The Chocolate Lovers’ Wedding

by Carole Matthews

  ‘Aw! Mummy!’

  ‘It teaches them about the farm,’ James said. ‘You have to do everything for them, right? No slacking.’

  Lily and Seth nodded again.

  ‘If you pick out a lamb, you couldn’t take her back to London,’ James said to Lewis. ‘She’d belong here. But Seth and Lily would look after her and she’d be here whenever you came back.’

  ‘I’d like that,’ Lewis said. ‘I haven’t got a pet.’

  ‘OK then.’ Nadia held up her hands in surrender. ‘Looks as if I’m outnumbered.’

  James turned to Nadia and grinned. Her insides melted. ‘We’re going to have a great time,’ he said. ‘I can tell.’

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  I’m weary when I climb the stairs to the flat after a long day at Chocolate Heaven. I think we’ve had more customers through the café today than ever before, which means more money has gone into Marcus’s coffers. Perhaps I should have negotiated a bonus along with my salary.

  I popped into the hospital briefly and Chantal seems to be doing fine. She’s weary and a bit teary, but who wouldn’t be? Now my feet are aching like mad and all I want is a glass of wine, a nice hot bath and some chocolate-based treats. I’ve been so busy today that my chocolate consumption has fallen to dangerously low levels. However, I’m about to remedy that.

  For once I’m hoping that there’s wall-to-wall football on the television so I can leave Crush and my dad to their own devices and wallow in the bath until I’m in a vegetative state.

  When I reach the top of the stairs Crush, unusually, is waiting for me. ‘Hey, Gorgeous. How’s Chantal?’

  ‘She’s doing OK. She still looks a bit battered and bruised, but they’re letting her go home in the morning.’

  ‘That’s good news. She must be relieved. Nothing like your own bed to make you feel better.’

  Never a truer word spoken.

  He strokes my cheek. ‘You look tired. Busy day?’ ‘The busiest. I’m knackered.’

  Raising an eyebrow, he flicks his head back towards the living room behind him. He lowers his voice when he says, ‘We have another visitor.’

  ‘We do?’

  ‘Your mother’s here.’

  I should be delighted to see her, but instead my heart sinks. My mother is never the easiest of people. ‘She is?’

  ‘Arrived about an hour ago.’

  I can’t help the groan that escapes my lips. ‘Really?’ I peel off my coat and Crush takes it from me. I wonder what she’s come here for. Maybe my father has done something heinous – again – and she’s come to have it out with him in person. ‘I hope there’s not going to be a fight. I’ve no energy for that.’

  ‘Actually, they seem to be getting along rather well,’ Crush says.

  ‘It won’t last,’ I assure him. ‘Give her another hour and she’ll remember how annoying Dad can be. Then we’ll have to put up with them trying to out-bicker each other.’

  He hugs me. ‘Thought I’d better come out and warn you.’

  ‘Thanks. I love you. One day we will get our flat back for ourselves.’

  Heavy of heart, I follow him into the living room. It’s not that I don’t want to see my dear mother, but I’d like to do it on my own terms sometimes. Also I’m way too tired to go through the usual knockabout routine of my parents’ relationship.

  My mum and dad are sitting together on the sofa watching The One Show. Mum has her feet curled underneath her and she’s leaning against Dad’s shoulder. To the untrained it could almost look as if they’re sort of snuggling. But I know better. ‘Darling.’ Mum jumps up and bears down on me instantly. ‘Hi, Mum.’ I allow myself to be smothered with kisses.

  She strokes my hair. ‘You look tired, poppet. Working too hard?’

  ‘Yes, yes. I’m back at Chocolate Heaven. Busy but I’m loving it.’

  ‘And Aiden tells me that you’ve booked the wedding date.’

  ‘We have. Only just.’

  ‘That’s lovely. I’ll have to check my diary,’ she says pointedly.

  Ah, yes. Didn’t actually consult the parents to see if they were around before we organised it. My bad.

  ‘What brings you here?’ I ask. ‘You didn’t mention you were planning on dropping in.’ I gain a bit of ground back there, I think.

  ‘Daddy and I have some things to talk about.’ Alarmingly, she bats her eyelashes in my father’s direction.

  I recoil. He doesn’t. Worrying.

  ‘What shall we do for dinner?’ Crush chips in. ‘There’s not much in the cupboards. I can nip out to the Tesco Express, if you like. What do you fancy?’

  ‘I don’t want you to go to any trouble on my behalf,’ Mum says. ‘Is that nice Chinese restaurant still down the road? Shall we go there? My treat.’

  All I want to do is lie flat on the floor and sleep, but we’ll have to entertain my mother somehow – she’s not a staying-in-with-feet-up kind of person – so it might as well be with some steamed pork dumplings.

  ‘Chinese it is then,’ I say. ‘When are you going home?’

  ‘Lucy!’ my dad says. ‘Your mother’s only just got here.’

  ‘I know, but I’m concerned about where we’re all going to sleep. There’s one bed. One sofa.’

  My mother giggles like a little girl. It’s not attractive. ‘I’m sure we’ll manage.’

  Not for the first time since my dad arrived, I consider booking into a hotel. Though I’m now legitimately allowed in Chocolate Heaven, I’m not even thinking about going back there. Besides, Crush would never agree. Once bitten, twice shy and all that.

  ‘Have I got time for a shower?’

  Crush nods. ‘Let me make you a strong coffee to perk you up.’

  ‘I’ll be ten minutes,’ I say to my parents.

  ‘Excellent.’ My mother clasps her hands together. ‘Martin Sheen is on in a minute and I don’t want to miss him.’

  Even my television is not my own anymore.

  I grab some fresh clothes, go through to the bathroom and turn the shower to hot while I strip off. A few seconds later, Crush comes in with my coffee.

  ‘Are you sure you want to go out?’

  ‘No,’ I say. ‘Let them go by themselves. We’ll stay here and have sex standing up in the shower.’

  ‘Much as that sounds like an excellent plan, I do feel we have to make an effort. I feel bad that we hadn’t told them about the wedding arrangements. We should have.’

  ‘I was getting round to it,’ I say. ‘I just had other things on my mind.’

  ‘I’ll keep them happy until you’re ready. There’s a cheap bottle of white in the fridge. Unless you want me to stay and wash your back?’

  I press my naked body against him. ‘I can think of nothing nicer.’

  ‘We’ll never get out of the house if you do that, you naughty lady.’

  I sigh. ‘Ten minutes then.’

  Crush winks at me and leaves. I stand in the shower and let the water do its thing.

  * * * ‘Will you have your usual, darling?’ Mum says to Dad. My father looks blank. He’s not even sure what his usual is.

  ‘I’ll have whatever you’re having,’ he manages rather gallantly.

  ‘I’m having steamed vegetables and a side of seaweed.’

  ‘Oh,’ Dad says. ‘Make that sticky spare ribs, sweet and sour chicken and special fried rice for me then.’

  Mum giggles. Does she think he’s joking? Or is she simply determined to find every single thing that he says witty and amusing?

  Despite my nice, hot shower, I’m still tired and increasingly irritable. We all order.

  I bite the bullet. ‘We’ve booked Golders Hill Park for our wedding venue.’

  ‘Lovely,’ Mum says. She barely takes her eyes off Dad.

  ‘We thought we’d make it informal. Very informal. Bordering on casual.’

  ‘Nice.’

  I turn to Crush and he shrugs. It seems as if we are slightly superfluous to the proceedings. The food
comes and Crush and I eat ours largely in silence while my parents – mainly my mother – go on some romantic trip down memory lane.

  It’s all ‘remember when we did this, darling?’ ‘Remember when we did that?’ Quite a lot of it my dad doesn’t really seem to remember at all. I think sometimes my mum confuses him with other husbands she’s had. But, nevertheless, he’s playing along gamely.

  After what feels like the longest meal in the history of long meals, we leave. My mum might remember all the fun they were having together twenty or thirty years ago, but she clearly doesn’t remember her earlier promise to treat us to the Chinese. Crush pays the bill.

  We walk along Camden High Street back to the flat. It’s a beautiful balmy night – if you ignore the drunks sleeping off their binges in doorways – but that’s doing nothing to soothe my soul. My mother is high on wine and something else. They’re behind us giggling together and holding hands. I try to hurry up our leisurely stroll. They’re like teenagers. Teenagers with no respect for their elders.

  When we get back home, the fact that we’ve not addressed the sleeping arrangements cannot be ignored.

  ‘So,’ I say. ‘What’s the deal?’ Best not to beat about the bush. ‘There’s one bed. One sofa. I haven’t even got a spare duvet.’

  Mum goes coy. ‘Oh, I’m sure we’ll manage somehow.’ She flutters her eyelashes at Dad for the millionth time. ‘Won’t we, Cuddlebunny?’

  Cuddlebunny? I think I’m going to be sick. And I can’t even blame it on the chicken with black bean sauce.

  She sidles up close to him.

  My dad looks like the cat who’s got the cream.

  I can’t cope with this. ‘Right,’ I say. ‘We’ll leave you to it.’ Crush and I beat a hasty retreat.

  With cursory ablutions, we’re in bed within a few minutes. I can still hear the low murmur of my parents talking in hushed tones. Then I hear embarrassed giggling and the sofa springs start to creak.

  ‘Oh, no.’ I put my hands over my ears. ‘Please tell me that’s not my parents shagging on my sofa.’

  Crush doesn’t even try to hide his laughter. ‘I think it might be.’

  ‘That’s horrible,’ I say. ‘No daughter should have to hear that.’ I stick my fingers in my ears, but I can still hear it. ‘Make them stop.’

  ‘Perhaps they won’t be long.’

  ‘Aaaaargh. I can’t listen to that. Put a pillow over my face and press it tightly.’

  ‘I have a feeling that might end badly, Gorgeous.’

  The creaking and giggling increase in volume. I feel like whimpering. I’m going to be traumatised for ever by this.

  ‘We should encourage your mum and dad to get along,’ Crush says.

  ‘I don’t think they actually need any encouragement,’ I point out. Another bit of moaning and groaning. And not about there being nothing on the telly, the football results or the useless government that my dad usually moans and groans about. These are my parents’ sex noises. Aaaaargh! ‘Haven’t we got any earplugs? I can’t handle this.’

  ‘Maybe if they get it together again, they’ll go home to your mum’s house.’

  I gasp. ‘Oh, that’s a cunning plan, Mr Aiden Holby.’

  ‘I have another one,’ he says. ‘Come with me.’

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Crush grabs the throw from the bed and leads me to the window. He opens it and climbs out onto the ledge.

  ‘Are we going to jump?’

  ‘I hadn’t planned on it,’ he says. ‘Come on, Gorgeous. Trust

  me.’

  He takes my hand and I climb up after him. Below us is the

  flat roof of the hairdressing salon.

  ‘I’ve been having a sneaky look out here over the last few

  weeks,’ Crush says. ‘I thought if we were going to stay living

  in the flat, perhaps we could put a door in where the window

  is and turn this into a roof terrace.’

  He makes the short jump, then he holds out his arms and

  lifts me down too. It’s not very inspiring at the moment: a bit

  of patchy roofing felt, some broken tiles and a moderately

  interesting view across the roofs of Camden, but I see what he

  means – with some money and effort thrown in, it could be

  great.

  ‘It wouldn’t be that hard,’ he continues. ‘It needs a good

  tidy, but we could put a bit of trellis up, add a few pots, some

  cheap and cheerful garden furniture and Bob’s your uncle.’ ‘He’s not going to move in with us too, is he?’

  Crush laughs. ‘A roof terrace is a nice idea, but maybe moving

  somewhere with more bedrooms would be more practical for

  when your relatives descend on us unannounced.’

  Then he wraps the throw round our shoulders and we sit

  down with our backs to the wall, sheltered from the breeze.

  The moon is high in the sky, the clouds scudding across it.

  Huddling together for warmth, we gaze out over the rooftops

  and even the usual background hum of traffic fades away. I’m

  wishing we’d thought to bring a bottle of wine out with us –

  but that would have meant accessing the kitchen, which is

  currently a no-go zone as it means traversing the flesh-pot of

  my living room.

  Flicking my head back towards the flat, I say, ‘This has

  shown me that this isn’t entirely my home. Mum owns it. She

  could sell it tomorrow or, God forbid, move in. I seem to have

  no say in the matter. If we can, I would rather get our own

  place.’

  ‘It’ll be tough if we want to stay in London. We’re both on

  half-decent salaries yet we’d struggle to afford a cupboard.’ I cosy up to him some more. ‘But it would be our cupboard.’ He laughs. ‘Your glass is always half full.’

  ‘There’s a flat above Chocolate Heaven. Ms France is living

  there at the moment, but she’s not going to be around for ever

  if I know Marcus.’ Which I do only too well. ‘Perhaps I could

  persuade him to rent it to us while we save up for a deposit.’ ‘You know how I feel about Marcus. I don’t want our lives

  mixed up in his. It’s bad enough that you work for him.’ ‘It’s fine,’ I say. ‘He’s happy that the business is back on track

  and he doesn’t have to worry about it. He’s being quite sweet.’ ‘That’s when he’s at his most dangerous.’

  ‘You’re right.’ I sigh. ‘As always.’

  ‘I only have your best interests at heart.’

  I rest my head on his shoulder. ‘I’m really glad that I’m

  marrying you. You’re so sensible.’

  Crush chuckles softly. ‘I hope I have more qualities than

  that.’

  ‘I would regale you with them all,’ I say, stifling a yawn. ‘But

  it’s a long list and I’m getting very sleepy and we both have to

  be up early in the morning. Do you think my parents might

  have . . . um . . . finished by now?’

  ‘Want me to check whether the coast is clear?’

  I nod.

  Crush lifts himself back through the window. A few seconds

  later, he pops his head out again. ‘All quiet on the Western

  Front.’

  Thank heavens for that. Now all we’ll have to contend with

  is the snoring.

  ‘Give me your hands and I’ll pull you up,’ Crush says. ‘Step

  on that little pile of bricks.’

  With less elegance than I’d like, I also clamber through the

  window and back into our bedroom. Then I creep down the

  hall to the living room and, as all is still quiet, I risk a peep at

  my parents.

  They’re snuggled up together, a tangle of arms and legs on


  the sofa. There are contented smiles on their faces and – despite

  the noisy bit – it warms my heart to see them happy. I wish they could be in love like this all the time. They

  seem to be unable to live together, yet life apart doesn’t seem

  that great either. If only they could find contentment with

  each other as they grow older. My dad can be really annoying

  and my mum’s so high-maintenance, but there’s clearly something that pulls them back together. If only they could nurture

  that. They might drive me to distraction, but I love them so

  much and do worry about them. I don’t want either of them

  to be alone. Doesn’t everyone want a companion in life, even if it’s one who leaves the loo seat up or spends too much in

  Debenhams?

  Leaving them in peace, I go back to the bedroom. Crush is

  already under the duvet and I cuddle into his side. ‘Let’s be in love for ever,’ I whisper.

  ‘OK,’ he murmurs back. ‘I’m up for that.’

  I want a strong abiding love that grows as we do. I don’t

  want drama, distrust and broken dreams. I want slow, steady,

  settled. I want to build a family that sticks together through

  thick and thin. I want to be with Crush in the sunset of our

  lives when we’ve got bent backs and fingers that can’t open jam

  jars, but maybe would still be passionate enough, every now

  and then, to have noisy sex on the sofa. But only when the kids

  are out.

  He puts his arm round me and I feel loved and protected. I

  rest my head on his heart and, feeling its strong, steady beat,

  I fall asleep.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Autumn stood outside her parents’ house. It was big, imposing and had never felt like her home. Now she could hardly remember when she’d last been to visit them here; you could certainly never just drop in. If she wanted to see her mother and father, she had to make an appointment. They both had very busy schedules.

  When she rang the bell, her father opened the door. Until recently they’d had a number of staff running their home – a housekeeper who had been with them for many years, a cook and a cleaner. They were from old money and expected to be looked after. Since the housekeeper had retired, they managed with one Romanian lady who came in each day to clean and leave them a prepared dinner. She supposed it was their way of becoming more modern.