Christmas at Rosie Hopkins' Sweetshop Page 16

  STEPHEN DROVE, TRYING to hold on to his conflicting emotions. Rosie glared at him to see if he was going to make a remark, but he kept his face totally neutral.

  “So, they seem nice,” he ventured finally.

  “They are,” said Rosie shortly. She could kill her mother. This was so absolutely not the time.

  There was a long pause as Stephen skillfully maneuvered the Land Rover around the snowy bends.

  “Of course,” said Rosie nervously, “you shouldn’t listen to any of Mum’s prattle really.”

  “Yes, she was a bit Mrs. Bennet, wasn’t she?” said Stephen without thinking.

  Rosie stiffened. “She’s wonderful,” she said tightly.

  “Of course,” said Stephen and dropped her off with a small kiss. Rosie watched the Land Rover vanish into the distance, partly furious with her mother, partly with a horrible sudden cold finger of doubt curling around her heart.

  Chapter 12

  THE OLD MAN’S heart rate was threadier than he’d like, thought Moray, but he was in a safe place now. The smell of lunch—­roast chicken, it seemed—­permeated the hallways, and the heating was cozy without being hopelessly overbearing, which Moray also approved of. Hot stuffy rooms spread infection; an open window here and there was a useful state of affairs. Blankets were dotted around to make sure nobody got cold. Edward Boyd was hovering anxiously. He would stay for the medical check-­up then make his way home—­alone.

  “I grew up around here, you know,” said the old man suddenly. At times he sounded completely sensible.

  “No you didn’t, Dad,” said Edward. “You grew up in Halifax.”

  “This was a school,” said James. “Not my school, just a school.”

  Moray glanced at the matron, who looked a bit surprised.

  “It was a school, actually,” she said. “After the First World War. A boys’ school.”

  “Maybe you played them at sport,” said Moray.

  “No, I used to cycle past. Look at their posh hats,” muttered James.

  “You’re a bit confused, Dad,” said Edward.

  “Aye,” said the man. “Aye.”

  Lilian flounced by.

  “Miss Hopkins?” said Moray with a warning tone in his voice. “Are you wearing blusher?”

  Ida Delia was right behind her, her faded dyed blond hair tied up with a pink ribbon.

  “I’ve never worn cosmetics in my life,” sniffed Lilian, lying through her teeth. “Oh, hello, Mr. Boyd,” she said in mock surprise. “How are you settling in?”

  The old man looked up. He stared at Lilian for a long time.

  “You look like someone,” he said.

  Lilian looked back at him. She’d suddenly had the most ridiculous feeling: this old man would be about Henry’s age, if Henry had lived. But would he have liked to live this long? To be so old and confused and distracted by life? In her memory, Henry was always young, always strong, with nut-­brown curly hair, and a freckled nose, and strong white teeth and a ready laugh.

  “Yes . . . the town tart,” said Ida Delia.

  “I’m cutting off your lemon sherbets,” said Lilian. “You’re acidic enough.”

  But James was still staring at her, looking confused. Moray had to prompt him a few times to get him to respond.

  “Watch this one doesn’t get overexcited,” he said to Cathryn. “His heart isn’t exactly what I’d like it to be.”

  Edward’s grip tightened on the side of the chair.

  “Oh no, I don’t mean anything awful,” said Moray. “He’s in reasonable health, mostly, apart from his poor old brain, and his heart is a little weak. So. Worth keeping an eye on.”

  Edward nodded.

  “Which means you two minxes staying away from him.”

  “Lilian,” said James suddenly, out of the blue.

  Lilian whipped around. Hearing her name like that, just when she’d been thinking about Henry . . . well, it was silly. They had some accent in common, something that made it sound similar.

  They looked at each other for a second.

  “That’s right,” said Moray, pleased. “That’s her name.”

  “James,” said Lilian.

  Cathryn took Moray aside on his way out.

  “I hope he’ll be okay,” said Moray.

  “I’m sure he will,” said Cathryn. “He’s in good hands”

  She paused for a moment.

  “But here’s a funny thing: I’ve only ever referred to Lilian as Miss Hopkins.”

  They looked at each other for a moment, then Moray shrugged.

  “Amazing what ­people pick up, even in dementia. If you’re lucky, he’ll get a bit of respite by being here, having a routine, same thing every day. I’m sure it’ll help.”

  “Here’s hoping” said the Cathryn, sending Moray out into the chilly day.

  “WHERE’S THE SHOPPING?” Angie had wondered. “What do you do all day?” and Rosie had found it impossible to explain that actually, she kept very busy. Desleigh had said it reminded her of Wagga Wagga where she’d grown up, where nothing ever happened and there were just lots and lots of sheep, and she had been so pleased to move to Sydney, but she didn’t hear many ­people saying they did the same thing in reverse.

  Rosie had smiled and bitten her lip and not responded, which seemed best under the circumstances. She bought the children pasties at the local bakery; they eyed them curiously before trying them and pronouncing them “all right, yeah.” Then they spent a nice quiet twenty minutes walking around the churchyard and finishing them off.

  “Is that it?” said Desleigh at the end.

  “Well, there’s the Red Lion,” said Rosie, slightly desperately. “And Manly’s.” They went into the boutique, not without some sniggering from Angie and Desleigh, who were, Rosie noted with something surprisingly like jealousy, thick as thieves. And it was pretty rich for them to be sneering at extra-­large blazers and waxed coats when they were wearing leisure wear, tight in Angie’s case, very baggy in Desleigh’s. After this they had a ploughman’s back at the cottage, and the kids drank cream soda and declared it to be excellent, and then it was time to go and see Lilian.

  “Do I need to prepare them for anything?” said Angie slightly anxiously. Shane had put down his video game long enough to help Kelly and Meridian build a snowman out in the back garden, complete with woolly hat and a potato for a nose, and Meridian was trying to take its hand and encourage it to fly.

  “No, it’s actually really nice,” said Rosie. “Really, don’t worry about it, it’s a nice place for her to be.”

  “I haven’t seen her for . . . oh, years,” said Angie. She looked straight at Rosie. Rosie had mentioned earlier that Angie had taken the wrong tone with Stephen. Angie had looked huffy and said something about her having hung around with the last boyfriend for far too long and she hoped she wasn’t going to make the same mistake twice. Now Angie looked more worried.

  “Do you think . . . I mean, was she cross I didn’t come to look after her?”

  “Oh Mum, are you worried about that? No, of course not. She was furious anyone came, I promise. Couldn’t get a civil word out of her for months. It’s just her way, so don’t worry about it, okay?’

  “Okay,” said Angie. “It’s just, she was so kind to me when you were little and . . .”

  “And she’s going to be delighted you’ve come all this way to see her,” said Rosie firmly. “Come on, let’s go. It’ll be great.”

  And she started to hustle the little ones in from the garden. Meridian’s lip was pouting.

  “Why is my snowman not doing FLYING?” she asked crossly.

  Rosie looked at it.

  “I saw a snowman on television. He did FLYING.”

  “Yes,” said Rosie, crouching down next to her. “But did he do flying in the day time or at night?” />
  Meridian thought for a moment.

  “NIGHT time.”

  “Well, there you go. I think he only goes flying in the nighttime.”

  “I’ll wait at nighttime,” said Meridian. “Can I go with him if he goes flying?”

  “Of course!” said Rosie.

  Meridian slipped her little chilly hand into Rosie’s warm one.

  “Shall we go and see your great-­great-­aunt?”

  Meridian frowned.

  “Is she going to be scary? Shane says she’s scary, and Kelly said she’s a witch who’s going to eat me.”

  “Ke-­ll-­ee!!!” shouted Angie.

  “I never!” shouted Kelly loudly without hearing what she was being accused of. “I never did!”

  “They get on beautifully,” said Angie. “Normally.”

  “She’s not going to eat you,” said Rosie. “She’s very nice.”

  She remembered Lilian’s crusty exterior. “When you get to know her. Shall we take her some sweeties? She might share them with you.”

  Meridian’s face lit up as Rosie led her into the shop, Kelly and Shane immediately pushing and shoving their way in behind.

  All three fell silent when confronted with the bounty before them. Sunlight bounced off the icicles that had formed in the windows and was reflected on the large glass jars that stretched to the ceiling full of every manner and color of bright boiled sweets: pineapple cubes and sour apples and plums; lemon drops and cherry lips; kola cubes and livid orange suckers. On another shelf, the deep browns of the toffees—­vanilla, mint, orange, dark, treacle, banana—­blended with the soft penny caramels and the fudge; all Cornish, some with rum and raisin (despite Lilian’s express instructions), some with whisky and Baileys. Meridian’s attention was caught by the delicate raspberry pink and white of the coconut ice in a jar, and her little finger pointed at it longingly.

  “This. Is. Ace,” breathed Shane, all his nine-­year-­old cool forgotten as he gazed around and around.

  “Yes, well, we’re not going to go nuts,” said Rosie sternly, realizing with a start that she suddenly sounded exactly like Lilian.

  Desleigh had followed them in.

  “Oh my Gawd,” she said. “Look at this, it’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.”

  “It’s quite a successful business, actually,” said Rosie, bristling a bit. She didn’t like ­people thinking it was just a hobby.

  “Can we have some, Mum? Please? I want to spend all my pocket money.”

  “Oh, you don’t have to pay here,” said Desleigh. “Have whatever you like.”

  Rosie bit her lip. Their profit levels weren’t quite up to being attacked by three small locusts. On the other hand, they had flown all this way.

  “Well, I don’t want to make you all sick,” she said. “You can all try one thing every day, okay?”

  “Aww,” said Desleigh as if Rosie were being horribly mean. “Well, I’ll start with some of that fudge, thanks!”

  Kelly chose what her mother had; Shane took a long time to decide but eventually plumped for a Wham Bar, which Rosie approved of in terms of how quiet it would keep him, and Meridian kept holding up her finger toward the coconut ice. Rosie lifted her onto the counter.

  “Have you tried this before?” she said. Meridian shook her head shyly.

  “Well,” said Rosie. “I think you’re going to like it.”

  Meridian obediently opened her mouth wide, and Rosie broke off a piece and dropped it in. Meridian’s eyes popped open.

  “Ooh,” she said. “That’s YUM YUM YUM YUM YUM.”

  “Me and Mummy chose the best thing, didn’t we, Mummy?” said Kelly, who, Rosie had noticed, was roughly the same soft shape as her mother. “Yes, we did. We chose the best one.”

  Meridian’s face started to crumple.

  “I’ll tell you a secret,” said Rosie, whispering in her ear and popping a piece of coconut ice into her own mouth. “This is MY favorite.”

  Meridian smiled and stuck out her tongue at her sister. “We’ve got OUR favorites.”

  Angie fussed in, the bell tinging. “Okay, come on, come on, let’s go.”

  She looked around at the shop.

  “Oh,” she said, suddenly lost for words. She looked at Rosie.

  “Oh Rosie, it hasn’t changed . . . You’ve . . . It . . . I mean, was it like this when you found it?”

  Rosie shook her head, remembering the enormous amount of work she’d needed to do to clean and sort the place out.

  “Not exactly,” she said tactfully.

  “It’s . . . it’s exactly how I remember it. Except I was looking at it from Kelly’s height then, I suppose.” Her taut brown face suddenly seemed to sag a little.

  “What’s up, Mum?” said Rosie.

  “Oh, nothing,” said Angie. “I just miss your grandfather, that’s all.”

  She choked a bit.

  “Mind you, he hated it up here. Said it was too quiet. I don’t think he ever got over losing his brother. Never had a mum either.”

  “I know,” said Rosie. “Lilian told me all about it.”

  “So there weren’t a lot of happy memories for him up here. And Gordon, he was always a bit of a lad about town.”

  She shook her head.

  “It’s amazing,” she said. “Imagine you coming back here. Well, well, well, blood will out.”

  Rosie nodded.

  “I suppose.”

  “Look at you—­have you got an apron?”

  “I certainly do.”

  Angie shook her head. “Ha. After all I tried to do to get you a proper education . . . qualified nurse . . . you end up working in a shop!”

  “Running a shop!” said Rosie, stung. “Cor, you’re going to get along with Stephen’s mum.”

  LILIAN HAD COMMANDEERED the major drawing room in the home, the one with the good coffee bar and some ­people trying to have a game of dominoes who complained bitterly when she moved them off.

  “Well, my entire family has flown over from Australia to be with me over Christmas,” she said loudly. “They’ve come right across the entire world because they care so much about me. Is your family coming today, Aggie? I’ll clear right out immediately if they are.”

  Aggie sniffed and made a remark about some ­people being very much in love with themselves and pride coming before a fall and some such, but Lilian stood her ground, completely unabashed, and when Rosie and everyone turned up in the Land Rover, she stood as if welcoming them to her charming home, gracious as a queen.

  “Angela,” she said, opening her arms. “Oh my, what are you doing to your skin? Is that what it’s like in Australia? You look like leatherette.”

  Desleigh’s eyes popped open, and Rosie’s hand flew to her mouth, but Angie only said, “Oh, Lil, it’s called having a lovely tan. Shut up and come here.”

  The two women embraced.

  “You’re a lot less fat,” said Lilian.

  “I know,” said Angie. “It’s Zumba. I’m great at it.”

  “I don’t know what that means,” said Lilian. “But well done.”

  “You look amazing,” said Angie. “You don’t look like you need to be in a home at all.”

  Lilian preened. “I know,” she said in a stage whisper. “I wanted to make things easy on Rosie.”

  This was such an outrageous lie that Rosie nearly coughed up the last tiny bit of coconut ice that Meridian had insisted on sharing with her.

  “Well, that was very kind of you,” said Angie. Pip came forward, looking cheery and a bit confused. Stephen’s moleskin trousers were far too long for him, and he’d had to roll them up at the bottom. He was wearing them with espadrilles.

  “The only thing about being in here,” said Lilian carefully, “is that you have trouble keeping up with fashion.”


  “Hi,” said Pip, who in truth barely remembered her; just Christmases of Rosie rolling about because she’d eaten so much caramel she thought she was going to explode, and the time he was sick because he’d eaten too many rainbow drops.

  “And who are these little ­people?”

  Shane had dived behind his DS again. Rosie would have grabbed it off him, but neither Pip nor Desleigh seemed to be paying it much attention. Rosie pushed Kelly forward, but Kelly clung to her mother.

  “Hello,” said Meridian, going up and shaking hands very formally. “I’m Spiderman.”

  Lilian smiled and shook her hand carefully.

  “Spiderman, it is very nice to meet you.”

  She looked at her closely.

  “Now, I think I can guess something about you,” she said. “Shall we see?”

  “She’s a witch,” Kelly whispered loudly behind Desleigh.

  “Do you,” asked Lilian, “like to eat coconut ice?”

  Meridian’s eyes widened immediately, and she nodded her head, in awe of the old lady’s powers.

  “Yes!!!” she whispered.

  “I have some more inside,” said Lilian, ushering them in out of the cold.

  “You haven’t!” said Rosie. “I told Cathryn to watch out for contraband. You have to eat the food they have here.”

  “You’d have to get up pretty early in the morning to catch me out,” said Lilian gaily as Rosie kissed the soft white cheek.

  “Oh,” she said suddenly, touching it. “You know, it is wonderful to see you all.”

  “I know,” said Rosie. “Also, can you come to dinner tonight?”

  “This is a very late invitation.”

  Rosie rolled her eyes.

  “Why, what else is in your diary?”

  “Don’t be a smart alec. It’s ballroom dancing tonight, so there, and I want to see what the new man is like at a foxtrot.”

  “Fine, don’t come.”

  “Is it the Red Lion?”

  “No, Hetty’s invited us up.”

  “Oh yes,” said Lilian. “I’d completely forgotten.”

  “She invited you already?”