Free The Oddest Little Chocolate Shop in London by Beth Good Page A

kitchen.’
       ‘Poor
old lady,’ Rachel said, looking wistfully after her.
       ‘It
must be awful,’ Clementine agreed, ‘being alone at her age.’
       ‘Being
alone at any age is pretty bad,’ Rachel muttered, biting her lip, then sneezed
dramatically several times.
       Clementine
could have kicked myself when she realised what she had said. Rachel had only
just split up with her boyfriend, and there she was, making insensitive remarks
about loneliness!
       Clementine
tried to stammer an apology, but Rachel shook her head. ‘No, it’s not your
fault. I need to sort myself out, not keep moping like this and waiting for him
to call.’ She scooped up some empty display boxes that had to be filled with
freshly-made chocolates. ‘Oh, by the way. That cat’s out the back again. You
know I’m allergic to fur, so if you want to feed her, I’m afraid – ’
       ‘Yes,
sorry, no problem. I’ll do that.’
       The
beautiful white Persian was sitting, tail curled neatly about her paws, outside
the back door of the shop. Her head tilted to one side as Clementine came out
onto the step, open tin of tuna in hand. The cat miaowed, showing rows of
elegant white teeth.
       ‘Another
lost soul,’ Clementine remarked when Dominic appeared to watch her feeding the
animal. He leant against the doorframe in the cold sunshine while she emptied
the tuna onto a saucer for the cat, wiping his hands on his apron. ‘She’s such
a gorgeous creature, isn’t she? I wonder who she belongs to.’
       ‘Somebody
very, very lucky,’ he said softly, then disappeared back inside before
Clementine could look round at him in wonder.

 
    At the end of the day, Clementine was
exhausted, and only too happy to obey Dominic’s order to go upstairs and wait
for him in the flat while he locked up. It was ages since she had spent all day
on her feet like that, and her poor calves and toes were throbbing. She let
herself into the quiet flat, its white walls stained gold by the setting sun, and
found the fluffy Persian curled up asleep on his sofa. And no surprise. The
heating must have kicked in automatically because the flat was warm and cosy,
and the sofa looked very welcoming.
       Too
weary even to shoo her away, Clementine kicked off her shoes and squeezed onto
the sofa too, careful not to squash the animal as she made herself comfortable.
       It
was so wonderful not to be standing anymore! She pulled her bare feet onto the
sofa, rubbing and soothing the reddened toes and heels.
       ‘Ohhh,’
she moaned, and let her head fall back.
         At that moment, the telephone rang.
       Clementine
looked at the phone, lying on a low table at the end of the sofa. Dominic had
still not joined her.
       The
phone continued to ring.
       Gingerly,
she leant over the sleeping cat and picked it up. ‘Hello?’
       There
was silence on the other end. Then a very male, very husky, and alarmingly French
voice spoke. ‘Allo? Dominic?’
       Oh
shit.
       ‘Hello,’
she repeated, not even trying to speak any French. Her brain was just too
utterly zonked. ‘Erm … Dominic … not here.’
       The
cat stirred, a little outraged at being squashed. Her tail rose and tickled
Clementine’s nose.
       ‘Et
votre nom, mademoiselle?’
       Her
French was by no mean brilliant, but she was able to grasp that the man was
asking who she was. She tried to push the white fluffy tail out of her face. Caution
told her not to give too much away.
       ‘Erm
… je suis a friend? Une amie?’
       Another
baffled silence.
       To
her relief, she heard Dominic’s tread on the stairs. ‘Ah, erm, il arrive! Il
arrive!’ As he appeared in the doorway, she sat up, releasing the cat –
who sprang up at once to stretch her back – then held out the phone with
a conciliatory smile. ‘Sorry, your phone was ringing and I didn’t know what
else to do. It’s a man. A Frenchman. Asking for you.’
       Dominic
stared, then took