Page 25 of The Cosy Christmas Chocolate Shop

‘Better go, then.’

‘Yep.’

‘See you soon.’

‘See you Wednesday.’

‘Thanks again for the flowers … everything.’

‘You’re welcome.’

Adam left the shop, with a big grin plastered on his face and a backward glance at Holly.

As soon as he was out of sight, Holly started jumping up and down. ‘Oh my! I have a date.’ Bounce, bounce, bounce. ‘With Adam.’ Bounce, bounce, bounce.

‘Blimey, it’s like Tigger has taken over your body!’ Emma was laughing. ‘Watch out or you’ll be toppling all the shelves over, and wrecking my chocolates. Hey, honestly though, I think it’s wonderful, Holly.’ At last. ‘See, you should listen to your Auntie Emma.’

‘His gran.’ Holly grinned. ‘All along it was his gran.’

And they both giggled, just as another customer walked in to the shop. More Valentine dreams to help make come true. It was times like these that made Emma’s heart soar. It seemed there really was a special magic about The Chocolate Shop – no wonder it was so very precious to her.

14

It was wet and wild the next morning. Emma had heard the wind rattling around the eaves all night, lifting the roof tiles, with rain spattering noisily against her bedroom window pane.

At least there was no six o’clock alarm, today. Bliss. The room was still dark, and she had no idea of the time, so she switched on the bedside lamp. Eight-fifteen. She’d had a nice lie-in, but a few more minutes wouldn’t go amiss. It wasn’t the kind of day to be rushing up for anyhow, though she knew she’d have to let Alfie out to the yard soon enough – he’d be crossing his legs otherwise.

She had already decided to close the shop today. Now that Valentine’s Day was over, a wet Wednesday in February wasn’t going to draw in the crowds, and she could use the next few days to make enough supplies to keep the shop going for now. So, for the first time in a while, she could actually relax, read a book, watch some TV, get the fire on and chill a bit.

She’d have to get out for a walk with Alfie at some point. She hoped it might dry up a little, but maybe a blustery beach walk would do her good. And Alfie wouldn’t mind: being a spaniel he positively loved the wet; swimming in the sea, rolling in muddy puddles, walking in the rain – he was still happy.

Emma remembered yesterday, the heart-warming scene in the shop, and thought of Holly and Adam. She hoped their afternoon-tea date would go well. She had a strong feeling that it would – he seemed a nice lad. Aw, the promise and excitement of early love. She was so pleased for them.

She snuggled down under the duvet for a little longer, thinking of first loves, and lost loves, but didn’t let herself dwell on it. Somehow, she had to get a grip on the here and now, make the most of her every day. She couldn’t waste the life she had.

Later, togged up in rain mac, trousers, wellies, hat, scarf and gloves, she told herself that again. She really didn’t fancy walking out in this – the rain was relentless. But there was Alfie wagging his tail, and barking now his lead had come out.

‘Come on then, boy. Let’s do this thing.’

They made their way down the hill to the harbour. She could see the waves bashing up against the harbour walls, sending up an arc of white spray. The boats rocked and rattled, though they were tied safely with sturdy ropes. Hopefully, none of the fishing boats were out today. It wasn’t the weather to be out at sea.

No one else was around; they were all sensibly staying indoors or perhaps planning to make a quick dash later on to gather around the real fire and settle for a cosy supper in The Fisherman's Arms. She hadn’t cooked properly in ages, having been so busy making chocolates, and while she might treat herself to a roast chicken dinner at the weekend, she didn’t fancy sitting on her own, or making all that effort for one. Maybe she’d invite James and the family over for Sunday; that would be nice. A family beach walk, hopefully in better weather than this, and a Sunday roast when they all got back to hers. Yes, she’d arrange that. She’d phone him when she got back in.

Emma walked down along the road towards the dunes and let Alfie off the lead, then they followed the sandy, spiky grass track and soon reached the beach. The waves were dramatic and stormy, the power of them immense. Emma kept towards the top of the beach, near the dunes, not wanting Alfie to get too close to the sea that was crashing in, though he seemed to sense the danger and was keeping unusually far away from the shoreline. It was fascinating to watch the frothy, rolling seascape and to hear the boom and crash – like turbulent thunder. They strolled along the sands for about fifteen minutes, getting lashed by the rain, then walked back again through the dunes, the strands of marram grass soaking her trouser legs above her wellies.

Another dog owner was now out with his labrador, a middle-aged man she had seen before on the beach, the only other person she’d seen in the past twenty minutes. They nodded to each other stoically, as dog owners out in the rain do, and she headed back up the hill once more. A couple of seagulls were battling the elements above the harbour, struggling to fly. They gave up and perched on a fishing boat mast. It wasn’t a day for being out long.

It was a relief to turn the key in her back door, walk into the warmth, and peel off her damp outer clothes. She popped a rack near the radiator in the hallway, hung her coat and trousers on there, and then headed upstairs, where she towel-dried Alfie. She didn’t like him shaking off downstairs near the shop; he certainly wouldn’t pass the health and hygiene regulations.

Soon they were both settled by the coal fire. She didn’t plan on going back out at all today. She might phone her mum and dad for a catch-up chat, and then make that call to James with the invite for the weekend – maybe her parents would like to come along too. Oh yes, and she’d read a book, maybe find a good film on Netflix, perfect. She realised how tired she felt. The build-up to Valentine’s Day had been particularly hectic and she was aching. All that stirring, folding, and packing was surprisingly physical, especially on repeat. She’d have arm muscles like Popeye if she wasn’t careful!

Later, Em settled down for her rom-com film with Alfie nestled on his blanket on the sofa next to her, all warm and cosy. It was dark by 4.00 p.m. – well, to be fair, with the inky-coloured storm clouds it had stayed virtually dark all day. It seemed extra quiet in her little front room, and once the film credits rolled, she realised she wanted some company, someone to chat to. She’d ring Bev, see if Pete had come up with any romantic gestures yesterday. Yes, they could have a nice natter.

The dialling tone droned on, with no answer on her friend’s mobile.

Em stroked Alfie’s head, feeling out of kilter. She finally had the chance to relax, and now didn’t know quite what to do with herself. She flicked the TV control back to the Netflix menu. A night in beckoned and a supper of a can of tomato soup for one.

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