Christmas at Rosie Hopkins’ Sweetshop
Page 55
‘“What can I give him? Poor as I am. If I were a shepherd, I would bring a lamb.”’
Lilian glanced sideways. James Boyd was watching the girl sing, tears rolling down his cheeks.
‘Shepherd,’ he said, barely audible.
Lilian took his old wrinkled hand in hers and patted it.
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘You’re a shepherd.’
‘I’m a shepherd.’
At the back of the room, Tina and Rosie were both in bits as Emily’s pure, high voice rang out.
‘She’s amazing!’ said Rosie.
‘I know!’ said Tina.
‘Sssh,’ said Meridian. ‘I listening.’
Stephen smiled in glee as the rousing ‘Ding Dong Merrily on High’ started up – with the glorias as usual spinning wildly out of control. And then, to finish things off, one of the big boys, self-conscious, sat down with his guitar, and suddenly twenty-four little sets of bells appeared from underneath chairs.
‘“While shepherds watched their flocks by night, all seated on the ground, an angel of the Lord came down, and glory shone around… SWEET BELLS!”’ hollered the children, thrashing the bells with vast enthusiasm. ‘“SWEET CHIMING SILVER BELLS! SWEET BELLS! SWEET CHIMING CHRISTMAS BELLS! THEY CHEER US ON OUR HEAVENLY WAY, SWEET CHIMING BELLS!”’
It was uproarious, and the applause raised the roof. Stephen, rather overcome by the success of the music, looked pink-faced and proud. Rosie stole a glance at Hetty. She had her gaze firmly fixed on the mulled wine. Ugh, that dreadful woman.
‘And now,’ Stephen announced loudly, with a grin. He had been hoping to do this proudly in front of the entire village – a bit schmaltzy, but it was Christmas – but this would have to do. ‘We have two very special guests!’
‘Santa!’ There was a muffled buzz amongst the children, now sitting cross-legged in front of the stage. Stephen smiled and hushed them. Mrs Baptiste started up a rousing tune.
‘Ta-dah!’ said Stephen. And on came Peter Isitt, done up in a proper St Nick’s outfit, with a long cloak and black boots and a big white beard.
‘He had to get a CRB check for this,’ whispered Tina. But then she fell silent as she saw who was beside him. Waving madly from a wheelchair decorated with tinsel, pushed by his proud father, was Edison.
Even in a half-empty room, the cheer shook the foundations of the old house and the children all rang their bells.
Edison’s face was wreathed in smiles. He’d never been so popular in his entire life. One by one all the adults got to their feet. Rosie was totally choked, and clapped her hands together so hard they hurt.
Edison was wearing, as well as his shiny new gold-rimmed glasses, a small elf’s hat, and Peter let him read out the name on every gift and pass it over to the relevant child. Being Edison, of course, he insisted on embellishing the job and shaking every child’s hand formally as he handed over the book-shaped parcels, congratulating them on being nice rather than naughty. Mrs Laird moved into position behind the big vats of mulled wine and hot chocolate on the far table, and Tina and Rosie helped themselves gratefully to wine. Tina blushingly accepted compliments about Emily. She had been such a quiet little thing – it had got so much worse since the accident – and here she was, singing her little heart out. Tina’s own heart swelled with pride.
‘Amazing,’ said Rosie. ‘Now I must go and see Edison. Um, and Stephen.’
But before she could thread her way through the crowd to the makeshift stage, there was a commotion at the front door. Her head shot round.
‘What is this?’ Hetty said, very loudly, filled with horror at the idea of normal people coming in the front rather than the back door.
Tina twisted her head round too. It was Jake, absolutely filthy.
‘Oh,’ she said.
‘Have we missed it?’ said Jake. There was a small group of men behind him, equally mucky. Rosie spotted Moray among them.
‘What on EARTH is going on?’ said Hetty, and for once, Rosie wanted to know exactly the same thing.
‘Damn, we’ve missed it,’ said Jake. ‘Bloody weather held us up. Oh well… follow us.’
‘What?’
‘Everyone in your cars,’ said Moray, smiling. ‘Come on, follow us. We have something to show you.’
‘Certainly not,’ said Cathryn, but Rosie and Tina had started forward.
‘What on earth are you up to?’ hissed Rosie.
‘Didn’t you hear me?’ said Moray. ‘Everyone in their cars.’
Cathryn kept the old people inside, but the rest of them piled into the various Land Rovers and SUVs around the front of Lipton Hall; they made an odd procession filing into the village.
After ten minutes or so, they stopped. Rosie gasped, stunned by what she saw.
Newly painted, freshly done up, Lipton Primary School stood exactly as it had done before.
‘What the…’ She stepped out, completely gobsmacked. ‘How… what the hell?’
Jake laughed at the expression on her face. Rosie turned to Stephen, who, Pied Piper-like, was leading a small crocodile of children out of a minivan.
‘Did you know about this?’
‘Know about it? He was here with us till four o’clock this morning.’
‘I thought you were on the piss at the Red Lion.’
‘Did you?’ said Stephen.
‘But…’
‘Jake’s been working on it on the sly since the accident,’ said Moray. ‘It was just the final push last night and today, positioning the Portakabin. We kind of hoped we’d have it done in time to move the concert.’
‘Yeah,’ said Stephen. ‘We held on as long as we could, but you know there’s hell to pay if we keep them in too late. Not least from my ruddy mother.’
Hetty was examining the new school with a sense of great satisfaction.
‘Well, quite,’ she said.
Mrs Baptiste looked like she couldn’t quite believe it.
‘Is it okay?’ she asked. ‘Will it pass its legal tests and fire regulations and all that?’
‘Done already,’ said the local fire officer, smiling. ‘Jumped the queue. I don’t want to send Danny and Fran to Carningford any more than anybody else.’
Tina flung her arms around Jake.
‘You are the best man in the history of the world,’ she said. ‘Oh, I wish you’d heard Emily sing.’
Lilian glanced sideways. James Boyd was watching the girl sing, tears rolling down his cheeks.
‘Shepherd,’ he said, barely audible.
Lilian took his old wrinkled hand in hers and patted it.
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘You’re a shepherd.’
‘I’m a shepherd.’
At the back of the room, Tina and Rosie were both in bits as Emily’s pure, high voice rang out.
‘She’s amazing!’ said Rosie.
‘I know!’ said Tina.
‘Sssh,’ said Meridian. ‘I listening.’
Stephen smiled in glee as the rousing ‘Ding Dong Merrily on High’ started up – with the glorias as usual spinning wildly out of control. And then, to finish things off, one of the big boys, self-conscious, sat down with his guitar, and suddenly twenty-four little sets of bells appeared from underneath chairs.
‘“While shepherds watched their flocks by night, all seated on the ground, an angel of the Lord came down, and glory shone around… SWEET BELLS!”’ hollered the children, thrashing the bells with vast enthusiasm. ‘“SWEET CHIMING SILVER BELLS! SWEET BELLS! SWEET CHIMING CHRISTMAS BELLS! THEY CHEER US ON OUR HEAVENLY WAY, SWEET CHIMING BELLS!”’
It was uproarious, and the applause raised the roof. Stephen, rather overcome by the success of the music, looked pink-faced and proud. Rosie stole a glance at Hetty. She had her gaze firmly fixed on the mulled wine. Ugh, that dreadful woman.
‘And now,’ Stephen announced loudly, with a grin. He had been hoping to do this proudly in front of the entire village – a bit schmaltzy, but it was Christmas – but this would have to do. ‘We have two very special guests!’
‘Santa!’ There was a muffled buzz amongst the children, now sitting cross-legged in front of the stage. Stephen smiled and hushed them. Mrs Baptiste started up a rousing tune.
‘Ta-dah!’ said Stephen. And on came Peter Isitt, done up in a proper St Nick’s outfit, with a long cloak and black boots and a big white beard.
‘He had to get a CRB check for this,’ whispered Tina. But then she fell silent as she saw who was beside him. Waving madly from a wheelchair decorated with tinsel, pushed by his proud father, was Edison.
Even in a half-empty room, the cheer shook the foundations of the old house and the children all rang their bells.
Edison’s face was wreathed in smiles. He’d never been so popular in his entire life. One by one all the adults got to their feet. Rosie was totally choked, and clapped her hands together so hard they hurt.
Edison was wearing, as well as his shiny new gold-rimmed glasses, a small elf’s hat, and Peter let him read out the name on every gift and pass it over to the relevant child. Being Edison, of course, he insisted on embellishing the job and shaking every child’s hand formally as he handed over the book-shaped parcels, congratulating them on being nice rather than naughty. Mrs Laird moved into position behind the big vats of mulled wine and hot chocolate on the far table, and Tina and Rosie helped themselves gratefully to wine. Tina blushingly accepted compliments about Emily. She had been such a quiet little thing – it had got so much worse since the accident – and here she was, singing her little heart out. Tina’s own heart swelled with pride.
‘Amazing,’ said Rosie. ‘Now I must go and see Edison. Um, and Stephen.’
But before she could thread her way through the crowd to the makeshift stage, there was a commotion at the front door. Her head shot round.
‘What is this?’ Hetty said, very loudly, filled with horror at the idea of normal people coming in the front rather than the back door.
Tina twisted her head round too. It was Jake, absolutely filthy.
‘Oh,’ she said.
‘Have we missed it?’ said Jake. There was a small group of men behind him, equally mucky. Rosie spotted Moray among them.
‘What on EARTH is going on?’ said Hetty, and for once, Rosie wanted to know exactly the same thing.
‘Damn, we’ve missed it,’ said Jake. ‘Bloody weather held us up. Oh well… follow us.’
‘What?’
‘Everyone in your cars,’ said Moray, smiling. ‘Come on, follow us. We have something to show you.’
‘Certainly not,’ said Cathryn, but Rosie and Tina had started forward.
‘What on earth are you up to?’ hissed Rosie.
‘Didn’t you hear me?’ said Moray. ‘Everyone in their cars.’
Cathryn kept the old people inside, but the rest of them piled into the various Land Rovers and SUVs around the front of Lipton Hall; they made an odd procession filing into the village.
After ten minutes or so, they stopped. Rosie gasped, stunned by what she saw.
Newly painted, freshly done up, Lipton Primary School stood exactly as it had done before.
‘What the…’ She stepped out, completely gobsmacked. ‘How… what the hell?’
Jake laughed at the expression on her face. Rosie turned to Stephen, who, Pied Piper-like, was leading a small crocodile of children out of a minivan.
‘Did you know about this?’
‘Know about it? He was here with us till four o’clock this morning.’
‘I thought you were on the piss at the Red Lion.’
‘Did you?’ said Stephen.
‘But…’
‘Jake’s been working on it on the sly since the accident,’ said Moray. ‘It was just the final push last night and today, positioning the Portakabin. We kind of hoped we’d have it done in time to move the concert.’
‘Yeah,’ said Stephen. ‘We held on as long as we could, but you know there’s hell to pay if we keep them in too late. Not least from my ruddy mother.’
Hetty was examining the new school with a sense of great satisfaction.
‘Well, quite,’ she said.
Mrs Baptiste looked like she couldn’t quite believe it.
‘Is it okay?’ she asked. ‘Will it pass its legal tests and fire regulations and all that?’
‘Done already,’ said the local fire officer, smiling. ‘Jumped the queue. I don’t want to send Danny and Fran to Carningford any more than anybody else.’
Tina flung her arms around Jake.
‘You are the best man in the history of the world,’ she said. ‘Oh, I wish you’d heard Emily sing.’
