Christmas at Rosie Hopkins’ Sweetshop
Page 42
‘I grew up round 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 blonde 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 glanced 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 he 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 round. 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 with 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 Cathryn, sending Moray out into the chilly day.
‘Where’s the shops?’ 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 which they eyed up curiously before trying them and announcing them ‘all right, yeah’. They then spent a nice quiet twenty minutes walking round the churchyard 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?’ asked 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 her last boyfriend for far too long and she hoped she wasn’t going to make the same mistake twice. Now, her mother 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.’
She started to hustle the children in from the garden. Meridian’s lip was pouting.
‘Why is my snowman not doing FLYING?’ she asked crossly.
‘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 blonde 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 glanced 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 he 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 round. 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 with 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 Cathryn, sending Moray out into the chilly day.
‘Where’s the shops?’ 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 which they eyed up curiously before trying them and announcing them ‘all right, yeah’. They then spent a nice quiet twenty minutes walking round the churchyard 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?’ asked 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 her last boyfriend for far too long and she hoped she wasn’t going to make the same mistake twice. Now, her mother 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.’
She started to hustle the children in from the garden. Meridian’s lip was pouting.
‘Why is my snowman not doing FLYING?’ she asked crossly.
