The Chocolate Lovers’ Wedding (9 page)

My dad, Crush and I are all sitting on the sofa staring at the telly. It’s ten o’clock at night and we’ve been watching football for hours. Hours and hours. How long is a football match, anyway? I’m getting to the point where I want to claw my own eyeballs out when the match, thank heavens, ends.

Clearly it’s time for bed, which means that we have to vacate the sofa and the living room.
‘Mind if I use the bathroom first?’ he says.
‘No. Fill your boots.’
He plods off to the tiny bathroom. That’ll be no hot water left for us. I sigh in his wake.
‘I’m sensing that the thrill of having your dad here is wearing off,’ Crush says.
‘This flat really isn’t big enough for the three of us. And we can’t do what
we
want to do.’
Dad isn’t the easiest of house guests. Everything has to revolve round him. We have to go to bed when he wants us to and, because he’s not sleeping all that well scrunched up on our sofa, he’s up with the lark and crashing about in the kitchen. He hogs the bathroom and his dirty laundry is
everywhere
. As he’s not working, he’s mooching about the flat all day, yet when I come home his dishes are still sitting in the sink. And he hasn’t bought so much as a pint of milk yet. Organic soya or not. I could go on. And on and on.
Worryingly, he doesn’t seem to be missing the Pilates instructor all that much, either. I thought this one was supposed to be the Love of His Life. Yet I haven’t overheard any calls in which he’s been pleading earnestly to go back home. In fact, he seems to be spending more time on the phone to my mother than anyone else. ‘We can’t watch what we want to on the telly. We can’t have sex on the rug.’
‘We can’t actually have sex anywhere,’ Crush points out. He comes to wrap his arms round my waist and pulls me close, nuzzling my neck. ‘Unless we pull the covers over our heads and be really,
really
quiet.’
‘Our bed sounds like a creaky old ship at sea at the best of times,’ I remind him. ‘Every time we turn over it squeaks and groans. It’s bad enough when there’s
not
someone closely related to me in the next room.’
‘Good point, well made. So what do we do?’
If Dad looked as if he was about to depart next week then it wouldn’t be a problem, but my dear father is not showing
any
inclination to move in the foreseeable future. It’s not that I’m sex mad or anything, but quite how long are we supposed to stay celibate? A woman – as well as a man – has needs. I chew my lip and dredge my brain. ‘What if we go and spend the night at a cheap hotel?’
‘How cheap?’ Crush says. ‘We don’t want to make love among bed bugs – that would be just as off-putting – and, with the wedding coming up, I’d rather save our money. What about we give him the money for a curry and ask him to go out for a bit.’
‘While
we
have a bit?’ I joke.
We snarf together.
Then I sag. ‘He’d know. That would just be embarrassing all round.’
‘True.’
Suddenly, I’m desperate for this man’s body. I have to have him. I
will
have him. I feel one of my cunning plans coming on. My eyes light up.
‘What?’ Crush says warily. ‘I recognise that twinkle in your eye and it’s scaring me.’
‘I know where we can go.’
Now he looks very worried.
‘Trust me,’ I whisper, casting a glance at the bathroom door.
‘Where?’
‘I’ll surprise you.’
‘Now I’m not just scared, I’m terrified.’
‘Let’s do it,’ I urge. ‘It will be like an adventure.’
‘What will we tell your dad? We can’t say that we’re sneaking off to have sex. He’ll want to know where we’re off to at this time of night.’
‘We’ll tell him that you’ve got to go back to work for a couple of hours and I’m coming with you to keep you company. Sorted.’ In fact, if we hurry up, we can just leave him a note and not face the trauma of having to lie to him.
‘Do we need to pack a bag?’
‘No,’ I say. ‘Let’s be spontaneous. If we’re quick, we can be gone before Dad comes out of the bathroom.’
‘We can’t,’ Crush says. ‘That would be terrible.’
‘I’m feeling
very
naughty,’ I say, in my best seductive voice. ‘You wouldn’t deny me?’
‘Oh no,’ Crush says, grinning.
‘I’ll write Dad a note.’ So I scribble on a yellow Post-it and stick it to the telly.

Then we grab our coats and tiptoe out of the flat, giggling like teenagers. This is fun. And such a great idea. One of my very best.

‘I’ve still got the door keys,’ I tell him. ‘And the code for the alarm. There’ll be no one here at this time of night.’
Sure enough, Chocolate Heaven is in total darkness.
‘I do
not
want to make love in Chocolate Heaven.’ He sounds quite emphatic.
‘It’ll be fun. No one will ever know.’
Crush glowers at me darkly, which makes my heart beat even faster.
‘Let’s do it,’ I say. ‘I’m feeling really mischievous.’ I titter nervously. ‘Think of that squashy brown velvet sofa. That doesn’t squeak.’
‘No,’ he says. ‘Couldn’t we just go somewhere very dark and do it in the back of the car?’
‘Noooo. That’s really sleazy,’ I insist. ‘Besides, someone might come along and see us. Everywhere that’s dark and secluded is a dogging site now. It would be horrible. We’d be right in the middle and some perv would turn up in a flasher mac with a torch. Chocolate Heaven is warm and comfy and safe.’
I can tell that he’s weakening, so to seal the deal I run my fingers up his thigh.
He shakes his head as if perplexed. ‘Against all my better judgement, Gorgeous, I’ll go along with this.’
‘You won’t regret it. I’ll be fun, fun, fun.’
So, before he can change his mind, we jump out of the car and, hand in hand, rush across the road to Chocolate Heaven.
Standing at the door, I fumble with the keys.
‘Want me to do it?’ Crush asks.
‘No. I’ve got it. It just feels a little weird being back here.’
‘Especially in the dead of the night with the sole intention of having some nookie.’
‘Yes,’ I agree.
‘Supposing Marcus has changed the lock or the alarm code?’
My heart quickens. Didn’t think of that. What if he has? I hold my breath and cross my fingers when I say, ‘He won’t have. I know Marcus.’
There’s a momentary flash of panic as the lock clicks but the door gives and swings open. He hasn’t changed the lock and I rush to punch the code into the security box. Then I breathe a sigh of relief when there’s no clanging alarm. So far, so good.
I take Crush’s hand and we step inside. Oh, how I’ve missed this place. Even at night I love it. The scent of vanilla and cocoa hang enticingly in the air. I could be tempted to pinch a few chocolates to add a frisson to our illicit lovemaking session, but maybe Marcus’s new manager has tighter stock controls than me and would miss a few truffles in the morning. From what I’ve seen of Marie-flipping-France it’s unlikely, but we have to be careful. Better not risk it. Not even for one little chocolate, even though I’m feeling slightly drooly now. We must make absolutely sure that no one knows we’re here.
In the darkness, we move towards the sofa. Stealthily, stealthily. Crush kisses me deeply. All I’ve had since my dad arrived is a few pecks on the cheek and I’m ravenous for more. Hurriedly, I unbutton his shirt and he strips me of my blouse.
Together we hop out of our jeans while trying to keep our lips moving in harmony together. I think it’s a sign of the strength of our relationship that we very nearly manage to do it. We fall on the sofa; I divest Crush of his undies and he’s quick to get me out of mine. We’re on the sofa, lying full-length, kissing gloriously. Crush moves above me.
‘This is madness,’ he whispers hoarsely. ‘But
so
much fun. I love you, Lucy Lombard.’
‘I love you, too,’ I murmur back. I pull him down towards me.
And that’s exactly when the burglar alarm starts to shriek.

Within seconds, the police arrive. I’ll swear that there must have been a squad car parked right around the corner, just waiting. Crush and I have managed to put our undies back on at the speed of light, but the rest of our clothes are still in disarray when they’re banging at the door shouting, ‘Open up! Police!’

‘I don’t want them to break the door down.’ Then Marcus
will
be cross.
Hurriedly, he dashes to the door and opens up. The two policemen stride in. ‘What’s all this, then?’
They look at me shivering in my bra and pants. All idea of romance has gone and now I just feel a little bit stupid. Why on earth did I think that this would be a good idea?
‘I’m sorry,’ I say. ‘I used to be the manager here. We didn’t think we’d be doing any harm.’
The officers look round and can clearly see that nothing – other than my clothing – has been disturbed.
At that moment, Marie-France appears from the back of the shop. She stares at us with absolute disdain.
‘Thank you for coming, officers,’ she says in her French accent which some people – if you like that kind of thing – would find sexy and appealing. She is tousle-haired and in a slinky, kimono-style dressing gown. Some people – if you like that kind of thing – would say that even in a half-dressed, sleepy state she’s still incredibly beautiful. ‘I was very frightened. I live upstairs and thought that I heard intruders.’
‘Looks as if you were right, Miss.’
‘But I can explain—’ I begin.
‘Quiet, you two,’ he says.
‘I can only offer my sincere apologies—’
‘Shut up,’ the officer says.
I leave my mouth hanging open for a moment, then I do shut up.
‘Can we at least put our clothes back on?’ Crush pleads. Not unreasonably, if you ask me. Which no one has.
Completely ignoring Crush, the officer says to Marie-France, ‘You were lucky we were in the area.’
Us, less so.
This is awful, I think. How can I have let myself be so compromised? If Marcus learns about this – and, of course, he will – I’ll never hear the last of it.
The policeman flicks a thumb towards me. ‘This young woman says she used to be the manager here.’
Marie-France regards me coolly. ‘I have never seen her before.’
‘I’m Marcus’s ex-fiancée,’ I start. Then I can tell from the slight narrowing of her eyes and her tell-tale smirk that she knows exactly who I am.
‘I’d like to take down some particulars,’ the policeman says and I’m sure I can see them both sniggering.
My voice sounds tremulous when I ask, ‘You’re not going to take this further, are you?’
‘That will, largely, be down to the owner and whether he wants to press charges.’
I turn pleading eyes to Marie-France. ‘Please don’t tell Marcus,’ I beg. ‘We can sort this out.’
Then, when I think that nothing can make this evening any worse, the roar of a throaty sports car cuts through the air and the oh-so-familiar red Ferrari belonging to one Mr Marcus Canning pulls up outside the door.
My heart would plummet to my boots, if I was wearing any.
He bounds in grim faced and yet the minute he sees Crush and me standing there like lemons – particularly guilty lemons – he breaks into a wide grin.
‘Good evening, officers. What’s going on here?’ Marcus looks Crush and me up and down. Especially me.
‘Marcus,’ I say, trying to cover as much of myself as possible. ‘Tell them that you know us. That you don’t mind us being here.’
‘Don’t I?’ he counters.
‘Do you know them, sir?’ the officer asks.
‘Hmm.’ Marcus strokes his chin as he considers.
‘Marcus!’ There’s a warning note in my voice, though I hardly have the high ground here.
‘Yes,’ he says eventually. ‘I think I do.’
Crush looks as if he wants to kill someone and I’m not really sure if it’s me or Marcus who’d be first in the firing line.
‘Do they have your permission to be here?’
‘Hmm.’ More chin stroking from Marcus. ‘Not exactly.’
I’m shaking inside and I don’t know if it’s with fury or terror. I don’t want to go to jail for having a bit of rumpy-pumpy in a chocolate shop. Is that a punishable offence? We might not exactly have Marcus’s permission, but we haven’t broken in, either. I used my key. It’s Marcus’s stupid fault that he didn’t take it off me. How was I supposed to know that Ms Flipping France was living upstairs?
‘Are we needed here?’ the officer says. ‘Can you resolve this yourself or do you want to take it further?’
‘Oh, I’m sure that we can come to some amicable arrangement,’ Marcus says smoothly. Then he turns to me and raises a questioning eyebrow. ‘Can we, Lucy?’
It’s fair to say that Crush doesn’t look happy.
‘What exactly did you have in mind?’ I feel my negotiating stance is somewhat undermined by still being in nothing but my bra and knickers.
Marcus takes my elbow and steers me to one side, away from Crush, away from the police officers.
‘Come back,’ he murmurs. ‘Come back and run this place and I’ll say nothing more about it.’
I fold my arms across my chest. ‘That’s blackmail, Marcus.’
‘Yes,’ he says, unperturbed. ‘Do we have a deal?’
I feel backed into a corner and excited at the same time. ‘Aiden will be furious.’
‘Quite probably.’ Marcus has the smile of a man who knows he has won.
‘The salary I proposed?’
‘Yes,’ Marcus says. ‘I don’t want you on the cheap but, make no mistake, I
do
want you.’
‘And, if I agree, you won’t press charges?’
Marcus nods.
‘And we’ll never speak of this again?’
‘Never.’ Then his smile widens. ‘Well, not
very
often.’
‘I hate you, you know,’ I tell him.
‘There is a very thin line between love and hate, Lucy Lombard.’
‘I’ll come back,’ I say. Inside me is the perfect storm of trepidation and exhilaration. I’m coming home. Chocolate Heaven is to be our domain once again. The girls will be thrilled. Though quite how I’m going to break this to Crush, I have no idea.
‘Excellent.’ Marcus pretends to spit on his hand and holds it out to me. ‘Done.’
And, do you know, a significant part of me feels that I have been.

Autumn thanked her lucky stars. Only a few short days after the last abortive meeting and she’d been able to arrange to meet Mary again. And, hopefully, Willow too. This time she was biting the bullet and going to their home turf as Mary felt that it would be easier for her daughter. Autumn could only hope that Willow would be happy to go along with that. She was so desperate to meet her and now that she knew the girl was struggling, Autumn wanted to help as much as she could.