The Cosy Christmas Chocolate Shop: The perfect, feel good romantic comedy to curl up with this Christmas!. Caroline Roberts
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