It felt nice here, not too stuffy; the lights were muted and candle votives glowed on the table; you could relax and chat. The waiter delivered their drinks and then passed them menus, typed stylishly on thick cream card. They were left to peruse and muse, whilst Emma sipped her chilled, bubbly glass of fragrant G&T. She had never read so many gorgeous-sounding things in one place.

‘It’s a great place, isn’t it?’ Max said.

‘Have you been here much before?’

‘Just a couple of times. The food is always good.’

‘I’m sure it will be.’ She wondered then who he’d been there with. Siobhan, maybe, and weirdly felt a twinge of jealousy. But the past needed to stay exactly where it was tonight. Tonight was a night for moving forwards.

Emma ordered a scallop starter and turbot with a hollandaise sauce for main, Max, a crab cocktail, followed by seafood ‘Frito Misto’ – ‘fried in delicate breadcrumbs’. They were served homemade breads whilst they sat chatting, and Max asked for two glasses of Chablis, checking that Emma liked that. ‘If it’s a dry white, that’ll be fine,’ she said, smiling. She’d possibly had some at her parents’ before, but expensive wines were not something she could indulge in lately.

They chatted about work, the busy build-up to the festive season in The Chocolate Shop, their plans for Christmas. Emma realised she hadn’t actually got that far yet, but perhaps she ought to invite James and his family and her parents and cook a roast turkey dinner for them; after all, they had helped her so much this year. Yes, that’d be nice. In fact, having two days off in a row for Christmas and Boxing Day would be absolute bliss.

Max said he was likely to be staying at his parents’ house over Christmas; they lived in Morpeth, about forty minutes away from Warkton, and as he was an only child, they’d no doubt be looking forward to spoiling him. His mum was a good cook, so he said he’d be well fed and looked after. It sounded like he was on the meals-for-one syndrome too – something quick and easy after work.

‘So, what do you cook, then?’ Emma was curious. ‘Or is it all ready meals and takeaways?’

‘Hey, cheeky. I can cook! It’s just not that inspiring after a full day on site sometimes. But I can make a mean curry, from scratch I’m talking. I make a passable roast chicken. And pasta, yeah, bolognese, carbonara – I can manage those. Otherwise quite a few jars come in handy. Or yes, I confess, the takeaway down the road.’

‘It’s okay. I like cooking, but after a whole day making and serving chocolates, sometimes it’s just cheese and biscuits for me, or something easy on toast. So tonight is a real treat.’