Читать книгу The Cosy Christmas Chocolate Shop - Caroline Roberts - Страница 13

‘January’s doing my head in.’

‘Hello, Bev,’ Emma recognised the voice of her best friend. ‘What’s up?’

‘It’s just so dull and grey. Christmas is over and I have no money left, and no parties to look forward to.’

‘Ah, and we’re only a week in to it, too.’

‘I know, and that’s even more depressing.’

‘We could have a girlie night in. Needn’t cost more than a bottle of Prosecco.’ In fact, she’d been given a bottle as a Christmas gift – even better.

‘Now you’re talking.’

‘Yes, a movie night. I can get something up on Netflix. Funny or sad?’

‘Not sure. I need some cheering up, I think, but then I do like a good sloppy romance that makes you get the tissues out.’

‘Well, I’ll have a think on it. I’ll get some popcorn in too. We’ll do it properly.’ It sounded fun. They could chat and cosy up. It might just be what Emma needed too.

‘You don’t have any chocolate, do you?’ She could hear the smile in Bev’s tone.

‘Nah, never keep it in.’

They both laughed.

‘I’ve just about finished my Christmas supplies, Em. Well, to be honest, let’s say Pete has just about finished my Christmas supplies. The gorgeous ones you gave us were gone within the day, the Heroes tin has a couple of mini Milky Ways left, and that’s about it.’

‘Do you want a goody bag to go down to the shop with, before the movie? A bit like a pick ’n’ mix?’

‘Oh my, you know me too well, Emma Carter. Can I really? That would be heaven. I get to raid a chocolate shop, drink Prosecco and watch some hunk in a movie, all in one night. That is such a plan. I feel cheerier already, just thinking about it. Thanks, Em.’

‘You’re welcome. That’s what friends are for.’

She could spare a few chocolates from the shop; yes, funds would be a little tight for the next couple of months for sure, but right now she had her Christmas takings safely banked, and she could always steer her friend towards the last of the festive favourites. After all, no one would be looking to buy Rudolph chocolate lollipops or Santas for another year now.

‘So, when shall we do it?’ Bev asked.

‘Are you free Friday?’ That was two days away.

‘Yep. I’m sure that’ll be fine. As I say, I have no other plans.’

‘Well then, let’s make it a date.’

‘Definitely. You’re on.’

Friday morning, Emma set to work removing the shop’s Christmas window display. Down came the tinsel, the baubles, and the little Christmas tree, which she decided to repot out at the back. She stood the last chocolate Father Christmas moulded figure on the counter, ready to discount, along with some of the Rudolph lollipops, some white-choc stars and Christmas pud truffles, but decided to leave the fairy lights that ran along the counter and shelves. They would give the place a little welcoming glow.

She had found some pretty yellow witch-hazel blossom flowering on a small tree in her back yard – a sign of spring to come – and put it in an old jam jar which she’d tied a green silk ribbon around and added snowdrops. As customers would be feeling the pinch from Christmas on their waistlines and their pockets, she started to make up mini packs of fudge and truffles to display along with the flowers. Ideal little pick-me-ups and gifts. There were still the occasional holidaymakers about at this time of year, including those hardy ramblers who persevered in all weathers, as well as couples taking shelter at the hotel at the top end of the street.

It had been a quiet day. She’d only seen two people in the shop all day, when a familiar face called in.

‘Hi there! So, the Christmas decs are coming down.’ It was Holly, looking a little morose.

‘Yeah, I always hate this bit … but look, I’m putting some bright yellow blossom out with snowdrops. What do you think? You can help me some more with ideas tomorrow.’

‘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.