Page 8 of The Cosy Seaside Chocolate Shop

‘Sounds perfect, yes.’ It had been a busy day – one of the ones when Bev worked at the surgery, so Em had been multitasking. A chilled-out evening might be just what she needed.

‘I could ask Ali too. It’s been a little while since the three of us have had a catch-up.’

‘Great. What time?’ Em glanced at her watch; just after six. She had closed the shop an hour ago and had been thinking of making some more chocolate-shaped puffins and seals, but she had felt tired and ended up reading her book for a while instead.

‘In about half an hour so we can sit out while it’s still warm?’

‘Yep, I’ll meet you there, shall I?’

‘Yes, great. I love it when a plan comes together. I’ll ring Ali straight away.’

Emma had made some lovely friends since arriving at Warkton-by-the-Sea, having known no one at all in the village at the start of her Chocolate Shop venture seven years ago and at her darkest of times, her friends and her family had become a bit of a life-support system, especially Bev.

The three ladies were soon installed at a wooden picnic bench in the back garden of The Fisherman’s Arms, the village pub, which stood proudly on the rise of land to one side of the harbour, nestled by old stone fishermen’s cottages. There was an area of grass to the rear of the pub, and a little gate that led out to the coastal footpath on one side, and some steps that led down to the harbour on the other. She often let her mind stray to times gone by, to when the fishing fleet would be bringing in their catch of herring or the like, ready to take to the smokehouses on the other side of the street, all but one now converted into a restaurant and cottages. It must have been a hard life, with the North Sea always cold, at times treacherous, the women left at home mending the nets, nursing hungry children. They would have known grief and loves lost, for sure.

‘So, been busy today, Em?’ Bev brought her back to the here and now.

‘Yeah, it has actually. Even though the schools’ Easter holidays are over, there’re still plenty of tourists about. I think the fine weather has drawn them out.’

‘Ah, yes. The village is pretty busy. I had trouble getting parked today.’

‘Been up to much, Ali?’ Em asked.

‘Head down at work too. An outbreak of the norovirus has kept us pretty hectic, hasn’t it Bev?’ Ali worked with Bev at the doctors’ surgery.

‘Yeah, it’s been like D & V city. Oh, the joys.’

‘D & V?’ Emma quizzed, then wished she hadn’t.

‘Diarrhoea and vomiting,’ answered Bev matter-of-factly.

‘Ah, I see.’

‘Though,’ Ali continued, ‘me and Dan are planning a breakaway soon. Got a cottage booked for a long weekend down in the Yorkshire Dales.’

‘Ooh, sounds nice.’ Em couldn’t remember the last time she’d taken a holiday. It just hadn’t been on her agenda – building her business and keeping the shop running had kept her busy enough. And where would she have gone on a holiday on her own, anyhow? Looking out across the harbour with the soft peachy-grey shades of a late-spring evening settling over sea and sky, a few boats bobbing about and the graceful swoop of a tern nearby, this was a lovely place to be anyhow.

‘Fabulous,’ agreed Bev. ‘Though I hope there’s a nice pub or takeaway nearby. You’re not out hiking all weekend with packed lunches in backpacks, are you?’ Dan was well known for his love of outdoor pursuits.

‘Hah, well there will definitely be some hiking involved, but I have checked out the local village online and it has a Chinese takeaway and a good pub by the looks of it.’

‘Good girl.’ Bev smiled.

Their glasses were nearly empty.

‘Right then.’ Emma stood up. ‘I’ll go in and fetch the next round of drinks. Same again, girls?’

‘Ooh, yes. Thanks, Em.’

She entered the back door of the pub from the beer garden. It took a few seconds for her eyes to adjust with it being so much darker inside. It was fairly busy in there. Sounds of chatter filling the air with people making the most of a pleasant spring evening, and holidaymakers out for their supper and enjoying the atmosphere of a traditional English pub. The Fisherman’s Arms had been here at the harbourside for centuries, heard and seen the tales of the local fisherfolk, witnessed hard times, and good times.

There was a guy at the bar and Emma stopped in her tracks. She felt goose bumps all over her body. Luke! Memories flooded her mind. That same dark-blond hair, something about the curve of the back of his neck. The clothes were a bit more casual than he might have worn but … yes, Luke. Oh my God. She felt giddy, strange. Dropped her purse, as her hands began to tremble, bent down to see where it had fallen. Damn, it had gone right under a chair at someone’s table.

‘Sorry,’ she apologised to the couple sitting there, as she fumbled for it on the floor.

When she stood back up, she looked towards the bar again. He’d gone.

She scanned the room. No sign. It was as if he’d never been there. Was she hallucinating? Was it just wishful thinking? But for a split second it felt like Luke was really there. It was probably just some tourist who looked a bit like him. But blimey, it was like seeing a ghost.