp it gratefully. ‘Better?’
‘Much.’ I take in my surroundings. ‘Look at this place. It’s fantastic. Did you pick it from the Fantasy Christmas Catalogue?’
‘Wait until you see the living room. Go through,’ she says. ‘We’ve got a roaring fire going. Move Jacob from in front of it.’
‘He’s here?’
She looks at me and smiles. ‘Nadia asked him.’
‘I hate to broach this, but for you or for her?’
‘For me.’ Unusually, Chantal looks bashful. ‘It’s early days, but I think we’re going to try and make a go of it together, Lucy. Slowly, slowly. I’ve got a lot to sort out with Ted, but I can see Jacob and I being a couple in the future.’
‘That’s good to know. You’ve always had something special.’
‘Little steps,’ she says. ‘But I feel very optimistic.’
I kiss her. ‘So you should.’
‘Go and get warm. I’ll bring your supper through for you.’
So I leave Chantal and head into the living room, opening the latch on the farmhouse-style door.
‘I made it,’ I announce as I go in. Then I’m stopped in my tracks. The room is so beautiful that it makes me gasp. The huge Christmas tree in the corner sparkles magically, dressed from head to toe in gold and silver baubles, myriad twinkling lights shining out. Beneath it, there’s a pile of stylishly wrapped presents. There’s a roaring fire at one end, the fireplace dressed with garlands of holly and red poinsettia flowers. On the large coffee table there’s a centrepiece of a silver platter with a display of candles and silver stags. All my friends are hunkered down on the cosy sofas: Nadia, Autumn and Miles, Clive, Tristan and Jacob.
‘Lucy!’
Nadia and Autumn jump up and come to kiss me.
‘We’re so glad that you’re here safe and sound,’ Nadia says. ‘Your face is freezing. Come and sit by the fire.’
Clive and Tristan hug me to death, too. Whatever happens with Chocolate Heaven, I know that we’ll still be friends.
Sure enough, as Chantal said, Jacob is sprawled out looking very content in one of the armchairs nearest the fire. His cheeks are pink from the heat and, when he sees me, he rouses and comes to kiss me.
‘Good to see you.’ I wink at him as I hug him and he knows that I’m going to grill him about what’s happened the minute I get the chance. ‘Did you do all this?’
‘Chantal and me. Team Christmas. We only just got it finished in time.’
‘Well, it looks perfect. You couldn’t have done it any better.’
Chantal follows in with the promised bowl of chicken casserole and a hunk of bread on a tray for me. They’re all so kind that it makes me want to cry again. This is where you should be at Christmas
, surrounded by family, friends, people who love you.
Then I think of Crush. He should be here with me. He would have loved it. We have all the elements for the most perfect Christmas ever – beautiful setting, fabulous friends, flowing wine, more snow than you can shake a stick at. This is like a dream come true. There is only one thing missing for me. And that’s the most important thing. The love of my life isn’t here for Christmas and that makes me sadder than you can imagine.
Chapter Eighty-Nine
I wake and, for a moment, I don’t know where I am. Then I remember, I’m at a winter wonderland cottage in the Lake District and it’s Christmas Day.
There’s a hushed silence all around. I kneel up in the bed and look out of the window. The view is incredible. It was dark when I arrived, so I missed all of this splendour. Now it takes my breath away. There’s beautiful unspoilt countryside, dusted white, as far as the eye can see. Below us, a broad swathe of shimmering silver water. If I’d looked at Chantal’s brochure properly, I could even tell you what lake it was. But I didn’t and, therefore, I can’t. That doesn’t stop it from being hugely impressive, though. On the far side of the lake immense snow-clad mountains rise above a framework of bare grey trees. What I’ve seen of the cottage so far looks amazing and I’m really glad that I did make the effort to get up here.
As I lie back in my bed, luxuriating in my surroundings, I hear movement downstairs and think that I must rouse myself. Chantal, of course, has booked the most splendid accommodation which means that I have an en-suite bathroom all to myself. I stand in the shower and let the hot water work its magic.
When I emerge ten minutes later, I feel almost human again. Despite being here alone and despite all the things that you know about, I do feel a surge of excitement. I adore Christmas. Though I’d hoped for a slightly better one this year in the love department, I’m determined to make the best of it. No sulky puss from me! No doubt Chantal will keep me well supplied with champagne, which is sure to help.
Downstairs, I’m the last to arrive in the farmhouse kitchen. Everyone else is assembled round the massive table in the middle and my heart lifts to see them here. It would take very little to make me cry. I’m saved from weeping only by the mouth-watering smell of cooking bacon in the air. Looks like bucks fizz is the order of the day. The table is a clutter of cereal packets.
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