The Chocolate Lovers’ Wedding (18 page)

I’m sure I shouldn’t be quite so deliriously happy about this, but it’s all I can do to stop myself throwing off all my clothes and running round the living room. Instead, I smile sweetly and say, ‘Oh, really. That’s a shame.’

They’re holding hands and looking coy. ‘Daddy’s going to come home,’ Mum says.
I don’t point out that my dad doesn’t even know where she lives now, let alone call it home, but I don’t want to spoil their fun. Or say anything that might make them change their minds and stay. If I’m honest about it, I can’t wait to hustle Dad off my sofa and wave goodbye to him with his bag in his hand. I love him, but well . . . you know how it is. I want to be the one having noisy sex in my flat, not my parents.
‘We’re thinking of getting married again,’ Mum says. ‘Aren’t we, darling?’
My dad nods.
‘That’s great.’ I’ll give it six months.
But then I think that in their own strange way, their love is enduring and I’m pleased for them for that. Perhaps the key would be for them to buy houses next door to each other rather than try to live together in one.
‘We’ll have a little breakfast and then we’ll leave you alone.’
‘I’ll put some toast in.’ Not that I’m trying to rush them or anything, but I dash into the kitchen.
I can’t wait to tell Crush. We will have hot water. We will be able to watch what we want on the telly. We will be able to get down and dirty on the rug. Hurrah!
‘That’s great news,’ Crush says when I whisper it to him down the phone. ‘I knew they would.’
He is so wise.
‘I’m going to ravish you when I get home tonight.’
‘Oh, excellent,’ I say, going a bit jelly-like. ‘I’ll look forward to it.’
I think when my parents leave, I’m going to change the locks. It’s a plan.

I am happy, happy, happy when I get to Chocolate Heaven an hour later. I’m singing to myself as I open up. I hang up my coat and then dance round the tables, tidying the chairs and picking up bits and bobs that have been left behind. I don’t even get cross that it was Ms France’s job to clear up last night and she has obviously made a half-hearted effort at it.

I’m still singing when Marcus opens the door. ‘You sound cheerful.’
That stops me in full flight. ‘My dad is finally vacating my sofa. I couldn’t be any happier. He’s driven me bonkers.’
‘I always got on well with him.’
‘You didn’t,’ I remind Marcus. ‘He thought you were a slimy toad and would barely give you the time of day after you’d dumped me a dozen times.’
‘Ah, yes.’
I raise my eyebrows. They don’t call me Elephant Memory for nothing. Actually, they don’t call me that at all.
‘They’re getting back together,’ I tell him. ‘I don’t think Taylor and Burton had as many ups and downs as my mum and dad.’
‘Sometimes people just don’t realise when they’re meant to be together.’ He gives me a longing look.
‘Don’t start that, Marcus. It was all going very well.’
He moves closer to me and uses his sincere voice. ‘I’ll never give up, Lucy. It should be me and you getting married. That man . . . ’
‘Aiden.’
‘He isn’t your type.’
‘He very much
is
.’
‘I’m trying to stop you from making the biggest mistake of your life.’
‘Oh, really.’ I nod my head back towards the upstairs flat from where Ms France has yet to appear. ‘What about your current squeeze? Would she like to hear you talking like this?’
‘Marie-France understands me.’
‘I doubt it.’
‘We were a great team once, Lucy,’ he presses on. ‘We could be again.’
‘Let’s content ourselves with being a great
business
team,’ I suggest. ‘Sales are up, profits are up, Chocolate Heaven is bustling again. Thank me for that, Marcus, and let’s leave everything else in the past.’
He sighs at me.
‘I’m a most excellent manager. Stop trying to mess with my heart and let me get on with my job.’
Now he grins at me and I hope that signals him knowing when he’s beaten. ‘Oh, Lucy, Lucy, Lucy.’
‘Oh, Marcus, Marcus, Marcus,’ I mimic. ‘Now, if that’s all, I’ve got stuff to do.’ I point to the ostentatious Ferrari parked on the pavement. ‘If I don’t keep your profits up you’ll never be able to afford to put petrol in that hideous thing.’
He has the good grace to laugh. ‘Where’s Marie-France?’
‘Probably still in bed. Punctuality isn’t her forte.’ I’m not exactly sure what is. I wish Marcus would let me give her the bullet and get in someone decent. Autumn isn’t working at the moment and she might be glad of a few hours.
Marcus glances at his watch. ‘I’d better get going too. I’ll call back later.’
I watch him jump in his car and roar off. We used to be good once, but it seems like a lifetime ago. I don’t like to think of Marcus being unhappy, though. Sometimes I look at him and, despite having everything you could want in terms of material things, I can’t help but feel that he’s lonely. And that sort of stops my singing for the day.

It’s gone six o’clock when I ’m getting ready to leave Chocolate Heaven. I don’t want to linger tonight because I am a woman who is going home to a flat without pesky parents in residence who has been promised a jolly good ravishing. I can’t wait.

Marie-France is imitating sweeping up by trailing a brush lethargically across the floor.
‘Can you make sure that you take everything off the tables tonight, please?’ I say in a slightly crotchety manner. ‘I don’t want to turn up in the morning and have to do it all before I start.’
She raises her gaze to mine and looks down her nose at me in her own very French way. There’s not much in the way of an
entente cordiale
between us. I give up.
‘I’ll see you in the morning. Have a good evening.’
‘
Bonsoir
,’ she says in a way that sounds more like ‘fuck off’.
Grabbing my coat, I swing out of the door. About half an hour to ravishing is my calculating. Can’t wait.
Dropping into the local supermarket, I pick up some meals that go ping. Can’t waste our precious first evening alone by cooking. I earmark some fishcakes and a bag of greens for dinner – healthy stuff, right? I add some baked churros with chocolate sauce and I’m thinking I could introduce these at Chocolate Heaven. Yum. I wonder if Alexandra would be able to do them for us? Then in a facepalm moment, I remember that the cake order I’ve scribbled out is still on my desk and I’ve forgotten to email it to her. If she doesn’t get it tonight then that will throw us both out. Bum.
I glance at my watch. I’m going to have to nip back to Chocolate Heaven and do it. If Marie-France was a different person, then I could ring and ask her to complete this simple task. As it is, I don’t trust her as far as I can throw her. It won’t take a minute. My ravishing will have to wait a little bit longer but, surely, that will add a little piquancy to it.
Hurrying, hurrying, loaded carrier bags in hand, I retrace my steps. Soon, I’m right back where I started, outside Chocolate Heaven. Marcus’s car is parked at the kerb and I have a momentary heart-sink. I don’t want to get embroiled in another conversation with him about the suitability of my fiancé as opposed to him. I’m going to run in, do what I have to do and make a sharp exit.
Shaking my head, I notice that the tables haven’t been cleared and there’s no sign of Ms France. I tut to myself and head for the back room. Throwing open the door, I see that Marie-France is bent over the desk with her dress hitched up to her waist and Marcus is . . . er . . . well . . . Marcus is doing what Marcus does best.
I stand and stare, transfixed, feeling ever so slightly sick. Marcus isn’t mine, but it still hits me like a punch in the guts. This feels like déjà vu. I have been in this situation too many times before with him. My heart was broken by his infidelity and its scars are still there.
Half-frozen, I force myself to tiptoe out backwards and feel behind me for the door handle. Which, of course, squeaks as I blindly make a grab for it. At that moment, Marcus’s head whips round towards me. ‘Lucy.’
‘Oh, Marcus.’ All those things he was saying this morning and now this. I want it not to affect me, to be able to laugh it off. I want to be immune to everything that Marcus does. But I’m not. Even now it bloody hurts.
Marie-France jolts upright, aghast. I shield my eyes. I have no desire to see this much of her.
‘I can explain,’ he says.
‘Sorry.’ I hold up a hand. ‘Very sorry.’ Then, rather like shutting the stable door after the horse has bolted, I do tiptoe out. Fast.
‘Wait,’ he shouts after me. But I’m out of there as quickly as my legs can carry me.
Slamming the door behind me so that it rattles on its hinges, I rush outside. The cold air slaps my burning cheeks. As I hurry along the pavement, my stomach is churning. I shouldn’t let Marcus mess with my emotions. He does it every time: I think I can handle him, but I can’t.
I set my jaw and stamp towards the Tube. I know that I’m doing absolutely the right thing in marrying Crush. Of that I’ve no doubt. But I do wonder whether I can, realistically, continue to work at Chocolate Heaven.

When they got back from their great day out walking on the fells, Nadia was tired but elated. She wondered if she could sneak off for a long, hot bath before dinner. Unaccustomed to walking so far or up anything so steep, she was sure she’d ache tomorrow.

Her heart sank, however, when she saw Penny in the kitchen, busy at the stove. It was also quite alarming that she was dressed up to the nines. The woman had been here every night of the week and, no doubt, was a great cook. Dinner every night had been wholesome home cooking – if a little bland for Nadia’s taste. At first, she’d seemed quite a plain woman, mid-forties, no make-up, jeans and a sweatshirt, her brown hair pulled back in a scrunchy. Not a look that would turn heads. Penny had, however, got steadily more glamorous each day. Which was worrying. This evening, her grooming had reached new heights. Her hair had been done and was falling around her shoulders in waves that spoke of hours spent in jumbo rollers. She’d clearly taken care in applying her make-up and looked much more attractive than she previously had. Her outfit was a very Bodenesque dress in a mocha colour that flattered her curvy frame. Nadia frowned. Rather over the top for slaving over a stove.

‘Wow,’ James said. ‘Look at you all spruced up. Got a hot date?’
Clearly, Penny had hit the level where he actually noticed and she flushed furiously.
‘No, no. Of course not.’ That didn’t stop her from batting her eyelashes at him, then casting a sly glance in Nadia’s direction.
‘Don’t let us hold you up if you’re going out,’ James pressed on. ‘We can manage here.’
‘No, no. Just a night in for me.’ Penny fluffed her hair. ‘I’m a real home bird.’
Nadia sighed inwardly. So that was the game. Not only had Penny proved herself an invaluable help to the family, she was now trying to win James’s affections and obviously saw Nadia as a rival.
‘Dinner’s nearly ready,’ she said with more eyelash-batting on the side. ‘I’ve made your favourite.’
James rubbed his hands. ‘Great. No one makes steak and kidney pie like you.’
Salad was not in this lady’s repertoire. Nadia would probably go back a stone heavier after all this stodge on top of her usual chocolate and cake consumption.
To James’s credit he hadn’t allowed her near the cooker all week. Which was just as well because she’d never used an Aga before and it looked like a thing of terror. Her mind went over their situation again. Could she really consider living here? Would she be able to slot into the role of a farmer’s partner or even wife? It was all so alien to her.
But then did she want to stand back and leave James to the charms of this woman? Penny was looking increasingly likely to put up a fight for him. What would happen when she was far away and back in London? Could Penny turn James’s head with her cottage pies and apple crumbles? It was clear that she wasn’t going to let a usurper in if she could help it. In fairness to James, he did seem completely oblivious to her overtures. But how long would that last if Penny decided to up her game and come in dressed for the catwalk every day? If Nadia dallied too long in making a decision about whether they had a future together, would Penny swoop in and snatch James from under her nose? He might be unaware of her intentions now, but with Nadia out of the picture she might ramp up her efforts and, at the end of the day, James was a red-blooded man and that looked like an extremely good pie.
Nadia pulled off her boots and, after quickly sprucing herself up, sent the children to wash their hands. Then she put on an apron that was hanging on the back of the door. ‘I can take over now, Penny,’ she said. ‘That looks lovely. I don’t want to hold you up.’
‘No rush,’ she said tightly. ‘I’m not going anywhere.’
James was opening a bottle of wine. Please don’t ask her to stay and have a drink, Nadia thought.
Nadia manoeuvred herself in front of the cooker and took control of the oven glove. There were new potatoes in one pan, carrots and beans in another. She smiled sweetly at Penny. ‘This looks lovely. Thank you so much, but I really can manage.’
Thankfully, James only poured two glasses of wine – a promising sign – and Penny seemed to take the hint from that. She bristled slightly, but moved away from the cooker and removed her apron. Nadia suppressed a victory fist pump and gave herself a silent cheer instead. Winner of the Battle of the Aprons: Nadia Stone! The Chocolate Lovers’ girls would be proud of her for standing her ground.
‘I’ll see you tomorrow,’ Penny said, addressing James. ‘Anything in particular you fancy for dinner?’
‘Oh, I don’t mind,’ James said. ‘Whatever you cook is always gratefully received.’
She turned and forced a smile at Nadia. ‘It’s your last day, isn’t it?’ Parting shot.
‘Yes,’ Nadia said. ‘But I’ll be back as soon as I can.’ Then she realised that she meant it. She had to go back to work on Monday, but in her heart she knew that she didn’t want to leave at all.
Penny pursed her lips and left. It didn’t seem to be the end of the war as far as she was concerned.
When she’d gone, James passed the glass of red to her. It was a good bottle, rich and fruity. She sipped it gratefully. ‘Mmm. Lovely.’
‘You look quite good in a pinny,’ he joked.
‘Would you dispense with Penny’s services if I came to stay?’
‘That’s not why I want you here,’ he said. ‘Surely you know that. She’s been with me since . . . well, you know. I’m sure she’d be more than happy to stay on, if that’s what you want.’
‘Hmm. Would she? I’m not so sure,’ Nadia said. ‘She likes you.’
‘And I like her.’
She raised an eyebrow. ‘Oh, do you?’
‘Not in that way!’ James laughed and came to catch her round the waist. ‘Do I detect a touch of green eyes?’
‘Just assessing the situation,’ Nadia countered. ‘I like to know who my competition is.’
‘She’s not that at all,’ James said. ‘I can assure you.’
‘I’m not sure Penny sees it that way. If it was left to her, I think she’d like to have a more permanent position here.’
‘Well, it’s not going to happen.’ James was emphatic. ‘If you turn me down, I shall simply pine for you for ever.’
‘Would you?’
‘Yes.’ He kissed her warmly. ‘I’d be inconsolable.’ ‘That’s good to hear.’
‘I might let Penny give it her best shot at cheering me up, though.’
Nadia thumped his arm. ‘Bastard.’
‘She does make exceedingly good pie.’
They laughed together and he held her close.
‘I might not have made this lovely dinner but, if you want a big slice of said pie, you’ll need to keep on my good side.’
He gave her another squeeze and said, ‘I love you. Nothing will change that.’ Then he winked at her. ‘You dish up and I’ll call the children.’
Nadia’s heart skipped a beat. He’d said that he loved her. She watched him saunter from the kitchen – his long, easy stride, the way he had to duck to avoid the beams – and she was filled with a surge of happiness. She loved him, too. He was a good catch, no question. They might be joking with each other, but Nadia knew full well that if James was alone here, then Penny would do her very best to get her claws into him. She would be mad to let that happen.