The Chocolate Lovers’ Wedding

  It was too late to think about that now. This was tough. She might not see her parents for a long time or, if anything happened to them, ever again. She could just turn away and avoid the conflict. It sounded very tempting, but she’d come this far and so she steeled herself to knock.

  A few moments later, her mother opened the door. She hadn’t dared to turn up unannounced, so she’d left a message on their answerphone to say that she would drop by.

  ‘Come in.’ Her mother stood to one side. No embrace. No smile.

  She followed her through to the living room. ‘Nadia’s here.’

  Nadia had to blink twice. It was as if she was transported straight back to her childhood. Time had stood still there. The house still smelled exactly the same as she remembered – an ever-present layering of the spices her mother used for cooking. They had the same carpet, the same curtains, the same awful paintings on the wall. The only thing that had changed was that her father had bought an enormous, new television which took up most of one wall. He liked watching WWF wrestling – to the exclusion of anything else – and clearly wanted it large in his living room. Her father had retired now and Nadia was glad of that. He’d sold all the jewellery shops a couple of years ago when the threat of armed raids became too much.

  ‘Hello, Dad.’

  ‘Nadia.’ At least her father stood up to greet her and turned off the television – an honour reserved only for the most welcome guests – but she still felt like a stranger in a home that she’d once loved so much. ‘Sit, sit,’ he said.

  Nadia perched on the edge of the sofa. Was her mother the only person on the planet who still had crocheted arm covers to protect their upholstery?

  Her father waved in the direction of the kitchen and said to her mother, ‘Why not make us all some tea?’

  ‘Not for me,’ Nadia said. ‘I won’t be staying long.’ She was sure his face fell a little. Perhaps he’d thought that this was to be another attempt at reconciliation, that she’d somehow forgotten they’d all but closed the door on their relationship last time they met. ‘I just came to tell you some news.’

  Her mother, instead of scuttling towards the kitchen, sat back down in her armchair, too. Nadia remembered a time when her mother would have presented tea – in the best cups – and a selection of biscuits before their guest’s bottom had touched the sofa cushions. But not today.

  There was no need for small talk and no way of dressing this up, so she decided just to head straight in. The sooner this was over with, the better. ‘I’m leaving London,’ she said. ‘Very soon.’ When neither of them replied, she carried on. ‘I’ve met a lovely man and I’m moving to the Lake District to be with him.’

  ‘That’s a big step,’ her father said. ‘Are you sure it’s the right thing to do?’

  ‘I believe so.’

  Her mother tutted. ‘Another man. Anita told us. She says that you hardly know him.’

  She turned to her mother. ‘Didn’t you once want to marry me to a man who I hadn’t met at all? Isn’t that why you cut me out of your lives? Because I preferred one of my own choosing?’

  ‘Look how well that turned out.’

  She ignored the jibe and continued, ‘James is lovely and kind. More importantly, he wants to welcome me and Lewis into his family and I’m tired of doing everything alone. I’m going to take this chance.’

  ‘He’ll send you back when he’s had enough of you.’ Her mother again.

  ‘He’s asked me to marry him,’ she said. ‘And I’ve said yes. It would be nice if you could be happy for me.’

  ‘You will do what you want to do. You always have.’

  Nadia pushed down the surge of temper that threatened and said calmly, ‘I haven’t come to argue about whether or not you agree with the choices I make in my life. Some have been good, some bad. The same goes for everyone. Including you.’ There was little else that she could say. It would have been lovely if she could have brought James here to introduce him to them. Then they might see why she’d fallen in love with him, why she was turning her life upside down for him. ‘I should be going now. I still have a lot of packing to do before the removal men arrive.’ She stood up. ‘Anyway, all I really came to do was to say goodbye.’

  Her father looked shocked. ‘I think we should have that cup of tea after all.’

  Nadia held up a hand. ‘Not for me, thanks.’ She headed for the door. ‘I’m not going to be back very often. But we’ve gone a long time without seeing each other, so I’m sure it won’t be difficult. And you have Anita.’

  They hadn’t once sent Lewis a birthday card and she wondered whether they would start to do it now, when he was at the other end of the country. It was clear that her mother considered Nadia a daughter in name only. That made her incredibly sad.

  Her father stood and hugged her tightly. His eyes were brimming with tears.

  ‘My door will always be open to you,’ Nadia said. ‘It always has been. I’d welcome you with open arms in my new home.’

  ‘Thank you, daughter,’ her father said. ‘I hope you will be happy. Please call us and let us know how you are.’

  ‘I will.’

  But her mother kissed her cheeks coolly and offered no words of comfort or good wishes.

  So be it.

  She looked at them both – now older and more frail – and wondered how much she’d really keep in touch with them once she’d moved. It was up to her to try, and she’d do that for Lewis’s sake. When she was back outside on the pavement and the door closed behind her, she took a shuddering breath. It was done.

  In some ways they’d made it easier for her to leave. If they’d have broken down and begged her to stay, would she still have had the resolve to go?

  Chapter Sixty

  Chantal looked at the amount of hair on the floor at her feet. It was more than she’d imagined. ‘Wow,’ she said. Scissors poised and an anxious look on her face, the stylist said, ‘Do you like it?’

  ‘I love it,’ she said, putting a hand to her bare neck. ‘I think I should have had it done like this years ago.’ At the advice of the nurse on the chemo ward, she’d had her thick locks cut and was now sporting a very short and sharp pixie cut. There wasn’t much left of it at all.

  ‘I did try to persuade you,’ he said.

  ‘I was always very fond of my hair as it was.’ Now it hardly seemed to matter. As long as they got all of the cancer, she could cope without her hair. That didn’t mean, though, that it wasn’t worth trying to save. ‘Apparently, I have more chance of keeping my hair if I cut it short and try using a cold cap before treatment.’

  ‘Sounds horrendous.’

  It did. You were hooked up to a refrigeration unit which chilled your scalp down to minus five degrees for an hour before treatment and an hour afterwards, which extended the time you spent on the chemo ward. ‘I’ll let you know soon enough,’ she said. It wasn’t guaranteed that she’d get on with the cold cap and her hair might thin or fall out anyway. But she was prepared to give it a shot. She’d been warned that it would only help with the hair on her head: her eyelashes, eyebrows and body hair would probably still disappear.

  ‘Well, as a bonus, you now look ten years younger.’

  Laughing, she said, ‘I can work with that.’

  ‘I’m just relieved that you like it!’ Her stylist grinned.

  In a couple of months she could be rocking a headscarf over a smooth dome. If that happened, she wondered how long it would be before it reappeared – they’d said three to six months, which didn’t seem too bad. It would save her a fortune in hairdressing, if nothing else.

  ‘Time for another coffee?’

  She shook her head. ‘No, thanks. I’ll text Jacob and see where he’s got to.’

  But before she could, Jacob swung through the door of the salon and came to where she was just taking off the gown and brushing herself down. ‘That,’ he said, ‘looks absolutely fantastic.’

  She gave him a twirl.

  ‘Sex
y,’ he said with an approving glance.

  ‘I’ll settle my bill and then we’d better get a move on.’ The next appointment wasn’t quite so appealing. She was about to have her first chemotherapy session. It seemed like a daunting prospect. The nurse had taken time to explain it all thoroughly to her but still, in her head, she didn’t really know what to expect.

  She’d already had a PICC line fitted in her arm through which the chemo drugs would be administered. It was covered with a bandage and was annoyingly itchy.

  They wouldn’t let her pay anything for the haircut; everyone in the salon wished her good luck and her stylist gave her a card and a teddy from them all. It was all she could do not to cry. When you were ill, you certainly found out who cared for you.

  Back in the car, Jacob chatted away as they pushed through the traffic. It was clear that he was trying to distract her but, in truth, she wasn’t really listening. The windscreen washers were clacking away, swishing away the rain from a heavy summer downpour. Autumn was looking after Lana this morning, taking her and Flo to some indoor play centre which sounded like hell on earth. She wished her daughter was here so that she could give her a squeeze and smell the milky scent of her skin.

  Lucy called, which brought her back to the present. She had already spoken to Nadia, who was busy packing for her move. Gosh, how she was going to miss her friend when she was so far away in the Lake District, but she couldn’t begrudge her this fresh start. She was so lucky to have found love again.

  ‘Just phoning to wish you luck,’ Lucy said. ‘Call me as soon as you’re out. I want to know how it went. Tell Jacob I can take the next session if you want me to.’

  ‘Thanks, sweetheart,’ Chantal said. ‘If I’m feeling up to it, I might pop in later.’

  ‘There’s a big piece of cake with your name on it when you do. Love you.’

  ‘Love you, too.’ She hung up and Jacob grabbed her hand.

  ‘Nearly there,’ he said. ‘Are you feeling OK?’

  She nodded, pushing down the nausea. ‘Not too bad. I just want to get it started now.’

  In the ward, after completing the obligatory paperwork, she was shown to an area by the window with two armchairs. She took one and Jacob took the other. They were both tense now and conversation had dried up, but he held her hand and that was all she needed.

  Two other ladies sat with companions in adjacent chairs. ‘Hello, love,’ one of them said. ‘First time?’

  Chantal nodded.

  ‘It’s not so bad. You get used to it quickly. Third one for me.’

  Then the nurse brought the cold cap and strapped it on.

  ‘I don’t even want to see myself in this.’

  ‘It looks like some kind of mad scooter helmet,’ Jacob told her with a grimace. ‘It’s not a look you’d want to be seen out in public with.’ Thankfully, the ward was quite private.

  However, calling it a cold cap was an understatement. It was freezing and within half an hour her scalp was burning uncomfortably. She could feel it bringing on a headache. This was stage one and she’d hoped that she could waltz through it easily. Seemed as if it wasn’t to be.

  She bore it for as long as she could, but soon she just wanted to rip it off. Jacob called the nurse. ‘I can’t cope with this,’ she told her.

  ‘No problem. Not everyone can. Let’s take it off you.’

  She turned to Jacob, tears in her eyes. ‘Looks as if my great new hairdo is going to go.’

  ‘You’ll manage,’ he said. ‘It’s a small setback. Nothing more.’

  She was going to look every inch the cancer patient now. It felt as if she’d fallen at the first hurdle.

  ‘Don’t cry,’ he said. ‘We’ll get through this. I hate to see you upset. It’s only hair. It will come back.’

  ‘I know. I’m not crying about that. Not really. I’m just thinking that I’m very glad we got married when we did.’

  He nodded. ‘Me too. It was a great day, wasn’t it?’

  ‘The best.’

  ‘Let’s look at the photos on my phone while you have your treatment.’

  ‘Sounds like a good idea.’

  So they were flicking through images of their friends laughing, sharing their wedding day, when the nurse came back with the chemotherapy drugs that were going to be put in intravenously through her PICC line. Chantal eyed the drip anxiously.

  ‘Promise me you’ll get me to Nadia’s leaving party.’ Lucy was organising a big send-off for their friend and she wanted to be there with every fibre of her being. She couldn’t let Nadia go without saying a proper goodbye. ‘Even if you have to push me there in that pimped-up wheelchair again. I don’t want to miss it for the world.’

  Jacob kissed her tenderly. ‘I’ll get you there by hook or by crook. Promise.’

  She looked up at the nurse. ‘Let’s get this show on the road.’

  ‘One chemo cocktail coming your way,’ the nurse said as she hooked her up.

  Both she and Jacob watched as the toxic fluid seeped into her body. Chantal allowed herself a small and slightly grim smile. She was on her way now. Bye-bye cancer.

  Chapter Sixty-One

  The noise in Supersonic Spaceland was ear-splitting and Autumn wished she’d worn ear defenders or noise-cancelling earphones. It was a vast warehouse that had been transformed into a blindingly bright planet with aliens and astronauts painted all over the walls. There were climbing frames, ball pits and all manner of toys to keep discerning toddlers amused. A little bit of outer space re-imagined in the industrial wastelands of north London.

  ‘This is a special kind of torture invented for parents,’ Miles said over the din. ‘But I thought we’d check it out for Flo’s birthday party. I’ve learned to my cost that having twenty little girls at home and a jaded magician is a recipe for disaster. You don’t know how much trauma the balloon animals caused.’

  There was no doubt that Flo was in her element. She was currently wearing a sparkly space helmet and terrorising a small, blond-haired boy with a big, pink space gun. ‘Hide in the grass,’ she shouted at the top of her voice. ‘Or the monster will get you.’

  The boy looked terrified.

  ‘Flo,’ Miles called over to her. ‘Play nicely.’

  His daughter gave him ‘the look’. Not a hope.

  ‘Do it!’ she yelled at the cowering child.

  A moment later the boy’s mother came and scooped him

  out of harm’s way, casting a withering glare in their direction. Flo rolled her eyes in disdain, adjusted the helmet that was failing to control her hair and marched off in search of fresh prey.

  ‘Sometimes, I wonder if she’s really my child,’ Miles said. ‘She looks far too much like you for that ever to be in question,’ Autumn noted.

  ‘Ah, yes,’ he agreed. ‘She must have her mother’s tempera

  ment.’

  Through it all, Lana dozed peacefully curled up on Miles’s

  lap, oblivious to the intergalactic mayhem around her. He looked

  down at the child tenderly and nestled her to him. ‘It seems as

  if it was only yesterday when Flo was just like this.’ ‘Time flies.’

  ‘Tell me about it.’

  ‘I feel sad that I missed all of this with Willow,’ she said.

  ‘Even the noise and the expense.’

  Miles glanced down at Lana again. She had her thumb in

  her rosebud mouth and her black lashes brushed her little apple

  cheeks. ‘Let’s have a baby,’ Miles said. ‘One like this.’ ‘They don’t stay like that for long.’

  ‘No. They turn into grumbly teenagers who wear Goth clothes

  and run up terrible phone bills. But we still love them.’ Autumn laughed. ‘I could cope with two Flos. Just about.

  I’m not sure I could manage two of Willow.’

  ‘She’s a great girl,’ Miles said. ‘It’s lovely to see you both

  together. You must be so proud of her.’

  S
he felt herself flush. ‘I am. And I’m just so relieved to have

  her back in my life. I’m even pleased that she feels comfortable

  enough to have her meltdowns with me.’

  ‘Yes,’ Miles said. ‘Strangely, that’s never bothered Flo either.’ Flo was currently fighting over an oversized, orange, eightlegged thing with yellow spots that was supposed to be some kind of alien. One little girl tugged one way at the soft toy, one the other. The alien thingy looked in danger of losing a leg.

  Maybe two.

  ‘Flo!’ Miles called again. ‘Play nicely!’

  She completely ignored him.

  Autumn laughed.

  ‘I don’t know what you’re laughing at, Ms Fielding. Next

  time we’re here there’ll be twenty of the little darlings to control.

  All of them hyped up on E-numbers from the dubiously coloured

  pizza and complimentary Haribo.’

  Suddenly, Autumn was overwhelmed with love for him. He

  was such a kind and caring man and a great dad. Her life was

  so much better for having him in it.

  Miles shook his head, despairingly. ‘It’s no good. I’m going

  to have to stage an interstellar intervention before Flo destroys

  the universe as we know it. Take this little one from me.’ He

  went to hand over Lana.

  ‘I’ve got something that I want to say first,’ Autumn said. He raised an eyebrow. ‘The stuffing is going to come out of

  that alien any minute. Then what will happen to the cosmos?’ ‘It can wait. This can’t.’ She put her hand on his arm. ‘I

  know it’s not the most romantic of places, but Mr Miles

  Stratford, would you marry me?’

  Miles paused and turned to look at her. Their eyes met and

  she could see the love in her eyes reflected in his. ‘Yes,’ he said.

  ‘Of course I will.’

  She pecked him on the cheek. ‘Good. That’s settled.’ ‘I was going to do it,’ he said. ‘Honestly. I had plans and all

  that. Posh restaurant, candles. Probably a ring. But I’m glad

  you beat me to it.’