Chocolate Wishes (29 page)

Just after lunch Kat’s parents dropped Jake off on their way back from the Lake District, together with about a ton of dirty washing and a backpack full of Kendal Mint Cake. It was lovely to have him back again, even if the cottage would smell like a laundry for the next two days.

He went to see Grumps and Zillah after lunch, then later we both helped them to put the final touches to the museum, ready for tomorrow morning’s grand opening ceremony, when Hebe Winter would cut the ribbon and the local press would capture the moment for posterity. Then, it being also the first day of the season for Winter’s End, she would have to dash back for that.

I would be opening Chocolate Wishes to the public in the afternoon for the first time too, so I was a bit nervous about that, though the shelves were stocked ready.

The museum looked wonderful – the glass-fronted cabinets were stuffed full of enticing treasures, masks grinned down from every wall, the desk gleamed, the display of Grumps’ novels added a bright note and his other books, pamphlets and postcards, together with a stack of my Chocolate Wishes and jars of treacle toffee cats, were invitingly arranged. The roll of tickets lay ready to hand and a float of small change was in the cash drawer.

We were ready.

When Jake and I went back to the cottage after a family dinner, I told him about Carr Blackstock turning out to be my very reluctant father, and that Raffy had taken me to London to see him – only to find that Zillah had got in with the information first.

‘I know all about it,’ he said, buttering a toasted hot cross bun to fill in the gaps that Zillah’s substantial, but slightly odd chicken Caesar salad and zabaglione hadn’t reached. ‘He sounded a total waste of space. I think I’m better off with my unknown Italian waiter for a father, because at least he looks cheerful and friendly in those holiday snaps Mum gave me.’

‘Yes, she did say he was a lot of fun,’ I agreed, though of course her definition of the word ‘fun’ was probably not the same as ours.

Then Jake said it had been kind of Raffy to drive me there and let me stay in his flat, and he hoped we’d managed to have a good time despite the dodgy session with Carr Blackstock.

‘Yes, we’re…friends again now,’ I said, blushing faintly.

‘So I’ve heard.’ He gave me a grin and popped yet another hot cross bun in the toaster, and I wondered exactly
what
Zillah had been telling him…?

We settled in with a DVD, while next door Grumps and his girls were celebrating the festival of Eostre with a crescendo of chanting and a pervasive, but not unpleasant, reek of incense.

My mind wasn’t on the film at all, because I was feeling as if I was sitting in the middle of a tug-of-war between two opposing religions, with my guardian angel as referee. While I’m sure Raffy is perfectly capable of accepting Grumps as a member of his family, and Grumps could probably reconcile himself to my marrying Raffy, how the Church would view it was another matter entirely.

The phone rang when I was in the kitchen making a drink and Jake picked it up. I thought it was Kat, because I could hear him talking away, but then he stuck his head
through the kitchen door and said, ‘It’s Raffy – don’t make me a drink, I’m going round to talk to him. By the way,’ he added, grinning wickedly, ‘he asked me if he could marry you, and I told him that was fine by me, so long as he paid the bride price first.’

I threw an orange at him, which was the nearest object to hand, and he ducked and laughed annoyingly. ‘See you later!’

‘Jake Lyon, come back here!’ I yelled, but he was gone.

‘Raffy, are you still there?’ I asked, picking up the phone.

‘Yes, and I could hear what Jake was saying,’ he said, laughter in his voice. ‘I take it he’s on his way here now? He took the news pretty well, though he seems to have the dowry idea the wrong way round.’

‘There isn’t any news,’ I said weakly, ‘and I didn’t think Jake could surprise me any more after all these years, but evidently I was wrong. What on earth does he want?’

‘Nothing I can’t afford to give,’ he said mysteriously and refused to say more.

When Jake came back a short time later, he was wearing Raffy’s long leather coat, and looking very pleased with himself: I am clearly worth my weight in cowhide. He took it up to bed with him, but not before suddenly remembering that Raffy had sent something for me and fishing a small box out of his pocket.

Inside was a small and very plain gold cross. I stared at it for a moment, then reached for the phone.

‘Raffy? You hadn’t gone to bed, had you?’

‘No, I thought you might ring me.’

‘You shouldn’t have given Jake your lovely coat!’

‘I think it looks a lot better on him than it did on me,
and it’s probably more than time I stopped looking as though I’d just escaped from
The Matrix
. After Jake, I’m now wondering what your grandfather might demand from me, apart from my immortal soul?’

‘Don’t be silly, he’s not a satanist,’ I said with dignity.

‘I know, I’m just joking.’

‘Are vicars allowed to joke about that kind of thing?’

‘You should hear the bishop,’ he said. ‘We’re allowed a bit of levity these days. Did you like your cross? I thought you could hang it on the chain with the little gold cocoa bean.’

‘The bean’s hollow and I’m pretty sure Grumps has put some kind of charm in it.’

‘That’s OK: my gift is to reflect the other side of you, the spiritual one that believes in angels. Hebe Winter always wears a pentacle and a cross, haven’t you noticed? They seem able to balance witchcraft and Christianity quite easily in Sticklepond. I expect you get used to it.’

‘Maybe, but I think Hebe Winter is a law unto herself,’ I said doubtfully.

It was getting very late and it would be a big day tomorrow, but I still consulted the angel cards before I went to bed. They told me it was safe to love and be loved, but they didn’t mention how to reconcile pagan grandfathers and irate bishops, and I couldn’t help being afraid that Raffy was being too sanguine about how either of them would take the news.

Saturday dawned with the promise of a bright, sunny, perfect April day. Just as well, because Poppy and I had decided to wear the dresses we had bought on my birthday for the occasion. They might be a little over the top for a Saturday morning in Sticklepond, but in comparison with Grumps I was sure we would fade into sartorial insignificance.

I’d hung the little cross on the chain with my cocoa bean and tucked them into the neckline of my dress, not feeling quite ready for a showdown with Grumps yet, but sometimes they made a faint, melodious chiming as I moved, to remind me they were there.

By ten, quite a little crowd had gathered outside the museum to watch Hebe Winter, in full Elizabethan regalia, declare Sticklepond’s newest tourist attraction open.

She said a few gracious words (and since she was as astute as Grumps, several of them advertised the opening of Winter’s End to the public that afternoon) and then cut the ribbon across the entrance door with a pair of silver
scissors shaped like a stork, to the accompaniment of clicking camera shutters and much applause.

Then we all went indoors, where there were bowls of punch of Zillah’s devising and slices of fruitcake of mine, and a party atmosphere began to develop. The guest list had been wide, and ranged from Kat’s parents, wearing what seemed to be a perpetual air of bewilderment, to the entire Sticklepond Re-enactment Society, who were instantly recognisable since, like Miss Winter, they were already in Elizabethan dress ready for the opening of Winter’s End, where they would act as volunteer staff.

Mrs Snowball and Clive, having supplied the alcoholic element of the punch, now assisted in drinking it, along with several elderly women I didn’t recognise, but strongly suspected were from Grumps’ coven.

Felix and Poppy might have been anywhere, since they were moving about in a little cloud of bliss and congratulations, while Janey was moving about in an overpowering cloud of Yves Saint Laurent’s Opium. I’ve seen horses sneeze when she walks by.

Jake and Kat took charge of the desk and the rest of us stood around listening as Grumps was interviewed. As usual he managed to get in a good plug about the re-issue of his backlisted novels, as well as mentioning his most recent one,
The Desirous Devil.
And yes, I know it sounds like a Mills and Boon, but apparently it’s sold better than all his previous books put together. The lurid, fifties-style cover may have had something to do with it and goodness knows what they will put on the front of
Satan’s Child
. The mind boggles.

Raffy arrived just as they had finished and the reporter immediately asked him about his reaction, as vicar, to a museum dedicated to the history of paganism.

His eyes passed over the crowded room until they found me and he smiled. My knees jellified and I had to take a quick gulp of punch to steady myself, nearly choking on a bit of orange-scented geranium leaf – I’d wondered what Zillah had wanted with those this morning.

‘Actually, I think that a museum exploring the way in which people, throughout the ages and across diverse cultures, have reached out to God, can be no bad thing, don’t you?’ he said. ‘And probably most so-called witchcraft in the past was just the application of herbalist knowledge, passed down orally.’

Hebe Winter and Grumps fixed their eyes on him, a little like lazy lions wondering whether to chase a gazelle or not, but said nothing.

The reporter left immediately after the interview and Raffy came straight over to where I was standing.

Impulsively, I pulled the chain out of my neckline, displaying the gold cross and the cocoa bean nestling together on the end of it. ‘There you are, Raffy – an unholy alliance. Just as well the reporter’s gone.’

‘What’s that?’ said Grumps, who had ears like a bat, despite his age. Then his gaze sharpened. ‘And where did you get that cross from?’

‘It was a gift from Raffy, Grumps.’

‘Was it, indeed?’ he said, turning that inquisitorial stare on Raffy.

‘And why shouldn’t she wear one, Gregory?’ Hebe Winter looked at me approvingly and I would have bet even money that her own pentacle and cross were reposing on her narrow bosom, under the finely goffered ruff.

‘Why are you giving my granddaughter unsuitable gifts, young man?’ Grumps asked, unappeased, and Raffy put his
arm around me and announced, brazenly, ‘It’s
very
suitable, in the circumstances, because I want to marry her.’

‘You’re engaged?’ exclaimed Poppy, clapping her hands and beaming. ‘Oh, that’s lovely! Congratulations.’

‘No! I
can’t…
I mean, the bishop would never approve of me…’ I stammered, flustered at this sudden public announcement.

‘
I’ll
speak to the bishop,’ Hebe Winter stated.

‘That’s very kind of you, Miss Winter,’ Raffy said. ‘I rang him yesterday, so it won’t come as a total surprise, but if you could put in a word for us too, that would be great.’

‘I notice that no one has asked
my
opinion – or my permission,’ Grumps remarked with deceptive calmness, because I could see he was ruffled, though that might simply have been at the prospect of having his comfortable life disrupted.

‘Raffy asked mine and I gave it,’ Jake told him. ‘I think it’s a really good idea.’

‘You do, do you?’

‘I warned you this was coming, Gregory,’ Zillah pointed out. ‘But did you believe me?’

‘And I intended coming to speak to you about it before this,’ Raffy told Grumps, ‘only Easter’s been a bit hectic. But I hope you don’t have any real objections?’

‘It doesn’t matter whether he has or not, Raffy, does it?’ I said. ‘Since
you
will only marry in a church and
I
can’t very well do that!’

‘Why not?’ asked Zillah, to my surprise. ‘You were christened in All Angels, so there’s no reason why you shouldn’t marry there.’

‘What?’ I exclaimed.

‘Your granny and the last vicar, old Mr Harris, arranged
it between them, just like they had when your mother was a baby.’

‘And I was told
nothing
of this?’ demanded Grumps, outraged.

‘She knew you’d only kick up a fuss, and what you didn’t know couldn’t harm you.’

Raffy gave me a squeeze and smiled down at me. ‘There, you see? I knew you were always on the side of the angels, and now there’s nothing to stop us getting married.’

‘I…suppose there isn’t,’ I agreed slowly. ‘Please say you don’t mind, Grumps?’ I begged. ‘It needn’t change anything: I’d only be living a few yards away and I’ll still be coming over every day to type up your chapters and make Chocolate Wishes.’

‘I perceive that this is yet another example of Christianity absorbing paganism,’ Grumps said darkly, ‘but I suppose if you must, you must.’

‘Oh, thank you, Grumps!’ I said, and gave him a kiss on the cheek, which he suffered, rather in Jake’s manner.

‘And you will come to the wedding?’ Raffy asked.

‘No, but I will be at the reception. You can hold it here in the museum.’

‘That seems a reasonable compromise,’ Raffy agreed.

‘We could even have a double wedding,’ suggested Poppy. ‘But you can’t marry yourself, can you, Raffy?’

‘Not really,’ he said with a grin. ‘But I have a friend who would love to come and perform the ceremony.’

‘It had better be
soon
,’ Zillah put in.

‘Why?’ I asked, looking at her suspiciously.

‘Never you mind!’ she said. ‘But the sooner the better, you mark my words.’

‘That’s fine by me,’ Raffy said, and then everyone drank
a toast to our engagement, and Poppy and Felix’s engagement, followed by one to the museum’s opening…and by that time, only the people who were driving were entirely sober, and the Winter’s End contingent had to leave.

Raffy had to go soon after, too, kissing me before he did, which felt very odd in public.

I was still in a bit of a trance while the room slowly emptied and we closed the doors for lunch, but when finally recalled to the land of the living, it appeared that we had made an inordinate amount of money already, despite no one having paid an entrance charge.

Grumps’ books and pamphlets, which he had been signing with a flourish every time one was shoved under his nose, had sold like hot cakes and so had several boxes of Chocolate Wishes and practically a whole jar of treacle toffee cats, though I couldn’t imagine who had bought them out of the morning’s assembly. I could see Kat and Jake had had one apiece, because the sticks were in the waste-paper basket under the desk.

‘We’ll have to put a fresh stock of books out for this afternoon, Grumps,’ I said, ‘and you could think of expanding the stock of things you sell, with some witch-related souvenirs.’

‘Yes, I think you’d really clean up with more gifts for the visitors to buy,’ agreed Jake.

‘I will give it some thought,’ Grumps said. ‘And perhaps a greater variety of postcards too. I have been asked if there are ones of myself.’ He stroked his beard rather complacently, looked at us and added, ‘All that went very well, don’t you think? Apart from Chloe’s intention to enter into holy matrimony as opposed to anything more logical, and I expect I will grow accustomed even to that, eventually.’

‘You’d better – I
told
you it was on the cards,’ Zillah said.

‘You didn’t tell
me
,’ I complained, as we followed the others through the door to the house. ‘And what did you mean by saying to Raffy that we ought to marry sooner than later?’

She took my arm to hold me back and whispered something in my ear. I felt my eyes widen.

‘But – the cards aren’t
always
right,’ I protested.

‘They are, it’s only the interpretation that’s sometimes wrong,’ she said. ‘I keep telling you!’

After lunch, which I didn’t eat much of, Jake drove Grumps to Winter’s End, where he made a guest appearance dressed as John Dee.

Kat and Zillah held the fort at the museum and I opened up Chocolate Wishes to the public for the first time and switched on the Bath, so that soon the rich fragrance of criollo couverture was wafting through the door into the museum, drawing in visitors like a magnet.

We were all pretty exhausted by closing time, so it was just as well we were only opening four afternoons a week after this! I still had to finish cleaning up in the workshop and Kat kindly came and helped me, whispering away in her chatty fashion: I only wished I could hear more than one word in five of what she was saying!

We all had dinner together – a hotpot that Zillah had made the day before – and then Jake, Kat and I retired back to the cottage.

The day had been an emotional roller coaster and it wasn’t over yet, because Felix and Poppy had persuaded me to go to the late Saturday night service at All Angels when Raffy would light the Paschal Candle.

And I was glad I did go, even if I
was
in a trance of such tiredness that everything seemed to be waving about slightly, a sort of underwater ripple effect.

Whether knowing I had been christened there made a difference, I don’t know, but tonight entering the church felt like going home, and there was a moment when I was
sure
I could see the flickering of angel wings in the candlelight…

And Raffy looked tired and pale, but also tranquil and happy, as if he’d just received the answer to a really important question.