Chapter 10 #3
They’d come to the chocolate shop and stopped outside. ‘This was where it all started,’ said Meg.
‘Your love of chocolate?’
Meg nodded. ‘I worked here weekdays, after school, and a bit like you with the home decorating, it ignited a passion in me.’
Sarah peered through the window. ‘I wonder if anyone inside will recognise you.’
‘I doubt it. You do know how old I am, don’t you?’ It was rhetorical and she didn’t expect Sarah to reply, but she did.
‘I can’t remember. You’re older than Mum, I know that much.’
Meg’s voice caught and she cleared her throat. ‘I’m fifty.’ And Sarah’s ramblings over Chrissie’s age, her last birthday, washed over her as the innocent question only served to remind her that the family had fragmented because of what she’d done.
They picked a variety of chocolates before they settled themselves at one of the few tables at the front of the shop.
They sat and ate, talked and laughed. Meg started to feel the ache in her legs fading.
They consumed small pieces of dark chocolate with a pistachio crunch, milk chocolate with slivers of almond, white chocolate truffles, melt-in-the-mouth dark chocolate with honeycomb, chocolate bark with sour cherries as well as the sour cherry-infused dark chocolate squares Meg had told the taxi driver about.
They sampled a gingerbread spice, a Christmas rum pudding chocolate which was similar to those Meg had made at The Cocoa Cupboard.
With Sarah, smiling and chatting away, it was as if Chrissie was back by her side.
Which, Meg supposed, in a way she was through her daughter.
As they left the shop, Sarah put a hand to her tummy. ‘That was a lot of chocolate.’
‘I think I got carried away, ordering so many different things.’
They did their best to avoid getting splashed by passing cars driving through melted snow as they crossed the street to the little store with jackets and salopettes hanging in the window.
As they browsed Sarah told her, ‘I think your chocolates were better. I only had a couple last night – a champagne truffle and a salted praline. But they were pretty good.’
Meg paused, a pair of ski gloves in her hand which she vetoed for being too bulky. ‘I appreciate the vote of confidence. Thank you, Sarah.’
Meg shook her head at the pair of leopard-skin mittens Sarah held up.
‘I’ve never managed to get any of my honeycomb chocolate to taste as good as what I sampled today, nor have such a smooth and light texture.
I’m not sure whether it’s the type of milk they use here, or the ingredient proportions, but a lot of the fun is in the experimenting. I always found that.’
She checked the price on a pair of fawn woollen gloves and took them up to the counter. In German she thanked the assistant and told him that she didn’t need a bag, thank you, and asked whether he could please cut the label off her purchase for her so she could wear them now.
‘You sounded like a local,’ said Sarah as they left the shop.
Meg pulled on her new gloves. ‘I lived here for long enough that I got to learn a bit of German,’ she said. ‘A lot of subjects at school bored me, but not languages.’
‘What was it like going to school here in Switzerland? It must have felt like an adventure.’
They moved out of the way of a group of people clutching skis and clomping heel to toe in their special boots. Ski fields were accessible from here, a short train ride away.
Meg was happy to tell Sarah about the good parts of her school days here at an international school that had smaller classes and a more diverse curriculum.
She didn’t have to include the fact that despite the positives she’d still acted out, she’d looked for trouble, and she’d continued to do that in London once she left.
If there was one thing Chrissie might thank her for it was keeping the muddled and messy side of herself quiet.
The last thing she wanted was to be classed as a bad influence.
That was likely why Chrissie had cut off contact and never accepted her reaching out over the years before Meg had eventually accepted it and backed off.
They grabbed a takeaway coffee each to drink while they window-shopped, looking at the cute stores selling tourist memorabilia, the bookshop with a wonderful Christmas display in its window, a cute café, a shop dedicated solely to jumpers, and a small French bistro.
When they passed a bridal boutique Sarah didn’t even pause or pass comment.
Odd, when she was getting married in three weeks.
Then again, so was coming here so close to the wedding.
But it wasn’t her place to say anything.
Meg had learnt that sometimes you just had to stay quiet, and this was one of those times.
As they trudged through the snow up the hill and back towards the chalet, she felt happier than she had in a long while.
The only problem was, if Chrissie found out she was here and spending time with her daughter, it would all come to an end and could even make things worse.