Читать книгу The Cosy Christmas Chocolate Shop - Caroline Roberts - Страница 17

It was the night of the non-date date. Emma was filled with a sense of impending doom, but at least it was keeping her mind off the troubles her chocolate shop was facing.

Why exactly had she agreed to this?

It was all Bev’s fault, twisting her arm on that girlie night. Now, in the cold light of a late-January day, with a slash of red lipstick, an attempt at mascara, and a cinema ticket reserved for her, she felt she couldn’t back out. She looked longingly at the comfy sofa and her TV as she passed by her living room, on the way to the stairs. Even Alfie gave a sad little whimper from his basket.

‘Won’t be long, Alfie.’ Hopefully, not long at all. See the film out, have a quick bite of supper, and then make a quick exit. She’d said she’d take her own car and meet them at the cinema in Berwick-upon-Tweed. Exit strategy firmly in place!

She pulled up her black-and-white Fiat 500 in the car park outside the Maltings Theatre. She usually really enjoyed her evenings here, watching the latest chick flick or thriller with Bev, or sometimes a matinee with her nieces. It had a nice cosy feel. Tonight was going to be different.

They were to meet at the Stage Door Bar within the theatre building.

Well, here goes, Em. Best foot forward and all that. She poked a boot out of the car door, and stepped out. She had chosen a plain black shift dress and a pair of to-the-knee black leather boots. Luckily, she had paired it all with an emerald-green scarf that her mum had bought her for Christmas, or she might have looked as if she was going to a funeral. Oh well, that was a little how she felt.

Right, find some enthusiasm, Em, she rallied herself. It was a night out, after all. It might end up being fabulous fun. This Nigel, who looks like a Brent, might be a bit of a hunk and his conversation could be scintillating. At worst, she’d just keep the chat with this guy polite and friendly and then she could always fall back on her trusted friend, Bev, for a good natter and leave the boys to it. It’d be fine.

Emma collected her ticket at the main desk and treated herself to a share-bag of Maltesers to nibble away at during the film, popping them in her handbag for now. She was to meet the others in the bar which was downstairs, so headed there. She swung open the door on to an old-fashioned room of plush red velvet and an unusual night-and-stars painted ceiling. The theatre bar was cosy and quirky, and she’d enjoyed several glasses of rosé here with Bev over time.

She spotted the three of them ordering, and suddenly felt a little nervous – like she’d fallen back into her insecure teenage years. She smiled across at Bev, and walked over, taking in the outline of the third person. He looked tall, slim – on the side of skinny, actually – as she approached. Blond hair starting to thin on top, a nice smile, phew, and yes, nice grey-blue eyes. Definitely okay at first glance.

‘Hey, hello, Emma.’ Bev greeted her warmly, giving her a hug. ‘Nigel, this is Emma. Emma, Nigel.’

Emma went to shake hands, just as he moved in for a kiss on the cheek, which was fine but slightly out of kilter.

‘Nice to meet you, Nigel.’

Pete kissed her then too, and offered to get her a drink.

‘Gin and tonic please, Pete. That’d be lovely, thank you.’ She’d just have the one, and stick to the plain tonic thereafter. She was driving, after all.

‘Busy day?’ Bev asked.

‘Yes, I’m building up supplies for Valentine’s Day now, so I’ve been busy crafting.’

‘Emma is a chocolatier,’ Bev announced proudly for the sake of Nigel.

‘Great,’ he replied.

‘Bev makes it sound very grand. I make chocolates and sell them,’ Emma explained.

‘She has her own business, in Warkton-by-the-Sea. It’s gorgeous.’ Bev was obviously keen to make her sound fabulous.

Emma smiled. ‘It’s just a small shop. But I do enjoy it.’

‘Good. I have to admit, I don’t generally eat chocolate, though. I do a lot of running, marathons, trails – have to keep an eye on my dietary requirements. Stock up on the healthy carbs and proteins, you know.’

‘Right. Well, it’s good to eat healthy.’ She smiled stiffly. And boring. So, he doesn’t like chocolate. It wasn’t the best of starts.

‘I suppose you have to do a lot of training?’ She tried to make conversation.

‘Yes, a lot of it’s in the gym at this time of year. Half-hour to an hour running sessions, and I try and do a bit up in the hills at weekends. The odd twenty-miler.’

Twenty miles.

‘Do you run at all?’ he continued.

That was like asking Emma if she’d ever been to the moon. Emma would have trouble running twenty metres. In fact, she hated running. Cross-country at school was always a disaster.

‘Ah, no, not really. I walk a lot, on the beach, with Alfie, my dog,’ she explained.

‘Ah, I see. Well, no dogs for me, I have a pet allergy.’

Oh my, this was going to be harder than she’d even imagined. Emma gave a sideways glance at Bev, who quickly diverted the conversation with, ‘Right, well who’s looking forward to the film? I’ve heard some great reviews of it.’

Pete handed Emma her gin, whilst Nigel sipped his pint of real ale. ‘Yes,’ Pete added chirpily, ‘I think the theme tune is up for a BAFTA.’

‘Great.’ Emma then took a large slurp of G & T; she had a feeling she was going to need it.

‘So, where’s home for you?’ She persevered with the polite conversation, hoping he wasn’t going to say that he’d just moved up to the Warkton area.

‘Newcastle way, Gosforth. I moved in to a new flat about six weeks ago. Used to have a country pad, Corbridge way.’

Recent divorcee was clanging like an alarm bell in Emma’s mind. Messy divorce? Still in the horrible post-relationship throes? She felt a little sorry for him, if so. He was probably missing his wife and kids. Not wanting to quiz him any further on what might be a difficult subject she just said, ‘That’s a nice area, Gosforth.’ Playing it safe.

‘Yes, I’m finding my feet.’

It was a relief when the bell sounded to announce there were just five minutes to the start of the movie. They made their way through to the small theatre and found their seats. Pete filed in first, then Bev. Nigel stood back to allow Emma to sit next to her friend, and then he followed. The seats were fairly close and quite small, traditional pull-down plush red velvet pads, with wooden armrests, and there was the usual shuffling as the audience settled down.

Emma took off her jacket, and then got out her bag of Maltesers at the ready. She opened the pack as quietly as she could, as the intro music of the movie started up, passed them around amongst their group, then carefully wedged the pack between her knees to avoid any spillage.

Ten minutes into the film, she felt a nudge at her knee-cap, and acknowledged Nigel about to dip in to the pack. She hadn’t time to lift the pack out, so nodded as if to say help yourself. She felt a slight rummage as he took a couple, smiled at her, then they both carried on watching the film. It was the latest Bond, action-packed as you would expect – there was a high-speed car chase whizzing on noisily at the moment. At least they didn’t have to make conversation any more.

Ten minutes or so later, she felt another little dig between her knees. Bloody hell, he was dipping in again. So much for not liking chocolate! This time, as his hand slid out of the pack, it brushed lightly across her knee. Was that on purpose? But she couldn’t be quite sure. She lifted the pack up a bit to rest on the top of her leg. She felt slightly uneasy – but it was probably her imagination getting the better of her. She settled back to watch the film, taking a few more sweets for herself, enjoying that initial chocolate melt then the malty-sweet crispiness.

Fifteen minutes on and Bev smiled across at her, mouthing, ‘Good film.’

She smiled back, yes, at least the film was okay. She needn’t be rude about the company; they just didn’t have much in common, that was all, but she could just muddle on and see out the evening.

She jumped in her seat as an armed criminal leapt out at Bond from a sidestreet. And then the Maltesers bag started to go again. Nigel was staring straight at the screen whilst rummaging a little more than was strictly necessary, then his hand tracked slowly up her thigh. Okay, this was no accident. She’d moved the bag on purpose, so no physical contact need be made between them. She darted him a stern look, as if to say: I know what you’re up to, matey, and it stops here!

He gave a small, weaselly smile in return, and then popped a Malteser slowly into his mouth. The letch! She might as well have been on a date with Alan Fondle Fingers from the village at this rate!

Emma stiffened, trying to avoid any bodily contact at all, which was hard considering how narrow the seats were, and they had shared armrests. She folded the sweet packet down, pushed her knees tightly together and propped her hands on top of both legs protectively. That should stop him. But was she being paranoid?

Bev gave her an odd look as if to say, what are you doing? Whilst Pete was completely oblivious, transfixed as he was on the film. Another fifteen minutes must have passed, and Emma began to relax a little. The sweets were still held fast on top of her knees and were probably melting by now.

Then, just as she was concentrating on the film again, she felt another small tug at the bag, and his hand slid down beneath the bag to the inside of her kneecap as he gave her a wink. Oh, for Christ’s sake. It certainly wasn’t the chocolate he was after, was it? Thank goodness she’d put her thick tights on. He seemed the sort who’d be up and under your knicker elastic in under thirty seconds. Jeez!

‘Right,’ she fumed, in a strained whisper. ‘Take the bloody pack.’ She slammed them at him and got up, excusing herself to a middle-aged couple who had to stand up from their seats to let her pass. ‘Sorry, sorry. Trip to the ladies needed.’ She fumbled out of the row in the near dark. An usher then guided her to the rear of the cinema with a torch.

She hadn’t needed the loo, but sat down in a cubicle anyhow, still fuming and scheming her exit plan. Go right now? That seemed a bit rude to Bev and Pete. But could she suffer the rest of the film? Possibly, but there was absolutely no way she was going out for a meal with old Fondle Fingers now. He’d be trying to pleasure her with a poppadum or something.

She texted her brother: Ring me at nine o’clock sharp. Please x There must only be twenty minutes or so left of the film. They’d be on their way out by then. Say the dog’s been sick and I need to come home straight away. You’d be my hero x

I hope I’m your hero already ;) bounced back. Will do. What on earth are you up to?

Tell you later. Thanks, you’re a star. X

Then she texted Bev: He’s a right letch. Soz, but I’m gonna have to dash.

Emma hung about a bit, washed her hands, checked her lip gloss in the mirror, and made it back to her seat for the final minutes of the film. This was the last time she was going to be persuaded to go on a blind date, possibly any kind of date at all. She didn’t care if she ended up as some mad cat or spaniel lady, living on her own.

Bev gave her a quizzical look, her phone being safely on silent mode in her bag for now. She was probably wondering if Emma had a touch of food poisoning or something, the amount of time she’d spent in the loo. Emma sat bolt upright with knees tight, body tense. She couldn’t give out any more ‘keep off’ signals if she tried. It seemed to work, thank heavens. They got to the final credits and she realised she had no idea what had gone on in the film since halfway through. She was just glad to be getting out from there. They stood up and shuffled out along the row, Emma leaving a good space between her and Nigel, allowing Pete to move up next to him as they reached the aisle.

‘Great film. Loved the bit where they water-skied up over the speed boat,’ Bev commented.

‘Yeah.’ Emma had no recollection of that part whatsoever.

Just as they reached the welcome light and space of the foyer, Emma’s phone buzzed into action. Perfect timing. Thank you, bro. She’d gladly do some extra baby-sitting for them one night. She held her mobile ready in her palm.

‘Hel-lo? Oh, oh really?!’ She overdramatised her voice, giving Bev then Nigel a concerned look. ‘What a shame … Okay, no worries, I’ll come right away.’

James was laughing down the phone.

‘Okay, bye.’ She turned off her mobile.

‘I’m so sorry,’ she said to the three of them. ‘I’m going to have to go. The dog’s been sick. James, my brother,’ she added for Nigel’s benefit, ‘has been dog sitting for me. Took him for a walk, and now he’s seems really poorly. Poor Alfie.’

Bev gave her a curious look. She’d have known Emma never usually got a dog sitter in for an evening at the cinema. Alfie was fine in on his own for several hours.

‘Oh, right.’ Bev’s tone was sceptical and her eyebrows raised.

Emma then saw her friend digging in to her bag for her own phone. The text would soon clarify things.

‘Lovely to meet you.’ Emma didn’t even bother to extend her hand to Nigel who was already moving in towards her, no doubt for a farewell kiss. She ducked away, saying, ‘I really have to dash. Catch you soon, Bev. Sorry again. Bye, Pete. Bye, all.’

And she was off like a whippet to the car park and straight back home to the comfort of her little cottage. She was soon sitting stroking her best boy’s spaniel head. This was all the company she needed, right now, not some letchy Malteser-man. She wasn’t that desperate.

‘We’re just fine, aren’t we, Alfie? Just fine.’