Chocolate Wishes

by Trisha Ashley

  His head had been bent over his clasped hands, his long black hair hiding his face, but now he looked up quickly. ‘I didn’t get any letter!’

  ‘It was enclosed with the one to Rachel. She was supposed to give it to you when you turned up…And I was quite sure you would turn up,’ I added painfully.

  ‘I did, the very first chance I got. But Rachel never gave me the letter and she only showed me that bit of the one you sent her, to go with her story.’

  ‘So you just believed all her lies?’

  ‘I – well, it was in your writing,’ he said defensively, ‘and she was very convincing.’

  ‘So convincing that you never stopped to think if that was the sort of cruel thing I would do? Or tried to find out if it was the truth?’

  My tears had dried and for a moment I felt filled with white-hot rage: for Raffy’s credulity and stupidity, for Rachel’s duplicity and callousness, and for all the lost years of my teens and twenties, which I’d devoted to Jake.

  But I quickly caught myself up on that last thought: I might sometimes have resented Jake’s claims on me, but it didn’t mean I didn’t love him. I’d do it again if I had to.

  Raffy sighed. ‘No, I suppose I was so mad I wasn’t thinking straight and anyway, I didn’t see why she would tell me lies.’

  ‘Because she always fancied you,’ I said. ‘She saw her chance and took it.’

  ‘But what about you?’ he asked, suddenly rallying. ‘Didn’t you wonder why I never wrote or turned up?’

  ‘Not after she told me she’d given you my letter and you hadn’t even bothered to read it. And by the way, she said you jumped straight into bed with her, and I don’t expect that bit was a lie?’

  He looked shamefaced. ‘No, I got blind drunk in the students’ union bar and then she…consoled me. I regretted it next day. Never went back. Went to hell in a handbasket, in fact,’ he said soberly. ‘What a fool I was!’

  ‘I still can’t believe you thought I would ask another person to tell you something like that – you must have known I loved you! And for weeks I kept expecting you to turn up, until I got Rachel’s letter. And after that the papers were full of all the things you and the rest of Mortal Ruin were up to, so I knew you’d completely forgotten about me.’

  ‘But I hadn’t! Lord knows, I tried, but you were forever coming back to haunt me.’ He sat down again and, leaning forward, took my hands in a warm, firm grasp. ‘It took God to make me see just what effects my actions had on other people, and turn me outwards, instead of in. I found it a hard struggle to truly forgive you in my heart for what I thought you’d done to me, but I always hoped you were happy and it had turned out well for you.’

  ‘That’s more than I managed for you, because I never forgave you at all! Whenever one of your damned songs reminded me of you, my thoughts were about ninety per cent cocoa solids.’

  ‘I’m guessing they were pretty bitter, then?’

  ‘I think you could say that, with a dash of hot chilli on the side. My opinion of you was that you were a cheap forastero blend and I was probably right!’

  ‘Thanks,’ he said drily. ‘But I’m truly sorry if things haven’t worked out for you. I always pictured you married and with children when I thought of you and—’

  He broke off: perhaps something in my expression warned him not to go there.

  ‘I nearly got married, but it didn’t work out, and then I had Jake to bring up. I feel I’ve done my bit in the motherhood and relationship stakes, so now I’m concentrating on my business.’

  I suddenly realised that he was still holding my hands between his and it felt as if some powerful current was passing between us…until I snatched them away.

  ‘But Felix mentioned that your ex-fiancé has turned up again, so maybe you won’t always feel that way?’ he suggested.

  ‘David’s just a friend these days, that’s all,’ I said shortly. ‘Felix gets the daftest ideas.’

  ‘Right,’ Raffy said, and got up. ‘Look, Chloe, what’s happened, happened, and I can’t change that. But I’m so very sorry and I hope eventually that you’ll find it in your heart to forgive me for unintentionally hurting you so much, just as I forgive you.’

  ‘You forgive me?’ I stared at him.

  ‘Yes – don’t we both share the blame for not trusting in each other’s love enough to question what Rachel told us?’

  ‘Some of us are guiltier than others, and I don’t forgive you, Raffy Sinclair!’

  For a moment his eyes flashed and I thought he was about to lose his temper, just as the long-vanished Raffy that I once loved would have done. It might even have cleared the air a bit. But then he gave a long sigh. ‘I’m sorry you feel like that, but I’ll leave you in peace now and go to the church. I feel a need to pray for both of us – but even more for Rachel.’

  I felt more inclined to damn Rachel to the fiery pits of hell for what she’d done to me – to us. But then, I wasn’t the one with a freshly minted conscience and a matching set of ethics.

  ‘I’d concentrate on praying for yourself after visiting my grandfather,’ I advised him. ‘You know what they say: if you sup with the devil, you need a long spoon.’

  Outside, David tooted his car horn and I got to my feet, feeling about ninety years old. ‘I’ve got to go; I’m going house-hunting with a friend.’

  ‘Of course.’

  I put a brass screen in front of the fire and unhooked my coat from behind the door, then he followed me out through the workshop and into the lane. There he paused, looking down sombrely at me, and I stared inimically right back up at him.

  ‘God bless you, Chloe!’ he said, then strode off towards the High Street, past David’s red sports car, without even seeming to notice, his dark head bent and his hands in his pockets.

  I got into David’s car feeling as if I’d gone several rounds in the boxing ring, and his peppering me with questions didn’t help, either.

  ‘Wasn’t that Raffy Sinclair? Mel Christopher told me he was the new vicar and I thought she was joking! You wouldn’t think someone with that kind of lifestyle would suddenly get God, would you?’

  ‘I know, I was surprised too,’ I said, the understatement of the century. ‘Of course, the band split up years ago, so I expect they’ve all moved on and done something else. He’s been ordained for quite a long time, I think.’

  ‘But why was he visiting you? You don’t go to church now, do you?’

  ‘He came to see Grumps, really, and then I expect he thought he might as well call on me. He intends visiting every house in the parish eventually, so at least he can tick me off the list now.’

  ‘I suppose he’ll be a seven-day wonder and all the women will go gooey over him.’

  ‘Not me,’ I said flatly and he gave me a sideways smile as we drove out along the Neatslake road, passing the sign to Stirrups.

  ‘No, I’m sure he isn’t your type in the least.’

  ‘So, which house are we going to see first?’ I asked, firmly changing the subject. I longed to be on my own, to go over every single nuance of what Raffy had said to me, but until I was, I’d have to try to put a brave face on it.

  Chapter Twenty

  Fallen Angels

  I must have succeeded, even running on automatic response, because David didn’t notice anything wrong. In fact, he said the afternoon had been fun – which I expect it would have been, in other circumstances.

  It was only later, while we were having tea at a canal marina café, and debating the merits of the two properties we’d seen that day, that it occurred to me that Grumps might have already ill-wished Raffy for a wrong that had turned out to be due to nothing more than credulity and stupidity. Perhaps, if it wasn’t too late, I should tell Grumps so? But then, he couldn’t really do Raffy any harm, could he…?

  I returned to the present to find David holding forth on the subject of guest bedrooms and en-suites, neither of which seemed very important to me at the best of times, and not at all at that
moment, so I said it was time I was getting back home.

  He dropped me off at the door, but even then I hadn’t got a minute to myself, because of course Jake came back soon after I did. I’d promised to cook him his favourite dinner – sausage and mash with mustard sauce, followed by a fresh cream éclair I’d bought him from the Spar that morning, which seemed at least a century ago.

  But this was probably a good thing, because by the time we were finishing dinner, the urge to weep uncontrollably was all safely dammed up behind a lot of concrete resolve and I’d made my mind up to tell Jake at least some of the truth. Better he heard it from me than as a stray rumour.

  ‘The new vicar visited Grumps today,’ I said, scraping plates and then dumping them into the washing-up bowl. ‘Then afterwards he called to see me, too.’

  ‘What for?’ he asked, looking up from my newest copy of Skint Old Northern Woman magazine, which seemed a strange choice of reading matter for a teenage boy – except, of course, that he is a fairly strange teenage boy.

  ‘To catch up on old times.’ I took a deep breath and confessed, ‘You see, we went out with each other years ago. You were only a baby at the time, so you won’t remember, but I went away to university and that’s where I met him. But then he went off with Mortal Ruin and became a rock god and I…came home.’

  ‘You went out with Raffy Sinclair?’ he exclaimed, with the same unflattering amazement that Felix had shown at the news.

  ‘Only for a few weeks, and I haven’t seen him since.’

  ‘Oh my God – you mean I might have had Raffy Sinclair for my brother-in-law if you hadn’t messed up?’ he demanded aggrievedly.

  ‘I didn’t mess up, we just…drifted apart,’ I lied. I certainly wasn’t going to tell him all the truth, especially that he was the reason I hadn’t gone back to university and been there when Raffy returned to look for me. ‘And you never wanted a brother-in-law anyway – look how horrible you were to poor David!’

  ‘I wouldn’t have wanted one like him. He hated me.’

  ‘No, he didn’t, he just got tired of all the awful tricks you played on him, and no wonder! He was asking about you today – which university you hoped to go to, and that kind of thing.’

  ‘He was probably hoping it wasn’t one near home,’ he said acutely. ‘Then he wouldn’t have to have me around much if you got back together.’

  ‘We’re not getting back together,’ I said firmly, though strangely enough I was starting to think I might have been reinstated on David’s current list of suitable brides, despite not meeting any of the criteria: I preferred living alone, I’d lost any desire for motherhood after bringing up Jake, and my idea of a good time was curling up on the sofa at home with a box of truffles, wine, and my favourite Georgette Heyer novel. Sophisticated I was not. That Mel he kept mentioning sounded a much more suitable candidate.

  ‘I’m not what he’s looking for. In fact, I’m not what anyone is looking for,’ I assured Jake.

  But he was now staring at me critically, as though he’d never seen me before in his life, even ignoring the cheese board and the bowl of grapes I’d put in front of him to fill up any empty crevices. ‘I suppose you were quite pretty when you were young.’

  ‘I’m way too old to remember,’ I snapped, and he grinned and started on the crumbly Lancashire. He had an amazing capacity for putting away food; he’d already eaten most of my dinner since, unsurprisingly, I wasn’t that hungry.

  Kat was coming round to watch him practise in the garden with his firesticks while I was out at the Falling Star, so before I left I warned him not to set anything alight, including himself.

  I’d been tempted to ring Poppy and say I had a sudden rush of Wishes orders and couldn’t go out tonight, but I knew if I did she and Felix would only come to the cottage instead.

  Unfortunately, I’m not terribly good at fibbing. And anyway, by now I’d gone through the angry, tearful and distraught stages and was feeling fairly numb, with just a piquant hint of bitterness.

  Maybe I could invent a new chocolate line: BitterSweets for dumped lovers?

  Poppy and Felix were just turning into the entrance to the Falling Star together as I came into the High Street, so I ran across to join them. Mrs Snowball switched the coffee machine on and started bustling about with the cups and saucers the second we opened the snug door so I, for one, hadn’t the heart to tell her that after the day I’d had I really felt more in need of a double brandy than a cappuccino.

  ‘I saw that young man you brought in here, dropping you off earlier in his posh little sports car,’ she said to me conversationally. ‘He hasn’t been back since. Didn’t he like my coffee?’

  I suppose a man in his early forties did seem young to Mrs Snowball. Oddly enough, although I hadn’t really noticed the age difference between David and me six years ago, I was now much more conscious of it. All David’s tastes, ideas and attitudes seemed to be terribly stuffy and set in stone, and he just assumed I would automatically agree with them as if there weren’t other, and usually better, options.

  ‘David loved your coffee and I’m sure he’ll want to come again. But we’d been house-hunting and he had to get back home.’

  ‘Oh yes, I’d forgotten you were doing that today,’ Poppy said.

  ‘I hadn’t.’ Felix gave me a pained look, as if I’d done something not quite nice.

  Florrie Snowball turned from fiddling with the steaming, hissing chrome monster and looked at me. ‘So, you’re moving in together already? I know you used to be engaged, because that Zillah told me. And who can blame you if you’ve taken up with him again – a handsome feller like that?’

  ‘No, it’s nothing like that. It’s just that he wants to move into the country and I enjoy looking at other people’s houses, that’s all.’

  ‘Well, who knows, his heart might soften towards you again,’ she said, so clearly she had a romantic heart concealed behind her Maidenform corset. ‘You bring him back in soon and I’ll make him some extra special coffee,’ she promised, with a gappy grin.

  ‘It looks like David has made a conquest,’ Poppy said when we were sitting out of earshot in the window. Felix was paying for this first round, which involved a lot of checking of various pockets and counting out of coins.

  ‘Funny, I didn’t get the feeling at the time that she liked him that much.’

  ‘She certainly likes Felix – look at her going all flirty at him again,’ Poppy said.

  ‘But even he doesn’t get extra sprinkle on his cappuccino,’ I observed as Felix sat down with his cup. ‘David did, though actually you’re not missing anything, Felix, because it was funny, speckled greenish stuff, not grated chocolate or cinnamon.’

  ‘I wonder what it was, then?’ Poppy said. ‘What would have green speckles in it?’

  ‘Perhaps she mistakenly used rancid powdered milk substitute, or something like that?’ I suggested. ‘It didn’t look very nice and he poured most of it into that plant behind you. He dashed off home, too, and rang me later to say he didn’t feel well.’ And now I came to look at it, the aspidistra was looking pretty ropey.

  ‘I wanted a pint of best bitter, not a coffee,’ Felix complained, ‘only I couldn’t hurt her feelings. I mean, I’ve got my own coffee maker in the shop now – I can drink it all day if I want to, for free. She seems to be in love with that machine.’

  ‘The novelty will probably wear off soon, now that Molly and Clive can both work it,’ Poppy said. ‘Look, she’s going, so we can have something else in a minute.’

  But Mrs Snowball paused in the doorway to deliver a parting shot. ‘I hear the new vicar nearly bought it this afternoon: squashed flat by an angel!’

  She could be heard cackling like the wicked witch in a pantomime even after the door had shut behind her.

  I turned to the other two and demanded, ‘What on earth does she mean? Has Raffy had an accident?’

  ‘It’s OK, he’s fine. It missed him by a mile,’ Felix said. ‘Effie Yatton c
ame into the shop later and told me about it.’

  ‘Yes, and she rang me at home, too. She always knows everything first – she’s the village voice!’

  ‘But I don’t know anything,’ I said impatiently. ‘What angel? When?’

  ‘It was one of the marble monuments in the graveyard and it fell across Raffy’s path on his way to the church this afternoon,’ Poppy explained. ‘It blocked the left-hand path, where it divides. Effie thinks it was a sign.’

  ‘Yes, a sign of mole activity,’ Felix put in, grinning.

  ‘Raffy saw Grumps this afternoon,’ I said thoughtfully. ‘I don’t suppose that had anything to do with it.’

  ‘I know your grandfather is a gentleman in a velvet jacket, just like the old Jacobite toast, but he’s no mole,’ Felix said. ‘Didn’t he and Raffy get on well?’

  ‘I don’t know, but that’s not what’s bothering me. If Zillah told Grumps about Raffy and me, he might be impelled to try and take a bit of revenge on my behalf.’

  ‘But there isn’t anything he can do really, is there?’ Poppy said. ‘Magic doesn’t really work, we know that.’ But she didn’t sound entirely convinced.

  ‘Of course it doesn’t,’ agreed Felix uneasily. ‘It’s a load of mumbo jumbo.’

  ‘It would be pointless anyway now, because Raffy came to see me after he’d been next door and we – well, we’ve cleared the air,’ I confessed, though I didn’t mention that there was still a sulphurous haze hanging about.

  ‘Oh, I’m so glad,’ Poppy said. ‘Are you friends again?’

  ‘No, I think it would be going quite a bit too far to say that, but I understand now that he didn’t behave as badly towards me as I thought he did.’

  Then I explained about Rachel’s lies, and Poppy, her soft heart stirred, said, ‘So it wasn’t really his fault, then? Oh, but it’s all so terribly sad!’