27
‘Hi, you okay, Em? Can I come up and see you next Sunday?’ Max’s soft Geordie tones came through on her mobile.
‘Max? I’m surprised you’re calling.’
‘What? Why?’ He sounded confused.
‘Let’s just say I had a little visit from Siobhan. Your Siobhan.’
‘Oh, but—’
‘Look,’ Emma cut him off, ‘I don’t want any ifs and buts and she doesn’t understand me – there’s obviously some unfinished business there, Max.’
‘Hey, on her part, not mine.’
‘Sorry, Max, but I just can’t go there.’
‘Em? Come on, give me a chance to explain at least—’
‘My mind’s made up. It was difficult enough as it was.’ Her voice trembled. She needed to protect herself. No more reasons, excuses, tumbled emotions, she’d go back to her straightforward (well, mostly) chocolate shop life. She knew where she stood here. She had her friends, and Alfie, James and her family, she had all the support network she needed. ‘I can’t do it,’ she added decisively. It felt a relief, in fact, to say the words. She’d been so damned churned up the fast few weeks. This would be simpler, so much better.
‘But Em—’
Before he could say any more, Emma turned off the call.
Now that relationships were out of the picture, the next challenge seemed to be to find a joiner to do the alteration work for the café. The two local options were too busy, one of Max’s contacts gave a quote that was horrendously expensive, and the other was booked up until March next year! In a way, now it was all off between them, she was relieved not to have to deal with someone Max knew anyhow.
Finally, Bev’s Pete persuaded a semi-retired carpenter called Ron, a chap in his sixties who lived in the next village and played golf with Pete occasionally, to come and assess the job. As a special favour he agreed to fit the job in on a weekend in two weeks’ time – yay! – provided she threw in a half dozen boxes of chocolates for his family and friends. The deal was sealed, and she put a little notice in her shop window that she would be closed on Saturday and Sunday, 21 and 22 October, for renovations.
It was a shame that it would be the start of the school half-term holiday week, but if she had the cushions and seat pads already made and put in a huge effort on the Sunday night once the joiner had finished, she might just get the walls painted and everything set up for late morning Monday. It would be hard work, but so worth it. That way, at least, she’d have the rest of the half-term to try and make the most of her new coffee shop earnings.
She felt excited and a little scared. Her parents had been more than happy to help her out, but she’d hated asking for their hard-earned savings when she didn’t know how soon she’d be able to pay them back. Would it really work out? How did she know how much extra income the shop might take, bearing in mind all the costs involved to set this café idea up? But she would work so hard to make this happen and be a success. It just felt right, something she had to do. She put her fears to the back of her mind. Nothing ventured, nothing gained.
It would work out – it had to, or her little chocolate shop by the sea might not even make it to next year.
Emma kept herself busy, planning what she needed to put into place for when Ron, the carpenter, would arrive. She’d already sourced eight cafetières from a local homeware store that had a sale on (there was no way she could afford a posh coffee machine yet, much as she’d have loved to). She was also going to head over to a local car boot sale that had been advertised for this Saturday morning (she’d leave Holly in charge for an hour or so) and to some of the charity shops in Alnwick to see if she could find some pretty mix-and-match teacups, side plates and teapots.
She’d had a wonderful offer from Chloe, her sister-in-law, who was going to make six cushions in the red-and-cream colour theme that Emma had finally settled on and was planning to make the seat pads for the window seats herself; she’d just need to find some strong red material to cover them. It would really brighten the place up, and look cosy and inviting during the upcoming winter season.
The night after the phone call with Max there was a rapping at her back door. It seemed pretty insistent and was getting louder. She was a little concerned because it was dark out and she wasn’t expecting any callers. If someone decided to raid the shop, she was there all on her own; not that they’d get much, there were hardly any takings in the till from today – not that they’d know that.
The rapping continued. She grabbed a broom from the back kitchen, not quite sure how she’d use it, if it came to it.
‘Okay, okay,’ she shouted.
She unlocked and opened the door a fraction, her broom poised and ready to strike.
‘Max?’
‘Well, you’re not answering my calls, so …’
‘Ah.’ She’d seen missed calls from him and had not replied to his many texts in the past twenty-four hours. It was easy not answering the phone, keeping up her guard. But now he was here, in person, her emotions were once again all over the place.
‘Can I come in?’
‘Max, I’m not sure—’
‘Em?’ It was pouring down with rain. His jacket and jeans were soaked and there were droplets coming off his hair, running down his face. He raised his eyebrows cheekily, and she so wanted to smile, but held back.
‘Oh, just for a few minutes then.’ Dammit, she had caved. No feeling sorry for him. Stand your ground, her inner bouncer chipped in authoritatively. She’d keep him standing in the downstairs hallway, that was it.
‘Thanks.’ He stepped inside.
‘So?’
‘Yes, so Siobhan, paying you a visit. I’m sorry about that. You probably want to know what’s going on.’
‘Well, how come she insists she’s your girlfriend?’ Emma was curious, now he was here.
‘She doesn’t want to accept it’s over between us. I think, because I went back the last time, how I stayed when her father was ill … she doesn’t believe I mean it this time.’ He paused. ‘I haven’t called her, haven’t arranged to see her in weeks. The only times I have seen her is when she’s turned up out of the blue at my work or at home. I’ve tried to be polite, and I’ve asked after her family, but the message that it really is over doesn’t seem to be getting through.’
Emma felt a weird pang of jealousy, thinking of Siobhan turning up, trying to persuade him to take her back, imagining her in his arms. But that was just some animal instinct. Inner Bouncer was back.
‘Max, even if you two aren’t seeing each other any more, I just don’t feel this is right for me.’
‘But we seemed—’
She cut him short. ‘We hardly know each other, Max.’
‘But isn’t that the idea? You get to know each other. We’ve got the chance for something special here, Em.’
‘It’d never work.’ She had to stay strong.
This was exactly how the shitty emotions bowled you over yet again – Luke, Max, hurt, love, fear. She couldn’t stand this any more, it was like emotional overload.
‘Please, Max, don’t push it. This is so hard for me.’
For a second it looked like he might try and put his arms around her. She saw the twitch across his shoulders.
Boy, she could do with those strong arms around her. But it was all futile. There would be no more mixed messages.
‘You sure?’
‘Yes, I’m sure. Can you please leave?’ It took all her resolve to say those words. She knew silent tears were building up. She had that horrid tightening at the back of her throat as she tried to keep them at bay. He could not see her cry.
‘Okay … well, I had to try.’ He gave a gentle, sad smile.
Emma opened the back door for him. He turned to leave, and she couldn’t speak. Alfie, who had appeared by her side, gave a little whimper.
‘Bye, Em, take care.’
She wanted to say, ‘You too.’ But she knew she couldn’t talk.
He gave a
last glance over his shoulder before he closed the courtyard gate. She just stared sadly, gave a slow nod.
That might just be the last she’d ever see of him.
28
Saturday morning rolled around.
‘Hi, Em.’
‘Hey, Holly. Thanks for coming in a bit earlier to help.’
‘That’s no problem. It’s so exciting about the café. I can’t believe it’s really happening and that our chat sparked the whole thing off. I can’t wait – nor can my friends.’
‘I know. It’s brilliant, it really is, but there’s lots of work to be done first.’
‘Yes, and you’ve got to cram it all into one weekend, so I hear. Adam says if there’s anything he can do to help, just ask. I think he has the Sunday off that weekend. Oh, and his gran wants to help too. Apparently, she’s a bit of a whizz with the sewing machine.’
‘Hmm, that might come in handy. We’ll see where we’re at. But that’s lovely, thank them both from me. Right then, I’d better be getting off to this car boot and there’s an auction on at the sale rooms too. I’m on a mission for the furniture and crockery – I’m thinking old-fashioned porcelain cups and saucers, in pretty patterns to mix and match. Give it that vintage look. What do you reckon?’
‘Oh yes, perfect.’
‘Right, well let’s see what I come back with. Thanks so much for covering.’
Four hours later Emma parked her car, which was piled high inside, out front. She had cups, saucers, gorgeous tea plates, cutlery, the cafetières, and twelve glass mugs for hot chocolates. At the auction, she had bid for and won two – mismatched but ideal – large round wooden tables for the window-seat areas, and six wooden chairs. Apparently, they’d come from a pub that had closed down.
‘Sounds like you’ve done brilliantly, Em. Shall I get us a cuppa to celebrate?’
‘Oh yes, that’s music to my ears. Shall we just bring everything in first?’ The bigger furniture was still to collect as the boot of her car was too small to fit it in – she’d have to sort that out later.
The boxes and stacks of crockery took up one corner of the kitchen – a promise of what was to come for The Chocolate Shop. She was so pleased with her purchases, and had kept within her budget.
Just as they were having their cup of tea, Adam arrived with his gran.
‘Well, hello, my lovelies,’ the sprightly old lady greeted them. ‘Exciting times for your chocolate shop, young Emma. Holly’s been telling me all about it.’
‘Yes, there’s still lots to do, but with a bit of hard work it will all come together.’
‘Well, you know what they say, pet, “Nothing worth having comes easy”.’
‘Well, that’s very true.’
‘They also say “you get by with a little help from your friends” – actually, I think that was the Beatles. That’s why I asked young Adam to run me across. I have lots of time on my hands and I’d like to offer my help.’
‘Oh, that’s so kind of you.’
‘I do like to do a bit of sewing, if there’s anything like that to be done.’
Emma thought about the seat pads she had intended making herself, but with all the other work going on … and, in all honesty, she wasn’t the best at sewing. ‘There are the seat pads for the window seats to be made. But are you sure?’
‘Of course, pet. I wouldn’t be here otherwise, would I? So that’s settled. I take it you’ll be using some foam for the inners, so just get them to me with the material you like and I’ll be able to run them off in a day or two. I’ll do them with zips so they are easily washable and I’ll make a second set of covers. There’s bound to be the odd spill and mark.’
Emma hadn’t even thought of that.
‘That sounds just perfect, Gran. Oh, can I call you Gran? Or do you prefer Shirley?’ Emma suddenly remembered her name from before.
‘Gran’s fine. I’d like that.’
Aw.
‘And once you’re up and running,’ Gran continued, ‘I host a little coffee club for the elderly over at Seahouses every Wednesday and Saturday morning – the Golden Oldies – I think I mentioned it last time. We might just bring a minibus across for a change of scenery, and have a little outing to your new café. Make a nice change.’
‘That sounds wonderful, and if you come along, the coffee and cake will be on the house, as a thank you for helping with the sewing.’
‘Now there’s no need for that, Emma. I’ll be doing it freely.’
‘I know, but I’d really like to.’
‘Well in that case, that’d be lovely.’
It was all starting to feel very real to Emma and a bit daunting, but with lovely people like this around her and offers of help coming in, she felt bolstered by the support.
‘Next weekend? It’s all going to happen next weekend. Are you mad? How’s it all going to work?’ Bev had called in for a coffee mid-week and was perched on a stool in the shop kitchen surrounded by moulds, chocolate callets, melting-middle sponges (Emma was experimenting with her chocolate-inspired baking), facing an animated Emma.
‘It’s not as bad as it sounds, I’m pretty organised. I’m closing the shop for the Saturday and Sunday when all the work’s going to be done. I have a joiner all primed to arrive at eight o’clock sharp, Saturday morning. He’ll be making the two new window seats. I already have some fabulous second-hand furniture – I went to a great auction in Alnwick, found just what I needed.’ Emma finally paused to take a breath.
‘Well, you have been busy.’
Emma nodded, smiling. ‘It’s going to make such a difference.’
‘Yes, I think it will. What colour scheme are you thinking?’
‘Red, cream and grey. Nice warm colours for the autumn and winter. A cosy chocolate feel. I even have James’s Chloe making me red-and-cream tartan cushions for the window seats.’
‘Brilliant. Well, if I can help at all, give me shout. We haven’t got any major plans over the weekend. And if you need anything bulkier moving I’m sure Pete will help out too.’
‘Thank you. It’s all happened so quickly. And yes, some help would be great. I’ll need to move out a lot of my chocolates and stock so they don’t get spoilt with all the work going on. It’s all kind of snowballed, so here we are.’ Em took a sip of coffee.
‘No more news from Max, then?’
‘No – and I’m not expecting any.’ Emma’s tone was sharp. She had phoned Bev last week, going over the saga of her so-called romantic date followed by the furious girlfriend’s visit, and then Max turning up at her door and the end result.
‘Oh yes, that two-timing toerag who took you out for a lovely dinner, bought you flowers, said it was all over with his ex. But Emma, you haven’t really let him explain fully his side of the story.’
‘Oh, come on, give me a break, Bev. It’s pretty damn obvious. And, even if he has finished it, if she’s still hanging around it isn’t really over, is it? No, I don’t need to be involved in anybody else’s dodgy relationships. I’m better off out of there.’
‘Hmm,’ was all Bev answered.
Why was she taking sides anyhow, she hadn’t even met the guy? ‘I thought you’d be on my side,’ said a disgruntled Emma.
‘I am, always, and don’t you forget it.’
They both knew enough had been said on that particular situation.
‘Anyway, whatever you need us to do to help with the changes here, just shout. We’re here to help.’
‘Thank you.’
29
Friday, it was all hands on deck.
All the chocolate supplies needed to be moved out of the shop after the close of business to be stored safely over the weekend whilst the work was being done.
Emma was carrying a cardboard box of truffles out to Bev’s car – her friend was helping with storage over the weekend – when her mobile buzzed in her pocket.
Once the box was safely placed in the boot, she checked the caller ID. Hmm – Ron the joiner’s number. Hop
efully he was just confirming the start time tomorrow. He had seemed a nice enough guy. Reliable.
On the call back, it was his wife, Maureen, who answered.
‘Good evening. Seahouses 315227.’
‘Hello, it’s Emma, from the chocolate shop.’
‘Ah, Emma, hello … I’m sorry to have to tell you this, pet, but Ron’s gone down with a horrid tummy bug this afternoon. I thought he might get through it, that’s why we left off phoning earlier, but he’s now got a temperature. He’s had to go to bed and is not well at all. Vomiting and all sorts. There’s no way around it, I’m so sorry, but he’s going to have to postpone.’
‘Ah, I see.’ Oh no! Who on earth could she call in at this late hour for joinery work? She’d had enough trouble finding Ron in the first place. Dammit. But it wasn’t poor old Ron’s fault and Maureen was anxiously still on the line. ‘Oh dear … not the best news I’ve had today, but thanks for letting me know. It’s just one of those things, I suppose.’
‘Ron’s terribly sorry to let you down, dear. As soon as he’s better, I’ll get him to call you and rearrange.’
‘Thank you.’ But as she was saying it, all she could think was that it would soon be the school half-term holidays, and then the Christmas trade would really start, and she wouldn’t be having her café at all. She supposed she could pop the chairs and tables out in the front of the shop, but without moving the counter back and with no lovely new window seats it would all look rather cramped and sad. She’d so wanted to do it right, had been prepared to work hard all weekend alongside Ron, and she’d already planned to have a grand opening for the village community next Friday evening to celebrate. Dammit, she’d already put an article all about it in the village newsletter and invited everyone.
‘I’m so sorry, lovey,’ Maureen repeated, bringing her back to the here and now.
The Cosy Christmas Chocolate Shop Page 16
