The Cosy Christmas Chocolate Shop

by Caroline Roberts

  ‘Thanks, Alfie.’ Max shook his head.

  ‘Oops, sorry,’ Emma added. They both laughed. ‘Think we’ll turn around here,’ Emma continued. ‘It’s probably time to be heading back, anyhow.’

  The light was fading fast. A hint of dusky peach framed smudgy-grey clouds above a lilting sea. The evening colours were soft and fluid, like a watercolour painting, and already an autumn inkiness was creeping into the horizon. A solitary tern swooped gently above them in the sky. It was calm, peaceful.

  Emma felt comfortable walking along beside Max, chatting. She found out he was an only child and his family now lived in the Morpeth area, but he’d been brought up in Newcastle. She mentioned her brother and his family. As they talked, she took a sneaky glance at Max’s tall frame, his dark, cropped hair, lightly stubbled chin. He had a presence about him, and a calm inner strength as well as that muscular build that she had to admit was very attractive.

  Nearing the car park now, and she felt a little nervous flutter in her stomach. Might he try and kiss her? Would it be as lovely as last time, or feel awkward?

  ‘So, are you still up for coming out for a drink later?’

  Should she? It had been really nice chatting and walking. He was easy company, and that way she’d get the chance to get to know him a bit more. But this was such unknown territory. Her very sporadic other dates had fallen flat on their faces since Luke. This felt strangely different, her emotions confused to say the least.

  ‘Okay, yes,’ she found herself saying. ‘That’d be nice. The Fisherman’s Arms in the village is good.’

  ‘Great, I’m staying at a B&B down the road in Beadnell, so I can easily pop back. I’ll go and shower and freshen up. Just say a time that suits.’

  She had a sudden image of what he might look like all wet and naked in that shower, and felt her cheeks flame. ‘Oh …’ She checked her watch. ‘Let’s say eight o’clock at the The Fisherman's Arms. It’s just along from the harbour.’

  ‘Yes, I know it,’ he replied.

  And they were there, back at the dune car park, virtually at the same spot as Boxing Day, and a knot of hopeful anxiety clutched inside her.

  He moved to give her a very gentlemanly kiss on the cheek, his aftershave and the slight scratch of stubble provoking a flood of memories. But before it developed to something more she stepped away: she needed time to think about all this, not rush in.

  ‘It’s been lovely to see you again,’ she managed.

  ‘Yeah,’ he replied. ‘It’s been good to see you too. Would you like a lift back to the shop?’

  ‘No, I don’t think I should spoil your nice clean vehicle with a damp, sandy spaniel, but thank you all the same.’

  ‘Okay, well, catch you later, then. The Fisherman’s Arms at eight o’clock.’

  ‘Yes. See you.’ Her head was in a whirl.

  The water felt good pounding her body as she freshened herself up with some zingy mint shower gel. She didn’t quite have enough time to wash her hair, as it was thick and wavy and took ages to dry and she only had an hour, which included a quick and easy supper of scrambled eggs on toast. Now her stomach felt a bit queasy. She couldn’t quite pin her emotions down as she stepped out of the shower and grabbed a towel. She was kind of excited at the thought of meeting Max again, but then she felt incredibly nervous. Going on a date with this guy seemed too raw – too wrong.

  Rubbing the towel over her slim body, she had a panicky moment. What if they did get on well? What if there were other dates, what if one day he might actually get to see her naked? Gulp. Instinctively, she pulled the towel tighter around her.

  Jeez, her inner voice kicked back, you’re thirty-six years old for goodness’ sake, and you haven’t even been for a date yet, just a bloody beach walk. And, even if anything might happen at some point, it’s sex, it’s normal. It was also something she had abandoned, after a couple of failed attempts, post Luke. So, the last time was what, four years ago?

  And the hardest part was it wouldn’t be Luke, would it? She felt herself go into a cold sweat, and a tear clouded her eye. How she wished it could be Luke – but it couldn’t. It never would again.

  Years, it had been years, and it still had the power to hit her like a sledgehammer. That was the way love hurt, when someone left you. But the days still rolled on, the sun rose, the sun set, somehow you managed to smile again, even if your heart was left in tatters.

  Emma gave a small sigh and walked across the landing to her bedroom. She looked at Luke’s photo in its wooden frame by the bed, remembering how excited she had felt that day when they first met in the school staffroom, how she couldn’t stop thinking about him. She sat down on her double bed and popped on her plain white M&S bra and knickers.

  Maybe she should just pull out now? Duck out politely from the drink with Max this evening – she could always leave a message with Danny in the bar. Yes, just let the memory of that first kiss and today’s walk live on as a pleasant moment in her mind.

  Hah, her alter ego kicked in, she was just being silly. It was a drink in a pub after all, not even a proper date. Yes, so Max was hunky, rather gorgeous and he seemed nice and friendly, but hey, there was a long way to go. She might never see him again anyhow after this evening. She pushed her mind to what she was going to wear, choosing jeans with a pretty flowery top. Emma erred towards the boho chic style of clothing for her time off. A spritz of perfume, some moisturiser, quick slash of pale peach lip gloss, and eyeliner and mascara – done. As per usual, her make-up routine was achieved in five minutes’ flat.

  She brushed her long, wavy red hair. She had to keep it up in a ponytail for work so it was nice to let it loose occasionally. It took a bit of taming, mind you, and when she washed it it needed tons of conditioner, or else the brush battled and generally lost.

  She fed Alfie, then let him out into the back yard. After popping him back to his bed in the upstairs kitchen area, she was ready to go. She slung a jacket on, left The Chocolate Shop by the back door, and headed down the hill towards the harbour. By this time her stomach was in full spin mode.

  21

  She spotted Max getting out of his jeep from a parking space just in front of The Fisherman's Arms.

  Her throat felt a little tight. Here goes. ‘Hi.’ She approached tentatively.

  He turned and rewarded her with a gorgeous smile.

  ‘Hey. So, you’re about to show me where it’s all happening in Warkton, then.’

  ‘Oh, yes. If you want a pint of real ale and game of draughts – this is the place to come. We might even stretch to dominoes tonight.’ Actually, that was on a Wednesday night.

  She wondered if she should have suggested somewhere less rustic. They could have driven into Alnwick or somewhere. And, thinking about it, everyone knew everyone in here. There would be no secrets about her meet-up with Max. The whole village would know about it in precisely three minutes’ time.

  Max held the bar entrance door open for her.

  ‘Thanks.’

  A silence descended on the bar as they walked in. There was a nod of acknowledgement to Emma from Dave, the landlord, and then eight pairs of eyes passed over Emma to settle on the imposter behind her.

  ‘Everything okay there, Emma?’ It was as though Dave was checking all was legitimate with this guy on her tail, and that she was safe and happy.

  ‘Yes, fine thanks, Dave. You okay?’

  ‘Sure, pet. Right as rain. Well then, what can I get you?’ That was the signal for the regulars to start chatting again.

  ‘Ah, a glass of white wine, please. Max?’

  ‘I’ll try a real ale. Do you do a pale?’

  ‘There’s a nice blonde.’ Dave gave a chuckle at that. ‘Tyneside Blonde … pint of?’

  ‘Yep, I’ll give that a try. Thanks.’

  They got their drinks, Max insisting on paying, and Emma led them across to a table in the far corner. If they were going to hit the village grapevine soon, she didn’t want every last word of their c
onversation repeated too.

  The pub must hardly have changed since the fishermen came in centuries ago, with its low ceiling, dark-wood bar, slate floor, wooden tables and chairs – but at least some of the chairs had comfy seat pads now and a real fire was lit at each end of the room. They had opened out a new area for eating some years ago, which had lovely views out over the bay, and in the summer months there was a beer garden where you could enjoy fish and chips or crab sandwiches whilst you watched the boats bobbing in the harbour.

  Old sepia photos on the walls showed the weathered fisherfolk of years gone by. The nets, the cobles, the smoking house for the kippers. There were only a few working boats and fishermen left now.

  Max sat down in an old-fashioned spindle-backed wooden chair beside a small round table with a beaten copper top. ‘Was it just me, or were everybody’s eyes following us then?’

  ‘Hah, yes. They were sussing you out. It’s a small village. And they probably haven’t seen me with a man in here before.’

  ‘Ah, really? I thought they’d be queueing up.’ He grinned.

  ‘Not quite.’ She tried to keep her tone light. ‘I’ve kept myself to myself for a while.’ That was as much as she intended saying on that particular matter. ‘Anyway, by tomorrow the Warkton-by-the-Sea grapevine will be in full swing. And they’ll be checking you out while you’re here, too. You put a foot wrong and I daren’t think what will happen!’ She wasn’t joking either. It was like having your own personal team of minders, or sometimes snoopers. The community spirit was great here, but at times it could feel a little overwhelming.

  ‘I could be attacked with a draughts board or anything,’ Max joked.

  ‘They have a darts team too. So be extra nice to me.’ She smiled.

  ‘Oh, crikey.’

  They chatted for a while, about the village, her shop, how she got into making chocolate and the courses she went on to train in its craft. She purposely avoided any mention of the main event that had altered her world so dramatically, that had changed the course of her life for good – just kept it vague about wanting a change of career. She moved the conversation on to talk about how things quietened off in October tourist-wise and how that gave her the chance to build up her stocks in advance, ready for the Christmas boom.

  Emma felt she’d said enough about herself and wanted to find out some more about Max. ‘So, you mentioned you have a building business, yeah? What are you working on at the moment?’

  ‘We’re halfway through two new-builds. Need to get them done in time for Christmas. As well as a big extension and renovation to a town house down in Jesmond, in the suburbs of Newcastle-upon-Tyne, for a friend of a friend. And there’s a couple of new jobs I need to go and price, ready to start in the New Year.’

  ‘Sounds pretty busy.’

  ‘It is. But I’m not complaining. After the recession in the building trade this is food for the soul. I like being busy. In fact, I need to be getting off soon for an early start tomorrow. So my next drink will have to be a Coke. Can I get you another wine?’

  She must have been nervous as she realised that she had nearly gulped the first glass down already.

  ‘Yeah, sure, but let me get them this time.’ Emma reached for her purse.

  ‘Okay, thanks, but at least let me go to the bar.’

  ‘Thank you.’ She passed him a ten-pound note. Then took a sneaky look at his rear in jeans as he strode to the bar; slightly rounded and firm, very nice. She quickly averted her gaze as she realised one of the locals had clocked her. A middle-aged lady with brassy-blonde hair who waitressed sometimes at the café in the next village was sitting on a stool at the bar. In fact, it was probably Max who the woman was clocking judging from the intent, slightly hungry look on her face as he approached the bar. He did make a fine figure of a man, Emma had to admit.

  Was this just a quick trip to a place he liked, to say ‘hello’ whilst he was here, but then head back to his life, his work? Would she ever see him again after tonight? And, would that matter?

  Max came back over with the drinks, then settled himself into his chair by the fire, stretching out his long legs. He sat quietly for a while, as if he was thinking about something.

  ‘Emma, when I didn’t come back for all those months …’

  He had her full attention now.

  ‘I wanted to, but I was with someone. That day, I was down there on the beach, just thinking about it all.’

  Emma felt a jolt of shock. So, there was someone else involved. She really didn’t know this guy, did she?

  ‘We’d had Christmas together,’ he continued. ‘We were staying in a cottage just outside of Warkton. It was meant to be romantic and special, a chance to chill out and relax, but it turned into a bit of a nightmare. I had to get out that morning, get some air, do some thinking. I knew inside that the relationship was wrong, that we weren’t going anywhere. But it seemed pretty cruel to jack it all in just before Christmas, so I went along with it. But the holiday wasn’t great, just went to prove how far apart we were. Different values, different goals …’

  ‘But, you kissed me – and you were with someone then?’ It started to sink in. All the while, her lovely memories of that kiss, and he’d been seeing someone at the time.

  ‘I know. It took me by surprise too that day. Meeting you … you were just so different, like a breath of fresh air. Like I’d dreamed you up or something crazy. It just proved, even more so, that I had to finish it. I was all set to tell her. But when I got back to the cottage, I found her in pieces – she’d just had a call from her mum. Her dad had been rushed to hospital. He’d had a stroke.’ Max paused.

  ‘Oh no, I’m so sorry.’

  ‘It’s okay, he made it through, thank heavens. I was fond of them, her parents. Still am. And so I couldn’t do it. How could I tell her then? So I stayed, pretended we were fine, supported her through it.’ Max stared at the flickering orange flames of the fire. ‘He’s a lot better now. A few months in, when her father was recovering back at home, when he was stable and we knew he was going to be okay, then that’s when I told her we were over. I couldn’t pretend any more. It was still bloody awful doing it, though.’

  Emma had never had to break up with anyone, had never had to hurt someone like that. ‘I can imagine that was hard.’

  Max did seem a nice bloke, but this was more complicated than she’d realised. Even without her own troubles.

  ‘Would it be all right to take your number?’ he asked.

  ‘Um.’ She wasn’t sure, especially after hearing all this. Wasn’t it safer, easier, just ticking away at life on her own, with no added complications, no one else to have to worry about? Did she even have the emotional energy to start this weird dating game again? But a phone number wouldn’t hurt, would it? Did she really want him to just walk away?

  ‘Ah, yes, all right.’ Emma sounded fairly cool, but as well as the fear that was mounting inside, a small part of her tattered heart was doing an air punch.

  ‘I’d like to keep in touch, if that’s okay?’

  ‘Okay.’ She read out her mobile number for him to input into his phone. ‘It’s not always a great signal here in the village, so you can always try the shop line too.’ He took that as well.

  ‘Can I take yours?’ She didn’t want it to work just one way.

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘So, its Max Hardy?’

  And so there he was, safely stowed away in her phone. It gave her a little glow of hope.

  They chatted some more, enjoyed the glow of the real fire, its cosy warmth. The pub was now a low murmur of conversation, with the odd rumble of laughter. Her friend Danny appeared, collecting glasses.

  ‘Evening, Em.’ He gave Max a nod as he took a good look at her companion.

  ‘Oh, hi Danny, I didn’t realise you were on tonight. This is Max, by the way.’

  The guys shook hands, Danny definitely sussing Max out, before heading back to the bar. Emma had to smile.

  Max gl
anced at his watch. It was gone nine-thirty. ‘Sorry, but I’d better be heading off. It’s a bit of a drive back to the B&B and I’ve an early start. I’ll walk you back or I can drop you off?’

  ‘Oh, I’ll be fine. I’m used to it.’

  ‘Ah, so you spend a lot of time down at the pub then, do you?’

  ‘Hah, no, not really. I mean being out and about in the village. I’m always out walking Alfie.’

  ‘But then you’d have Alfie to protect you.’

  ‘I suppose.’

  ‘I’d like to walk you back.’ He seemed politely determined.

  ‘Okay then, of course. Thank you.’ She wasn’t used to having someone to look out for her. She’d been on her own for a long time.

  ‘I’d better watch out for you anyhow, or I’m pretty certain the guys in here will be on my case.’

  ‘Definitely.’

  He finished his glass of Coke and stood up. Emma pulled on her denim jacket, her wine glass now empty too. She waved across to the bar. ‘Bye, Dave, Danny, folks.’

  ‘Night, Emma. Night …’ Dave gave a polite nod towards Max. The barflies gave curt nods and glances, no doubt still measuring the stranger up. She’d bet there’d be tongues wagging as soon as they got out of the door, wanting to know about the mystery man in the village.

  The air was cool, and the pewter-toned moon was full and rather beautiful as they stepped outside. As they rounded the side of the stone pub building, they could see the harbour and the sea. All dark now, bar a dim orange street light, and the glint of moonlight on the choppy waves of the bay.

  Max reached for her hand as they began to climb the hill. It was a surprise, and there was still all the stuff about his girlfriend flitting through her mind, and a mountain of fears and doubts within her, but despite all that she felt a little electric pulse run through her. He looked tenderly across at her in the half-light. Was this going to be the start of something? Did she want that?

  It was only a few minutes’ walk back to The Chocolate Shop and they were soon outside its bay windows.

  ‘I use the back door after hours,’ she said, as he paused by the shop front. ‘I need to pop around by the alleyway to the back lane.’