Christmas at Rosie Hopkins’ Sweetshop
Page 30
Cathryn turned round.
‘Get back inside, you two,’ she said. ‘Don’t listen to them,’ she added to Edward. ‘They’re boy-crazy.’
‘We just need a man to make up the… men contingent,’ said Ida Delia. ‘It’s really not fair.’
‘Also apparently he’s handsome,’ added Lilian.
‘Have you been listening at the door all this time?’
Edward couldn’t help smiling. The other homes he’d seen – the one his mother-in-law had ended up in – had been places of sadness and despair, simply waiting rooms for death. This seemed rather more like a nice country house hotel.
Of course that was reflected in the price, but they’d sold his father’s house when he’d moved in, and kept the money safe for exactly this, and well, they were doing all right, had a bit put by. Of course they wouldn’t inherit anything, and his dad probably wouldn’t notice if they stuck him in the Ritz or a jail cell, but that didn’t matter. It was about doing the right thing.
Edward believed very strongly in doing the right thing. He sometimes saw himself as being part of a thin line preventing the world from being overrun by texting hordes of terrifying hoodies. This meant he occasionally found the modern world a rude and uncertain place. But it also meant that when it came down to the wire, doing the right thing meant a lot to him, and he was bloody well going to do it now.
He eyed the two women.
‘Are you the troublemakers round here?’ he said with a smile.
‘They most certainly are,’ said Cathryn.
‘We most certainly aren’t,’ said the slender one in the dainty peach day dress, beautifully ironed. ‘We’re just sick of dancing with each other.’
‘She leads,’ explained the one with the long blonde hair, incongruous against the old face, the blue eyes milky and nearly buried but still valiantly lined with violet eyeliner.
‘I have to lead, I’m tallest.’
‘Not any more, you’ve shrunk. When we were ELEVEN you were tallest. And looked like a boy.’
‘Compared to you looking like a tart.’
‘Jealousy will get you nowhere.’
‘Jealous? Of you?’
‘Ladies!’ Cathryn stepped in. ‘You know, we probably could do with a few more men here, now you come to mention it,’ she said to Edward. ‘Let me see what we can do.’
‘Well, that would be wonderful.’
‘Are you sure you wouldn’t want to bring him in to have a look?’
‘I’ll try,’ said Edward, sighing.
The old man, after some cajoling, and some sweets, agreed to come up the steps. Lilian and Ida Delia watched excitedly through the window.
‘Ooh,’ said Lilian. ‘He’s tall. I like a tall man.’
‘You know who he reminds me of?’ said Ida Delia, but a sharp glance from Lilian reminded her that although it was many, many decades ago, the tall man they had once both loved, and lost, was not up for discussion. ‘His hair still curls,’ said Ida Delia quickly. Indeed, the patrician figure with the stick, his back still straight despite his great age, did make a good impression.
‘How much dementia?’ said Lilian. ‘Like, out of ten.’
‘You two,’ said Cathryn with a warning note in her voice. Then she stepped forward.
‘Mr Boyd,’ she said kindly, holding out her hand. The old man took it.
‘Nice… nice to meet you,’ he said in a voice that, though quavering, was still surprisingly deep. ‘Call me James.’
‘Welcome to our home.’
‘Delighted.’
Edward beamed, happy that his father was having one of his more lucid moments.
‘Now, would you like me to show you around?’
‘It’s nice and warm in here… I think I can take off my coat.’
Edward took it and hung it neatly on a hook by the door.
‘Come through and I’ll show you some of the facilities,’ said Cathryn. ‘Could you wipe your feet, please?’
James did so.
‘I think he’s fine,’ said Ida Delia.
‘I saw him first,’ said Lilian, an out-and-out lie.
The man looked up and saw them both. It was as if he froze for a second. Then, without warning, a tear fell from his eye.
‘Dad?’ said Edward, desperate for this not to go wrong. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said to Cathryn. ‘He’s been much better recently.’
‘New surroundings can be upsetting.’
‘You,’ said James, but it wasn’t at all clear who he meant or who he was pointing at.
‘Come and sit down and have a glass of water,’ said Cathryn. ‘And you two, SHOO. I mean it.’
Lilian and Ida Delia headed off to watch television together. They had a shared loathing for everyone who took part in scripted reality shows, and thus absolutely had to watch all of them in order to better anatomise and discuss the faults of the young people involved in them and therefore today’s society in general. They felt this was important work that often required tea and Smarties.
James recovered quite a lot once he’d sat down and had a cup of tea, and was almost voluble.
‘I am finding things difficult,’ he said haltingly. ‘My brain… it just won’t… The words won’t appear in my hands. No, not my hands. My mouth.’
Cathryn nodded.
‘I understand. It’s upsetting.’
‘And I know, I know I was born in Halifax, and I grew up there, but I don’t remember it, not at all. I just remember strange things all the time, like nothing makes any sense.’
‘I won’t lie to you,’ said Cathryn, taking in Edward too. ‘This is a horrible illness. We will do everything we can here to make things comfortable and easy for you. When it’s not snowing, a lot of people like to work in our garden.’
‘I used to shear sheep,’ said James suddenly. ‘Do you have sheep?’
‘He didn’t have anything to do with sheep,’ said Edward sotto voce. ‘He managed a printing company. He gets confused.’
‘No we don’t have sheep at the moment,’ Cathryn said. Then, turning to Edward, ‘We find it is often easier to agree with clients about what they think is happening. When it’s unimportant, it avoids unnecessary stress.’
‘Get back inside, you two,’ she said. ‘Don’t listen to them,’ she added to Edward. ‘They’re boy-crazy.’
‘We just need a man to make up the… men contingent,’ said Ida Delia. ‘It’s really not fair.’
‘Also apparently he’s handsome,’ added Lilian.
‘Have you been listening at the door all this time?’
Edward couldn’t help smiling. The other homes he’d seen – the one his mother-in-law had ended up in – had been places of sadness and despair, simply waiting rooms for death. This seemed rather more like a nice country house hotel.
Of course that was reflected in the price, but they’d sold his father’s house when he’d moved in, and kept the money safe for exactly this, and well, they were doing all right, had a bit put by. Of course they wouldn’t inherit anything, and his dad probably wouldn’t notice if they stuck him in the Ritz or a jail cell, but that didn’t matter. It was about doing the right thing.
Edward believed very strongly in doing the right thing. He sometimes saw himself as being part of a thin line preventing the world from being overrun by texting hordes of terrifying hoodies. This meant he occasionally found the modern world a rude and uncertain place. But it also meant that when it came down to the wire, doing the right thing meant a lot to him, and he was bloody well going to do it now.
He eyed the two women.
‘Are you the troublemakers round here?’ he said with a smile.
‘They most certainly are,’ said Cathryn.
‘We most certainly aren’t,’ said the slender one in the dainty peach day dress, beautifully ironed. ‘We’re just sick of dancing with each other.’
‘She leads,’ explained the one with the long blonde hair, incongruous against the old face, the blue eyes milky and nearly buried but still valiantly lined with violet eyeliner.
‘I have to lead, I’m tallest.’
‘Not any more, you’ve shrunk. When we were ELEVEN you were tallest. And looked like a boy.’
‘Compared to you looking like a tart.’
‘Jealousy will get you nowhere.’
‘Jealous? Of you?’
‘Ladies!’ Cathryn stepped in. ‘You know, we probably could do with a few more men here, now you come to mention it,’ she said to Edward. ‘Let me see what we can do.’
‘Well, that would be wonderful.’
‘Are you sure you wouldn’t want to bring him in to have a look?’
‘I’ll try,’ said Edward, sighing.
The old man, after some cajoling, and some sweets, agreed to come up the steps. Lilian and Ida Delia watched excitedly through the window.
‘Ooh,’ said Lilian. ‘He’s tall. I like a tall man.’
‘You know who he reminds me of?’ said Ida Delia, but a sharp glance from Lilian reminded her that although it was many, many decades ago, the tall man they had once both loved, and lost, was not up for discussion. ‘His hair still curls,’ said Ida Delia quickly. Indeed, the patrician figure with the stick, his back still straight despite his great age, did make a good impression.
‘How much dementia?’ said Lilian. ‘Like, out of ten.’
‘You two,’ said Cathryn with a warning note in her voice. Then she stepped forward.
‘Mr Boyd,’ she said kindly, holding out her hand. The old man took it.
‘Nice… nice to meet you,’ he said in a voice that, though quavering, was still surprisingly deep. ‘Call me James.’
‘Welcome to our home.’
‘Delighted.’
Edward beamed, happy that his father was having one of his more lucid moments.
‘Now, would you like me to show you around?’
‘It’s nice and warm in here… I think I can take off my coat.’
Edward took it and hung it neatly on a hook by the door.
‘Come through and I’ll show you some of the facilities,’ said Cathryn. ‘Could you wipe your feet, please?’
James did so.
‘I think he’s fine,’ said Ida Delia.
‘I saw him first,’ said Lilian, an out-and-out lie.
The man looked up and saw them both. It was as if he froze for a second. Then, without warning, a tear fell from his eye.
‘Dad?’ said Edward, desperate for this not to go wrong. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said to Cathryn. ‘He’s been much better recently.’
‘New surroundings can be upsetting.’
‘You,’ said James, but it wasn’t at all clear who he meant or who he was pointing at.
‘Come and sit down and have a glass of water,’ said Cathryn. ‘And you two, SHOO. I mean it.’
Lilian and Ida Delia headed off to watch television together. They had a shared loathing for everyone who took part in scripted reality shows, and thus absolutely had to watch all of them in order to better anatomise and discuss the faults of the young people involved in them and therefore today’s society in general. They felt this was important work that often required tea and Smarties.
James recovered quite a lot once he’d sat down and had a cup of tea, and was almost voluble.
‘I am finding things difficult,’ he said haltingly. ‘My brain… it just won’t… The words won’t appear in my hands. No, not my hands. My mouth.’
Cathryn nodded.
‘I understand. It’s upsetting.’
‘And I know, I know I was born in Halifax, and I grew up there, but I don’t remember it, not at all. I just remember strange things all the time, like nothing makes any sense.’
‘I won’t lie to you,’ said Cathryn, taking in Edward too. ‘This is a horrible illness. We will do everything we can here to make things comfortable and easy for you. When it’s not snowing, a lot of people like to work in our garden.’
‘I used to shear sheep,’ said James suddenly. ‘Do you have sheep?’
‘He didn’t have anything to do with sheep,’ said Edward sotto voce. ‘He managed a printing company. He gets confused.’
‘No we don’t have sheep at the moment,’ Cathryn said. Then, turning to Edward, ‘We find it is often easier to agree with clients about what they think is happening. When it’s unimportant, it avoids unnecessary stress.’
