‘Thank you.’ But as she was saying it, all she could think was that it would soon be the school half-term holidays, and then the Christmas trade would really start, and she wouldn’t be having her café at all. She supposed she could pop the chairs and tables out in the front of the shop, but without moving the counter back and with no lovely new window seats it would all look rather cramped and sad. She’d so wanted to do it right, had been prepared to work hard all weekend alongside Ron, and she’d already planned to have a grand opening for the village community next Friday evening to celebrate. Dammit, she’d already put an article all about it in the village newsletter and invited everyone.

‘I’m so sorry, lovey,’ Maureen repeated, bringing her back to the here and now.

‘It’s not your fault. It’s okay, we’ll manage somehow. But yes, we’ll probably have to postpone the coffee shop opening.’ Half her customers were expecting her to be closed this weekend so she’d already have lost a lot of trade, and she’d now have to close for yet another weekend too. She rallied and said goodbye to Maureen, trying to sound upbeat and polite. After turning off the call, she let out a long, slow sigh.

She looked around the shop. Most of the chocolates had been emptied from the shelves, some stacked in the fridge in the shop kitchen, the rest ready to go off to Bev and Pete’s. She had all the paint ready to make a start once the major joinery work was completed so maybe she should just get on with redecorating anyhow. It would do her good to keep busy.

Bev came back in from the car.

Emma’s face must have said it all.

‘What’s up?’ her friend asked straight away.

‘The carpenter’s ill. He can’t do the joinery work. So, no window seats, no counter moves, no extra shelving. No café, basically.’

‘Bugger.’ Bev pulled a face. She’d wanted this to work out as much as Emma, having seen how much heart and soul her friend had put into the shop over the years, and having found out the devastating reasons behind Emma moving to Warkton over wine and late-night chats. ‘I wish Pete was a bit handier, I’d get him on the case. But DIY was never his strong point.’

‘What’s that? What have I done wrong now?’ Pete marched in just as his name was mentioned.

‘Nothing, honey. Just that DIY is not your best aptitude, is it?’

‘Nope. We’ve agreed on that point ever since I came through the bedroom ceiling trying to fix a leaking pipe in the loft.’