An Easter Egg Wedding Sue Moorcroft’s engrossing new serial

PART ONE: Chrissie has a dream job in her family’s business… but is it what she wants to do forever?

Chrissie Silk pulled the next large chocolate Easter egg towards her on its hygienic plastic cradle. The accompanying order read: Daisiesand Easter bunnies .‘ M illy’ piped in pink.

From rolled-out white sugar paste, using the point of a knife, she deftly cut out four bunny faces, eight ears in various degrees of floppiness, portly bodies and springy legs. Securing them with dabs of melted chocolate, she created capering rabbits on the lustrous brown curves of the thick chocolate egg and piped on chocolate eyes and whiskers. With a large star-nozzle and white icing, she gave each bunny a bobtail. Next came circlets of daisies on whirly green stems. Finally, taking up another bag, with a steady hand and many curlicues, she scribed Milly, with a double loop to the y.

She inspected her work then added an edible black button bearing SandS in gold. It was the logo of Smooth As Silk Chocolatiers, which borrowed an S each from Sean and Sarah, Chrissie’s parents, who began the business.

They’d added another S to the Silk family – her big brother Samuel – then run out of S names they liked and plumped for Christina. Sean and Sarah had considered redesigning the logo to include a third S and Chrissie’s C, but it never happened. Maybe it was just as well, she thought. Satisfied, she pushed the egg back on her stainless steel bench. Her assistant in the special finishes room, Rowena, glided up in white smock and hairnet.

“Finished?”

At Chrissie’s nod, she carried the egg carefully to the cool cabinet. There, circulating air would set the icing ready for Cellophane and a shiny black box tied with gold ribbon.

Chrissie checked the next order. “Stars and moon .‘ Daniel’ piped in green. Nice change from bunnies and chicks.” She checked her bench, such fresh materials needing constant replenishment.

“Ro, a new bag of green royal icing and a small amount of gold sugar paste rolled out, please. Then can you grab some gold lustre dust and make up edible paint?”

“Okey doke,” Rowena agreed comfortably, heading for her own work station with its food colourings and fridge for sugar paste.

Chrissie cleaned her bench and changed her gloves, breathing in the sweet air that was exactly the right temperature for chocolate. That scent embodied Smooth as Silk Chocolatiers.

While she waited for Rowena to conjure up fresh supplies, on a piece of baking parchment she used up the last of the green icing by piping an Easter egg wearing a coy expression. Switching to the white, she added a coquettish wedding veil – a lot like the one she’d wear in just over a week, when she married Ivan.

A familiar growl came from behind her. “You’re still stuck on this Easter egg wedding lark?”

She jumped, then grinned to see Sam looming, recognising his familiar bigbrotherly teasing.

“Everything’s booked and I’ve bought the dress, so I think I might as well. An Easter –” she pointedly omitted the word ‘egg’ – “wedding makes me feel as if I’m getting one over on this endless procession of eggs. Ivan and I will be the centre of attention, instead of them.”

Sam laughed. Responsible for production at Smooth as Silk and at the heart of the small workforce, he wore a crisp white overall like everyone else. He lowered his tone to a mock-grumble.

“When the last eggs go out, we usually have time to catch our breath. This year we’ll be worrying about bouquets and buttonholes and who’s going to fetch Nan from the station.”

Sarah, their mother, materialised through the doorway.

“I haven’t noticed you doing much worrying, Samuel!”

Sam looked abashed.

“You and Chrissie seem to have it all under control, Mum. I’ll get tarted up in a suit and tie when the day comes. Alice has bought a new dress.”

Alice, Sam’s girlfriend, was as small and quiet as he was big and brash.

Rowena brought over the fresh materials and another luxury-sized egg. Chrissie attached a white chocolate button as the moon, then began cutting out stars from gold sugar paste to cluster artistically around it.

Used to people watching her creations taking shape, she continued the conversation as she worked.

“You’ve been wonderful, Mum. I hope you won’t be too exhausted to enjoy the wedding.” Although she spoke lightly, she felt a tingle of guilt.

“Of course not.” But Sarah’s bad knee must have been hurting because she pulled up a stool to watch Chrissie piping white chocolate sparks like a comet’s tail. “Let’s just hope we don’t get April showers.”

“Honestly, you’ve all got some reason not to want us to have our wedding at Easter!” Chrissie turned to the gold paint to add glittering highlights to her mini-galaxy. “As wedding and reception are at the same hotel, the photos can be taken indoors.”

Sam’s eyes, the same hazel as hers, proved he hadn’t finished teasing.

“You’ve probably interfered with everyone’s Easter plans. The guests will all be grumbling that public holiday weekends mean extra expensive hotels and iffy public transport.”

She sent him a quelling look, took up the green icing and twisted the bag to produce the right tension.

She aimed her piping bag at Sam. “What you mean is, my honeymoon has interfered with you going to Tenerife”

“A July wedding could have interfered with holiday plans and hotels would be more expensive then. We’ve chosen four p.m. to allow for those who wish to attend a church service. It costs more to get a registrar, but an Easter Sunday wedding will be wonderful.”

She aimed her piping bag at Sam.

“What you mean is, me taking time off for my honeymoon interfered with you going to Tenerife to soak up some rays. But you know Ivan’s new job starts in May and he can’t take holidays in June, July or August for his first year.”

“Nothing wrong with September,” Sam groused.

September. A squadron of butterflies launched in Chrissie’s tummy. Today was the day she’d told Ivan she’d tell her family her plans. Should she tell them now?

She turned back to her egg and piped Daniel in big, even swirls, a star for the dot on the i.

“Finished, Ro,” she called. Rowena moved the egg to the cabinet and Chrissie tried to subdue her angsty butterflies, envisioning them as a mixture of light and dark, like milk or dark chocolate. The light butterflies flitted a joyful dance whenever she thought of her yellow Easter bouquet, of Ivan, who’d look wonderful in a dark tux, her bridesmaids in buttercup, the glorious sandstone Castle Hotel surrounded by gardens bursting with daffodils.

But the dark butterflies were gloomy shadows, diving into slow, sickening somersaults whenever she thought of what she had to tell her family. She drew in a breath and determined to get it over with. “Is Dad in?”

But Sarah shook her head.

“He’s talking summer lines to someone. You know what it’s like. We’ve hardly finished with Mother’s Day and now it’s Easter. Then we’ll be into wedding season and before you know it it’ll be Hallowe’en. He’ll be back in an hour,” she added.

Chrissie nodded, all too familiar with the relentless seasonal drive and the short shelf-life of foodstuff products.

“Can we have a family conference when he’s here and the others have gone home?”

‘The others’ meant the non-family workforce, nine at present.

Sam frowned. “Why?” he demanded. Sarah’s brow creased too but where Sam was gruff, she looked concerned.

“OK, darling. Do you think you’ll get the bespoke orders finished today ready for packing tomorrow?”

She rose stiffly, testing her sore knee. Chrissie managed a smile and turned to the next order.

“Yes, Mum. I’ve just about had enough of Easter eggs.”

Five o’clock came at last. Chrissie and Rowena cleaned up. Rowena bestowed a pat on the cabinet of ornately decorated eggs as she prepared to remove her whites and don her coat.

“That’s Easter done until next year!”

Chrissie agreed hollowly. “Have a lovely evening.” Her butterflies performing an aerobatic display, she hurried down the hushed corridor to her parents’ office to join the rest of the family. Discarded hairnets had left matching pink grooves on their foreheads.

“What’s up, then, Chrissie?” asked her dad, Sean, as she entered. His blue eyes twinkled. “Wedding jitters? Or do you want another ten bridesmaids or a honeymoon in a helicopter?”

“No.” Chrissie returned his smile weakly, helping herself to coffee with hands less steady than when she’d been swirling graceful letters onto rich chocolate. She chose a seat, carefully placing her coffee on the desk.

The others sat down, too. Three pairs of eyes settled expectantly on Chrissie.

She licked her lips. “Well, you know I’ve always loved helping out at the children’s craft sessions at the library?”

Her butterflies flew right up in her throat, bumping against her words so they didn’t emerge as smoothly as she’d wish.

“You know the deputy head of Greenbank School brings her kids to craft sessions? Renée Renaud? We’ve got quite friendly and Renée’s been complimentary about the way I work with children.”

One last, deep breath then she finished in a trembling rush.

“She’s offered me a teaching assistant job at Greenbank School. If it works out, they’ll put me through teacher training.”

It was as if they’d all been encased in ice. She gazed around at the astonished, aghast expressions on the faces of those she loved. Though she knew she was hurting them, she steeled herself to deliver her final words.

“I want to take it.”

“A job in a school?” Sam swore under his breath. “What about Smooth As Silk? You’re brilliant at hand decorating.

How would we replace you? We’re just coming into wedding season.”

“I know.” She managed a wry smile.

“As Mum mentioned earlier, it’s always something season. There are others who can do my job. Rowena’s going to fill in while I’m on honeymoon.”

“Only because we’ve arranged tricky orders around your absence.”

Visibly agitated, Samuel jumped to his feet and began pacing.

“Hang on.” Sean reached out and placed his warm hand over Chrissie’s chilly one, affection shining from the eyes behind his spectacles. “Are you sure, love? You’ve put years into mastering dipping, decorating and moulding. Chocolate’s a difficult foodstuff to work with but here you are, queen of what you do, full of creativity and imagination.”

She squeezed her dad’s hand, hating herself for putting worry on his face.

“That’s all true, Dad, but I like working with kids. When I came into Smooth as

Silk from school at sixteen, I loved it. It was exciting to dump school-based education in favour of an apprenticeship, learning everything from tempering chocolate to running the business. I’ve been proud to lead the move into bespoke products.

“It’s just that…” She took a huge breath. “I’d like to try something other than piping names on Easter eggs.”

“But what about us?” objected Sam. “OK, others might be able to do your job but family members are more valuable than employees. They’re conscientious and willing to go the extra yard.”

“More willing to be put upon, you mean. More available for unpaid overtime.” Chrissie smiled to take the sting from her words, but what she said was no more than the truth.

He flinched. Wearily unbuttoning his white smock he suddenly looked older than his thirty-eight years.

“I suppose I get tunnel vision since taking over production. I’m sorry if I’ve put on you, sis. I know you didn’t get all your holiday last year. At least it meant you had enough stored up for your honeymoon.”

Chrissie leapt up and hugged him, almost sending her undrunk coffee flying.

“I didn’t mean to whinge. No one works harder than you. And it’s not even the end of March yet and I won’t start at Greenbank till September.”

Fresh butterflies darted about as she thought of leaving the safety of her family firm, even if one day she might stand in a classroom as a teacher.

“I’m sorry if you’re disappointed,” she added, hating to know that he was.

Sarah stirred in her chair. Her hair had a grown-out look because she was waiting to have it cut and coloured for the wedding. Her leg stuck straight out, a sign her knee was hurting, but still she smiled.

“Well, Chrissie, that doesn’t matter. Smooth As Silk was our dream. You have to follow your own. If the idea of teaching excites you, if you want a change, then I want you to have it.”

“But –” Sam began.

Sarah shushed him. “We mustn’t make it hard on her.”

The gentle reproof made Sam subside and Chrissie’s eyes swim. She gazed around at the three dear faces and found herself justifying her decision.

“Dad’s right that I’ve done a lot of training but I’ve also clung to the safety of my family. Soon I won’t be Chrissie Silk. When I marry Ivan I’ll be Chrissie Mazur. If I’m ever going to try something else, now seems like the right time.”

Silence. Then Sam said heavily, “We’ll miss you. But Mum’s right. You deserve everything you want.”

That evening Ivan arrived home early. “I thought you were going to text me to say how telling your family went. I’ve been nervous for you,” he complained before he was fully through the door, tossing his jacket aside, pulling Chrissie into his arms. She buried her head in the warm solidity of his chest.

“I’ve just told them. It was horrible. I’ve just been sitting here, stunned.” He stroked her shoulder.

“Were they angry? I wouldn’t have thought your mum and dad would be like that. They’re such great people.” She shook her head, tears seeping beneath her lids.

“Sam was a bit growly but Mum and Dad said it’s my life and I should do as I want. I went prepared for battle but they so want me to be happy that I feel kind of… small.

“I’m letting everyone down and they’re trying to hide their disappointment. I almost wish Renée had never got me all excited about my new role.”

“It’s your decision, lovely.” He wiped her tears with his thumbs. “I want a happy wife, you know. You’ve heard the saying, “happy wife; happy life”, haven’t you?”

She laughed through her tears.

“I know. It’s just that crafting chocolate into truffles, creating colours, decorations and textures has been my life.”

“Let’s go out for dinner to take your mind off it,” Ivan suggested. “Our wedding is a week tomorrow. We should celebrate.” Chrissie wiped the last of her tears. “You, Ivan Mazur, would celebrate the opening of an envelope. I’ve got to be able to get into that wedding dress, you know!”

They did go out, to their favourite little pub, not flashy or expensive but comfortingly familiar. For Ivan’s sake, Chrissie pasted on a smile and chatted about their honeymoon, a whole month driving around Europe, combining living it up in hotels, snuggling in isolated gîtes and even a couple of nights on a river boat. Chrissie couldn’t wait for it and their glorious Easter wedding.

But all the time, she relived her brother’s disappointment and her parents absorbing the blow of her desertion. She hoped they at least understood how much she’d miss them and the sugarladen air of Smooth As Silk.

NEXT WEEK: Will Chrissie turn her back on the family business? Or will she melt at the idea? Don’t miss a second helping of our delicious serial next week and check out Sue’s new book coming soon! Under the Italian Sun by Sue Moorcroft, Avon, PBO, £7.99.

Out May 13.

“It’s just that

I’d like to try something other than piping names on Easter eggs”