Footsteps in the Snow and other Teatime Treats

“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 into 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 almost 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.”

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