Christmas Wishes at the Chocolate Shop

by Jessica Redland

  I glanced at Ricky loitering in the doorway. He stepped aside, and the two men nodded at each other, but didn’t speak. I remembered my manners. ‘Neil, this is my boyfriend, Ricky. Ricky, this is Neil. We’ve just agreed a deal on the house sale.’

  ‘So I gather.’ He folded his arms and raised his eyebrows at Neil. ‘I hope you haven’t tried to pull a swift one.’

  I flinched at his hard tone and the rudeness of the comment. ‘Ricky!’

  They stared at each other for a moment, like stags sizing up the competition before locking antlers. Then Neil turned and headed for the door while Ricky pushed past me into the lounge.

  ‘I’m sorry about that,’ I muttered as Neil stepped outside.

  He shrugged. ‘Don’t worry about it. It’s good that you’ve got someone looking out for you.’

  ‘I thought you said he was buying the house for his daughter,’ Ricky snapped when I returned to the lounge.

  ‘He is.’

  ‘An investment for when she’s older?’

  ‘No. It’s for now. She’s eighteen and getting married this summer.’

  His body seemed to relax, and his tone softened. ‘He’s got an eighteen-year-old daughter? Really? He doesn’t look much older than us.’

  I leaned against the doorframe, smiling. I’d intended to have words with him about his rudeness towards Neil but, instead, found myself amused by what I could now clearly see as insecurity and jealousy.

  ‘He isn’t. Nanna said he became a dad when he was eighteen, so he’ll be about thirty-six now. You’re not jealous, are you?’

  Ricky stiffened. ‘No! Should I be?’

  ‘Not at all but you are! You’re so jealous. You assumed Neil would be in his fifties or sixties instead of young and hot, didn’t you?’

  He narrowed his eyes. ‘You think he’s hot?’

  ‘Of course not! And, even if I did – which I don’t – he’s very, very happily married, and you know my views on infidelity.’ It wasn’t something I’d personally experienced, but I’d been there to support Jodie a couple of years ago after she discovered that, before she’d moved in with Karl, he’d been with several other women. What a dickhead. They’d been together since they were fourteen so that was a fourteen-year relationship flushed down the toilet because he felt there was something he needed to get out of his system before settling down in a monogamous relationship. Like Jodie, I’d never, ever forgive anyone who did that to me.

  I knelt on the carpet in front of Ricky. ‘Do you know who I think’s hot?’ I asked in a teasing voice.

  ‘No idea.’

  It was so hard not to laugh at his gruff voice and petulant expression. I unfastened the belt on his jeans. ‘Do you know who I think is really hot?’

  The corners of his mouth twitched slightly. Ha! I knew he couldn’t keep sulking for long. It was cute, though, and reassuring to see that he had a flaw after he’d been pretty much perfect over the past six months.

  ‘No,’ he said, his tone lighter.

  Trying not to keel over with embarrassment because being forward so wasn’t me, I undid his zipper and pulled his jeans open. ‘Do you know who I think is really, really hot?’

  ‘No. Who?’

  I seductively licked my tongue across my lips. ‘That bloke who presents the weather on the local news.’

  Ricky laughed. ‘Sorry for being grumpy.’

  ‘Crap day?’

  ‘Yes. But I’ll tell you about it in a minute.’

  I arched my eyebrows. ‘A minute? Is that all it’s going to take?’

  ‘Two, then,’ he said, lunging for me as I squealed.

  ‘So why did you have a crap day?’ I asked, serving up a dish of pasta an hour or so later and sitting down at the dining table opposite Ricky. Nanna had always insisted on proper sit-down meals in the dining room; another habit I hadn’t yet broken.

  Ricky stabbed at a couple of pieces of fusilli with his fork and sighed. ‘Big announcement at work today. House sales are slower than predicted. They’ve put phase three on hold.’

  ‘No! How long for?’

  He sighed again and shoved the pasta into his mouth. ‘Indefinitely.’

  My heart sank for him. I’d always thought that Tenley Meadows was a ridiculously ambitious project: 1,650 new homes, a school, doctor’s surgery, shops, pub, and other amenities situated north-east of Hull. It wasn’t the best location for commuting into the city centre, there weren’t enough jobs in that immediate area to justify so many houses, and the area was prone to flooding. Of course, I’d never voiced my concerns when Ricky secured a contract as one of the joiners on site shortly after we met, focusing instead on the great news at getting a long-term contract. Only it now looked like it wasn’t going to be long-term after all.

  ‘Do you know how long you have left?’

  ‘They’re not even going to finish phase two, so they reckon maybe a month, six weeks at a push.’ He stabbed at his fusilli again.

  ‘Oh, Ricky. That’s crap.’

  He nodded.

  ‘What are you going to do?’

  ‘I’ll have to find another contract. One of my mates reckons they need more joiners on the housing estate where he’s working.’

  He didn’t sound too enthusiastic, presumably still reeling from the bad news so I injected as much enthusiasm into my voice as I could. ‘That’s brilliant news! Is he going to put in a good word for you?’

  ‘He will if I ask him to. He reckons I could start immediately too.’

  ‘Even better, in case they mess you around at Tenley Meadows. Which development is it?’

  ‘It’s called Lower Glendale.’

  I pondered for a moment. It didn’t sound familiar. ‘Is that the one near North Ferriby?’

  Ricky put his fork down and sighed. ‘No. It’s in Whitsborough Bay.’

  I stopped, forkful of pasta midway to my mouth, and stared at him, my stomach churning. The North Yorkshire seaside town of Whitsborough Bay was where Ricky had been brought up and where his best mate Smurf still lived. It was only the next county, but it was a ninety-minute drive north from where I lived in Brockington near Hull and that was on a good day. With single-track roads all the way, the travel time could easily increase.

  ‘Smurf was the mate who told me about it,’ he continued, his tone flat, his expression apologetic. ‘Say something.’

  ‘Sorry, I…’ I put my fork down and pushed my bowl aside, appetite gone. ‘You’re going to take it, aren’t you?’ I asked in a small voice, knowing that he didn’t have much choice as he couldn’t not work.

  ‘I’m going to have to. I made some calls this afternoon and there’s nothing round here at the moment. I moved to Hull because there were no jobs in Whitsborough Bay but the work’s dried up here and, typically, there’s plenty of work back home.’

  ‘Then you should ring Smurf and tell him you’re interested, before someone else secures it.’ I tried to sound cheerful, but it wasn’t easy.

  ‘Don’t look so sad,’ Ricky said. ‘It doesn’t mean things have to change between us, you know. I still want to be with you. I know it’s not ideal, but it’s not the other side of the country. It’s only the next county. We can make the distance thing work. Assuming you want to, that is.’

  ‘Of course I do!’

  Ricky came to my side of the table and put his arms round me. I snuggled against his stomach, my arms round his waist. ‘You could always move to Whitsborough Bay with me,’ he said, stroking my hair.

  ‘I can’t do that.’

  ‘Why not? You’re selling this place and you don’t have any family here now. I’m sure that you and Jodie will still see each other wherever you live, especially if you live in Whitsborough Bay. She loves it there, doesn’t she?’

  ‘It’s her favourite place. She’d be a constant visitor. But I still can’t move there, Ricky. My job’s here.’

  ‘So find a new job in Whitsborough Bay. Or take some time out. It’s not like you’ll be strapped for cash af
ter this place sells.’

  I wasn’t strapped for cash now as my grandparents hadn’t lived an extravagant lifestyle, leaving me a sizeable inheritance. But move to Whitsborough Bay? I didn’t know anyone there. Not that I knew many people in Hull either. Jodie was the only friend I regularly saw out of work. I occasionally went out for a meal with my boss Pierre and his wife Lillian but that was it. It wasn’t like I’d be leaving behind a big circle of friends and a busy social life.

  ‘I don’t know,’ I said, pulling away from him.

  Ricky crouched on the floor beside me. ‘It’s not a definite “no” then?’

  I couldn’t help but smile at his eager expression. ‘It’s an, “I’ll think about it,” but please don’t get your hopes up. I love my job and I have an amazing boss.’

  ‘Who has an evil daughter who likes to make your life hell.’

  ‘Yes, but I only have to work with Gabby twice a week.’

  ‘You wouldn’t have to work with her ever again if you moved to Whitsborough Bay with me.’

  A world without Gabby? A delicious thought. ‘It’s tempting, but Grandpa set up that business. I know he sold it to Pierre when he retired but I still think of it as Grandpa’s chocolaterie. I couldn’t imagine selling his home and leaving his business.’

  ‘You could always set up your own chocolate shop in Whitsborough Bay in his memory. I bet you’d do really well.’

  I leaned forward and gently kissed him. ‘You’ve thought all this through, haven’t you?’

  ‘I don’t want to lose you.’

  ‘I don’t want to lose you either.’ I kissed him again. ‘But I don’t think I can leave Hull. Not yet. It’s too much change all at once.’

  Ricky nodded. ‘I understand. But here’s a thought. How old is Pierre?’

  ‘Sixty-five.’

  ‘Do you think he’s going to keep working forever? What if he decides to retire? You think it’s hell working with Gabby twice a week? Imagine if she was your boss.’

  I shuddered and my stomach lurched at the thought. Pierre was so passionate about his craft that it was easy to assume he’d never step away, but he had to at some point. There was no way Lillian would accept him working forever. The baton would pass to Gabby when he retired and there was no way I could work for that woman, although I suspected her first decision as the new owner would be to take great delight in giving me my marching orders.

  I took in Ricky’s eager expression and ruffled his hair. ‘Go on. Phone Smurf and get that job secured. We’ll work out the distance thing somehow and I’ll think about what you’ve said about moving but I’m not promising anything.’

  As I listened to him talking animatedly in the hallway, I felt excited for him but apprehensive for us. Even though he’d said he loved me, was our fledgling relationship strong enough to survive that distance? Would he still want to come back to Hull to see me when he was finally back where he’d always wanted to be, among his family and friends? It would be so much easier for us if I did live in Whitsborough Bay but that was an enormous decision and one I wasn’t ready to make yet. I’d never lived anywhere else. I’d never even considered it. Moving out of my childhood home was scary enough. Could I really leave my home, my job, and the people I knew to settle in a town I’d only visited a couple of times as a child?

  3

  I stood in the middle of the lounge the following morning, feeling quite overwhelmed at the speed of change. Ricky had left for his final day at work at Tenley Meadows a short while earlier. Final day? It all seemed so quick. Smurf had wasted no time following their conversation and had got straight onto his boss who’d phoned Ricky half an hour later and, after a quick chat, offered him a job on the Lower Glendale development starting on Monday. Ricky had then called his boss who’d agreed that he could leave with only a day’s notice. I suppose it made sense when they were planning to lay them all off, but it all seemed very real very quickly. In the space of four days, he’d moved in, lost his job, found a new one, and was going to be moving out again. I’d scattered Nanna’s ashes and agreed to sell her house. I could scarcely catch my breath!

  Turning in a slow circle, I took in the furniture and possessions that epitomised Nanna and Grandpa. The mahogany sideboard displayed Nanna’s posh Royal Doulton dinner service and her cut crystal glasses. The matching tall bookcase was stuffed full of the historical romance novels she’d loved to read. I wandered over to it and ran my fingertips along the spines. She’d spent many an evening in the armchair, paperback in hand, her changing facial expressions telling the tale of what she was reading. I’d read most of them myself too, enraptured by smouldering heroes in frilly shirts and riding breeches.

  I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. It was going to be hard to leave, but I’d made the right decision. Definitely. And if I was moving out, I was going to need to bite the bullet and clear the house, preferably starting today while I was still off work, but I had no idea where to start.

  Wandering into the kitchen, I made a cup of tea instead. I wasn’t thirsty but any opportunity to delay the sorting was most welcome.

  Returning to the lounge, mug in hand, I looked at the bookshelves again. I’d start there, clearing out all the books I’d read. Easy. I reached for the first book, but I hadn’t read it so left it where it was. The second didn’t seem familiar either and the third was one of Nanna’s favourites.

  By the time I made it to the end of the shelf of roughly forty books, I’d only removed one: a ten-year-old edition of B&Bs in Cornwall. There was no point continuing. I needed to be ruthless, and I wasn’t sure I could be. Jodie wasn’t one for sentimentality so I texted her to see if she could help later.

  Upstairs in Nanna’s bedroom, I opened her wardrobe door and lightly ran my fingers across the dresses, predominantly in delicate floral prints, and the rainbow of silk blouses. Her perfume wafted at me as the clothes swayed on their hangers and I could almost feel her presence. A lump formed in my throat as I pictured Nanna dressed in her favourite clothes and outfits she’d worn for special occasions. I shook my head and closed the door. Too hard. I definitely needed Jodie by my side for sorting through clothes. There had to be something I could organise that wouldn’t be difficult or upsetting.

  Twenty minutes later, I’d stuffed the entire contents of the airing cupboard – Nanna’s linens and towels as well as my own – into several binbags. I’d had the same towels and bedding since I moved out and it was time for a proper fresh start.

  Feeling a sense of achievement, I decided to tackle the attic next. The Christmas decorations seemed as good a place as any to start. Nanna had loved Christmas. She’d insisted on a real tree each year in the bay window of the lounge with a colour theme – usually silver or gold and one or two other colours – although it was a case of anything goes for the small artificial tree in the dining room for Grandpa who’d believed that trees should be decorated with an explosion of colour.

  The decorations were packed into crates, each clearly labelled by colour. I lifted the lid off the first of two ‘red and cream’ crates and smiled. Full of material and felt animals and shapes as well as more traditional baubles, it was my favourite set and looked stunning accompanied with gold decorations. She’d done that last year. Back then, I’d had no idea it would be our last Christmas together. I pictured her unwrapping her gifts from me, spraying herself with Opium Eau de Toilette – a fragrance I’d always associate with Nanna – and snuggling into her new soft grey cardigan. She’d smiled and thanked me, told me I’d spent far too much as usual, then had glanced at Grandpa’s photo on the mantelpiece, eyes sparkling. Had she known back then that she’d soon be joining him?

  The lump in my throat had returned and I blinked back my tears as I replaced the lid and pushed the crate aside to start a ‘keep’ pile.

  The next crate was simply labelled ‘blue’, filled with baubles, snowflakes and wooden decorations in navy, royal, and pale blue. I loved that colour scheme too. In fact, I loved them all, and I
knew for a fact that none of the boxes contained old, tatty decorations, because Nanna always took such pride in her tree, so they really didn’t need sorting out.

  There were ten colour-themed crates in total, a box containing the artificial tree for the dining room, a couple of bags for life containing tree lights, plus a further crate with miscellaneous items like the hooks for hanging up wreaths, card holders, spare Christmas cards, and tree hooks. That was a lot of Christmas decorations, but there was no way I could let any of them go considering how much Nanna and Grandpa had loved Christmas. Plus, they’d get used. I’d never need to buy another decoration in my life.

  A couple of cardboard boxes stood behind where the crates had been. There was nothing written on the lid of either of them. Crouching down, I opened the flaps on the first one. Inside were another two smaller cardboard boxes. I lifted the first one out and smiled at the words in marker pen on the lid: Charlee’s Creations. Surely she hadn’t kept everything I’d made at school. Peering into the box, it seemed she had. From a cotton wool covered toilet roll tube, which I’m assuming was meant to be a snowman, to an impressive-looking angel made from what looked to be a folded Reader’s Digest sprayed silver, she’d kept the lot.

  I reached for the other box. Marked on the lid was one word: Stacey. My birth mother. I sat back on my heels, my heart thumping. Did I want to open it?

  Over the years, I’d often pondered on how I should feel about the woman who’d abandoned me on the day I was born. I’d settled on indifference. Perhaps if I’d had a miserable childhood, I’d have hated her, but Nanna and Grandpa had been amazing. I definitely hadn’t missed out.

  Biting my lip, I opened the lid of the box, then smiled. It wasn’t photos or letters. It was full of childhood decorations too and, funnily enough, that included a cotton wool covered toilet roll tube.

  After studying the various items, I put my decorations and Stacey’s back in the larger cardboard box and pushed it to one side: the first box in my pile for the tip.