Page 59 of The Cosy Christmas Chocolate Shop

Once the box was safely placed in the boot, she checked the caller ID. Hmm – Ron the joiner’s number. Hopefully he was just confirming the start time tomorrow. He had seemed a nice enough guy. Reliable.

On the call back, it was his wife, Maureen, who answered.

‘Good evening. Seahouses 315227.’

‘Hello, it’s Emma, from the chocolate shop.’

‘Ah, Emma, hello … I’m sorry to have to tell you this, pet, but Ron’s gone down with a horrid tummy bug this afternoon. I thought he might get through it, that’s why we left off phoning earlier, but he’s now got a temperature. He’s had to go to bed and is not well at all. Vomiting and all sorts. There’s no way around it, I’m so sorry, but he’s going to have to postpone.’

‘Ah, I see.’ Oh no! Who on earth could she call in at this late hour for joinery work? She’d had enough trouble finding Ron in the first place. Dammit. But it wasn’t poor old Ron’s fault and Maureen was anxiously still on the line. ‘Oh dear … not the best news I’ve had today, but thanks for letting me know. It’s just one of those things, I suppose.’

‘Ron’s terribly sorry to let you down, dear. As soon as he’s better, I’ll get him to call you and rearrange.’

‘Thank you.’ But as she was saying it, all she could think was that it would soon be the school half-term holidays, and then the Christmas trade would really start, and she wouldn’t be having her café at all. She supposed she could pop the chairs and tables out in the front of the shop, but without moving the counter back and with no lovely new window seats it would all look rather cramped and sad. She’d so wanted to do it right, had been prepared to work hard all weekend alongside Ron, and she’d already planned to have a grand opening for the village community next Friday evening to celebrate. Dammit, she’d already put an article all about it in the village newsletter and invited everyone.

‘I’m so sorry, lovey,’ Maureen repeated, bringing her back to the here and now.

‘It’s not your fault. It’s okay, we’ll manage somehow. But yes, we’ll probably have to postpone the coffee shop opening.’ Half her customers were expecting her to be closed this weekend so she’d already have lost a lot of trade, and she’d now have to close for yet another weekend too. She rallied and said goodbye to Maureen, trying to sound upbeat and polite. After turning off the call, she let out a long, slow sigh.

She looked around the shop. Most of the chocolates had been emptied from the shelves, some stacked in the fridge in the shop kitchen, the rest ready to go off to Bev and Pete’s. She had all the paint ready to make a start once the major joinery work was completed so maybe she should just get on with redecorating anyhow. It would do her good to keep busy.

Bev came back in from the car.

Emma’s face must have said it all.

‘What’s up?’ her friend asked straight away.

‘The carpenter’s ill. He can’t do the joinery work. So, no window seats, no counter moves, no extra shelving. No café, basically.’

‘Bugger.’ Bev pulled a face. She’d wanted this to work out as much as Emma, having seen how much heart and soul her friend had put into the shop over the years, and having found out the devastating reasons behind Emma moving to Warkton over wine and late-night chats. ‘I wish Pete was a bit handier, I’d get him on the case. But DIY was never his strong point.’

‘What’s that? What have I done wrong now?’ Pete marched in just as his name was mentioned.

‘Nothing, honey. Just that DIY is not your best aptitude, is it?’

‘Nope. We’ve agreed on that point ever since I came through the bedroom ceiling trying to fix a leaking pipe in the loft.’

‘Ah, I see,’ Emma smiled. ‘And I’d be sure to make a hash of it too. I know my limits. The bench seating area chairs would probably fall apart within the week. No, we need a professional. But I had a real job finding Ron at short notice, and I’ve tried everyone else locally.’

‘Mark Gilbert from Alnwick? He does some joinery work.’ Pete tried to help.

‘Tried him before I found Ron.’

‘Handyman Dave?

‘Yep. He’s busy in another job.’

‘Carpenter Carl?’

‘Away for the weekend. All phoned. All booked up.’

‘It’s not looking good,’ Pete commented.

She could maybe ring her brother, but he’d already given a lot of time and was primed to pick up the tables and chairs for her over this weekend. The window seats might need more of a craftsman too; James was more of a home DIYer. But maybe he’d know of another contact.

‘What a bloody shame,’ Bev chipped in. ‘Shall we take the chocolates back out of the boot? Shall I put the kettle on, hun? Or are you feeling a glass of wine coming on?’ she asked kindly.

‘You know, Bev, I think I’ll just get started with the painting anyhow. I feel like I need to do something. I can freshen up this place at the least. Maybe open up on Sunday again. Get a bit of trade at least.’