The Cosy Christmas Chocolate Shop: The perfect, feel good romantic comedy to curl up with this Christmas!

‘That’s really pretty. Do you want me to carry on bagging up the chocolates here? I’ve got a spare half hour. Well, it’s either that or heading back to face my homework. And to be honest, I need a little break. I’m only just off the school bus.’

‘That’d be great … thanks, Holly. How’s school going?’

‘It’s okay. Busy, especially now it’s Sixth Form and you just feel that pressure, you know, to get good A-level results next year. The grades are so important for uni or whatever I decide to do afterwards … agh, I don’t even know what I want to do afterwards.’

‘Just keep working hard, Holly, and you’ll be fine – that’s all you can do.’ That was pretty much her mantra in life at the moment.

‘Yeah. S’pose.’

Em thought back to when she was eighteen. She’d quite enjoyed school, but wasn’t totally sure what she had wanted to do as a career either; teaching had seemed a sensible option, so she had gone off to uni in Durham, enjoyed student life, passed her degree, then taken a PGCE for a year and got herself a teaching post. She’d always loved cooking and specialised in food technology, but not all of her secondary students were that committed, and thought of it as a bit of a ‘dossy’ subject, which could be frustrating. It was fine, though; she got paid pretty well. And she had met Luke when he had started work at the same school a year after her. She probably would have stayed in that line of work had everything not veered off course spectacularly. But then … it really made you think that life was too short to be working away at something you didn’t love.

She wondered for the umpteenth time how Luke would have felt about her becoming a chocolatier.

‘You okay?’

‘Ooh, yep, just in a little world of my own for a minute there. Cuppa?’

‘Sounds good.’

‘Tea okay? I feel quite thirsty.’

‘Great.’

‘I’ll just pop the kettle on.’

She left Holly bagging up packs of truffles and fudge. The young girl was busy tying on ribbons in shades of bright pink, yellow and green, as Emma came back carrying two mugs. ‘Here.’

‘Thanks.’

‘They look pretty.’

Holly was scraping scissors along the ribbons to make the ends curl.

‘The colours will go really well with the blossom in the display. Give it a cheery feel. You really are a ray of sunshine here, Holly,’ Emma added.

Just then the dinging chime of the door went. They both looked up. Holly was already positioned behind the counter, so Emma stood back as a blond-haired young man wandered in. He looked about twenty and she saw him glance at her assistant with a shy smile, before perusing the shelves.

‘Can I help you?’ Holly said, her face blushing pink, nearly matching the bright ribbon in her hand.

‘Umm, well, I’m looking for a gift.’

‘Okay, well, what kind of a gift? Birthday?’

‘No, no, not a birthday, just a general thank you. More of an everyday gift, I suppose.’

‘Okay … well, we can tailor-make gift boxes. You can choose any favourite flavours and then we can put in the number of chocolates you’d like.’

‘Right, yes.’

‘For a lady?’

‘Yes.’

‘Okay then. Well, there are truffles, ganaches, fruit flavours, alcohol, nuts – it’s up to you, really. Have a look in the counter here.’

‘Just a mixture would be great. I don’t mind. I’ll let you choose.’

Holly took a medium-sized gold-coloured gift box and a pair of tongs and started taking various chocolates from the counter display, placing them on to the scales. She stopped at eight, saying that would cost just less than five pounds, including the box and wrapping.

‘That’s fine. Can you pop a couple more on, then? Thanks.’ He pulled out his wallet from his trouser pocket.

‘Okay, so that’ll be five pounds eighty altogether. And, if you just give me a second I’ll wrap them properly for you … pink, red, or gold ribbon?’

‘I don’t mind. You choose.’

Emma saw him give Holly another smile.

‘Pink then.’ That was Holly’s favourite colour. Bright, bold and bubbly, just like she was. Holly did her magic with bows and curls, and popped the gift box into a crisp, white paper bag, tucking in one of their Chocolate Shop business cards.

There was a moment as Holly handed back his change when their eyes met. Holly seemed to go a shade pinker. Em had to smile, though she pretended to be busy with her window display again.

The young man left with a polite, ‘Thank you’.

As the shop door closed with a ding, Emma said, ‘Now he was a nice-looking lad.’

‘Yes,’ Holly answered, her tone a pitch higher than normal. She watched the young man walk past the window, gave him a brief, friendly smile, and went back to packing up the gift bags once more.

Emma grinned across at her. It might be a good thing that someone other than the apparently offhand Tom at school had taken her assistant’s attention.

7

There was a knock at the back door of the cottage and Emma went to answer it and seeing who it was or, more exactly, who it was and what she was wearing, burst out laughing.

‘I’m all set,’ Bev grinned, making her way into Em’s back kitchen.

‘I can’t believe you’ve actually walked around here like that.’

Bev lived a ten-minute walk away across the far side of the village.

‘Yep, well, why not? I drew the line at coming across in my slippers, mind – they’re in the bag, along with a bottle of Prosecco and some cheesy nibbles.’ She offered up her carrier bag to Emma.

‘You look like some crazy bag lady.’

‘Well, thanks.’

Bev stood before her in a full-on zebra-print onesie.

‘Right, well I suppose I’d better go and get mine on, then. Don’t want to be outdone. There’s two glasses ready there on the side so you get the Prosecco popped and poured. I’ll just be one minute.’

‘Can I still raid the chocolate shop like you promised?’

‘Yes,’ Emma shouted from halfway up the stairs. ‘But wait until I get back.’

‘Meanie.’

Em found her giraffe-print onesie on the chair in her bedroom, where she’d left it last night, and stripped off her jeans and jumper combo and pulled it on. She felt cosy straight away. Right, slippers on. So, she was ready for their ‘big night in’.

She arrived back down in the kitchen.

‘Can I fill my goodie bag now?’ Bev’s eyes lit up.

‘Yes, go on then.’ Emma led the way through the door from the back hallway to the shop, and switched on the lights.

‘Yippee!’ came a squeal from behind her.

‘Bev, anyone would think you were four, not forty-odd.’ But Emma was smiling as she spoke.

‘I know, I know. I still can’t quite get over the fact that my best friend actually has a chocolate shop. How did I get that lucky in life?!’

This evening, with it being especially dark outside, Em had to admit it did look rather like a chocolate version of Aladdin’s cave, with neatly piled truffle and ganache gems, gold and silver foil boxes, trails of ribbons and coloured packaging.

‘Here.’ Emma passed her friend a cellophane bag. ‘Go on, fill it. But, if you wouldn’t mind, take a few of those Christmas pud truffles and snowy stars that are left on the counter; that’ll help my stock situation. They’ve got to be eaten in the next week or so before they go out of date.’

‘No worries. I’ll gladly take them off your hands. What do you fancy, Em?’

To be honest, Emma had seen and handled so much chocolate in the past few weeks, she wasn’t sure. But she was always partial to a soft-centred caramel.

‘Just a couple of the chocolate salted caramels – those ones over there. That’ll do me.’

They were soon settled upstairs with a glass of Prosecco in hand, the chocolate goodie bag nestled between them, and their slippered feet propped up on the coffee table.

They’d laughed their way through Bridget Jones’s Baby and cried their way through The Notebook – a classic romantic film and novel that Emma always loved. And, hey-ho, despite the tears, a couple of hours spent with Ryan Gosling was never a bad thing.

‘Blimey, that ending just makes me want to go home and snuggle right up with Pete. But, wouldn’t it be awful for someone to just disappear from your life so suddenly?’ Bev stopped talking and looked across at Emma. ‘Oh balls! Sorry, Em. Films like this must be pretty hard for you, yeah? Like, I know it’s a long time ago and all that, but …’

‘It’s all right.’ Emma smiled sadly, unable to really voice what she felt inside.

‘You must miss that, though, that closeness. Don’t you ever want to go out and find someone? Go on a date? You haven’t been out like that in ages. And well, to put it bluntly, have a good shag.’ The Prosecco had certainly loosened Bev’s tongue. They’d had nearly a bottle each by now. ‘Or maybe you have been, and you’re keeping it all quiet.’ Bev arched her eyebrows.

Emma thought of the hunky man on the beach, but said nothing. That was better kept to herself. Chances were she’d never see him again, and maybe that was for the best. It was probably all illusory. No one had ever come near …

‘Hah, it’s Alan in the village, isn’t it?’

Em put her head in her hands. Then they both howled with laughter, until the tears were streaming again. Alan, bless him, had to be over seventy, with teeth stained brown from years of smoking roll-ups, and a tendency to be a bit of a letch, to say the least. He was no doubt lonely, having lost his wife several years before. But he would always stand just a bit too close in the post office queue, touching your shoulder as he asked how you were, and letting his hand linger just a bit too long, and Em was sure that one time he’d actually patted her arse. But it was so surreptitious, and when she looked round he was already two steps away at the newspaper stand, his head deep in the Northumberland Gazette.

Emma let out a sigh. Would she end up like that? Lonely, desperate for a fondle, watching Ryan Gosling films or The Time Traveller’s Wife on repeat?

‘Pete’s got a mate coming up the weekend after next. Why don’t you come out with us?’

‘What? A blind date? No way! I remember the last time you tried to fix me up with someone. All he could talk about was bloody computer programming and his gym weights. Didn’t mean a thing to me. I couldn’t have given a monkey’s whether he could lift a bloody ten-kilo weight or a car.’

‘Yes, well, he wasn’t the most interesting of Pete’s friends, I must say. But I’ve met Nigel before and he’s nice.’

‘Nigel? Are there still people called Nigel around? You’ve got to be kidding.’

‘Just get yourself out socialising again.’

‘I was out. At New Year.’

‘And before that?’

Emma couldn’t quite remember. ‘Look, I don’t need you meddling, trying to fix me up with someone.’ She could feel herself getting edgy. ‘I’m fine. I like being on my own. Why do we all have to be in loved-up couples? It’s just a myth.’

‘There’s nothing wrong in trying to be happy. Finding someone to love.’

‘I had it. I had all that, okay.’ Emma’s tone was taut.

‘Well, don’t you want it again?’

‘No, I’m fine. It won’t be the same. It couldn’t be.’

‘So, you’re never going to go out with anyone ever again? That’s just crazy.’

‘No, it’s not.’

‘It’s like saying you don’t want to ever eat chocolate again.’ Bev dug into the goody bag, pulled out a truffle and popped it in her mouth all in one go. There was a pause, as she ate it, then she carried on. ‘One day, it’ll sneak up on you and you’ll eat a whole bar.’ Trust Bev to think of a chocolate analogy. ‘And you might just like it!’

‘No.’

‘What’s that for an answer? Come on, Em. What is it, are you afraid or what?’

‘Okay, all right!’ Her voice was raised now, and she felt her neck flushing with heat. ‘Yes, I am bloody afraid … afraid no one will ever match up. How can they? And if, in some fantasy universe, they ever did? What the fuck then! What if something happened to them? I don’t want to go back to that place, Bev. I don’t want to ever go near those feelings again! So yes, I am bloody afraid … You happy now?’

‘No. Oh, Em …’ She placed her arm around her friend. ‘Hey, I’m sorry, hun. So sorry. I didn’t realise it was still so raw for you. I know you’ve told me about Luke, what happened. But seven years, Em. It’s seven years.’

‘I know.’

‘But hey, jeez, I didn’t know you then. I never saw how much it must have hurt at the time, did I? I see you now, strong and independent and beautiful.’ She stroked her friend’s red wavy hair. ‘And it just seems such a waste. But forgive me, I’m just a silly bloody woman who’s had too much Prosecco and hasn’t got a clue how hard it must be. How do I know how that might feel seven years on?’

‘Yes, you are a silly bloody woman.’ The edge of Emma’s lip started to sneak up into the trace of a smile. ‘A silly bloody woman in a zebra-print onesie.’

And they slung their arms round each other in a hug.

Two days later, Emma picked up the phone and dialled.

‘Okay, so I’ll go.’

‘Is that you, Em? Um, what are you talking about? Go where?’

‘On that date thing that’s not a date, that cinema trip or whatever you’re planning with Pete’s mate in a couple of weeks’ time. What did you say his name was?’

‘You will? That’s great! Well, that’s a bit of a turnaround … well done you! And he’s called Nigel.’

‘Ni-gel, how could I have forgotten? Can I back out already?’

‘Hah, don’t judge by a name. He looks more like a Brent.’

‘And what does a Brent look like?’

‘Blond, American?’ Bev suggested.

‘Well, I’m conjuring up Brent from that TV programme, The Office. And it’s not doing anything for me.’

‘Hah, he’s fine; not bad-looking, in fact. Easy to chat with.’

‘Okay, that’ll do. I’ve said I’ll go, so I’ll go. But don’t expect too much from me. Just friends, on a normal night out. Okay?’

‘O-kay. It’ll be fun.’

Emma wasn’t quite so sure. But even she could see it was about time she got herself out and about a bit more. She couldn’t hide behind the chocolate forever.

8

Emma had muddled through January, blowing off the cobwebs on some beach walks with Alfie. But three weeks of daily walks and yet there was never any sign of Mr Kiss. Perhaps he was just an illusion. A very warm, sensual figment of her imagination.

She spent some time visiting her family, catching up with her twin nieces and her brother James and his wife Chloe on a Sunday when the shop was closed with it being the winter, and she’d made a trip down to her mum and dad. She had restocked the chocolate shop supplies, but hadn’t needed to make too much. January demand was, as per usual, at its annual lowest. Holly came in for the Saturday afternoons although Emma hardly needed her as there was only a handful of customers, but it was nice to have someone to chat with.

Soon it would be February, so the two of them could jazz up the window display ready for Valentine’s Day. They could let loose with lots of pink, red love hearts, trails of ribbons, tempting boxes of ganaches and fudge. And she could hopefully look forward to a rise in income again. Christmas had been good, and she had managed to save most of that money, but there were bills to pay, rent and business rates, supplies to buy in. And the high-quality cocoa she bought from Belgium seemed to be creeping up in price all the time.

Emma was in the kitchen pouring chocolate ganache into love-heart shaped moulds. It was Saturday, so Holly was covering the counter, though Em had heard the door and its bell go only the once in the last hour. The jangle made her look up, and then she heard the voice of old Mrs Clark, one of their regulars, no doubt in for her bag of chocolate brazils, her weekly treat. Emma finished filling the moulds then popped through to the shop to say a quick hello.

By the disappointed look on Holly’s face, much as they both got on well with Mrs Clark, the girl had been hoping that the young man who had called at The Chocolate Shop last Friday might call back in – he’d been in during the week, but of course Holly hadn’t been there.

‘Why, hello, Emma dear. What are you busy making today?’ Mrs Clark was shrouded in a heavy woollen coat, a plastic rain cap covering her grey curls.

‘Chocolate love hearts for Valentine’s Day.’

‘Oh yes, that’s lovely for the young ones, isn’t it?’ She nodded towards Holly. Emma had the feeling she was being banded with the old ones.

‘You could do with getting a little chair in here, Emma. Be nice to sit and have a chat and get my breath back a bit. That hill’s a bit of a bugger.’

The girls smiled. Mrs Clark used the term ‘bugger’ freely and easily, as anyone else might use the word ‘devil’. It was the only swear word she did use, which made it seem humorous rather than offensive. She was certainly a character, having lived in the village all of her life, and her parents and grandparents before her. She’d often stay for a while in the shop and chat, telling them tales of life in the olden days in the village and the fishing community here. One of Emma’s favourite stories was the one about the fisherwomen who used to rock their cradles with their feet, so they could keep their hands free to bait the lines at the same time. It sounded a hard life, though, with poverty and disease rife in the village, but there was always mention of the happier times, too: the dances, celebrations, weddings, christenings. Emma could still recognise that community spirit since moving here to Warkton-by-the-Sea.

‘Yes, that might be a thought,’ Emma agreed. Some of her elderly customers would be glad of that, the chance to have a sit-down, before heading back down the village hill again.

They watched the old lady slowly pack her chocolate brazils into her large navy blue handbag, which reminded Em of something the queen might have, then set herself away. ‘Back home for a nice cup of coffee now. Better wrap myse’n up a bit first, mind.’ She tightened the scarf around her neck. ‘There’s a chill wind out there today. And still a chance of rain. Take care, me dears.’

‘Thanks, and you too, Mrs Clark.’

‘Bye.’

‘Bye, dears.’

And all was quiet once more. Holly gave a little sigh.

‘What’s up?’

‘Do you think he might come back?’

There was no doubt who Holly was mooning over. Funny, those words had been flitting through Emma’s head these past few weeks too. Not over the same guy, of course.

‘Ah, I expect so. He’s been in twice. Seems like he might be local or a regular visitor at least.’

‘Or maybe just a holidaymaker on a two-week holiday, and that was it.’ Holly looked dejected.

‘Maybe. You’ll just have to wait and see, Hols.’

‘Hmm.’

‘Time for a cuppa?’

‘Yeah, why not. Thanks.’

Emma went to click the kettle on.

They had their tea sat on stools in the kitchen. They’d soon pop through if they heard the shop door go.

‘So, what’s the latest with that Tom lad at school?’ Em asked.

‘Hah, nothing – exactly nothing. It’s like I don’t exist.’

‘Aw, sorry to hear it, Hols. He doesn’t know what he’s missing.’

‘It’s all right. It’s just we were such good friends when we were little. His mum and mine are still big buddies. We were too. It’s like he’s changed, totally. It’s all football, and flirting with the pretty, sporty girls. It’s like I’m just not important or interesting any more.’

‘I suppose we all change, life changes,’ Emma mused. ‘But that does sound a bit mean of him. There’s nothing to stop you being friends.’

‘I think he might have guessed that I fancied him and it’s probably frightened him right off. Oh, Em. I feel such an idiot. So now, I don’t feel I can even say hello. I go bright red and get a bit panicky.’

‘Oh dear.’ Young love, crushes. Why did relationships have to be so bloody complicated? ‘It’ll all work out somehow in the end, Holly. Just you wait and see.’ And as she said the words, she hoped to God that Holly never had to face what she’d had to. She’d learnt the hard way that there weren’t always happy-ever-afters. But why spoil the young girl’s hopes and dreams?

After their cuppa and chat, next up for Em was making a batch of choc-dipped fudge. She was busy melting butter and sugar together when she heard the jangle of the door again. She hoped it might be Holly’s dream man, but the door closed very soon after it opened.

‘The post’s here.’ Holly popped in the back and handed over a few envelopes that Emma placed to one side as she went to fetch cream for her fudge mix from the fridge.

Emma was soon pouring the mixture into a large metal tray to set and cool.

‘Mmm, that smells divine!’

‘Even better after the chunks get dunked in chocolate.’

‘I’d love it if someone brought me home a pack of that.’

‘Well, I think we can both think of a certain someone who you’d like to do that – and I’m not talking Tom now,’ Emma grinned.

‘Hmm. Do you think he’s got a girlfriend?’

They both knew exactly who Holly was referring to.

‘I don’t know. Why don’t you ask him the next time he calls in?’

‘Nooo. I couldn’t!’

‘Why not?’

‘I’d look a right idiot if he has. After all, who’s he buying the chocolate for?’

‘But, if he hasn’t?’

‘Then I’d just feel daft and not know what to say next. I’d look too keen, apart from anything else.’

Emma smiled. This girl had another huge crush by the looks of it.

‘What about you then, anyway?’ Holly was blushing furiously now, and was keen to divert the attention from herself.

Hah, not another one trying to fix her up. She’d had enough of Bev’s meddling of late. The foursome with Nigel was looming ominously.

‘No one special in your life, then?’ Holly pursued.

‘Now stop getting cheeky, you. It’s none of your business, madam.’ Emma was still smiling, but sooo not prepared to divulge any information. Not that there was anything at all to divulge.

Twenty minutes later Holly was out in the shop, keeping herself occupied dusting the shelves and the glass counter as it was that quiet, and Emma got around to opening the post. There was the usual junk mail, a bank letter, the quarterly electric bill – ooh, now that was a bit high. Oh well, it was the winter months, she mused. The fourth letter was handwritten on a thick white envelope. Emma opened it, drawing out a sheet of typed A4. It looked very formal. She recognised the name and address of her landlord.

‘I am writing to inform you …’ Emma stood there stock-still, the letter quivering in her hand.

She was still staring into space when Holly popped back through to put the polish and duster back in the kitchen cupboard.

‘Everything okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost or something.’

Emma wished it had been a ghost. It would be far less trouble than the contents of the letter.

‘Ah, no, just a bit of a shock.’ She wondered whether to share the news, no point worrying the girl unnecessarily, but oh, she needed someone to talk it over with.

As Emma began to read the words aloud, she felt like her heart was being squeezed. ‘I am writing to inform you that as from 1 March 2017 your monthly rent payment for 5 Main Street, Warkton-by-the-Sea, is to increase to the sum of £900. Nine hundred pounds! That’s a further one hundred and fifty pounds a month. I really don’t know where I’m going to find that, Holly.’

‘Oh no. That’s so not fair, Em.’

It might not be fair, but it looked like she had no choice. Either pay it or get out; the landlord was giving her one month’s notice. Bollocks! She started reading again, her hand trembling: ‘This is due to the desirable nature of the village properties, and the increase in holiday trade.’ Basically, her landlord could turn this into a holiday cottage and make a mint, no doubt.