14

Laden down with vast quantities of delicious produce, the women retired to the hotel reception area and ordered coffees all around so they could relax and chat to their new acquaintance in relative comfort. They were quickly able to determine five key points regarding Aileen Lynch:

She made everything from the safety of her parents’ kitchen.

No matter how hard she tried, she was unable to make money.

Dorothy eyed the girl over her cup of coffee. She had not yet made up her mind whether or not Aileen was the sort of person who should be in business for herself. Not everybody was cut out for that kind of lifestyle. Not everybody had the soul of an accountant, and it was patently clear Aileen’s only real ambition in life was to make chocolate.

‘Why don’t you tell us how you got involved in the chocolate business in the first place,’ she suggested, wondering if perhaps there was an interesting story behind the young woman’s obsession.

‘The way it happened was kind of spooky,’ Aileen looked guilty, as if she had done something wrong.

Aileen glanced around and saw Gemma and Pat were also looking interested. She took a sip of her drink and began to speak.

‘After I left school, my parents were hoping I’d apply for a job in the bank, or maybe even go to college and study accountancy or something clever like that. I hated the idea of having to deal with customers and talk about money all day, so I decided to take a childcare course. When I got my qualifications, I started working in a big crèche about three miles from where we lived. I was happy taking care of the children and had no intention of ever leaving. For years, we were so busy, we were turning parents away, and I assumed I’d always have a job there.

‘Then in 2009, the parents began to lose their jobs and, one by one, they began to pull the children out. The girls I was working with began to look for other jobs, but I didn’t want to leave. I was hoping things would turn around, but needless to say they didn’t. More and more children left and, towards the end of the year, the manager could take it no longer and made the decision to close the business.

‘I stayed with her until the very last day to help her with everything that had to be done and take care of the few remaining children. She gave me a few thousand pounds as a bonus for hanging on, then locked the door to the crèche and told me to go home and think about what I wanted to do with the rest of my life.’

Aileen paused in her story long enough to lift her giant mug of cappuccino and sip some of the hot liquid through the frothy layer on the top. She eyed the other women through her long black lashes and wondered if they were bored already. As none of them asked questions or made any attempt to change the subject, she decided to continue and see how things played out.

‘I was really upset about the crèche closing and started moping around the house driving my parents mad. They suggested I go and spend a few weeks with my aunt in Rosslare. She owns a small hotel, and she’s always mad busy. My parents wanted to get rid of me for a while and they didn’t care whether or not I had any interest in hotel work. I went to Rosslare and took over a lot of the housekeeping duties for my aunt.

‘I didn’t mind changing the beds and cleaning the rooms, as long as she didn’t expect me to deal with the customers. She was delighted to have another pair of hands, and paid me a few quid in cash every week. I was happy enough, and I liked being close to the harbour because there was always something to see whenever I went for a walk.

‘After I had been staying with them for about two months, my uncle mentioned the local port authority was in the process of selling off half a dozen unclaimed shipping containers. He said they did it three times a year, and they generally gave first refusal to local businesses and people they knew. He said there were always outstanding storage fees on the containers, and the ports had to get their money back somehow. He said he’d love to get his hands on one because you never knew what was going to be inside. My aunt knew he was dying to get one but was very reluctant to agree to him spending the money.’

Aileen paused again and took another sip from her mug. She pushed her hair back off her face and got a faraway look in her eyes, as if she was remembering her days in Rosslare. Then she took up the story again.

‘My uncle had been very kind to me since I moved into the hotel, so I told him I would lend him four thousand euro of my savings. I said he could sell what was in the container and use some of the proceeds to pay me back. He never said a word to my aunt about it, because he knew she wouldn’t agree to me lending him the money. He went and had a chat with the port managers and, because they knew him, they agreed to sell him one of the containers for four thousand.

‘They even delivered it to the back of the hotel just to get rid of it and free up the space. There was a piece of dead ground behind the customer car park and they dumped it there. My aunt freaked out when she saw it and refused to have anything to do with it. It was left to me, my uncle and my cousins to go outside and open it up.’

Aileen giggled at this, which made her appear even more youthful. ‘Not exactly,’ she chuckled. ‘There were one hundred pairs of knock-off Ugg boots at the front of the container. They looked exactly the same as the real thing, but my uncle told us they weren’t official merchandise. He said they looked like the real deal because they’d been manufactured in the same factory as the originals. He was very pleased because he knew the boots alone would cover the money he owed me. Behind the boots we found fifty cartons of counterfeit Nike trainers.’

‘By now, my uncle was breaking open a bottle of champagne. I could see the euro signs in his eyes. My aunt came outside to see what was happening and made a few noises about it being immoral to unload the merchandise on the Irish market because it wasn’t genuine. My uncle was having none of it. He said he had purchased the stock legally, and it would all end up on market stalls throughout the country and not on the high street. He told her when it was all sold and he had the cash in his hands, he was going to take her on the cruise she had always fancied. She stopped objecting when she heard this.’ Aileen giggled again.

‘Two enormous boxes of those colourful scooters the kids go mad for,’ Aileen grinned at her.

‘That was the best container ever,’ Pat stated flatly. ‘Was that the end of it?’

‘Nope,’ Aileen had a massive grin on her face now. ‘At the very back we hit the mother lode.’

‘We found twenty sacks of top quality Venezuelan cocoa beans,’ Aileen’s voice was awed.

‘But if the boots and scooters were manufactured in China, it stands to reason the container hailed from the orient, not South America,’ Gemma protested. ‘Why on earth would it be full of cocoa?’

‘I came to an arrangement with my uncle. I kept the beans, and he repaid my original loan within the week. That’s how long it took him to offload the gear. As soon as the word got out, it was sold within days. He let me store the sacks in a small storage room in the hotel. When the hotel chef saw what I had, he almost had a heart attack. He asked me if I wanted to sell the beans, or if I would prefer to keep them and learn more about making chocolate.

‘I told him I wanted to be a chocolatier if I had it in me, but had no way of knowing if I would be any good. He made a few calls to his chef friends and, in return for one sack of beans, a pal of his who was a confectioner for a fancy Waterford restaurant agreed to give me twelve lessons in chocolate making.

‘It took me three months to reach a reasonable standard, but it transpired I had a natural flair for it. I stayed working at the hotel while I was taking my lessons, but as soon as they finished, I started feeling very homesick. I took my beans and went home to my mam and dad, and that’s where I’ve been ever since. It’s not the chocolate that’s the problem, it’s me. I can’t seem to persuade folks to buy it. They all want to eat it, of course, but none of them are prepared to pay for the privilege.’

Dorothy finished her coffee and perused Aileen over the rim of her cup for a few minutes. Her mother and sister allowed her to process and did not interrupt the critical scrutiny. She eventually spoke.

‘Aileen, you need premises,’ she told the girl firmly. ‘You also need somebody to help you with the financial and marketing side of the business, which will leave you free to make the goodies. How does that sound?’

‘I have a few ideas,’ Dorothy said earnestly, ‘but I want you to come to Dublin for a day so you can meet my accountant and discuss the situation in detail. How does next month suit you?’

It was agreed that Aileen would take the train to Dublin and spend a day trying to formulate a plan. Dorothy had a feeling it would take some time to set it up because they had very little to build on except Aileen’s talent. Maybe that was enough for now. They wished Aileen luck with her latest selection of recipes, and urged her not to give up on the chocolate business.

‘You’re an extremely talented young woman,’ Pat assured her. ‘Our Dottie will sort you out, pet. You just need to keep the faith a little longer.’

A rather overwhelmed Aileen waved them off before returning to her empty stall for the final tidy up. Carrying their latest round of purchases, including the enormous cathedral amethyst, the three women set off for home, cheerful after such an enjoyable day out, yet exhausted from all the excitement.