Christmas Wishes at the Chocolate Shop

by Jessica Redland

  Reaching behind my back, I unfastened my apron and lifted it over my head. ‘No, Gabby, I’m not going to do the deep clean. I’m not going to do the party. And I’m not going to work for you.’ I’m not sure how I managed to keep my voice so strong and confident when I was quivering inside. I’d never stood up to her before.

  Her mouth dropped open. ‘You can’t just walk out.’

  ‘I think you’ll find that I can.’ I headed to the back of the workshop to collect my belongings.

  Gabby followed me. ‘What am I supposed to do about the party?’ she snapped.

  I pulled my jacket on. ‘You can either phone the mum and explain that the party is cancelled because your member of staff walked out after you placed ridiculous, unreasonable demands on her simply because it made you feel strong and powerful. Or you can keep your customer happy and have a revolting afternoon being pawed at by chocolatey fingers.’ I lifted my bag over my shoulders. ‘It’s not my problem.’

  ‘You can’t do this.’ For a moment, Gabby looked panic-stricken and almost human, but I wasn’t going to let it fool me.

  Driven by the hurt and anxiety caused from years of hostility and pettiness, I felt like I was the strong and powerful one at last. I straightened up, raised myself onto my tiptoes, lifted my chin and gazed down at her. Two could play at that game. Keep going. You’ve got this!

  ‘I’ve already said that I can and I am. It didn’t have to be like this, but I cannot and will not work for a bully. I love this place and I love your dad, but I have no loyalty to you. I don’t know why you’re looking so worried. You’ve always made it clear that you can’t stand me so I’d have thought that me walking out would make your day.’

  ‘I promised Papa you’d keep your job.’ There was a hint of desperation in her tone, as though she wanted me to back down. No way.

  ‘Messed that one up, didn’t you?’ I rolled my eyes as I passed her and stepped into the shop. ‘Goodbye, Gabby.’

  ‘You won’t tell Papa, will you?’

  ‘Good luck with the business, by the way. You’re going to need it.’

  She flashed her eyes at me, and the old Gabby was back. ‘Meaning?’

  ‘You know exactly what it means. You may have finally grasped how to make semi-decent chocolate but that alone isn’t going to keep this place alive. You’ve got sod all business sense, you’re rubbish with customers, and you’ve no idea how to treat your staff. Hardly a recipe for success, is it?’

  I marched towards the door and left before she could say anything else. Somehow, I managed to hold it together but, when I knew I was out of view, I sank onto the nearest bench, shaking. My heart was racing, my palms were sweating, and my stomach was churning. I hated confrontations but there was one more difficult conversation I needed to have, and I needed to do it right now before I chickened out or she got in first with a vicious lie.

  ‘Charlee! How is ma petite chocolatière? Missing me already?’

  ‘Very much. But I’m not a chocolatier anymore,’ I said.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  Much as I’d have loved to spill the beans, I couldn’t hurt him by doing so. ‘I’m so sorry to let you down, Pierre, but with everything that’s happened lately, I need some time out. Ricky lost his job and he’s had to move back to Whitsborough Bay to find work and I’ve agreed to sell the house to a neighbour. It makes sense for me to start afresh where Ricky is.’

  There was a pause. ‘I feared this may happen,’ he said. ‘Gabby pushed you out n’est pas?’

  ‘No! It was my decision. I was thinking about it last week.’ I crossed my fingers against my little white lie.

  ‘You are not a good liar. I know how Gabby is. I’d hoped being manager would change her but perhaps not. I am sorry that she has not been a friend to you over the years. I should have done more but you never said a word, so I thought you were not hurt.’

  My shoulders slumped. He knew? ‘I didn’t want to say anything because I didn’t want to upset you.’

  ‘I thank you for that but, deep down, I always know how she is. What will you do now?’

  ‘Ricky thinks I should open a chocolaterie in Whitsborough Bay.’

  ‘Oh, Charlee! I agree with him. It would be fantastique.’

  ‘You really think I have what it takes to run my own business?’

  ‘Who do you think has run La Chocolaterie for the past eight years? It was not me. It was certainly not Gabby. The ideas like the parties? All yours. The best-selling designs? All yours. You have a gift. You should use it.’

  After we’d said our goodbyes, I sat on the bench for several more minutes, feeling quite tearful. I’d always known Pierre rated me highly but to suggest that I was the one who’d made La Chocolaterie a success was quite overwhelming. It also filled me with excitement and hope that I could start over with my own business.

  I didn’t want to get Ricky into trouble on his first day by phoning him, so I sent him another text:

  ✉︎ To Ricky

  You were right. I can’t work for Gabby. Have just walked out. Looks like a chocolaterie in Whitsborough Bay could really happen! xx

  * * *

  ✉︎ From Ricky

  Best news ever! We’d better start house-hunting and shop-hunting! xx

  5

  After walking out on Gabby, the life changes seemed to happen at lightning speed and sometimes I had to pause to catch my breath and remind myself that it would all be fine and I was doing the right thing, particularly about moving to Whitsborough Bay. I’d had several months to ponder on what to do with my grandparents’ house. In the end, agreeing to sell to Neil Winters felt comfortable but relocating to Whitsborough Bay had suddenly been thrust on me by a series of circumstances out of my control. Not having time to fully weigh up the decision unnerved me.

  With no chain on either side and Neil Winters eager to start on the renovations, we completed on the house sale just over a month after agreeing the price. Jodie spent many evenings in the run-up to completion helping me sort through the furniture and contents. I’d really appreciated her help but also her company with Ricky not being around. She suggested enlisting a house clearance expert in case any of Nanna’s ornaments or furniture were worth something. It turned out she had quite a few valuable pieces, including a hideous floral milk jug that I’d have added to the pile for the tip. The sale of that and various other items provided valuable additional funds to invest in my new business.

  I only saw Ricky on Sundays as there’d been some overtime available at the construction site, so he was working a six-day week. We could have met up mid-week but it was a long drive for a short time together so we agreed to Sundays only knowing it would only be short-term.

  Before the house sale went through, Ricky convinced me to view some houses in areas he rated. It had been a useful exercise in understanding what I could get for my money in Whitsborough Bay, but buying was definitely a step too far. I didn’t know the town like Ricky, and I needed to be much more settled and familiar before I’d make such a big commitment. The priority had to be the business rather than the house because, if I didn’t find suitable premises – and I’d seen nothing suitable so far – I might have to look outside the area.

  Ricky claimed to understand and support my logic and he agreed to my suggestion that we rent together initially, but his comments about renting being ‘a waste of money paying someone else’s mortgage’ conveyed his disapproval. It was my money, though, and I wasn’t going to be guilt-tripped into making the wrong decision. I also had a growing concern which repeatedly woke me up in a panic. I had the financial means to buy a decent property straight out, but Ricky’s mounting debts meant he could contribute nothing. Would he accept me buying a house in my name only or would he be offended and think it meant I didn’t love or trust him? If he was fine with it, would he pay rent and half the bills or would he expect to live rent-free because I’d be mortgage-free? What if I did buy in joint names but things didn’t work out? Would he f
ight me for half the value when none of the investment had been his? We loved each other and I had no reason to think that our relationship wouldn’t last, but we hadn’t been together that long and who knew what the future held. It was too risky. The situation between Jodie and Karl had made me wary and cautious. Their split had been difficult enough but selling their flat and detangling their finances had been horrendous.

  Renting had to be the way forward for now. There was no need to rent anywhere big. We didn’t have enough belongings between us to justify the space and I had no income coming in so couldn’t justify the expense either. We secured a small fully furnished one-bedroom flat on the second floor of a modern apartment block ten minutes’ walk from the town centre. Number twenty-four Coral Court was bland and soulless, but it was clean and functional; ideal as a base while I set up the shop.

  It was now a week into October, and we’d been living in the flat for almost three weeks. I’d put down the deposit and had offered to initially pay the lion’s share of the rent plus all the bills so that Ricky could chip away at his debts. I didn’t mind doing that for a short time knowing that he’d be able to contribute more when his debts were cleared.

  I’d fallen in love with Whitsborough Bay and, for the first fortnight, I’d felt like I was on holiday. While Ricky was at work during the day, I explored the town, the park, the castle and the seafront at North and South Bay, loving how different the two bays were. On an evening, Ricky and I went to the cinema, the arcades, ten pin bowling, or the pub although the latter was typically with his friends. We also ate out on numerous occasions. Ricky was worried about money so I insisted on paying for everything. It seemed the fairest thing to do when I had the funds, and I was the one initiating the nights out in order to familiarise myself with my new surroundings.

  This past week, that holiday feeling had faded and reality had set in. I’d been unusually frivolous and I needed to reign it in while I had no income and no idea when I might start earning again. I stopped suggesting nights out and had assumed we’d go for a few romantic walks or enjoy cosy evenings in front of the TV together. Instead, I’d barely seen Ricky. He’d been round to Smurf’s once, worked late twice, then last night was a night down the pub with Smurf and a bunch of their mates. ‘You’re welcome to join us,’ he’d said, but I politely declined. I’d already had my fill of evenings with his former schoolmates. They were typical ‘lads’ for whom a night out meant copious amounts of beer and talk of football, cars, and women. I’d tried my best to strike up conversations but we had nothing in common and we didn’t have the shared history and banter that they had with Ricky so I very much felt like an outsider.

  I didn’t begrudge Ricky going to the pub. I didn’t begrudge him time with his friends. It was obvious how happy he was being back in Whitsborough Bay with them, which made me happy, but it also made me feel lonely. I missed Nanna – although I’d have felt the same if I was still in Brockington – and I missed Jodie and Pierre. Would I be able to establish new friendships here? I hoped so.

  Despite arriving home in the early hours reeking of a brewery, Ricky was up and out early on Saturday morning picking up a few hours of overtime. He promised he’d be finished by 12.30 p.m. and we could spend the afternoon together.

  I tried to keep myself busy but there wasn’t much I could do in a small space on my own. By 11 a.m. I was going stir crazy so decided to walk into town. It was a gorgeous October morning with a blue sky that could fool you into believing it was summer if it wasn’t for the nip in the air. I was glad I’d made a last-minute grab for my scarf as I definitely needed it.

  The chain stores on the main precinct didn’t interest me. Instead, I headed straight for my favourite place: Castle Street. As I’d done on numerous other occasions, I walked up one side of the cobbled street and down the other, gazing into each shop window and imagining what it might look like with a tantalizing display of chocolates. I felt like Goldilocks as I made my assessment of the different premises: this one’s too big, this one’s too small, this one’s just right.

  The thing I loved about Castle Street was that every single shop was an independent one and they all seemed to offer something different. There were shops selling flowers, teddy bears, clothes, cakes, furniture, books, wedding dresses, craft supplies and guitars to name just a few. Each time I’d visited, the street was busy which emphasised to me that this was the right place to open my own chocolaterie.

  I smiled at the early signs of Christmas in several of the window displays; just hints rather than full Christmas displays. A fur-lined cape was draped round one of the mannequins in The Wedding Emporium, a small selection of children’s Christmas books was nestled among the non-festive offerings in the window of Bay Books and Carly’s Cupcakes had an amazing Santa’s Grotto Christmas cake on display with a sign stating ‘Christmas Orders now being taken’ beside it. I wondered whether I’d find anywhere this side of Christmas and, if I did, would I have time to get it ready? It wasn’t looking good which saddened me as I suspected Christmas on Castle Street would be quite magical.

  I’d already picked out my dream premises: a double-fronted shop called Oak Bespoke that sold hand-crafted oak furniture. I’d stupidly tortured myself by going inside and imagining where I’d put everything. I’d mentioned it to Smurf on one of the nights down the pub, but he said it had only opened in the spring and was apparently doing really well which wasn’t what I’d hoped to hear. If that was true, there was no way it was going to become available any time soon. Even so, I was drawn to it now and peered through the window, my imagination wandering away with me once more.

  I’d set a deadline of the end of the year after which time I’d need to re-think and maybe look outside Whitsborough Bay. The one thing I wasn’t going to re-think was opening a chocolaterie. That was definitely happening. I’d already decided on the shop name – Charlee’s Chocolates – and the branding. I’d worked out a stock list, found suppliers for the equipment I needed, drawn up a marketing plan and pricing strategy. All I needed was premises.

  Reluctantly, I stepped away from Oak Bespoke and headed towards home but I paused by the florist’s, Seaside Blooms. I couldn’t have the business premises I wanted but I could cheer myself up with some flowers, especially when today was a special anniversary.

  ‘You have great taste in what goes well together.’ The florist – a pretty brunette who I suspected was a similar age to me – smiled at me as she began arranging the autumnal flowers I’d selected into a bouquet. ‘Are these for a particular occasion?’

  ‘It would have been my Nanna’s birthday today, so I wanted to mark the occasion.’

  ‘Aw, I’m sorry about your loss. Was this recent?’

  ‘May so it’s the first birthday without her.’

  She gave me a sympathetic look. ‘The firsts of every occasion are always the toughest.’

  She was so kind and gentle and, watching her work on the flowers, I wondered whether she might be able to help with my problem. Shop owners were probably the first to hear about premises becoming available.

  ‘It’s a lovely shop,’ I said. ‘Is it yours?’

  ‘It is. My auntie set it up, but she passed it onto me when she retired three years ago. I’m Sarah.’

  ‘Charlee,’ I said. ‘Do you know many of the other business owners on this street?’

  ‘Nearly all of them. Why?’

  ‘You don’t know anyone who’s thinking of selling up, do you?’

  She stopped arranging the flowers for a moment. ‘You’re thinking of setting up a shop on Castle Street?’ she asked, her tone curious.

  ‘If I can find suitable premises.’

  ‘What sort of shop?’ Because if it’s a florist’s, you realise that I’ll have to beat you to death with my thorniest roses.’ She narrowed her eyes at me then winked and smiled, confirming she was joking.

  ‘Definitely not a florist’s. I may have a good eye for what goes together, but I wouldn’t be able to arrange them if
my life depended on it.’ I hesitated. Sarah seemed friendly and I wanted to tell her, but I feared word getting round and someone beating me to it. ‘This is going to sound awful, but I’d rather not say. I can confirm that I definitely wouldn’t be in competition with you or anyone else on this street.’

  Sarah resumed her arranging. ‘In that case, you are safe from death by roses. There are a couple of empty shops further down but I’m assuming you’ve already looked at those and they’re no good.’

  ‘Not big enough, unfortunately.’ If I’d only wanted to make and sell chocolates, they’d have been ideal, but chocolate-making parties were a valuable income stream all year round and it would be crazy not to secure premises big enough to hold them. I wanted to promote more than children’s parties, too. I suspected there’d be a market among adults, perhaps for hen parties, team building activities, or simply individuals wanting to have a go at a new craft.

  ‘Are you looking to buy or let?’ Sarah asked.

  ‘Preferably buy but I’d consider letting if it was the right premises and the right price.’

  Sarah handed me a pad and pen. ‘Scribble your contact details down while I wrap these. I’ll ask around over the next week or so and let you know if I hear anything.’

  ‘Thank you so much.’

  ‘You’re welcome. I know I’m slightly biased but it’s a great street to be on. Best in town, I’d say.’