Christmas Wishes at the Chocolate Shop

by Jessica Redland

  ‘That’s not fair,’ he cried. ‘I did. I still do.’

  ‘Bollocks! It was all about the money, wasn’t it? I was your meal ticket. You even told Smurf you were hoping I’d pay off your debts.’ Despite the evidence to the contrary, I had desperately wanted to believe that he couldn’t really be that mercenary, but right now he looked like a little kid caught with his hand in the sweetie jar.

  I picked up my bag. ‘I guess that explains why you put up with the crying and the lack of sex at the start or our relationship. It was worth it because of the financial reward you anticipated when I got my inheritance and sold the house, wasn’t it?’

  He at least had the decency to gaze downwards.

  I stepped away from the table then stopped, grabbed my wine and glugged it down in one. Banging the glass down on the table, I hoisted my bag onto my shoulder. ‘You’re not getting anything from me, Ricky. Not even the dregs of my drink. I’m sorry your girlfriend did the dirty on you, I’m sorry you lost your job, I’m sorry you’ve got fines and debts to pay, and I’m sorry you’re homeless but these are your problems; not mine. I don’t owe you anything. We’re not friends. We’ll never be friends again. You’re just somebody that I used to know. Good luck in getting your life back on track, but I won’t be part of it. Goodbye, Ricky.’

  As I walked out of The Purple Lobster, I was shaking with adrenaline. I’d wanted to tell him what I thought for so long and I’d finally had the chance to do it without shouting or crying or crumbling. And it felt so good. I felt liberated.

  I’d meant what I said. I would rather stay single and alone than have Ricky back in my life. But what I’d really like was Matt. Sadly, that was never going to happen. Being with Ricky just now had brought those feelings of hurt bubbling to the surface. Libby may not be my favourite person and I might not think she was right for Matt but he was a grown adult and capable of making his own decisions. He obviously loved her and wanted to marry her and any moments of chemistry between Matt and I had all been in my imagination. From now on, Matt and I were friends and that alone. From the New Year, I’d gradually drift away from him, turning down nights at the pub until all we did was catch up at the monthly Bay Trade meetings. I could do that. Maybe.

  24

  ‘Oh my God, Charlee! What time did you start this morning?’ Jodie stared at the workshop table covered in truffles, and the cooling racks full of letter cubes, truffles and chocolate drops a little after half seven the following morning.

  I continued piping white chocolate onto some of the truffles, creating Christmassy shapes like holly leaves, stars and trees. ‘About four, I think. Did I wake you?’

  ‘No. I can’t hear a thing in the flat, but I spotted the light on when I came back from my run so I thought I’d shower then investigate.’ She sat down. ‘Why 4 a.m.?’

  ‘I couldn’t sleep. Too much on my mind.’

  I was aware of Jodie watching my frantic piping, but I couldn’t look at her. I knew that if I looked into her sympathetic eyes, I’d crumble.

  ‘I think someone needs a strong coffee and a friendly ear,’ she said.

  ‘Coffee,’ she said, placing a mug in front of me five minutes later. ‘It’s time to take a break.’ She attempted to extricate the piping bag from my hand.

  ‘The chocolate will set,’ I muttered, clinging onto it.

  ‘Then you can make some more. Give me it.’

  ‘No!’

  ‘GIVE ME IT!’

  ‘NO!’

  We wrestled with the bag for a moment, but Jodie squeezed it in the wrong place and squealed as warm chocolate squirted all over her face.

  ‘Right! That’s it!’ She grabbed another piping bag off the table, filled with white chocolate that I’d coloured pink.

  ‘No, Jodie! Don’t!’

  But she did. As pink chocolate dripped down my nose, I aimed my piping bag towards her like a gun and fired.

  A few minutes later, we giggled as we surveyed the chocolatey mess. We were covered in the stuff. I had a paper hat and my apron on so it was only my face and the top of my T-shirt that had suffered but Jodie had it in her hair and all over her clothes.

  ‘I think you might need another shower,’ I said, pulling off my hat and apron.

  ‘Not until you’ve told me what’s going on.’

  ‘It’s nothing much.’

  Jodie shook her head. ‘Not buying it.’

  I shrugged. ‘Help me clear this mess off the floor and walls and I’ll tell you.’

  With a bucket of soapy water and a cloth each, we started clearing up.

  ‘I went out for a drink with Ricky last night and he asked me to take him back.’

  Jodie gasped. ‘No! Seriously? After what he did to you?’

  ‘He’s split up with BJ and he says he misses me and still loves me.’

  She rinsed her cloth in the bucket. ‘Do you believe him?’

  ‘About BJ? Yes. I do think it’s for good this time. About the rest of it? Not a word. He only wanted me for my money from the very start and that hasn’t changed.’

  ‘Please tell me you told him where to go,’ Jodie said, sounding hopeful.

  I nodded.

  She picked up her cloth and squeezed it out. ‘So why the sleepless night? You’re not regretting saying no, are you?’

  I scrubbed at a lump of pink chocolate on the floor while I found the right words. ‘I absolutely don’t want to get back with Ricky. I actually never even want to lay eyes on the cheating, money-grabbing git again.’

  ‘Good. But this still doesn’t explain the sleepless night.’

  Rinsing the cloth, I started on another lump. ‘I miss being in a relationship.’

  ‘I miss being in a relationship too. It’s nice to have someone to snuggle up to at night.’

  I shook my head. ‘It’s more than that. I miss being part of something. I miss being part of a couple but I also miss being part of a family. I miss my grandparents and I started thinking about my birth mum and, well…’

  Jodie stopped what she was doing. ‘You’re not thinking of contacting her, are you?’

  ‘Not just thinking. I’ve already done it.’

  They say you can’t miss what you’ve never had and I have to agree with that. I’d never had parents yet I’d never felt that I missed out. From what I could tell from conversations at school, my grandparents had been far better ‘parents’ to me than many biological ones were towards their children.

  Throughout school, I never felt that the absence of parents made me particularly different, probably because I wasn’t the only one without a mum and dad at home. Several of the children at primary school lived with a single mum, a single dad, or across two homes. Some had step-parents, step-siblings and/or half-siblings, one of my classmates was fostered, and another had two dads.

  It had been meeting Jodie that triggered me questioning my family set-up. She’d moved to the area when we were ten and I was given the proud responsibility of showing the new girl round. She told me that she’d moved from Bradford because her dad had a new job and she was excited about living near the sea, but she was going to miss all her cousins who she’d played with regularly. I vividly remember her saying, ‘The best thing about cousins is that it’s like having lots of brothers and sisters to play with but it’s even better because they aren’t mean to you. I’ve got twenty-three cousins although some of them are a lot older than me so I don’t play with those ones. How many cousins do you have?’ And for the first time ever, it struck me that I didn’t have any cousins. I didn’t have any aunties or uncles either, or a second set of grandparents. There were just the three of us and that wasn’t very many. Not very many at all.

  ‘You have your thinking face on,’ Nanna had said when she picked me up from school that day and we set off walking home.

  ‘Why don’t I have any cousins, Nanna?’ I asked.

  ‘Because your mum didn’t have any brothers or sisters. If she had done, they’d have been your aunties and uncles
and, if they’d had children, those children would have been your cousins. Why do you ask?’

  ‘I have a new friend at school called Jodie McAllister and she has twenty-three cousins.’

  ‘Goodness me, lovey. That’s a lot of cousins.’

  We walked in silence for a while.

  ‘Would you like to go to the swings on the way home?’ Nanna asked.

  ‘No thanks.’

  I always wanted to go to the swings so I imagine that Nanna might have felt a little anxious at this point.

  ‘Why do I never see my mum?’ I asked as we passed the entrance to the park. ‘Doesn’t she like me?’

  Nanna drew a sharp intake of breath. I looked up at her but she was looking off into the distance, frowning.

  ‘Nanna?’

  She looked down and gave me a gentle smile. ‘No, lovey. It’s nothing like that.’

  ‘Is she in prison?’

  ‘Oh my goodness. Where did you get an idea like that?’

  ‘Alfie Spencer’s stepdad is in prison.’

  ‘Is he? Oh dear. No, your mum isn’t in prison. Come on. Let’s get home and get those potatoes peeled. We’re having your favourite. Bangers and mash.’ Nanna’s pace quickened and I had to run to keep up with her.

  ‘Is she in hospital, then? Like Elliott Traske’s mum?’

  Nanna sighed. ‘She’s not in hospital either. She’s…’ She stopped and looked around her as though checking nobody was in earshot then she bent down so her face was closer to mine. ‘I don’t know where she is at this precise moment.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘We’re not in contact, lovey.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘It’s complicated.’

  ‘Is she still in Hull?’

  Nanna’s eyes started watering and she stood up and dabbed them with a handkerchief from the pocket of her cardigan. ‘No. Not Hull. Not England either. She’ll be somewhere in Europe, I imagine, but I’ve no idea where because she moves round a lot.’

  ‘Why?’ I knew I’d asked the same question an annoying number of times but Nanna’s answers were so vague, it seemed the only question I could ask.

  ‘I don’t know, really. She’s always been like that, even as a child. She never seemed to be able to settle with one thing or one friend. She was always looking for someone or something new and exciting.’

  ‘Was I not very exciting? Is that why she left?’

  She stopped walking and bent down again. ‘Oh lovey, it wasn’t about you. It was about her.’ She pulled me into a sudden hug and kissed the top of my head. ‘You were the most wonderful, exciting, amazing thing to happen to any of us.’ She let me go but kept hold of my arms while she looked into my eyes. ‘Promise me you’ll never doubt that.’

  I nodded solemnly. ‘So why did she leave me?’

  Nanna pressed her fingers against her lips. Her hands were shaking and her lip wobbled. She looked up at the skies, as though searching for the answer in the fluffy clouds then straightened up, took my hand, and set off walking again. ‘We’ll talk at home.’

  Back at home, I removed my shoes and sat on the sofa waiting for an explanation. Nanna emerged from the kitchen with a glass of squash for me and a cup of tea for herself and sat down beside me.

  ‘I’ll explain this as best as I can,’ she said, handing me my drink. ‘When some people have children, they are brilliant parents from the start. It’s as though they automatically know what to do and they do it really well. Some people find it difficult becoming a parent but they learn every day and they hopefully get better. But there are others who struggle all the way. Not everyone has what it takes to be a parent and your mum was one of those people.’

  I frowned at her. ‘How did she know? You said she left on the day I was born.’

  Nanna closed her eyes and dipped her head, nodding. It was obvious to me how much this conversation was hurting her but I was desperate to know.

  She opened her eyes again. ‘Long before you were even born, your mum knew that she wouldn’t be a good parent and that you wouldn’t have the happiest childhood if you stayed with her so she asked if we could look after you instead so that’s what happened and we’ve been very, very lucky to have you in our lives. We were only blessed with one child but we always wanted a big family, so you’ve been our second chance to be parents, and we’ve loved every single moment.’

  ‘Why does she never visit?’

  ‘I don’t know, lovey. I’m sorry.’

  But she did know. And now I did too.

  I’d been surprised to see Neil Winters’s name flash up on my mobile a couple of months ago. With the sale of Nanna’s house long complete, I hadn’t expected to hear from him again.

  ‘We’ve made a discovery,’ he said after we’d exchanged pleasantries. ‘My daughter wanted stripped floorboards in the master bedroom so we took up the carpet and found a couple of loose boards. We lifted them and found two bundles of letters and postcards addressed to your Nanna.’

  My mouth suddenly felt dry. ‘Who are they from?’ I asked, the words sounding stilted and distant.

  ‘I haven’t opened any of the letters. They’re private. But I couldn’t help spotting a name on one of the postcards. It was…’

  I already knew what he was going to say.

  ‘…Stacey,’ he said. ‘Do you want me to send them to you?’

  Did I? Could anything be gained from reading letters from her, especially when Nanna wasn’t around to explain any of the contents. But if I told Neil to shove them in the recycling, would I always be wondering?

  ‘Yes, please. That would be great.’ It probably wouldn’t be ‘great’ at all but I didn’t have to read them when they came. I told Neil I’d text him my address and thanked him for letting me know.

  ‘No worries. I’m not likely to get to the post office this week but I’ll definitely post them next week.’

  There was no rush. It gave me time to decide whether I wanted to open them or not. But Neil obviously made it to the post office sooner than expected as I arrived home from work three days later to find a package in my pigeonhole.

  My stomach churned as I climbed up the two flights of stairs holding the large, padded envelope, debating what to do with them. By the time I reached my flat, I’d decided to open them. What was the worst that could happen? I was already indifferent towards Stacey so the contents were either going to continue that indifference or make me dislike her. There was nothing she could possibly write that would make me want to track her down.

  I sat at the dining table, opened the envelope and removed the two bundles. One was tied with a golden ribbon and the other with a cerise pink one. I took several deep calming breaths then released the golden ribbon. The letters and postcards fanned out on the table and I could immediately see that they were all addressed to Nanna in the same neat, sloping handwriting.

  I picked up the item that had been on the top – a postcard – and ground my teeth as I read it:

  Loving Paris but those feet are itchy again.

  Met a darling Italian.

  He’s taking me to Milan but I shan’t stay long.

  So much world, so little time.

  Ciao

  Stacey

  That was it. No enquiring after her parents and absolutely no mention of me. Looking at the clear date stamp, I’d have been eight and was clearly out of sight, out of mind. A spark of anger ignited inside me as I read the words again. How dare she be so carefree and dismissive of her family? I gathered up the items, shoved them back into the envelope along with the pink ribbon bundle and stormed into my bedroom. Standing on the bed, I opened the over-bed wardrobe and tossed the package towards the back where it slid behind the box containing my Christmas boots from Ricky. There the envelope remained, also out of sight but not so much out of mind. I’d come close to reading the rest of the letters several times but had always recoiled, shaking my head, when my fingers touched the padded envelope. Until last night when, disturbed by my interlude with
Ricky, I’d retrieved the envelope, tipped the contents onto the bed, and started reading.

  Halfway through the open bundle was as far as I managed before I felt compelled to write to her. I thumped out an abusive letter on my laptop, demanding to know what had happened to make her so damned selfish. I have to say, it was very cathartic letting go of my initial flurry of anger towards her, but what was the point in sending her it? I saved it and opened a fresh page. It took me ages to find the right words and tone. After well over an hour, I finally felt as though I had written something that was informative, not too emotional, and which had no suggestion that I wanted her in my life because I really didn’t.

  Dear Stacey

  It feels strange to write that but it doesn’t feel appropriate to start this letter with ‘dear mum’ for obvious reasons.

  I’ve recently discovered that you were intermittently in contact with Nanna over the years so I’m assuming you’re aware that your dad died six years ago. However, you probably won’t be aware that your mum also passed away in May last year. I had no way of contacting you at the time.

  Some letters you wrote to her have come into my possession and the most recent has a UK address on it. I therefore hope this news reaches you. You have, of course, missed the funeral but, considering you didn’t attend your dad’s, I don’t imagine you’d have attended your mum’s either.