The Chocolatier's Secret (Magnolia Creek, Book 2)

by Helen J Rolfe

  ‘Molly Ramsey speaking,’ she said, not recognising the number.

  ‘Hello Molly, it’s Andrea.’

  Molly didn’t register at first, but then she realised it was the caseworker from the adoption search agency.

  ‘Hi.’ Her stomach churned as she waited to hear what came next.

  ‘I have some news for you.’

  ‘Really?’

  The smile in Andrea’s voice was clear; it was obvious she loved delivering news and satisfying clients like this. ‘I have an address for you, some details.’

  Molly felt dazed, in shock. She apologised to the man behind her as she stopped right in his path. ‘Is he still living in the area?’

  ‘The whole family upped and emigrated to Australia the same year you were born,’ Andrea told her.

  For some reason it shocked Molly. The year of her birth must have been a time of enormous change for this man. She and Ben had joked around after she’d messaged him about her search. They’d laughed and said her biological father could be a sultan somewhere exotic, they’d pondered whether or not she looked like him, complete with matching facial hair. She wondered how shocked Ben would be to find out the man was a fellow Aussie now.

  This was real. Her birth father was out there. And he was a long way away.

  ‘Molly, are you still there?’

  She cleared her throat. ‘Still here.’

  ‘Do you have a pen handy?’

  ‘Give me a sec.’ Molly stopped at the bench beside the main entrance and balanced her phone as she pulled out a pen and an old receipt from Boots. ‘Go on.’

  Andrea reeled off the address and a few details, and Molly didn’t care how cold her fingers were as she scribbled down everything she’d been desperate to hear for the last month. It hadn’t been difficult to find him because the family hadn’t changed their name, and once they had the link with the family business, it had been easy. The caseworker went on to explain to Molly how best to approach her birth father. This man could know nothing about her, he may have chosen to walk away or he may not have done. Molly was advised to tread carefully. She’d heard the spiel before, and this time it kind of went in one ear, lingered a little bit, then filtered right out the other side.

  As soon as Molly got home she called Isaac, relieved when he picked up on the second ring. She hadn’t wanted to call him as she walked. She’d wanted to use the time to let the information sink in.

  ‘Molly, this is huge! What are you going to do? It’s not like you can turn up on his doorstep now you know he’s on the other side of the world.’

  He said it as though it was a given, but it was anything but. She breathed long and heavy into the phone. ‘I don’t know what to do, Isaac.’

  ‘I can’t tell you what to do. I’m not in your position and saying I understand would be lying. But you know we are all here for you – me, Mum, Dad, Claire. All of us.’

  Molly smiled now. ‘Thanks, Isaac.’

  ‘I’m glad about it, in a way.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Well, if me getting married wasn’t enough to convince you to try and get over your fear of flying, maybe this will give you an extra shove in the right direction.’

  ‘I guess you’re right.’

  ‘What does the cult leader think about all this?’

  ‘Don’t call him that,’ she admonished. ‘And I haven’t been onto Facebook. I phoned you first.’

  ‘I’m honoured. Listen, I’ve got to go, meeting a client at a house in Oldfield Park, but call me later if you need me. I’m taking Claire out for dinner for her birthday, but if you need us to come over, or you need anything, let me know.’

  ‘Will do. And wish her a happy birthday from me.’

  Molly ran herself a bath and lost herself beneath the bubbles as she tried her best to take things slowly through her mind, allow them to settle. But seconds later, she was up. Dripping water all the way across the landing and with suds running down her legs and dropping onto the carpet, she went back to her bedroom. She had a name, an address, a family business … and she had Google. She had the power to find out everything she needed to know about chocolatier Andrew Bennett.

  Everything.

  She devoured the information as it appeared in front of her: the history of her biological family, photos of Andrew himself who, despite flecks of grey, looked as though he’d once had the same deep brown hair as she did. She pored over every detail of his history she could find, wondering what this man was really like. And when she was done, she logged on to Facebook to tell Ben all about it:

  Ben: Wow, this is huge! Didn’t take long to find him. And he’s a fellow Aussie – being there since the eighties qualifies him! So what are you going to do? You could write to him. Would you consider flying over to see him?

  Molly: I can’t do that. There’s my fear of flying for a start. And it could be a very, very bad idea. Look what happened when I turned up at my birth mother’s house. She didn’t want to know, but at least I didn’t have far to get home.

  Ben: I’m impressed he makes chocolates for a living.

  Molly: Maybe it’s where I get my chocolate addiction from.

  Ben: Didn’t know you had one, but hey, at least I now know the way to your heart.

  Molly: Whoa, stranger danger! Internet predator alert! And besides, you live in Australia, I live in England … never gonna happen.

  Ben: I’m crying now.

  Molly: No you’re not.

  Ben: How do you know?

  Molly: I just do.

  What was she doing? Molly could feel butterflies dancing in her tummy. She didn’t even know Ben! This man could be seventy years old for all she knew, married with kids.

  Get a grip, Molly, she told herself and looked at Ben’s latest reply.

  Ben: So what are you going to do? You could write to him.

  Molly: I could.

  Ben: Something tells me you’re not going to.

  He was right. And Molly needed, and wanted, his help.

  Molly: What I think I really need is for you to work your magic. Help me get over my fear of flying so I can get on a plane.

  *

  Molly was on the late shift the following day and from the kitchen window in her flat, she looked out to the black clouds congregating in the skies above. She’d need her raincoat and umbrella for the walk to work. But for now, sitting at the small, weathered table, she opened up Facebook to the latest post in the online support group, immediately escaping to the blue skies of Florida along with a member’s post. Stacey, a girl who suffered severe claustrophobia and who had never been on a plane before in her life, had taken the dramatic step of attending a fear of flying course with a major UK airline and it’d worked wonders. And now, with the support of her sister, she was standing on Cocoa Beach, the azure waters lapping around her ankles, flip-flops hanging from her fingers of one hand, the other hand shielding her eyes from the sun. Her smile was as big as the ocean, and her status said: ‘So happy I joined this group … this would never have been possible without you guys.’

  Molly enjoyed a bit of banter with others in the group, one whose boss had taken three colleagues up in a light plane – after they’d signed the declaration exonerating him of all responsibility should they meet an untimely death – and the reactions were funny. Some said it was one way of tackling your fear head on and asked for his number. Some said smaller planes weren’t as scary, others disagreed and said they felt safer in a huge plane. ‘It’s like the London Eye,’ said one guy. ‘I’m happy to go on that, but you wouldn’t get me on a Ferris wheel for any money.’

  Molly laughed and wrote her reply. She hated Ferris wheels too. She’d been to Amsterdam once – via ferry of course – with a boyfriend for the weekend and at the top of the Ferris wheel, he’d stood up and rocked the thing backwards and forwards. She hadn’t realised how scared she was of heights until then.

  The number ‘one’ appeared on Molly’s message icon at the top of the p
age and she clicked onto it. It was Ben.

  Ben: How are you feeling today? Any thoughts on strategy for operation flight time?

  Molly: It’s all I’ve thought about. I think I’ll do what you suggested to someone the other day … the guy whose fiancée wants to get married on the Amalfi Coast.

  Ben: So you’re going to spend time at the airport?

  Molly: Seems stupid when you put it like that. I sound like a train spotter … except plane spotter.

  Ben: Molly, nothing about this is ‘stupid’.

  Molly: Stop using my name, it’s freaking me out! You sound all serious.

  Ben: Molly, Molly, Molly, Molly … okay, I’m done. It’s a nice name.

  Molly: Thanks. The plan is to go to Heathrow airport tomorrow with my friends. They’re all off to Malta on holiday.

  Ben: It’s a good starting point.

  Molly: I hope so.

  Ben: So come on, where in Australia does this guy live? I could be related to him and then we’d have to stop this online relationship we’ve got … it could be bordering on incestuous.

  Molly: Uh-uh … no specifics! Got to be careful with online groups. You could be some weird stalker who gets totally obsessed by me.

  Ben: And vice versa … no specifics from me, or you could begin stalking me!

  This is what she enjoyed so much about chatting online with Ben – the most serious topic of all could end up feeling much lighter when he was involved. He could see the serious side of being scared of flying, but his responses were upbeat, helpful, talked about from firsthand experience. She wondered, again, what he looked like. Was he cute?

  Molly signed off with Ben wishing her luck when she went to the airport tomorrow. The plan sounded totally insane now, to be going to Heathrow when she wasn’t even going anywhere! All she was going to do was look at the airplanes taking off and coming in to land, to watch people calmly (she hoped) getting on and off flights. But she really hoped it was a starting point, one she could work from to get her to where she needed to go.

  *

  The next day, Molly drove her friends to Heathrow. Freya hauled suitcases from the boot and handed one to Lucy, the other to Katy.

  ‘I still can’t believe you’ve come here to watch planes,’ said Katy to Molly.

  ‘I know, sounds crazy, right?’

  ‘It’s not crazy.’ Lucy smacked Katy on the arm.

  ‘None of us have the same fear as Molly,’ Freya interjected, ‘so we don’t know what it’s like. Fears often sound irrational to those who don’t share them. Katy.’

  It didn’t matter how Molly’s fear had started. It was as real to her as monsters under the bed were to a kid.

  ‘Thanks for that,’ said Katy, who had an odd fear of buttons.

  Molly grinned. She was glad of Freya’s comeback on her behalf. ‘You’re proper weird, you are, Katy.’ She pulled at a button on her shirt and put it closer to Katy, who winced.

  ‘Shut up or I’ll make you fly in my place, right now,’ Katy assured her.

  They made their way into the airport, and Molly tried to take in her surroundings, let the noises of the airport settle around her. Ben’s top tips were to imagine being inside each of the aircraft she saw taking off and landing. She should be imagining the noises, sounds of parts of the aircraft adjusting.

  Molly tried to remember everything Ben had told her as she waited for her friends to check-in. Once they’d done so, she would be able to spend a couple of hours here watching the planes. She felt like a five-year-old boy obsessed by aircraft! She couldn’t help wondering how much fun this would be if Ben were here in person, and she took out her iPhone to message him but then put it back in her handbag. She was here for a reason and she needed to focus.

  She watched a flight crew walk by, immaculate, with their uniforms ironed perfectly, the women with their make-up precise, nothing out of place. They were orderly and it instilled a sense of calm, a sense of order for Molly, who hoped that when her time came and she boarded a plane, she would be no different to the millions of ordinary passengers who travelled safely by air each day.

  Check-in complete, the girls went to the café and gathered at a table, coffees all round.

  ‘I hope next time we plan a holiday,’ Katy began, ‘Molly will be coming with us.’

  ‘Hear, hear,’ agreed the others.

  Molly smiled. ‘You know, I think it might be possible, although with thoughts of Australia and America this year, I’m fast running out of money.’

  ‘Well, get saving,’ said Lucy. ‘We’re planning a shopping trip to New York next!’

  Molly chatted and laughed with her friends until it was time for them to go through to departures, and then she spent the next couple of hours visiting the Heathrow Academy building on Newall Road where she could watch planes taking off and coming in to land. She’d entered the building with trepidation, but by the end of her time there she was actually quite bored. It really had been uneventful, which she guessed was the point of the exercise. She’d watched twin boys, about four or five years old at a guess, watching avidly out of the window, one of them snatching his mummy’s iPhone to take a ridiculous number of photos involving planes. It was refreshing to see an obsession born out of excitement and wonder rather than fear, and by the time Molly drove away from the airport, she knew she was on her way.

  Chapter Nine

  Gemma

  Gemma went with Andrew and Louis to the hospital several times, not only for dialysis, but for further checks to ensure the live transplantation could go ahead. Andrew’s X-rays didn’t need to be repeated, but he had another ECG and more blood tests to make sure he was fit enough to go through with the operation. The removal of a healthy, functioning kidney was no small undertaking, and over the last few months since the initial decision, Andrew had seen more doctors than Gemma was able to keep track of. He’d seen the renal physician to assess his suitability, the transplant coordinator to ensure all the correct tests had been done and that Andrew was making an informed decision, the surgeon to again assess pre-op fitness and even a psychiatrist to ensure Andrew understood what was happening and that he was doing it for the right reasons.

  More than once, Gemma had seen Andrew staring out of the window, or even simply staring at the wall. He looked as if he had the weight of the entire world resting on his shoulders, but whenever she asked him about it, he said he was fine. How could he be? His father was sick, his wife was desperate to conceive and give him a baby and his business was too new to be leaving in anyone else’s hands if the recovery time following an operation ended up being longer than expected.

  Every time Gemma looked at Andrew and thought how detached he was from the minutiae of their everyday lives lately, it niggled her. He was distant, his mind elsewhere and it was hard work trying to get inside his head and help him through any of this. They’d always been so open and honest in their marriage and in these tough times, she was desperate for him to keep the channels of communication open. Keeping quiet about what was bothering you was where it all went wrong. She’d seen it enough times in kids at school. Children who seemed fine on the surface but deep down had been unhappy for so long it had a risk of affecting them long-term.

  Louis was exhausted from his dialysis, Andrew and Gemma were strung out from all the toing and froing to the hospital, and Gemma couldn’t dampen down her apprehension. She sometimes wondered what portion of it came from thinking about Louis dying, how much came from stressing about Andrew going under the knife and how much came from everything else in their lives that would have to keep ticking over while the operations took place.

  In their journey towards having a family, Gemma and Andrew had decided to let nature take its course, but Andrew, in some mad attempt to keep things normal or to consider her feelings at this stressful time, had gone ahead and made an appointment with a specialist today to discuss IVF. She’d questioned why it couldn’t wait. It was a crazy time for them right now, but he’d been insistent. So here
they were, apparently eager to get things moving along. Fourteen months ago they’d gone through initial tests, the results of which had revealed no specific reason for their inability to have a baby. But Andrew’s determination to move forwards, today of all days, with everything they had coming to them over the next few months, was making Gemma feel pressured, fearful of whether they were in the right headspace for this.

  ‘Andrew, can we afford this?’ Gemma clutched a pile of leaflets to her chest – everything from fertility and egg collection to ovulation cycles and embryo transfers – as they left Doctor Baxter’s office. Money was always a worry and would continue to be if the business slowed over the next few months with most of their time assigned to a hospital schedule until Andrew was back to himself again. The doctor had given them estimates of the costs involved with IVF, so they weren’t surprised, but although Medicare would cover some of it, Gemma already knew the out-of-pocket costs were going to be astronomical.

  Andrew hugged his wife close as they reached the little school at the top of the hill. ‘We want a family, of course we can afford it.’

  ‘But we’ve spent so much money setting up the shop. And I’ll have to turn down any more workshop bookings while you’re in hospital.’

  ‘Try not to worry,’ Andrew assured her. ‘Everything will work out, you’ll see.’ He kissed her goodbye before she disappeared into the school and he set off down the hill to the chocolaterie.

  *

  At lunchtime, after her stint on playground duty, Gemma went to the staffroom. She ate her sandwich and fruit and then put the kettle on to boil for a well-earned cup of tea.

  ‘How’s Ellie?’ It was Bridget, principal of Magnolia Creek Primary and someone who was already becoming a friend.

  ‘She’s doing well. She’s a lovely girl and I think with some dedicated time she’ll soon settle in.’ She dropped a teabag into her cup.