The Chocolate Lovers’ Wedding (5 page)

I put on a long dark wig with a blunt-cut fringe and, despite the grey day, add mirrored aviator shades. I’ve also bought a dark trench coat from one of the vintage second-hand shops on Camden High Street to complete my disguise. Perfect. No one will ever know me now.

I’m going undercover, visiting Chocolate Heaven to get a handle on exactly what’s happening. I jump on the Tube, sweltering in my big coat after the walk up there. The wig is nylon and my head itches. Perhaps I could have done with a more lightweight, yet equally cunning disguise.

When I arrive at Chocolate Heaven, hot and bothered, I stand across the street from my spiritual home and gaze longingly at its window. The display is rubbish. Totally rubbish. It makes me grind my teeth in frustration. What is this new manager thinking of? I always made sure that there were gorgeous cakes and chocolates on show to tempt in the customers. Now there’s nothing remotely enticing there at all. It looks very neglected, but it would take me five minutes to sort it out.

My heart squeezes with longing. Oh, I do miss it. I haven’t even walked past here since Marcus took over running the business. I couldn’t bring myself to. Now he wants me back and I need to know why.

I turn the door handle and the bell tings my arrival. There are hardly any tables occupied – a couple sit at the one in the window; two guys are stretched out on the sofas that were the favourite and daily haunts of the Chocolate Lovers’ Club. Only a short while ago, particularly in the run up to Christmas, you could hardly move in here and the till never stopped ringing all day. I was run off my feet and was happy to be so.

Even the cakes in the glass counter don’t look as appealing. Our usual cake maker was a lovely lady called Alexandra who lived just around the corner. These don’t look up to the standard of her work. I’d have another attractive display of products I’d bought in too, but now the shelves stand empty. It’s coming up to Easter – the chocolate feast to end all chocolate feasts! Chocolate Heaven should be groaning with beautiful chocolates and Easter eggs, cute gingerbread bunnies, iced biscuits. Marcus will be missing out on a great opportunity if he and his manager don’t get their act together pretty soon. No wonder he wants to replace her.

Listen to me. Like I should care. None of this is my problem anymore. If Marcus can’t motivate or deal with his manager then he shouldn’t be in business.

I’m standing staring at the counter, still dismayed by what I’m seeing, when someone comes out of the back into the shop. Ah. Now I can see the attraction of this particular manager. Her skills may not lie in window display or stock ordering, but she has other assets in spades.

The woman is tall, as slender as a reed and supermodel beautiful. Sigh. Marcus is nothing if not predictable. Her long black tresses fall in heavy waves over her shoulders and she flicks them back as I watch, grudgingly admiring. Her skin is the colour of creamy latte, her nose tiny, her mouth full and luscious. Sigh, sigh, sigh. She’s wearing one of those timeless wrap dresses in a light navy blue that suit everyone on the planet but me. Of course, I don’t need to tell you that it clings to her body in all the right places, flattering every curve. Her legs are like those of a gazelle.

She comes to stand in front of me and looks me up and down. Uncomfortable, I adjust my aviator shades.
‘Hello,’ I manage.
Her chin juts in response and I assume this is my cue to place my order.
‘I’d like a flat Americano and one of those brownies, please.’ The shelves are covered in crumbs and, clearly, no one has rubbed around with a J-cloth this morning. I stuff my hands in my trench coat pockets to stop me from leaping over the counter and grabbing one to whisk around.
She turns away from me to the coffee machine. Interesting customer relations. When I was here, I knew all our regulars by name and, needless to say, none of them are in here now. The supermodel crashes and bangs away with the coffee machine while I stand and wait. A minute or so later, she plonks it down on the counter in front of me, followed by the brownie. It seems that table service has been dispensed with.
‘Thank you.’
‘No problem.’ An accent. French, I think Marcus said. And, actually, it did look like it was quite a bit of a problem for her. She looks as if she’d rather be on a yacht in the South of France or shopping in the Champs-Élysées. Before I move away from the counter, she’s already heading into the back of the shop.
Taking my coffee and cake, I sit at a table. There’s no music playing as there used to be, which makes the atmosphere a little stilted. You can hear every coffee cup rattle and the few people who are here are speaking in hushed tones. What is Marcus thinking? Does he not come in here and see how dire it is compared to how it used to be? It would take so little to get it on track again. And, of course, I’m exactly the right person to do it. No wonder he wants me back here. Thank goodness he’s not around. I should drink my coffee and leave as quickly as I can.
No sooner has that thought passed through my brain than I hear the roar of a super car and a familiar red Ferrari pulls up outside Chocolate Heaven. My heart sinks. Right on cue, Marcus appears. I just hope that he doesn’t recognise me in my cunning disguise. Pulling up my collar, I sink down into my seat.
‘Hey, Lucy,’ he says, marching straight over to me. ‘Good to see you.’
Gah.
‘What’s with the sunglasses?’
I whip them off.
‘And the wig?’
I whip that off too. Quite relieved really, as the itching was becoming unbearable.
‘Take off your coat,’ he suggests. ‘If you’re staying. You look all pink in the face.’
I hesitate. Why should I do what Marcus tells me?
‘You have got something on underneath?’ His eyes twinkle mischievously.
I whip off my coat. Get an eyeful of my woolly jumper, Marcus Canning!
‘Don’t scowl at me, Lucy,’ he says. ‘Chill out. Eat your brownie. More coffee?’
‘No thanks.’ I wouldn’t like to interrupt Ms France’s relaxation.
He drops into the seat opposite me. ‘So? What are you doing here? Couldn’t stay away?’
‘I just came to see what’s going on and why you’re so keen to get me back.’
‘Look at the place,’ he leans forward and whispers. ‘It is a shadow of the former Chocolate Heaven. I know that. You know that.’
I don’t disagree with him.
‘Question is . . . ’ Marcus settles back again and crosses his arms. ‘What are we going to do about it?’
‘
We
are going to do nothing,’ I point out. ‘This is all down to you and the lady you have in charge.’
‘Ah,’ he says. ‘So you’ve met Marie-France?’
‘Of course I have. She served me. In a manner of speaking.’
Marcus could be a customer and yet she hasn’t reappeared. Her boss is here and she hasn’t even acknowledged that, let alone offered to get him a drink. I know I’m hardly the world’s best employee, but even I have my standards.
‘She’s a great girl,’ he says with a wistful glance towards the counter where she should be but isn’t.
‘Great in what sense of the word?’ I ask and I sound bitter even to my own ears. ‘She might look as if she should be on the catwalk, but she’s ruining your business.’
‘I know.’ Now it’s Marcus’s turn to sigh.
‘Then do something about it.’
‘I’m trying to,’ he points out. ‘I’m attempting, rather unsuccessfully, to lure you back.’
I don’t like to point out that, as we both can see, my efforts to stay away have been futile. Biting into my brownie, I find it wanting. First thing I’d do is get Alexandra on the phone.
‘Come back, Lucy. Please. This place is in your DNA. I know you’re miserable not working here. And you’ve lost your job.’
‘Yes. Thanks to you.’
‘I’m doing you a favour. Trust me.’
‘Oh, Marcus. Time has taught me that I can’t trust you as far as I can throw you.’
‘I offered this to you on a plate. It could have been yours. It still can be.’ He makes his baby-blue eyes go all wide and innocent. ‘I’ll do anything –
anything
– to have you back.’
‘We’re just talking about work.’
‘Of course.’ Marcus looks wounded. ‘I know that I’ve lost you, Lucy.’ He fixes me with a loving gaze. ‘You’re still planning to get married to whatshisname?’
‘Aiden. Yes. Soon. We’ve booked a venue.’
‘Then you’ll need the money.’
One nail hit on the head.
‘I can help,’ Marcus rushes on. ‘Name your price. What will it cost me to get you to come back and work for me? This place is haemorrhaging money and it was a great business when I bought it. I
need
you.’
‘I don’t know, Marcus.’ I’m wavering. It would be so good to be back behind the counter in my rightful place, get Alexandra to bake the cakes again, stock up with fabulous chocolatey goodies in time for Easter.
‘I’ll pay you whatever it takes.’
I pluck a ridiculous sum from my head and blurt it out of my mouth.
Marcus doesn’t even flinch. ‘Done.’
The speed of his acceptance takes even me by surprise.
‘When can you start? Now?’
‘I’m not sure about it, Marcus.’
‘You’d be mad to turn me down.’
‘Or maybe I’d be mad to agree to come and work for you.’ Would I be foolish to trust him yet again?
‘We’d make a great team,’ he assures me. ‘We did once. We could do it again.’
‘We were a great team in the bedroom,’ I remind him. ‘Not behind the counter of a small café and chocolate emporium.’
‘Oh yeah.’ He winks at me. ‘I remember that too, now you come to mention it.’
I abandon my brownie – that’s how bad it is – then I pick up my wig and my sunglasses. ‘I need to think about it. I need to discuss it with my
fiancé
.’
Marcus does flinch at that. He reaches out and touches my arm as I go to leave. ‘I’m begging for your help. Only you can dig me out of this hole. Please don’t let me down.’
‘I’ll call you,’ I say.
I walk out of Chocolate Heaven. I either return here as the manager or I never come back again. The choice is as stark as that. And you might think I’d be happy that the boot is on the other foot for once – that Marcus needs me more than I need him. Yet all I can think of is the number of times he’s let me down in the past. I so want to believe that we could work together and get my old job back on a wonderful salary. It’s very tempting. But is Marcus Canning nothing more than a power-crazed, cheating bastard who still has his sights set on my heart? Can he really have changed this time?

Another day, another inferior café that isn’t Chocolate Heaven. We are all sitting staring miserably at the measly offerings on our plates. Sadly, Chocolate Lovers’ Club meetings aren’t quite what they used to be. I’m not even going to describe this place to you as, frankly, it’s too flipping depressing.

‘We have to up our game,’ Chantal says. ‘We are failing to maintain basic standards here.’ She scowls at the soggy, chocolate-free shortbread in front of her. ‘The only plus side is that I’m losing loads of weight. I’m finally back in my pre-baby clothes and then some.’

We
will
find somewhere else. Don’t do it.’
‘Marcus is desperate,’ I venture a little more boldly. ‘I went
there yesterday and it’s looking so neglected. It breaks my heart.’ ‘Oh, Lucy,’ Nadia says. ‘I know you really want to do this,
but Marcus would wrap you round his little finger again in no
time. You can’t say that your life hasn’t been a lot easier without
him in it.’
Never a truer word has been spoken.
‘What does Crush say?’ Autumn asks.
‘He’s never going to be mad keen on anything that involves
Marcus,’ I confess. Which should tell me something. We look around at our miserable surroundings. Worn wooden
chairs, scuffed flooring, no wonderful chocolates. There’s only
the whiff of cleaning products in the air rather than the heady
scent of vanilla and cocoa.
‘There are
thousands
of cafés in London,’ Chantal protests. ‘Yes, but they’re all ghastly, impersonal chains and we need
somewhere intimate and quirky.’ One exactly like Chocolate
Heaven.
‘We just have to find the right one,’ Chantal insists. ‘We did find the right one. The
perfect
one,’ I point out.
‘And it was cruelly taken from us.’
‘Bloody Marcus and his meddling,’ Chantal says. ‘He’s the
cause of all the misery in your life. Never forget that.’ ‘He’s offered me a massive salary.’ I pull a discontented face.
‘Ridiculously massive. It would go a long way towards paying
for our wedding.’
‘If you let Marcus back into the mix, you might never get
to the altar,’ Autumn says. And Autumn never sees the bad in
anyone.
‘If you could only go there and see what’s happened to it in
our absence, you might think differently. There’s a horrible,
surly French woman behind the counter. She didn’t even say
hello. She just threw my coffee and brownie at me.’ ‘This woman doesn’t happen to be extraordinarily beautiful,
does she?’
‘Er . . . yes,’ I admit.
‘There you go. If Marcus appointed his management with
his brain rather than his cock, he wouldn’t be in this mess.’ ‘I think he’s realised that,’ I say, coming to his defence. ‘And
I know that I could help him out of this hole. I don’t want to see Chocolate Heaven go to the wall for the lack of a little
TLC.’
‘Don’t do anything hasty,’ Nadia warns.
They all laugh at that. As well they might. My entire life is
spent doing hasty things.
‘Talk it over with Crush again,’ she continues when the
laughter subsides. ‘See what he thinks.’
He’ll say no. Of course he will. If it was up to Crush there
would be a restraining order on Marcus that prevented him
from coming within five hundred miles of me. He has, indeed,
been the cause of much trouble in our relationship. But I can’t
help thinking . . .
Chantal stands up to check on Lana, who is snoozing peacefully in her buggy next to us, unaware of the drama in our lives
and the fact that we are having to deal with it in unsuitable
premises with substandard beverages and a life-threatening
dearth of chocolate. Chantal tucks the blanket round Lana’s
neck, adjusting her pillow.
‘What else has been going on?’ she asks when she sits down
again. ‘I feel as if I’m out of the loop now that we don’t meet
as often.’
‘I’ve got another meeting fixed up with Willow,’ Autumn tells
us. ‘I just hope she turns up this time.’
‘We’ll keep everything crossed for you,’ I chip in. ‘Do you
need any moral support?’
‘I think I’ll be OK. I’m a bit nervous, but I think I should
do this alone. I’m sure it will be quite emotional and I want
to make it as easy for her as possible. She’s coming into town
with Mary and I was planning to take her to Chocolate Heaven.
I thought she’d love it there, but after what Lucy has said,
maybe I’ll try somewhere else.’
Damn this. It’s ruining all our plans and socialising. How
can Autumn meet her long-lost daughter in an inadequate establishment? Marcus has to do something urgently! It’s all I
can do to stop myself picking up my mobile and telling him yes. ‘I’ve got a dilemma too,’ Nadia says thoughtfully. ‘I need
your advice.’ She pushes aside her slightly stale croissant. ‘I was
talking to James last night and he wants me to go up to Keswick
to spend Easter with him.’
‘I’m not seeing a problem,’ I tell her.
‘Neither should I,’ she confesses. ‘But I’m scared to take it
to the next level.’ She lets out a sigh. ‘I sort of like it as it is.
We have cosy chats every night and we get on really well.’ ‘What are you frightened of?’ Chantal says. ‘That if you go
up there you might not like him as much as you think, or that
you might like him too much?’
Nadia puts her face in her hands. ‘Both!’
‘Then you do have a problem,’ I agree, with a gentle smile. ‘If I don’t like him, then that ends our cosy chats and I go
back to lonely evenings.’ She shrugs. ‘If I do like him, then
where does that leave us? I don’t know exactly how far it is
from London to the Lake District, but I know it’s a bloody long
way. It must be at least three hundred miles. James can’t leave
his farm, so it would be down to me to go up there for holidays
and weekends. What kind of a relationship could we have long
term?’
‘Love will find a way,’ I say.
‘Oh, Lucy. You’re such an optimistic romantic,’ Nadia says.
‘I have to be practical for Lewis’s sake. I can’t drag my son up
and down the country just because I fancy a hottie gentleman
farmer.’
‘But you
do
fancy him?’ I wiggle my eyebrows suggestively. ‘Yes,’ Nadia laughs. ‘Like mad! But is that enough? Why
couldn’t I have met someone who lives in the same postcode as
me?’
‘You said you were thinking of moving,’ I remind her. ‘Yes, but not to the Lake District. I’m a townie. I always have
been. Plus my family are here.’
I don’t point out to Nadia that she’s still currently estranged
from her parents. They cut her out of their lives when she
married Toby against their wishes and haven’t relented since
he died. Seems harsh, but that’s families for you. She’s grown
close to her sister, Anita, again but I know Nadia’s worried it
will all end over another disagreement. It’s a big thing for her,
I realise, but are families all that they’re cracked up to be? If
you don’t get a good one, they can cause you more grief than
j o y.
In my own case, I hardly ever see my folks, who are too busy
chasing their own salacious relationships. My dad is still with
the much younger Pilates instructor. My mother is now in the
New Forest with a retired grocer called Greg whom she met
online. It won’t last. It never does. My mother will be off and
he’ll be left by himself with his cabbages and carrots. I hope
that when Crush and I say ‘I do’ that we both mean it with all
our hearts. Marcus might drop in and out of my life, he might
profess love for me and he certainly likes to make mischief, but
there is only one man for me: Mr Aiden Holby, love of my life,
soon to be my husband.
‘Back in the room, Lucy,’ Chantal says.
I snap back to the present.
‘Your face had gone all dreamy.’
‘Just thinking about my wedding. I’ve booked the venue now.’
I think I’m in danger of going all goo-goo ga-ga again. ‘It’s a
beautiful temple in Golders Hill Park. We can have the ceremony
there and then a picnic afterwards.’
‘What if it rains?’
‘It won’t rain,’ I assure them. ‘It will be great.’ ‘This is England in the summer, Lucy,’ Chantal points out.
‘Not Southern California. It
might
rain.’
‘No,’ I say. ‘It won’t.’
‘Umbrellas,’ the girls agree in unison.
‘Nothing will spoil my wedding day,’ I assure them. And no
one. If Crush doesn’t want me to go back to Chocolate Heaven
and work for Marcus, then I simply won’t. Even though every
fibre of my being is telling me that I should, that it would be
different this time.
‘You’ll still be my bridesmaids?’
‘Of course!’ they all say.
‘What happened to the dresses from last time?’ Chantal asks. ‘Sold them on eBay.’ For a lot less than we paid for them, I
can tell you. Perhaps I shouldn’t have been so hasty – that word
again. But then I want to do everything differently with Crush. I
want no shadow of my wedding with Marcus. This will be small,
informal, al fresco. No big frock or big church or big venue. ‘What do you want us to wear this time?’ Nadia asks. ‘I was thinking tea dresses. Floral. Nothing too fancy.’ Or
expensive. Particularly if I’m not working. ‘Would that suit?’ ‘Sounds great,’ Autumn says and the others nod in agreement. ‘Could James come down for the wedding?’ I ask Nadia. ‘I don’t know. We’ll have to see how we get on at Easter.’ I grin. ‘So you are going to see him?’
She wrings her hands and looks anxiously at us. ‘You think
I should?’
‘Yes!’ We are unanimous in our decision.
‘He’s a great guy,’ Autumn says. ‘You should at least give it
a chance to see how things go.’
‘Now I’m really terrified,’ Nadia says.
Lana grizzles from her buggy. ‘Looks like Madam is ready
for her lunch.’ Chantal picks her up and cuddles her. The grizzling stops.
‘Let me have a snuggle while you get her lunch ready,’ I say.
‘She hasn’t seen her Auntie Lucy for days.’
Chantal reaches to hand her over, but gasps in pain as she
does. I grab Lana from her and her hand goes to the top of
her breast.
I frown at my friend. ‘What was that?’
‘Nothing,’ Chantal says. But the colour has drained from
her face. ‘I keep getting these twinges at the top of my ribs.’ ‘I hope you’re going to the doctor,’ Autumn says. ‘I did. I finally managed to get an appointment this morning.
Jacob bullied me into it. The doctor didn’t seem too concerned.
She gave me a good check over and said that she couldn’t feel
a lump or anything. She said it was probably muscular or maybe
a blocked duct. I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about.’ ‘Better to get it checked, though,’ I say.
‘I’m just getting to that age, unfortunately. She’s sending me
for a breast scan anyway, as it’s gone on for a while.’ Nadia, Autumn and I all exchange a concerned glance. That
doesn’t sound good. It’s not like Chantal to be unwell and she
really does look drawn.
‘Want me to come with you?’ I offer. ‘I can look after Lana
while you go in. Don’t go by yourself.’
‘That would be great, Lucy. Let me text you the date.’ She
does so while she stands there and it pings into my phone. I give her a hug. ‘We’ll get you sorted out. We all want our
Chantal fighting fit and as feisty as usual.’
‘Me too,’ she admits. ‘I’m fed up with feeling under the
weather.’
We pay our bill. ‘Where shall we meet next time?’ ‘I’ll look for something,’ Nadia says. ‘There must be somewhere nice and welcoming where we’d look forward to going.’ There is, I think. And we all know exactly where.