Page 43 of I’ll Be Home for Christmas

‘Nobody is perfect, Meg. Not you, definitely not me, and I suspect not Chrissie.’

She sipped the rum and her eyes widened. ‘This is pretty good.’

‘I know.’ And then he smiled the sort of smile she was getting used to seeing. One that wasn’t just for show, but rather one he meant.

‘Modest.’ She smiled back at him. ‘I like it.’

‘The lack of my modesty or the rum?’

‘Both.’ Being here with him made her feel better than she’d felt since she first saw Chrissie step out of that taxi.

‘I said “I know” because it was my dad’s recipe and he taught me how to make it.’

‘That explains it.’ And sharing the memory made him all the more endearing to her. ‘Mum has done her best to pass down her baking to me over the years, but apart from chocolate, I don’t bake much at all. Maybe Chrissie does, I have no idea.’

‘You know, my sister and I had our moments over the years.’ He tilted his head to indicate the chalet. ‘This place, for a start. When Mum and Dad went, she wanted to sell up and I wanted to keep it. We kept it for a while, thought about holiday lets, but she just wanted to cut ties. It’s why I retired early, sold my business and had enough money to buy her share of this place.’

‘So your sister was happy?’ Meg didn’t remember his sister at all. Then again, she hadn’t remembered much about Jonathan either. And right now, she couldn’t understand why.

‘Kind of. Well, eventually, anyway. To her, coming here was painful. It made her grief resurface. It took her ages to visit me when I moved here for good, but when she did, she found peace with me being here and our parents gone. It took time though.’

‘And are you close with your sister now?’ His disagreement with his sister was nothing compared to hers with Chrissie. He’d think less of her if he knew the truth.

‘We get on well enough. We don’t see much of each other with the distance, but I like being Uncle Jonathan. I get the best bits, without the tie or the stress.’

She took another sip of her drink. ‘You know, I’ve never had a hot buttered rum, but I have to say this won’t be my last.’

‘Easy enough to make. Especially when you have more time on your hands.’ Something of which she had way too much these days now The Cocoa Cupboard had gone.

Her hands stayed warm on the glass. ‘Do you miss having your business?’

‘I did a bit at the start, when I first retired. I was worried that I might get bored and wish I hadn’t given it all up. But the business was stressful as well as something I was invested in financially and emotionally. It’s nice not having that kind of pressure any more. What about you? Ever think about giving up full-time work as a lead chocolatier?’

‘That choice has been made for me. At least for now.’ She finished the final swig of the rum.

She’d expected questions but instead he reached out for her glass. ‘Another?’

‘Wouldn’t say no.’

He disappeared briefly before coming back outside with two refilled glasses. He pulled his blanket back across his lap. ‘You know you can’t leave it there, don’t you?’

‘I was hoping by going inside you’d forget the mention of my work, or rather my comment which kind of blows my cover.’

‘Cover?’

‘I haven’t told my parents. I don’t want to disappoint them.’

‘What happened, Meg?’

‘I don’t even know where to start.’

‘Why don’t you start from the beginning?’

And so she did. She wound her mind all the way back to her first days in London, the mess she’d found herself in both socially and then for a time, financially, her studies, and finally meeting Grant and her role as lead chocolatier. Then she told him about Grant’s love of gambling, his bullshit about expansion, his financial ruin and the sale of The Cocoa Cupboard.

‘I loved that shop,’ she said. ‘I really did. And I loved my job. I was good at it too.’

‘I know, I’ve tasted the products.’ He held his glass mid-air in her direction. ‘To The Cocoa Cupboard. Come on…’ He waited for her to lift her own glass. ‘To The Cocoa Cupboard, a successful business where you were at the helm. You were lead chocolatier at a renowned chocolaterie. For a long time. You must’ve been doing something right.’