‘Oh, Matt, what do you see in her?’ I put my hand over my mouth as my cheeks burned. ‘Oh my God! Did I say that out loud? I’m so sorry.’
Matt laughed a deep belly laugh. ‘Our Erin asked me that the other day after Libby refused to push her on the swing at the farm in case she snapped a nail. I was so shocked to hear it come from a six-year-old that I didn’t know how to respond.’
I chewed my lip as I looked deep into his eyes. I had to be brave and push. This wasn’t about me telling him how I felt about him; it was about being a friend and challenging him about a relationship that clearly didn’t make him happy.
‘And do you know how to respond now?’ I asked.
He paused and seemed to drink me in causing my stomach to swirl like a washing machine on fast spin. His eyes were so mesmerising: deep brown with little flecks of gold like pools of dark chocolate sprinkled with honeycomb. I longed to touch his face, to run my fingers through his hair, to taste his kiss.
‘I don’t know anymore, Charlee. We’ve been together so long that I think it’s become a habit and I’m not—’
A loud cheer interrupted him. ‘What was that?’ he asked spinning round.
‘Crap! It’s half six. It’s the switch-on at the main tree. We’re going to miss it.’
Matt grabbed my hand. ‘Then we’d better run!’
As we ran down Castle Street, hand in hand, the lights above us sparked into life, as though our steps were activating them. The welcome banner illuminated as we reached the end of Castle Street, setting the stars and fireworks off. A couple of cars passing on the one-way street at the end of the cobbles stopped us in our tracks. We looked up as the star at the top of the tree lit up and sent a ripple of lights cascading down the branches.
Matt turned to me. ‘Sorry I made you miss it.’
I shook my head, tears springing in my eyes. ‘We didn’t miss it. We were in the middle of it and it was beautiful.’
The cheering round the tree seemed to fade as we faced each other. I could hear my heart thumping fast, not from the run, but from the close proximity to the man I loved.
‘Happy Christmas, Charlee,’ he said.
‘Happy Christmas, Matt.’
And then it happened. He bent forward and gently kissed me on the lips. It was brief. A casual observer might say that it was only a peck shared between friends. But, for me, it was a moment of pure heaven and I couldn’t help but close my eyes. When I reluctantly opened them again, Matt was looking at me with his head on one side, frowning slightly.
‘Are you okay?’ I asked.
He nodded slowly. ‘I wasn’t, but I think I’m going to be. Charlee, I—’
‘Charlee! Your hot chocolate’s getting cold!’ I looked over at Sarah’s husband, Nick, and waved. For goodness’ sake, what was it with interruptions this evening when Matt was mid-flow?
‘I think you’re wanted,’ Matt said.
‘You were about to say something.’
‘I was, but we’ve got all night. We can talk later.’
But we didn’t get a chance. Every time we came close to having a moment alone, somebody would appear asking if we wanted a drink, wishing me a happy anniversary, or asking if we were all set for Christmas.
‘Can I walk you home later?’ Matt asked after yet another interruption. ‘There’s something I need to talk to you about and I don’t think we stand a chance unless we’ve ditched the crowd.’
‘Of course.’ I hoped he couldn’t see my hands shaking. ‘I’d like that.’
But we never got the chance to do that either. Matt’s phone rang as the group were moving between The Old Theatre and Minty’s. ‘It’s Gina,’ he said, frowning. ‘I’d better answer it. Hello? Yeah, hi Gina… Sorry, I didn’t hear it… She’s done what? … Slow down! … What? … Jesus!… Yeah… yeah. Okay. I’ll see you there.’
‘That didn’t sound good,’ I said.
He ran his hand down his facial hair, shaking his head. ‘It’s Libby. She’s taken something. Gina isn’t sure what, but she’s collapsed. They’ve rushed her to hospital.’
‘Oh my God! Matt!’
His face was grey. ‘I’d better go.’
‘Do you want me to come?’
‘Yes!’ Then he shook his head. ‘No. Better not. Libby doesn’t … you know.’
I nodded. He didn’t need to say the words. The fact that Libby didn’t like me had been obvious from the day we met.
‘Sorry, Charlee.’
‘Will you ring me and let me know how she is? If you can, that is. It doesn’t matter what time. I’ll keep my phone on.’
‘I will if I can.’ He gave me a quick hug before turning and sprinting down the pedestrianised precinct, then disappearing round a corner towards the nearest taxi rank. Poor Matt. And poor Libby. She wasn’t my favourite person but I hoped she was okay. She’d taken something? What did that mean? Had she taken drugs? Had she overdosed? Whatever it was, if she’d collapsed and been rushed to hospital, it didn’t sound good.
27
I peered out of the shop window on Thursday morning, watching the rain bouncing off the cobbles and running down the street in ever-widening streams. It was only 11 a.m. but it was so dark, I could have been fooled into believing it was dusk. What a day!
Across the street, Sarah and Cathy stood in the open doorway of Seaside Blooms, shaking their heads. They waved as they spotted me, then beat a hasty retreat into the shelter of the shop as the downpour intensified.
‘Hot chocolate,’ Jodie said, handing me a mug with one of my chocolate stirrers sticking out of it. ‘It feels like the sort of day where tea and coffee just won’t cut it.’
I smiled. ‘I think you’re right.’
We stood by the window containing this year’s chocolate display – a Santa’s workshop scene in which the elves were making chocolates instead of toys, supervised by a giant moulded Santa – and watched the rain pelting down, gently swirling our chocolate stirrers. I sighed. ‘The last time we had rain like this, we took a grand total of £8. Do you remember?’
She laughed. ‘Two customers all day, wasn’t it? At least it was nice first thing so we’ve exceeded that already.’
I turned away from the window. ‘Anyone who comes out in this is either desperate or mad. We might as well go into the workshop, have a seat, and enjoy these. I doubt we’ll have any customers.’ We’d hear the bell if, by some miracle, anyone braved it.
‘Any more news from Matt?’ Jodie asked when we sat down. Matt had texted me from hospital late on Saturday evening to say that Libby had come round but hadn’t wanted to talk about it. Gina had already filled him in and he had some thinking to do and would call me later. He’d then phoned on Sunday night with the details, gleaned from Gina.
Libby and Gina had downed two bottles of wine between them before they’d even left Gina’s house and at least another bottle each at the party. Realising that she’d had too much when she went to sit down and landed in a heap on the floor instead, Gina ordered a strong coffee and hoped she hadn’t made a fool of herself in front of her manager. When she suggested that Libby might like to do the same, Libby had turned on her, accusing her of sounding like Matt; always out to ruin her fun. She’d stormed off in a huff.
Gina didn’t see her for another half an hour or so, but then she clocked her on the dance floor with a couple of men from another company, also out on their works do. Although she hadn’t expanded on that, Matt said it was obvious that there’d been more than dancing going on. Gina had watched Libby stagger off the dance floor a couple of songs later and suspected she was going to be sick. She was annoyed with Libby so left her to it but, after about ten minutes, she decided she’d better play the good friend and hold Libby’s hair back. She found her collapsed on the floor in one of the toilet cubicles in a pool of vomit.
When the paramedics arrived, they checked Libby’s eyes and asked Gina what she’d taken. Gina pointed them in the direction of the men she’d been with and one of them a
dmitted to giving her Ecstasy so at least the paramedics knew what they were dealing with.
‘He rang last night,’ I told Jodie, ‘but he couldn’t talk for long because he was going to watch Lucy and Erin in a dance show or something. Libby’s staying at Gina’s – more comfortable than the caravan – but he says she’s doing well and she’s going back to work on Monday.’
‘And how’s Matt?’
‘He sounded exhausted.’
‘I’m not surprised. What was she thinking? Is it finally over for them?’
‘I don’t know. Obviously I couldn’t ask that on Sunday but it didn’t feel appropriate to ask last night either. If she was kissing another man or men, even, I can’t see him wanting to stick around, but he’s hinted that she’s had some problems in the past. I’m worried for him that he feels obligated to look after her. Maybe that’s why he’s put up with her crap for all these years.’
Jodie slurped on her hot chocolate. ‘All you can do is be there for him, whatever he decides.’
‘I know. I will be.’
The bell sounded. Jodie went to stand up, but I beat her to it. ‘You finish your drink. I’ll see to them.’
I pushed through the saloon doors. A tall, slim woman probably in her late forties/early fifties was tentatively leaning a golf umbrella against the wall. She looked extremely stylish in a forest green wool coat, cinched at the waist, and high-heeled brown suede boots.
‘Morning!’ I said. ‘You’re brave coming out in this.’
She ran her hands through her dark shoulder-length hair. ‘Or mad.’
I laughed. ‘I wasn’t going to say that.’
‘But I bet you’re thinking it.’ Her voice was confident and refined, reminding me of Nanna’s favourite actress, Audrey Hepburn.
‘You’ve got me. Was there anything special you were looking for, or are you just browsing?’
‘Just browsing, if that’s okay.’
‘It certainly is. Take your time and let me know if you have any questions.’
I moved behind the serving counter and busied myself tidying the bags and boxes.
‘Has the shop been open long?’ asked the woman as she browsed the Christmas figures on the table display.
‘Just over a year.’
‘Is it your shop?’
‘Yes. I’m the Charlee in the shop name.’
‘Is that your real name?’ The woman moved over to one of the dressers. ‘Like Charlie and the Chocolate Factory?’
‘My Grandpa used to have a chocolate shop and St…’ I hesitated. I didn’t want to call her Stacey but it was too complicated for a stranger. ‘My mum used to call it his chocolate factory so she named me Charlee when I was born, but spelt differently with me being a girl.’
‘I like it.’
‘Thank you.’
She turned her back again and continued browsing. I watched her profile as she studied a display of chocolate drops. There was something familiar about her, but I was sure we hadn’t met.
‘What’s the best flavour?’ she asked.
‘All of them!’ I took it as an invitation to join her at the stand. ‘Obviously, I’m slightly biased because I make them.’
She raised her eyebrows. ‘You make them all?’
‘Oh yes. Everything is made right here on the premises by me and my team. Nothing’s bought in except the ingredients.’
‘Even that giant Santa in the window?’
I smiled. ‘All me.’
‘Very impressive.’
‘Thank you.’
She turned back to the chocolate drops so I took my opportunity to focus on them again. ‘I like milk chocolate best and my personal favourite is salted caramel. I can’t get enough of the stuff, but my colleague Jodie prefers dark chocolate and if it’s orange-flavoured, she’s in heaven, so the orange fizz are her favourites. One of our apprentices loves white chocolate and the other loves the mint ones. They’re on three for two at the moment, so there’s a perfect opportunity for customers to try a few and find their own favourite.’
She tapped her finger against her cheek. ‘I don’t think I could decide. It would probably be six for four or even nine for six.’
‘Don’t let me stop you,’ I joked.
‘Actually, there is something I wanted to ask you. Those chocolates with the letters on, would you do a discount if someone wanted quite a few?’
‘It depends what they want. If we’re talking three of the smallest arrangements, then no, but if we’re talking several of the larger ones, there’s always a deal to be done. Did you have something in mind?’
She nodded. ‘I’m leaving work soon and I want to get a thank you gift for everyone on my team. There are twelve of them. I thought about a bottle of wine but one’s pregnant and two of them don’t drink so chocolates are probably safer. I was wondering about spelling out thank you and their names.’
‘That’s a lovely idea,’ I said. ‘I’d need to work out the price based on their names as some may be a larger box than others, but I’d imagine I could do you a 20 per cent discount on that volume, if that would be of interest.’
‘Really?’ Her eyes lit up. ‘Thank you. That would be great. I’ll have a think about it and let you know but, in the meantime, I think you might have convinced me to give the salted caramel drops a go.’
‘You will not be disappointed,’ I said as she reached for a bag off the display.
‘Oh, goodness, I’m a sucker for a bargain. I’ll have three.’
I laughed. ‘Please don’t feel you have to. You are allowed to purchase a single bag.’
‘Not possible,’ she said. ‘Like you, I love milk chocolate. Cinder toffee and the milk chocolate orange fizz are also calling to me.’
‘Good choices.’
We made our way over to the till and I rang up her purchases. ‘I’ll put our card in the bag and if you to decide to go for the leaving gifts, you’re welcome to ring, email, or send us a Facebook message.’
‘You said your granddad had a chocolate shop…?’ she asked while we waited for the card payment machine to connect. ‘Was that in Whitsborough Bay?’
‘No. It was in Brockington, near Hull. That’s where I was brought up.’
‘What brought you to Whitsborough Bay, then?’
I ripped off the two receipts and handed the customer her copy. ‘My grandparents brought me up but they’ve both passed away now. When my Nanna died from cancer last year, my boyfriend at the time suggested this might be a good place to set up shop so I moved. He wasn’t right about many things, but he was right about that.’
‘I’m sorry about your grandparents. And about the boyfriend.’
I smiled. ‘My grandparents were amazing. My boyfriend was far from it. But thank you.’
She took the bag and glanced out of the window. ‘I’m kidding myself that the rain has slowed down, aren’t I?’
‘Sorry. I think it might have just got heavier again. You’re welcome to stay a bit longer.’
She walked towards the door and picked up her brolly. ‘My boots are already squelching so it probably doesn’t make much difference either way. I’ll go for it.’ She loosened the fastener from the brolly. ‘It was lovely speaking to you, Charlee. I’m really impressed with your chocolate factory. I wish you every success for the future.’
‘Thank you. And good luck paddling out there.’
She laughed as she opened the door and made a dash for it.
‘Do you think she’ll order those leaving gifts?’ Jodie asked, appearing from the workshop with my mug of hot chocolate.
I shook my head.
‘Really? I thought she sounded pretty keen.’
‘No. I’m fairly certain I’ll never see her again.’
Jodie stared at me, frowning. ‘What am I missing? Why are you smiling?’
I took my mug from her and gulped down the cool liquid. ‘I’m smiling because I think that was Stacey. I think that was my birth mother.’
28
/> ‘Mummy! Look! Ooh, Mummy, look!’
I swear my uterus contracted with each cute little squeal as the excited toddler gazed in awe at the chocolate angels, elves, snowmen, penguins and Santas.
‘You can pick one of the little ones,’ his mum said.
‘That one,’ cried the little boy, pointing at a snowman.
As she reached for it, he pointed at a penguin instead. ‘That one! No! Santa!’
‘We might be some time,’ she said, turning to me, rolling her eyes.
I smiled. ‘I made some really small ones this morning but I haven’t packaged them yet. I could do you a bag of mixed figures. They’re about a third of the size and you get six in a bag, which is a mini one of each of those, plus Rudolph.’
‘Rudolph!’ the toddler shrieked. ‘Want Rudolph!’
‘About a third of the size?’ his mum asked.
I nodded. ‘And they’re hollow so it’s not like he’ll be having too much chocolate.’
‘That sounds wonderful, thank you.’
I left Jodie in the shop while I went into the workshop to fill a bag from the cooling trays. I heard the bell tinkle a couple of times but when I walked back into the shop, there was only the one customer with her son.
‘I’ve popped an extra Santa in there, just for you,’ I said. ‘No extra charge.’
‘Thank you. That’s so kind. I’ll be back in later in the week to get some stocking fillers for the kids, when a certain somebody’s at nursery.’
When she’d paid and gone, Jodie handed me an envelope. ‘Some bloke in a suit popped in and asked if I’d give you this.’
‘Did he leave his name?’
‘Nope. He looked like he was on official business.’
Ripping open the envelope, I pulled out a single sheet of paper on town council headed paper. ‘Oh! I know what this is. Remember a couple of months ago when a woman from the council dropped by? They’d got a grant to do some mystery shopping for some of the independent businesses as part of a tourism project, so I said to count us in. Well, it’s happened. We’ve been mystery shopped.’
Christmas Wishes at the Chocolate Shop Page 19