Footsteps in the Snow and other Teatime Treats

by Trisha Ashley

  She slapped the water with it, drenching him from head to foot.

  “You do that again, and there’ll be no fish for you today,” he said, giving her an evil look. “And after the aquarium’s shut, I’ll teach you some manners!”

  When he’d gone to change she looked around her and sighed. “How far from the sea are we?”

  “Not far – when the front door is open you can smell the tang on the breeze. If there wasn’t mesh over my tank I’d have been out of here in a flash and running down the beach – I’m sickening for the fresh, salty sea.”

  “I couldn’t run,” she said sadly. “If I got out, how could I slither so far? My scales need oiling already.”

  “I’d carry you, I wouldn’t leave you here. But it’s no use – the most we can hope for is that one day he will put us in a tank together.”

  There was a sliding of bolts and a flood of light from the front of the aquarium. “Hush, here come the visitors,” he warned. “But if you put on a good show, perhaps he won’t be angry with you later.” His tank filled with water and, with a flick of his flippers, he began to circle.

  She watched as the crowd gathered, his tank was emptied again, and the sealman reappeared.

  “How does he do that?” a girl asked.

  “It’s just a hologram projected in there, it’s not real,” her boyfriend told her.

  “He looks real,” she said doubtfully. “And what about her?”

  He shrugged. “It’s a woman wearing a mermaid tail, that’s all. It’s not even well made – look, you can see the join.”

  The mermaid bared her teeth at them in a sharp smile and they stepped back nervously. She took up the mirror and began to untangle her silvery hair, humming.

  The unearthly hum grew louder … and louder … until it became a strangely beautiful song that held the visitors fixed, enthralled, to the spot.

  Her voice rose higher: the glass walls of the aquarium began to tremble, the water rippled and the fish fled to their farther corners.

  The sealman knew the power of that song.

  “What’s that racket?” the Owner demanded. He clapped his hands to his head. “My eardrums! Stop it – stop singing now.”

  But it was too late: everything rang and shimmered and swayed and trembled – and cracked. Great cascades of water poured out of every tank, swirling a flotsam of visitors, fish and the Owner towards the door.

  The sealman, stepping gracefully over the shards, carried her out of the back door and towards the distant sea. The morning sun reflected off their nacreous skin and flashing scales. The crowds fell back, the beach-road traffic stopped, the donkeys ran away and the kites tangled.

  From behind came a sudden shout of, “Stop them!”

  This was beyond optimistic: for a seal, he ran fast. The waves were to his waist before anyone even reached the edge of the sea. Then there was a splash as they dove – cool, smooth bodies entwined, twisting and turning into the depths.

  He gave her a passing, unwary fish, salt fresh.

  “You are my prince,” she said and, as a mark of her favour, bit the offering in half and gave him the head, to seal their union.

  3

  Previously published by My Weekly

  MELTING MOMENTS

  I found the new artisan chocolate maker’s little shop while taking a short cut back to the car after my second Fatbusters meeting. In fact, the leader’s parting rallying cry of ‘sumo to svelte quicker than you ever thought possible!’ was still ringing in my ears when I came face to face with my worst nightmare.

  Yet to be truthful, it was more my fiancée David’s worst nightmare than mine, because I’d been quite happy with my curvy and generous size fourteen figure right up to the moment when he presented me with three month’s membership of Fatbusters as a Christmas present and suggested that as soon as I’d reached size eight we could set a date for our wedding.

  Size eight? I wasn’t even sure my bones were size eight, let alone the rest of me! But since he seemed convinced that I’d told him I wanted to lose a few pounds in order to look truly gorgeous on my big day, I had to go along with it.

  But the trouble was, that even the very idea of dieting made me feel twice as hungry as usual and all I could think of while being weighed today (I’d only lost a two measly pounds after practically starving myself for a week!) was that I deserved some chocolate.

  Now, irresistibly drawn by the rich aroma wafting across the street, my nose was pressed against the bow window of Nick’s Chocolate Heaven, as I gazed longingly at the mouth-watering array laid out on old-fashioned cut-glass stands.

  They looked beautiful – and hideously expensive. But that was good, because it meant that I couldn’t possibly have any … Unless, suggested a little devil in my mind, I just bought one single, delicious, self-indulgent treat for being so good all week. That couldn’t hurt, could it?

  Before I knew it I was in the shop and scanning even more luscious temptations until I made my choice: a chocolate shaped like a rose and filled with coffee and cream truffle, all glossy, dark brown and tempting … rather like the proprietor’s eyes, I discovered, when I finally looked up.

  “Just the one?” he asked, a hint of laughter in his voice.

  “Yes, just the one,” I said firmly. Apart from those liquid and warm brown eyes his thin, bony face wasn’t really handsome and his black hair was ruffled and needed a good cut.

  “Certainly,” he agreed, smiling in a way that beguilingly crinkled the corners of his eyes and I hastily revised the not-very-handsome first impression. That smile was a heart-breaker … and I just hoped the chocolate didn’t turn out to be a diet-breaker, too.

  He put the rose-shaped truffle carefully in a little cellophane packet and closed it with a gold twist-tie. “I hope you enjoy it,” he said, with another amazing smile, “and do come again soon.”

  “I’m sure I will,” I assured him, then hurried off holding up my little bag and feeling the way I did as a child when I won a goldfish at the fair, wondering if the poor little thing would even make it back to the car, let alone home. And of course I could bump into a fellow Fatbuster at any minute or, even worse, someone who knew my fiancé, David!

  As I unlocked the car and got in I felt hugely guilty – but strangely, that didn’t stop me from immediately eating my delicious treat and then hiding the cellophane bag in the glove box. Guilty pleasures always seem to be the best, don’t they?

  My spirits rose slightly and anyway, one small chocolate couldn’t hurt. (Okay, quite big chocolate, actually.) In fact, a little reward like that after every class could be just enough to keep me on course to my size eight wedding dress, even if that still seemed an unattainable dream – David’s dream.

  *

  By my fourth visit to Nick’s shop we were on friendly terms. I told him all about the catering business I’d set up with my best friend, Annie and he described how he’d got into chocolate making.

  He didn’t question why I only bought one chocolate at a time, but he started keeping samples of new varieties for me to try … which it would have been rude to have refused, since he said he trusted my opinion.

  “I think you have a natural palate for chocolate! You should come on my chocolate making course – I’m starting with a one day session next month, but then I might do evening workshops after that.”

  “Oh, I’d love to!” I enthused, then suddenly remembered why that really wouldn’t be a good idea. It would just ruin all that hard work because I was managing to lose the pounds, even if progress seemed painfully slow. “But perhaps I’d better not,” I added and then hurried out of the shop.

  Back at the car I suddenly found the tears were slowly sliding down my face as I savoured my lovely mohito-cream-centred chocolate, which was the yummiest so far. I was already down one dress size and David kept telling me how much better I looked already – so why did I feel so unhappy all the time? Even Annie remarked that I wasn’t the fun Katy she used to know and if I turned in
to a stick-thin bride, then she would look like the biggest bridesmaid in the world in contrast.

  “Don’t be daft,” I’d said, “I’m sure David will settle for a generous size twelve, because there’s no way I can get any slimmer than that.”

  And if he really loved me, he would settle for that. I stuffed the empty cellophane bag in the glove compartment, dried my tears and set off home, making a mental note to tell Nick next time that his mohito-flavoured chocolates were destined to be a major seller!

  *

  “If you don’t mind my saying so, you’re looking thinner lately,” Nick said a couple of weeks later. “I hope you’re not ill?”

  “No, not at all – in fact I’m glad it’s noticeable,” I said, then found myself pouring out to him the story of David’s Christmas gift, how hard I was finding losing weight and how miserable it was making me feel.

  “He thought it was what I wanted – and I do want him to feel proud of me on our wedding day.” I felt my eyes fill with tears. “Sorry, I don’t know what’s got into me lately! I’m usually a happy, bubbly person.”

  “Low blood sugar,” he said reassuringly.

  “Oh, do you think so?”

  “Definitely. Here, try this new dark chocolate mint julep cream.” He handed me a glass dish of butterfly-shaped chocolates. “And you looked the perfect weight to me the very first time I saw you – not all men like the walking skeletons, you know!”

  “Thank you, Nick,” I said, surprised and pleased, “I only wish David felt the same way as you and-” I broke off, noticing the empty dish in my hands. “Oh dear, I seem to have eaten all of these!”

  “I’ll take that as another winning flavour then, shall I?” he said, grinning.

  *

  “Annie,” I said, while we were preparing a Silver Wedding buffet, “you know I go to Fatbusters every week?”

  She looked up from a tray of perfect mini-meringues and raised one eyebrow. “Yes, and you know what I think about David wanting you lose weight before you set the date for the wedding.”

  “He didn’t mean it like that – but let’s not go there,” I said hastily, because I was beginning to get the uneasy feeling that she might be right. “The thing is, I’ve been cheating all the time!”

  “What, with another man?” she demanded, looking startled.

  “No, of course it’s not another man,” I said, going slightly pink. “It’s just that I’ve been stopping off at Nick’s Chocolate Heaven right after every Fatbusters class, though I only buy one single chocolate each time.”

  “You little devil, you!”

  “No, seriously Annie: do you think I would lose weight faster if I cut the chocolate out? Only I do look forward to it and I think it keeps me going.”

  But my heart was sinking at the very thought and it suddenly occurred to me that I would miss my chat with Nick as much as the chocolate.

  “Don’t be daft, how can one chocolate hurt?” she said cheerfully.

  “Sometimes it’s more than one,” I confessed. “Nick saves some for me to try when he’s been experimenting with new flavours – the mohito cream one is to die for!”

  She stopped piping cream onto the half meringues and stared at me. “Does he, indeed?”

  “We’ve become friendly – he’s a really kind, nice person.”

  “That’s more than you can say about David, giving you diet class vouchers for a Christmas present!”

  “It wasn’t tactful, but his intentions were good,” I said defensively.

  “The road to hell is paved with good intentions, Katy,” she said. “I think you’re much better off in heaven from the sound of it – Nick’s Chocolate Heaven!”

  *

  It was inevitable that on the day I picked David up in my car while his was at the garage, the lid of the glove box should finally succumb to internal pressure and fly open, decanting an avalanche of little cellophane bags into his lap, each one betrayingly stamped in silver with ‘Nick’s Chocolate Heaven’.

  I slowly turned the ignition key off again and in the resulting silence he said quietly, “If you really loved me and wanted us to get married, Katy, you wouldn’t cheat.”

  “And if you truly loved me, you’d love me just the way I am!” I snapped back. “I mean, what if I said I only liked men with a full head of hair and I wouldn’t marry you unless you had a hair transplant where it’s started thinning?”

  *

  “And that was the end of the engagement,” I said ruefully to Nick, having gone straight to his shop after the argument. And then, since he burst out laughing, I finally saw the funny side and began to smile too.

  “I’m sorry, Katy,” he said, “but you only told him exactly what I’d been thinking all these weeks.”

  “What, that my fiancée should get a hair transplant?”

  “No, that if your fiancée truly loved you, he’d love you just the way you were, which was perfect, as far as I was concerned.”

  I blushed slightly. “So, you think I’m too thin now?”

  “Nothing a chocolate diet wouldn’t cure.” He offered me his latest creation. “Passionfruit and raspberry fondants.”

  “Sounds lovely,” I said, taking one. “And even lovelier is that I never have to go to Fatbusters again! I could book onto your chocolate course now, though, couldn’t I, Nick?”

  He looked at me with a glint in those lovely, warm, chocolate-brown eyes: “Oh, I think we should have a couple of one-to-one sessions first, don’t you?” he suggested.

  I nodded, my mouth full of fruity fondant: I’m obviously not built to resist sweet temptation!

  4

  Previously published by My Weekly

  HONEY AND SPICE

  The litter of Cavalier puppies were so adorable that I couldn’t tear my gaze away until I heard the kennel owner returning. Then I looked up and was momentarily transfixed by a pair of liquid dark eyes and a warm smile in a thin, attractive face …

  “This is Mr Forrest, come to choose a puppy too,” Mrs Rushmore said. “Have you made your mind up which you want, dear?”

  “Yes, the one with the honey-coloured eyebrows,” I said. It had been love at first sight.

  The new customer didn’t even spare me a glance as I left – he was down on his knees by then, totally entranced by the puppies.

  *

  When we met again while walking our dogs on Primrose Hill just before Christmas we recognised each other instantly. I’m sure the puppies did, too!

  The late afternoon sky grew dark as we strolled and chatted, discovering that he’d named his puppy Spice, while I’d called mine Honey. By then it felt as if we’d known each other for ever, so I impulsively invited him back for coffee.

  And that was that: a marriage made in heaven and sealed under the sparkling Christmas stars on Primrose Hill.

  *

  We all settled happily into my basement flat. I worked early in the mornings as a florist and Nathan played jazz in a nightclub in the evenings, the dogs were rarely left alone. Then, almost exactly a year later, we had The Argument.

  “Do you have to fill the flat with lilies, when you know they make me sneeze?” Nathan snapped.

  “And do you always have to make Honey and Spice yap when you come in late, waking me up?” I demanded.

  The dogs, dismayed by our angry voices, came to each of us in turn, with mournful eyes and hopefully wagging tails – but then Nathan and Spice moved out and Honey and I didn’t know what to do with ourselves …

  *

  Honey pined so miserably that one day I couldn’t stand it any longer and we set out across Primrose Hill, taking the shortcut to where Nathan was staying. My heart was heavy and Honey, taking her cue from me, walked quietly at my side.

  Then suddenly she yapped eagerly and I looked up to see a familiar figure striding towards me, with Spice racing forward, excitedly yapping. I watched the dogs meet and then Nathan was standing next to me, looking down with sad, dark eyes – and he was holding a bag a
lmost as big as the one I was carrying!

  “You were coming back?” I blurted eagerly, before I could stop myself.

  “Not exactly – this is Spice’s stuff. She missed you both and it seemed selfish to keep her with me. And you?” He looked at my holdall, from the top of which peeked the fleecy end of a dog bed.

  “Honey was pining too,” I confessed, “and it didn’t seem fair that just because we couldn’t live together, they couldn’t either.”

  “Couldn’t we live together though, Cathy?” he said softly. “Can you even remember what we quarrelled about?”

  “No – except the lilies, and I’d rather have you than a flat full of flowers!”

  “And it wouldn’t hurt me not to play with the dogs when I get home late,” he said, then added, “Do you know, it’s almost exactly one year since we met here?”

  “I was just thinking the same thing – and that we ought to go home and thaw out before we all freeze,” I agreed, and the Christmas stars in the sky seemed to shimmer suddenly, though that might have been the cold bringing tears to my eyes.

  *

  Nathan bought me a snow globe, containing the tiny figures of a man and woman with their dogs.

  “As long as they stay inside their glass bubble of happiness, they’re safe,” he said, “just as we will be – you, me, Honey and Spice.”

  “It’s lovely, Nathan – and if ever we argue again, let’s give the globe a shake and kiss and make up before the snow finishes settling,” I suggested.

  “Good idea,” he said, then shook the globe vigorously before setting it down and reaching for me.

  5

  Previously published by My Weekly

  BREAKING THE ICE

  Have you ever broken up with the love of your life? And did you then, mistress of the grand gesture, move out of his cottage with so little thought about where you would actually live, that you ended up spending the winter in a static caravan several hundred feet up in the Durham Dales?

  No? Well don’t, that’s all I can say.