Hopes and Dreams at The Chocolate Pot Café

Chapter 1

TARA

I awoke with a start, feeling totally disorientated.

It took me a moment to work out that I’d drifted off on the sofa and that it was Jed’s chest rather than a cushion I was resting against. I squinted at the wall-mounted clock – quarter past midnight – and smiled contentedly.

Christmas Day was officially over and it had been the most wonderful, magical day thanks to a year of lowering my walls and finally letting friendship and love back into my life.

Tempting as it was to close my eyes again, falling asleep had not been part of the plan. Jed’s family had been expecting him back home and I needed to get Hercules – my three-year-old Giant Flemish house rabbit – settled into his crate for the night.

‘Jed!’ I gave him a gentle shake before repeating his name a little louder.

‘Tara? What time is it?’

‘Quarter past twelve. Your girls will be wondering where you are.’

Erin and Lucy were Jed’s daughters, age eighteen and sixteen respectively.

In the summer, the three of them had returned to the UK after fourteen years in Australia and were currently living with Jed’s parents, Janice and Richie, in Great Sandby – a village ten minutes’ drive north from the North Yorkshire seaside town of Whitsborough Bay where I lived.

Jed reached for his phone and rubbed his eyes as he scrolled through the notifications. ‘Lucy’s still awake. She’s such a night owl – rarely asleep before two – but I’d better get going.’

We both stood up and Jed stretched before wrapping his arms around me and tenderly kissing me.

‘Thank you for yesterday,’ I said, gazing up into his gorgeous green eyes. ‘I think you might have exorcised my Christmas Day demons.’

Christmas was one of the busiest times of the year in my café – The Chocolate Pot on Whitsborough Bay’s Castle Street – and, while I’d always pulled out all the stops to decorate the place and instil a festive vibe, I dreaded that moment on Christmas Eve when the last of my team left for the day to excited exchanges of Merry Christmas!

and I locked the door, knowing that my Christmas would be anything but merry.

They were heading home to their loved ones but I didn’t have anyone and the solitude of spending the festive period all by myself weighed heavily on me.

My Christmas Day tradition was to binge-watch at least one season of Friends, encasing myself in the warmth of the series and trying not to think about how different my life could have been if certain things hadn’t happened.

Everything had changed across the past year after I finally acknowledged how lonely I was and that the only person who could do anything about that was me.

So, slowly and surely, I’d invited people into my life, starting with Carly who ran Carly’s Cupcakes next door.

We’d been friends from the moment she started her business and I took her under my wing, giving her advice and support, but I’d remained a closed book, not sharing anything about my past or myself.

Shortly before Christmas a year ago, Carly confided in me that she’d been in love with her best friend, Liam, for years and feared that confessing her feelings might ruin their friendship.

I’d given her a pep talk and the encouragement to open up, but not before I’d let it slip that I’d been married before.

I’d been in Whitsborough Bay for thirteen and a half years at that point and I’d never told anybody about Garth.

In fact, I’d never shared details about my past with anyone – and very little about my present either.

Garth and my foster sister, Leanne, had betrayed me so badly that my ability to trust was in tatters.

It took several months before I felt ready to tell Carly the full shocking story about what they’d done to me but her understanding and support gave me the courage to lower my protective walls and start letting others into my life.

They didn’t need to know all about my past but there was no reason not to let them into my present so I introduced my team to Hercules and admitted that The Cobbly Crafter – whose handcrafted seasonal decorations I displayed in The Chocolate Pot – was actually me.

I’d taken the time to get to know more about my team too and it had brought us all so much closer.

I could never have predicted that lowering those walls would also lead to me finding love again, especially with my former nemesis, Jed Ferguson.

His parents had owned a greasy spoon café called Ferguson’s and, when they retired, Jed had taken over as the manager.

When I arrived in Whitsborough Bay, I spotted Ferguson’s up for sale and, while it was in a dream location, it wasn’t the type of café I wanted to run, a major refurbishment was needed and the business wasn’t in a good shape, so I purchased the building rather than the business.

My first impressions of Jed hadn’t been positive and they’d plummeted after a couple of incidents during the purchase process which set me back a lot of money.

I’d therefore been fuming when I spotted him back on Castle Street in the summer seeking out new premises for what, at the time, I believed was going to be another café.

It transpired that Jed had become an incredibly successful artist while he was in Australia and was planning to open Yorkshire’s Best – a gallery of his artwork combined with a gift shop stocking locally made crafts.

He’d also known nothing about the additional costs I’d incurred because his ex-wife, Ingrid, had been responsible for the café’s finances after her parents bought Ferguson’s from Jed’s parents.

Jed had insisted on repaying me with interest. I wouldn’t accept his money but, from that point, I viewed him in a different light and liked what I saw.

A lot. Our friendship swiftly shifted into love and we’d confessed last night how we really felt about each other.

After what Garth did to me, I’d never imagined I’d fall in love again but Jed knew all about my past and made me feel so safe and supported that I already couldn’t imagine my life without him in it.

My Christmas this year had been made complete by having my foster parents, Kirsten and Tim, back in my life too.

They’d never given up hope of restoring a relationship with me and had sent me birthday cards and Christmas cards every year via the solicitor who’d handled my divorce.

I’d never opened them, eager to keep the door to my past firmly closed, but I’d made such great progress with lowering my barriers that, when it arrived in early December, I’d decided to open this year’s Christmas card.

Reading the accompanying letter, my heart broke with the discovery that Kirsten – who I now called Mum – had received a breast cancer diagnosis and had undergone a double mastectomy.

It had been a valuable life’s too short lesson and had made them reevaluate their life.

Dad had retired, Mum had sold Vanilla Pod – a chain of successful bistros across South London – and they’d also sold their beautiful home, The Larches.

After seeing newspaper coverage of the two accolades I’d received at November’s Best of the Bay Awards, they’d discovered where I’d settled so they’d booked a holiday cottage near Whitby, hoping that I’d be willing to meet with them.

How could I refuse? We’d spent a lot of time together since then and it was wonderful to be part of a family once more.

As for yesterday, I’d committed to helping prepare and serve Christmas dinner at The Hope Centre – a charity in town which supported the homeless and vulnerable – but I’d returned to the café after my shift to find my foster parents, Jed’s family and several of my friends and colleagues waiting to have Christmas dinner with me.

When they left, Jed and I came up to the flat and, even though we’d agreed on no presents due to getting together so close to Christmas and not having the time to shop, he’d surprised me with two incredibly thoughtful gifts.

Such a wonderful day and what a contrast to all the other lonely Christmases I’d spent in Whitsborough Bay.

‘I wish you hadn’t had any Christmas demons to face,’ Jed said, squeezing me tightly, ‘but I’m glad I’ve been able to help you with them.’

‘I keep picturing our Christmas dinner,’ I said when we pulled apart. ‘I still can’t believe you organised that.’

‘You deserve to know how much you’re loved and there’s plenty more where that came from.’

Jed’s phone flashed with another notification. ‘It’s Lucy saying goodnight. She’s decided to have an early night to psyche herself up for seeing her mother tomorrow. I’d better let her know I’m on my way and I’ve got a key.’

I cleared our empty mugs and glasses away while Jed replied to Lucy. He joined me in the kitchen with Hercules in his arms and it melted my heart to see how taken they were with each other already.

‘Thought I’d give this one a goodnight hug,’ Jed said, stroking Hercules’s ears before gently placing him down on the floor.

We left the flat, descended the two flights of stairs and went through the internal door at the back of The Chocolate Pot’s ground floor.

‘I’ll give you a call in the morning when I know what time I’m dropping the girls off,’ Jed said. ‘And then you can enjoy your first ever Boxing Day in South Bay.’

‘I’m looking forward to it.’

He kissed me once more before I let him out into the crisp night air and waved him off, happiness warming my heart.

Boxing Day was usually a quiet one in town.

The vast majority of independent business owners, including myself, embraced the opportunity of the extra day off work after the busy run-up to Christmas.

A lot of the high street shops didn’t open either so any locals eager to get into shops and bag a bargain in the sales needed to make the hour’s journey into York.

It was a popular day for pub crawls around the town with a tradition of large groups dressing up, while others joined in the activities taking place on the seafront in South Bay.

I’d never ventured down there on Boxing Day myself, although I had thought about it.

I’d even got as far as pulling my coat on and stepping out onto the cobbles, but I’d always changed my mind and retreated back into my flat to lose myself in the world of crafting instead, not wanting to bump into anyone I knew and have them look at me with sympathy because I was on my own. Silly really.

As Jed disappeared round the corner of the street, I locked up and returned to the flat where Hercules was waiting for me near the door.

‘Time for bed, young man,’ I told him, and he followed me across the floorboards to his crate. I stroked his back and ears and gave him a kiss on his head. ‘Goodnight, Hercules. See you in the morning.’

Ten minutes later, I settled down under my duvet with a contented sigh.

The Tara from a year ago would hardly be able to believe what had happened to the Tara of this year and all it had taken was some courage to let people in again.

Be brave, Carly had told me. A few minutes of courage might change your life.

And it really had. I couldn’t wait to see where more moments of courage might take me.