The Chocolate Lovers’ Wedding

by Carole Matthews

  Then a light bulb pings in my head. ‘I have a cunning plan!’

  Everyone groans.

  ‘It’s my best idea yet,’ I say. ‘You leave it with me. I just need to make a couple of calls.’

  ‘Your plans always worry me, Lucy,’ Chantal says.

  ‘They’re wonderful! And I don’t want you to fret about a single thing,’ I tell her. ‘Leave it all to me.’

  ‘Leave what all to you?’ she wants to know.

  I bat away the question. My mind is in overdrive. ‘This plan is going to be just fabulous.’ I’m so excited I could squeeeeeee.

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Another few days later, we are all standing outside Chantal’s house once more. It’s a warm, sunny day – just right for our escapade.

  Autumn nibbles her fingernails as she turns to me and says anxiously, ‘Are you sure this is a good plan, Lucy?’

  ‘Of course,’ I say. ‘What could possibly go wrong?’

  ‘I feel like a fool.’ Nadia throws in her two-pence-worth.

  ‘Don’t stress,’ I insist. ‘It will all be absolutely fine.’ I look down at my attire. I hope.

  When Jacob opens the front door he looks at us in amazement – or maybe it’s disbelief.

  ‘Wow,’ he says. ‘You’ve surpassed yourself, Lucy.’ He laughs out loud. ‘Oh, my. I can’t wait to see Chantal’s face.’

  ‘Do you think she’ll like it?’

  ‘I’ve absolutely no idea. I know she’ll think you’re mad.’

  ‘Is she doing OK today?’

  ‘She’s good,’ he tells us – which is a relief to hear. ‘Don’t tire her out, though.’

  ‘We won’t. Is she ready for us?’ I ask.

  ‘I’m not sure anyone’s ready for you,’ he teases.

  ‘Yes, very funny. Ha, ha.’ Then, ‘You gave her the team T-shirt?’

  ‘I did. Just a few minutes ago. She looked very bemused but, as we speak, she’s upstairs putting it on.’

  ‘You didn’t tell her what was happening?’

  ‘No. Only that you were coming along today. My lips were sealed.’

  ‘Do you think she’ll kill us?’ Now I’m a bit worried.

  Another laugh. ‘She might do. Let’s see. I’ll go and get her.’

  We have a few minutes of fluffing our outfits and then our friend comes to the door. Chantal’s eyes widen when she sees us. ‘You are kidding me?’

  ‘Your chariot awaits, Madam,’ I say.

  She takes in the wheelchair that I’ve pimped and bursts out laughing.

  Tied to the chair are two bunches of pink helium balloons. There’s a glittery pink cushion to make it more comfortable. The arms are covered with pink and white ribbons and fake flower posies. I’ve bought sparkly tiaras for me, Nadia and Autumn. For Chantal there’s an especially glamorous jewelled crown from eBay. We’re all wearing pink T-shirts bearing the legend BREAST CANCER MESSED WITH THE WRONG CHICK and there’s a cartoon chicken doing kung fu beneath it. On the back, I’ve had it printed with TEAM CHANTAL. We’re all wearing white jeans and sparkly shoes.

  ‘I’m glad I’m appropriately dressed,’ she says, taking in our outfits and her mode of transport. ‘That’s one hell of a chair.’

  ‘I’ve borrowed it from the Red Cross for the day and we’re going on an outing. Yay!’

  Her eyes are agog. ‘Where the hell are you taking me in that?’

  ‘Ah! It’s a surprise.’

  She shakes her head in disbelief, but I’m relieved to see that her smile is still in place. ‘This I can’t wait for.’

  I give her the crown – which fits her perfectly, I must say – and we’re ready for the off. Chantal’s moving better now and she’s got a full face of slap on. She looks so great that, if you didn’t know, you’d think that nothing was wrong. I hand round the tiaras and we all put them on. I also have a banner for her which says PATIENT ON BOARD.

  Chantal turns to Jacob. ‘Do you know where I’m going?’

  ‘Not a clue. But if Lucy’s organised it, you’re bound to have fun. I wish I was a fly on the wall.’

  ‘I’m not going to remind you that Lucy’s outings usually end very badly,’ Chantal says.

  ‘I didn’t know that Ms Flipping France would call the police,’ I mutter darkly.

  At that moment our taxi arrives, which is an excellent distraction from my shortcomings as an events organiser. ‘Oh, here we go. Can you manage to walk that far?’

  ‘I’m not actually an invalid,’ Chantal says. ‘I can walk.’

  ‘You’ll be glad of the chair,’ I tell her. ‘Just trust me.’

  ‘I’d be a fool not to,’ she says with a certain amount of sarcasm.

  ‘I admit that my previous plans may have involved a modicum of danger or risk or even a certain amount of unnecessary foolishness . . . ’ I know my faults. ‘But this will be just happiness all the way.’

  ‘It doesn’t involve drugs, having my photograph taken while wearing minimal clothing, driving a getaway vehicle?’

  ‘None of the above,’ I assure her.

  ‘I won’t end up in a canal or in a cell?’

  ‘Probably not.’

  She grins at us. ‘Let’s do it then. I can’t wait.’

  ‘Right. Let’s load up.’ Nadia wheels the chair to the taxi and loads it in.

  Chantal kisses Lana and Jacob goodbye.

  ‘Have a great afternoon,’ Jacob says. ‘Come home safely.’

  I escort a very perplexed Chantal to the taxi and we all head off to Mayfair.

  Lovely Jen from Chocolate Ecstasy Tours is waiting for us outside a chocolate shop. She’s wearing her tiara and Team Chantal T-shirt as instructed and has dropped everything to put on this special event for our friend.

  ‘A chocolate tour?’ Chantal grins at me as she climbs into her pimped-up wheelchair. ‘What a treat. This has to be your best ever cunning plan, Lucy.’

  ‘Thanks. I think so, too.’ I beam widely. ‘I told you not to worry.’

  So we set off on our tour, me pushing Chantal’s wheelchair. People smile and wave as we pass them and they step aside on the crowded pavements to make way for us.

  Jen takes us on a tour of the chocolate shops around Mayfair and Soho, stopping at each one to sample their wares. We try some champagne truffles with a hint of strawberry, crisp hazelnut and ginger crunches, velvety soft pralines and decadent molten caramels. All divine. This outing might be a bit of fun to cheer up our friend, but I’m also picking up some great tips for Chocolate Heaven along the way.

  We laugh and joke as we go and Jen tells us some of the history of the area when she can get a word in edgeways. Halfway round we stop for a coffee break so that Chantal can catch her breath.

  ‘You’re not getting too tired?’ I ask.

  ‘No.’ She touches my arm. ‘Thanks, Lucy. This is great fun and just the tonic I needed. I was going mad cooped up in the house. I haven’t laughed so much in ages.’

  ‘Just let me know when you’ve had enough. We can take you straight back home. I don’t want you to overdo it and feel poorly.’

  ‘Strangely, this is helping me to forget my pain. Only a cocktail or two would help more.’

  ‘Are you allowed alcohol?’

  ‘The doctor didn’t say that I couldn’t have any.’ She looks all wide-eyed and innocent. ‘One or two wouldn’t hurt, surely?’

  I look to the girls. ‘Next stop cocktails! What do you say?’

  ‘We’re in,’ Autumn and Nadia agree.

  ‘There are two more chocolate shops on my route and there’s a nice hotel just around the corner from the last one,’ Jen says. ‘I’m happy to stop there afterwards if you are.’

  ‘It’s a plan.’

  So we set off again and this time Autumn takes over pushing Chantal’s wheelchair. We visit the last two shops, tasting raspberry liqueur truffles, bite-sized morsels of pecan brownies and a dark chocolate Florentine.

  When we’ve finished Jen asks, ‘Have you had
enough chocolate?’

  ‘You can never have enough chocolate,’ I remind her. ‘But I’m sure we’ve had enough for now. It’s been great. What better way to round it off than with some cocktails?’

  So we head straight to the hotel, parking Chantal’s wheelchair in the foyer, and are shown to a table in the airy lounge. Less than ten minutes later we have our first cocktail in front of us.

  I hold my glass aloft. ‘To the patient!’

  ‘To the patient!’ they echo.

  ‘Ah, this has been fabulous,’ Chantal says. ‘We must do it again when I can walk round.’

  We make Jen an honorary member of the Chocolate Lovers’ Club in respect of her astounding chocolate knowledge and capacity for endless consumption of our favourite foodstuff, then we have another cocktail to celebrate.

  We’re getting even more giggly.

  ‘This feels like it’s turning into a proper hen party. We certainly look like the hen party from hell,’ Chantal says, pulling out her T-shirt for inspection. ‘It won’t be long before yours, Lucy.’

  ‘I can’t wait,’ I say. ‘I haven’t decided what to do yet.’

  ‘You’d better get a move on,’ Nadia says. ‘It’s not long.’

  ‘Everything’s in place now,’ I tell them. ‘I think. Jacob’s sorted the catering.’

  ‘I did have a little hand in that,’ Chantal confesses. ‘I think you’ll love it.’

  ‘It’s going to be wonderful. I had a phone call this morning to say that my dress has arrived at the shop. The groom is still in love with me.’ Never a given with my history. ‘All I need now is perfect weather.’

  Chantal clutches my hand. ‘You’re doing the right thing,’ she says. ‘I couldn’t be happier for you. As soon as I’m well again, I’m going to whisk Jacob down the aisle. We talked about it again last night. He’s as keen as I am.’ She sighs. ‘All this has made me realise that life is a very precarious blessing. I’m going to waste no more time. I wish I could do it now, this minute, before I start chemo. That’s going to set me back six months, at least. Plus I’m likely to lose all my hair.’ She grimaces at that. ‘Then I might have to have radiotherapy as well. By the time I’ve recovered, a year could have gone by.’ Her voice catches in her throat. ‘There’s always the possibility that I might not recover at all.’

  ‘No there isn’t,’ I say. ‘Of course you’ll get through this. Look at that T-shirt. Believe.’ I point to the kung-fu chicken emblazoned on her chest. ‘You are going to kick cancer’s arse.’

  ‘I know. Sometimes, I worry that I won’t be here to see Lana grow up. That Jacob and I won’t make it to our seventies together.’

  ‘You will.’

  ‘It is playing on my mind. I can’t help it. The divorce is nearly finalised. It’s only a matter of days before it’s done.’ She rubs her arm. ‘I know it’s irrational, but it feels as if being married to Jacob would make the future feel all the more believable.’

  I stop with my cocktail halfway to my mouth. ‘Have my wedding,’ I say.

  Chantal laughs.

  ‘No, I mean it.’ Maybe it’s the drink talking, but it suddenly seems exactly the right thing to do. ‘There’s a wedding organised and ready to roll. Your need is greater than mine.’

  ‘Lucy, you are so lovely, but I can’t do that. It’s your big day. And you’ve waited long enough.’

  ‘I’m serious. Deadly so.’ I hold up a hand. ‘Bad choice of words. There’s going to be no one dying in this club. No one.’ I can see Chantal wavering. ‘You picked out the dress and have paid for it. You’ve just said that you helped Jacob to source the catering. You’ll love the venue. It could almost be your day already.’

  Chantal bites her lip and I can sense her growing excitement at the idea. She needs this. I know.

  Tears spring to my eyes. ‘I couldn’t bear for anything to go wrong and you not be married to Jacob.’

  ‘I want it with all of my heart.’

  ‘Then nothing’s stopping you.’

  ‘We could just slope off to the register office and have a quiet dinner somewhere. That would be the thing to do.’

  ‘No,’ I say. ‘You’re not sloping off anywhere. You’re going to have a lovely wedding and there’s one already arranged. It’s the obvious solution.’

  Chantal’s eyes are bright with tears, too. ‘Do you really mean it, Lucy?’

  ‘Of course. Nothing would give me greater pleasure.’

  ‘Could we actually do it?’

  ‘I’ll phone the register office and check straight away, but if they’re already booked for the venue and date, then it can’t be that hard. Can it? I’m sure it would simply be a matter of you going to them and filling in your paperwork.’

  ‘When would you get married?’

  ‘Don’t even think about that. We can arrange it all again as soon as possible. It’s not a problem.’ I take a deep gulp and cross my fingers behind my back. ‘Truly.’

  ‘You’re absolutely sure?’ Chantal still looks dazed.

  ‘Yes. It’s my gift to you.’

  ‘I guess that’s sorted then.’ Chantal giggles into her hands. ‘I’m getting married.’

  I hug my friend tightly. ‘I have to be your chief bridesmaid, though.’

  ‘It’s a deal.’

  ‘Tell the others,’ I say excitedly.

  ‘Shall I?’ Chantal taps on her cocktail glass with the stirrer. ‘Ladies of the Chocolate Lovers’ Club, I have an announcement to make.’

  Autumn, Nadia and Jen turn to look at her.

  ‘I’m going to be married!’ She looks at me, eyes shining brightly. ‘Lucy has very kindly said that I can step into her shoes and take over her wedding so that Jacob and I can tie the knot as soon as possible.’

  ‘Seriously?’ Nadia says.

  I nod.

  Autumn adds a ‘Woo hoo!’

  ‘We should drink to this,’ I say. ‘Ladies, charge your glasses. To Chantal and Jacob.’

  We lift our glasses.

  Then Chantal frowns. ‘What about Crush? You’re certain that he won’t mind?’

  ‘No, no, no,’ I say. ‘Not at all.’ And then I wonder how on earth I’m going to tell him that I’ve just given our wedding away.

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  I go home the worse for drink. Chantal, very sensibly in her condition, limited herself to just two cocktails. I did not. I’m in the taxi on the way home before the realisation that I’ve just given away my wedding really hits me. Yikes. What will Crush say? I am supposed to be the new non-stupid version of me and look what I’ve gone and done. But, in all honesty, how could I deny my friend this chance?

  By all accounts, her operation was a resounding success, but we all know what a terrible thing cancer is. It has a habit of biting people on the bum. How could I go ahead and get married knowing that Chantal could be waiting on an uncertain future? If anything went wrong, that would always be on my mind. If that’s what she wants, she should marry Jacob and she should marry him now.

  I only hope that Crush agrees with me.

  He’s on the sofa watching some car-chase programme when I stumble into the living room.

  ‘Hello, party animal,’ he says wryly.

  ‘Too many cocktails.’ Slightly more slurry than I’d like.

  ‘Excellent day out.’

  ‘At least you didn’t fall in the canal.’

  ‘No.’ Good point, well made.

  ‘I take it Chantal isn’t in the same state as you?’ ‘No. Mush more shenshible.’

  ‘Did she enjoy your surprise?’

  I nod too much. ‘Lovely time.’

  He comes to give me a cuddle and then recoils as my alcohol

  breath hits him. ‘Would you like me to make you some strong black coffee, Gorgeous?’

  I cling to him tightly. ‘Yesh pleash.’

  ‘Relax the death grip, Lucy. Relax. Relax.’ Gingerly, he unwinds himself from my arms. ‘Some toast with that?’

  As he heads tow
ards the kitchen I blurt out, ‘I’ve done something terrible.’

  That stops Crush in his tracks. I was going to leave this until tomorrow when I’d had a chance to think about what I was going to say and when, essentially, I’d be a bit less drunk than I am now.

  He raises his eyebrows. ‘Does it involve Marcus?’

  ‘No. Not this time.’

  He looks quite relieved by that. ‘Does it involve you getting naked with strange men?’

  ‘No. Absolutely not.’

  ‘Is candid photography of any kind involved?’

  ‘No. No. No.’ I shake my head vigorously. Then feel decidedly dizzy.

  ‘Have you swallowed expensive jewellery?’

  ‘No.’

  Crush sighs. ‘But I do need to sit down for this?’

  ‘Yes. Maybe.’

  My beloved sits on the sofa, head in hands, braced for the worst. ‘Go on then. Hit me with it.’

  I take a deep breath. In for a penny, in for a pound. I’ve done it now. No going back. I can hardly ring Chantal tomorrow and tell her it was a big mistake, can I? No.

  ‘We can’t get married,’ I say sadly. ‘Not never. Just not now.’

  ‘Why?’ Crush says. ‘I thought we were getting on really well.’ He looks at me, eyes sorrowful. ‘This is to do with Marcus, right?’

  I shake my head and it makes me a little bit dizzier. Must stop shaking head. ‘It’s not me. It’s you.’

  Crush frowns.

  ‘Other way round,’ I correct. A conversation like this should not be attempted in a haze of alcohol. ‘It’s not you. It’s me.’

  ‘What’s made you change your mind?’

  ‘I haven’t,’ I reassure him. ‘There might just have been a tiny-weeny change of plan.’ I steel myself. ‘I might have told Chantal that she can have our wedding.’

  His head snaps up at that. ‘You did what?’

  ‘I gave our wedding away,’ I confirm and then look at him anxiously. ‘She really, really wants to marry Jacob as soon as possible and I was worried that her cancer might get worse or come back or whatever and she might never make it. She’ll have to have chemo and all her hair might fall out. And you don’t want to be a bride when you’re bald. Although it’s perfectly acceptable for the groom to be bald.’