Christmas at Rosie Hopkins’ Sweetshop
Page 28
‘But it makes our kind of sense,’ said Rosie, hot-faced and tongue-tied. ‘It makes emotional sense. It’s right to have our own school for our own children.’
‘It’s not about keeping our children here,’ said Roy. ‘It’s about what’s best for them, remember? And I don’t think what’s best for them is letting a lorry plough through the middle of them.’
Rosie bit her lip at the harshness of his words. He then pulled out a long list of figures. There was absolutely no denying they made terrible reading. It would save a huge proportion of the budget to shut down the school. Rosie thought of Tina having to give up her job because she’d have to get up so early to get Kent and Emily on the bus to school. How long before she jacked it in and moved? She thought of Stephen, and what he would do without a job – or would he commute too? She hated this idea. Stephen wasn’t made for sitting in a car. He was made for striding happily with his stick in a town where everyone knew him, teaching his own way – Mrs Baptiste let him get on with things – instead of stuck in endless meeting and marking sessions. He would be miserable in Carningford, with its chain stores and fast-food outlets and 2-for-1 drinks nights, lit up by neon signs. Saturday night in town was an absolute no-go area unless you wanted to get into a fight. She sighed. But the figures…
After everyone had had a chance to properly digest them, and a few more people had pontificated one way or the other, it was time for the vote. Roy was looking smug, confident that his economic talk would prevail. And then the hands went up.
‘All those in favour of moving the children to Carningford, active immediately?’
Roy, his brother and Dorothy Isitt raised their hands. Roy looked annoyed.
‘And against?’
The woman from the bakery, Lady Lipton and, to Rosie’s surprised delight, Peter Isitt raised their hands. He’d be in trouble with Dorothy tonight. She was already shooting him rude looks across the table.
‘Well, Hye agrees with me,’ said Roy immediately and fussily. ‘He told me already, we can’t afford it.’
‘But Hye’s not here,’ said Lady Lipton.
‘But he would vote in favour! He told me already.’
‘Unfortunately, Hye’s not here,’ repeated Lady Lipton. ‘And as chair of the council, I’m afraid I have the casting vote. Which means I have to welcome an enormous bunch of the little brats into my own home. I can’t believe what I was thinking of.’
Rosie leapt up, excited.
‘Yay!’
Roy looked absolutely furious.
‘But Hye —’
‘It’s too late!’ said Rosie, resisting the temptation to add, ‘in your face’. ‘The vote’s binding, isn’t it?’
The woman from the bakery was already excitedly typing up the minutes.
‘And Stephen gets home tonight!’ said Rosie excitedly. ‘He can start back practically straight away!’
Roy was still staring at his page of figures, stabbing it with a pen.
‘Can you leave us whilst we get on with other business?’ said Lady Lipton to Rosie, who bounced out before anyone tried to change their mind, winking at Peter Isitt, who blushed and looked down at his hands.
Rosie swung by the doctor’s surgery.
‘Can’t stop,’ said Moray, dashing into the waiting room. ‘I’m rushed off my feet today. Short-handed.’
‘Because Hye…’
‘Food poisoning,’ said Moray, his handsome face totally smooth and unreadable. ‘Poor chap. Something he ate disagreed with him.’
Rosie stared at him.
‘Of course you would never…’
‘What on earth are you implying?’ said Moray. ‘I hope you wouldn’t be making dreadful medical and legal slurs against me.’
‘No,’ said Rosie quickly. ‘Not at all.’
‘If a man guzzles his bodyweight in oysters and foie gras at the golf club every night, statistics say it’s bound to catch up with him sooner or later.’
‘Okay, okay.’
And she waltzed up the high street to tell Tina the wonderful news.
Rosie was terrified of driving home in the dark on the snow-covered road. Having an irritable passenger behind her wasn’t particularly helping.
‘Watch out for that,’ Stephen was saying. He was, ridiculously, lying along one of the sideways seats in the back of the Land Rover, piled high with blankets. Rosie felt like she was driving a mission in the Second World War. But sitting up was still a little too painful, even though the doctors had said his wounds were healing faster than any they’d ever known. He could stand and move around perfectly well, but sitting was more difficult.
‘They should have fitted you with a robot bum,’ Rosie had said, and Stephen had ignored her in front of the consultant. He had made a couple of remarks about missing the painkillers, but seemed quite chipper on the whole. Only Rosie could tell from the clench of his jaw that he was still in quite a lot of pain.
‘Watch out for deer on the road.’
‘Deer?’ said Rosie. ‘Oh for goodness’ sake. I slightly have my hands full watching out for snow, ice, darkness, great big horrible lorries, hedges and schools. And I can’t see any of those things. And someone is distracting me from the back.’
Stephen flopped back on the bench seat. Rosie checked out his strong profile in the rear-view mirror. He was biting his lip distractedly. She had to force herself to keep her eyes on the road, he looked so handsome. They hadn’t seen another car in miles; it felt like they were alone in the universe. The moon shone full in a cloudless sky and lit up the frosted countryside all around, so it was barely dark at all, despite Rosie’s complaining. One by one the bright yellow stars popped out, and the moon gave off a cold light, so that the outline of the distant hills was visible. The cold and the stillness made her feel as though they were on an alien planet.
Stephen gazed out of the window, steeling himself. This time he was not going to fall into his old trap of getting caught up in his head. He would not close his eyes and see, again and again and again, the shape of the huge lorry pushing a hole through the classroom; he would not hear the roar of the engine and the sharply rushing wind. He blinked and focused on the distant stars.
Rosie turned on the radio. A young choirboy was singing ‘Do you see what I see?’ very slowly and sweetly. It was incredibly beautiful. They both listened to it in silence. When it had finished, Rosie noticed Stephen surreptitiously wiping his eye.
‘It’s not about keeping our children here,’ said Roy. ‘It’s about what’s best for them, remember? And I don’t think what’s best for them is letting a lorry plough through the middle of them.’
Rosie bit her lip at the harshness of his words. He then pulled out a long list of figures. There was absolutely no denying they made terrible reading. It would save a huge proportion of the budget to shut down the school. Rosie thought of Tina having to give up her job because she’d have to get up so early to get Kent and Emily on the bus to school. How long before she jacked it in and moved? She thought of Stephen, and what he would do without a job – or would he commute too? She hated this idea. Stephen wasn’t made for sitting in a car. He was made for striding happily with his stick in a town where everyone knew him, teaching his own way – Mrs Baptiste let him get on with things – instead of stuck in endless meeting and marking sessions. He would be miserable in Carningford, with its chain stores and fast-food outlets and 2-for-1 drinks nights, lit up by neon signs. Saturday night in town was an absolute no-go area unless you wanted to get into a fight. She sighed. But the figures…
After everyone had had a chance to properly digest them, and a few more people had pontificated one way or the other, it was time for the vote. Roy was looking smug, confident that his economic talk would prevail. And then the hands went up.
‘All those in favour of moving the children to Carningford, active immediately?’
Roy, his brother and Dorothy Isitt raised their hands. Roy looked annoyed.
‘And against?’
The woman from the bakery, Lady Lipton and, to Rosie’s surprised delight, Peter Isitt raised their hands. He’d be in trouble with Dorothy tonight. She was already shooting him rude looks across the table.
‘Well, Hye agrees with me,’ said Roy immediately and fussily. ‘He told me already, we can’t afford it.’
‘But Hye’s not here,’ said Lady Lipton.
‘But he would vote in favour! He told me already.’
‘Unfortunately, Hye’s not here,’ repeated Lady Lipton. ‘And as chair of the council, I’m afraid I have the casting vote. Which means I have to welcome an enormous bunch of the little brats into my own home. I can’t believe what I was thinking of.’
Rosie leapt up, excited.
‘Yay!’
Roy looked absolutely furious.
‘But Hye —’
‘It’s too late!’ said Rosie, resisting the temptation to add, ‘in your face’. ‘The vote’s binding, isn’t it?’
The woman from the bakery was already excitedly typing up the minutes.
‘And Stephen gets home tonight!’ said Rosie excitedly. ‘He can start back practically straight away!’
Roy was still staring at his page of figures, stabbing it with a pen.
‘Can you leave us whilst we get on with other business?’ said Lady Lipton to Rosie, who bounced out before anyone tried to change their mind, winking at Peter Isitt, who blushed and looked down at his hands.
Rosie swung by the doctor’s surgery.
‘Can’t stop,’ said Moray, dashing into the waiting room. ‘I’m rushed off my feet today. Short-handed.’
‘Because Hye…’
‘Food poisoning,’ said Moray, his handsome face totally smooth and unreadable. ‘Poor chap. Something he ate disagreed with him.’
Rosie stared at him.
‘Of course you would never…’
‘What on earth are you implying?’ said Moray. ‘I hope you wouldn’t be making dreadful medical and legal slurs against me.’
‘No,’ said Rosie quickly. ‘Not at all.’
‘If a man guzzles his bodyweight in oysters and foie gras at the golf club every night, statistics say it’s bound to catch up with him sooner or later.’
‘Okay, okay.’
And she waltzed up the high street to tell Tina the wonderful news.
Rosie was terrified of driving home in the dark on the snow-covered road. Having an irritable passenger behind her wasn’t particularly helping.
‘Watch out for that,’ Stephen was saying. He was, ridiculously, lying along one of the sideways seats in the back of the Land Rover, piled high with blankets. Rosie felt like she was driving a mission in the Second World War. But sitting up was still a little too painful, even though the doctors had said his wounds were healing faster than any they’d ever known. He could stand and move around perfectly well, but sitting was more difficult.
‘They should have fitted you with a robot bum,’ Rosie had said, and Stephen had ignored her in front of the consultant. He had made a couple of remarks about missing the painkillers, but seemed quite chipper on the whole. Only Rosie could tell from the clench of his jaw that he was still in quite a lot of pain.
‘Watch out for deer on the road.’
‘Deer?’ said Rosie. ‘Oh for goodness’ sake. I slightly have my hands full watching out for snow, ice, darkness, great big horrible lorries, hedges and schools. And I can’t see any of those things. And someone is distracting me from the back.’
Stephen flopped back on the bench seat. Rosie checked out his strong profile in the rear-view mirror. He was biting his lip distractedly. She had to force herself to keep her eyes on the road, he looked so handsome. They hadn’t seen another car in miles; it felt like they were alone in the universe. The moon shone full in a cloudless sky and lit up the frosted countryside all around, so it was barely dark at all, despite Rosie’s complaining. One by one the bright yellow stars popped out, and the moon gave off a cold light, so that the outline of the distant hills was visible. The cold and the stillness made her feel as though they were on an alien planet.
Stephen gazed out of the window, steeling himself. This time he was not going to fall into his old trap of getting caught up in his head. He would not close his eyes and see, again and again and again, the shape of the huge lorry pushing a hole through the classroom; he would not hear the roar of the engine and the sharply rushing wind. He blinked and focused on the distant stars.
Rosie turned on the radio. A young choirboy was singing ‘Do you see what I see?’ very slowly and sweetly. It was incredibly beautiful. They both listened to it in silence. When it had finished, Rosie noticed Stephen surreptitiously wiping his eye.
