‘I’ll get those organised right away. If you can pop down to the shop in say, fifteen minutes, I’ll have them made up and ready. Then I’ll have to start making all the others.’

‘Emma, you’re a star. Thank you so much.’

So much for a quiet night in.

Ten o’clock, and she and Max had a little production line going. Truffle centres ready to dip in the melted chocolate was the next stage and Max had even learnt how to make the little alcohol-infused balls evenly sized, by rolling them in the palms of his hands. It was delicate work for big builder’s hands, and it made Emma smile watching him. One day, there he was sawing wood and making window seats, the next truffles; where would it end? Hopefully in bed, she mused, though that seemed a distant prospect at this point. She stifled a yawn.

The dark chocolate was tempered now; time to dip the whisky infused truffles carefully in with metal tongs. They had to work quickly, whilst it was at the right temperature, yet still ensure all sides of the truffle were evenly coated, so it was quite an art and the truffles might not have been quite as neat as usual, but the fifty they made looked pretty good. Emma left them to cool on the metal board on the side and cleared the other equipment to the dishwasher.

Earlier on they’d had a snatched supper of cold chicken and salad. She’d cooked the chicken, but hadn’t had time to do the full roast dinner she’d intended.

‘Sorry, Max, this wasn’t the kind of evening I meant for you to have. I think we’ve done enough for now. Thanks so much for your help. Let’s call it a day.’

‘I didn’t know making chocolate was so physically demanding.’

‘Hey, tell me about it. I could do with a hot bath.’

‘Me too.’ He had that cheeky look on his face again.