‘And hang on.’ She dashed to the back kitchen to find her assistant’s Christmas gift, some special bubble bath and matching body lotion, with a hand-picked box of Holly’s favourite chocolates.

‘Aw, Emma, thanks. I didn’t expect anything as I’ve not been working here that long. I feel awful now as I haven’t bought anything for you.’

‘Hey, no worries. There’s no need. It’s a thank you for working so hard for me. You’ve settled in really well.’

‘Thanks, Em, and honestly I am soo happy to be here. It’s the best thing I ever did, leaving that horrible chip shop in Seahouses. I smelt of chip fat all day and my hair was always greasy. This is like working in heaven. Chocolate heaven. It’s like my all-time ideal job.’

All was quiet. Holly had gone and Emma cashed up and just stood for a few moments taking in her little shop in all its twinkly, cosy Christmas glory: the two bay windows that looked out over the quaint village street of stone cottages, the wooden shelving stacked so prettily, the reassuring hum of the refrigerated counter, the rows of chocolates she had worked so hard to create … And to think, seven years ago she wouldn’t have even known how to make a truffle or how to temper chocolate – hah, back then she’d have thought that meant getting mad with it, which in fact did happen very occasionally!

She loved her little chocolate shop, her business, her life here. It really had saved her, given her back a purpose in life, when things were at rock bottom.

Right, then, she shook herself from her thoughts; she mustn’t dwell on that for there was one very eager spaniel upstairs no doubt desperate to get out.

Emma leaned on the stone harbour wall, watching the street lights catch on the water, the gentle waves lapping the sides of the boats that were moored up. It was a small harbour that had been used for centuries for fishing. There weren’t as many boats now, she’d been told, but some still went out daily, weather permitting, for their catch of herring to take to the smokehouse to turn them into kippers, a local speciality, or maybe some cod, or crabs. From July to September they’d be out checking the lobster pots which were now stacked on the shoreline next to an old coble-style boat, along with colourful buoys and thick rope and nets.