Page 46 of The Cosy Seaside Chocolate Shop

Emma didn’t think any more of it as they set to work, getting ready for their early opening.

‘My, there was a lot of banging and hammering going on down at the harbourside there this morning. What a racket. I called in to see Sheila in the grocer’s on my way up the hill and she’s heard there’s going to be some sort of new shop down there. She’s keeping her ear to the ground on it, trying to find out a bit more. Hmm, I wonder if that shack’s going to be another fish shop, like in the old days?’ This from dear old Mrs C, who’d called in for her Thursday morning coffee and cake.

‘Maybe,’ Emma responded.

‘Ah, yes, Ford’s fish shack. I remember it well. All sorts of fresh fish, smoked fish and crabs they had in there. I remember my mum going there for her kippers. My dad loved them with melted butter on – it was his treat on a Saturday morning. Not me, mind you, I hated the smelly buggers: they stank the whole house out. I was glad to get out to play on a Saturday.’

‘That’s probably why they did it.’ Bev was grinning knowingly.

‘Oh! I hadn’t thought of that.’ The old lady looked taken aback, then chuckled.

Emma smiled too. ‘Right, I’ll go and fetch your coffee. A slice of chocolate cake today, Mrs C?’

‘That’d be grand, Emma pet.’

She left Bev and Mrs C chatting over possibilities for the future of the old fish shack. It was far too small to be a house, Bev was saying, more like a kiosk of some kind. Gifts, arts and crafts maybe?

It seemed to be the talk of Thursday, with several customers coming up with their own theories throughout the day. That was until Sheila, nose-to-the-ground and ear-to-the-wall woman that she was – in fact, the equivalent of a gossip bloodhound – came into the shop at four o’clock. And it wasn’t going to be a fish shop, oh no.

‘Hello, Emma.’ She almost bounced in the door with the news. ‘All that commotion down by the harbour? Well, I’ve had Councillor Fraser in. It’s been approved for a sweet shop, a candy kiosk, apparently, very American sounding if you ask me. Sticks of rock, boiled sweets, fudge, that kind of thing. I hope it’s not going to be all Kiss-Me-Quick hats and the like. Well, why on earth do we need that, I said to him, we’ve already got a chocolate shop in the village. They’re looking to encourage new business, apparently, and the new owners have agreed to do up the kiosk in keeping with the original building and preserve a bit of the local heritage.’

Oh crikey, just as things were looking up for her and her Chocolate Shop – now there was to be direct confectionery competition in the village. This wasn’t good news. ‘Oh,’ was all Em could manage to say.

‘Well, us villagers could always boycott it, I suppose,’ Sheila suggested. ‘We wouldn’t want to see you losing business, Emma. And it’ll affect my sweet sales too. Humph, these incomers with their new-fangled ideas.’

‘I was an incomer once too, you know.’

‘Ah no, I didn’t mean you, pet. You’re part of the village now, one of us.’

But Emma knew how it felt to be the new kid in town, trying to make a new start and a living somewhere. ‘Well, Sheila, although it’s not the best news I’ve had all day, I think we need to give them a chance at least.’ She didn’t want anyone to feel an outsider or not welcome here, even if they were selling sweets and taking some of her trade.

‘Well, yes. I didn’t mean to sound unwelcoming,’ Sheila conceded. ‘It’s just hard enough to make a decent living as it is these days and it’s bound to hit my trade.’

‘Tell me about it … But let’s just wait and see, hey? Maybe we can all work together to make Warkton-by-the-Sea the place to come to on the coast, and we can all gain.’

‘As you say, let’s just wait and see.’ But Sheila didn’t sound as if she was hopeful of a positive outcome and despite putting a brave face on it with Sheila, that night thoughts of another sweet-selling business in the village were spinning in Emma’s head. Why was it when you took a step forward in this business, there always one back? It was like snakes and bloody ladders. She sighed in the dark, listening to Alfie snoring from his bed in the kitchen next door. Emma knew that she could only do her best, and that was what she intended to keep doing, but it didn’t always help to ward off the nightly worries that often spiralled and kept her wide awake.

24

A week later the fish shack by the harbour had been turned into a cute little sweet shop. Emma had observed its gradual transformation on her evening dog walks. The wooden kiosk gleamed with new varnish and looked so quaint down there by the harbour. The hatch was open one day and she saw that the interior was being painted in alternate blue and white thick stripes and looked rather jolly. There was a newly-painted sign along the top of the shop’s frontage saying The Rock Shop, and a sign announcing it was due to open the next day.

That Friday, Em needed to call down to Sheila’s for some extra milk before opening herself, so thought she’d do the right thing by calling to say ‘hello’ and introduce herself, even if the business was in competition with hers. It was half-past nine, and Emma could hear someone inside the shop. The side door was ajar and when Emma peered in she saw sticks of rock, jars of lemon sherbets, cola cubes, mint humbugs, and those old-fashioned seaside sweets that looked just like beach pebbles, lined up in rows. There were strawberry laces, large swirly-striped lollipops, fudge and more. The new owners had evidently gone all-out with the old-fashioned sweet shop idea. Emma had to admit that it did look good. She spotted a middle-aged lady with grey-tinged shoulder-length brown hair, sorting out some stock.

‘Morning,’ Emma called brightly.

The woman looked up with a smile.

‘Hi, welcome to Warkton-by-the-Sea. I’m Emma, from The Chocolate Shop just up the road.’

‘Oh hello. I’m Anne.’ The woman paused for a second or two and then came across. ‘Yes, I’ve seen that shop up the hill,’ Anne continued, sounding a little cool.

‘So, are you opening here today?’

‘Yes, I’m just about ready. We used to run market stalls down Durham way, selling sweets and the like, but we thought it might be a nice idea to get somewhere more permanent. This place turned up for sale, slightly quirky, but it felt right, you know? And this looks such a lovely village.’

‘Yes, it is, and the locals are a friendly bunch when you get to know them.’ Em hoped to goodness they wouldn’t let her down and start the boycott they’d initially threatened. She could only offer this olive branch of friendship herself, and hope others might follow suit.

People were always curious around here (well okay, yes, nosey) so they were bound to turn up and chat to this new lady, if only to find out where she was from and what her intentions were. It was like being a suitor to the village. There were unspoken tests you had to pass as a newcomer. No one quite knew what they were, but they were there nonetheless, to see whether you fitted in or were branded an ‘incomer’ forever.