Christmas at Rosie Hopkins’ Sweetshop
Page 56
‘I want to sing again,’ said Emily, standing by her mother.
Tina looked at Stephen.
‘Can she?’
Stephen looked at Mrs Baptiste.
‘I can’t think of a better way to christen the new building than with a song,’ she said.
She did, however, first have to get through the front door by cutting a huge red ribbon as everyone clapped. Now most of the town really was here (with the notable exception of Roy Blaine), and they all filed eagerly into the building, despite its chill from not having the boiler back on. The children lined up in the assembly hall – with a proper stage this time – and Mrs Baptiste tried to keep her fingers warm enough to play the piano as everyone joined in, Emily’s solo providing an excuse, if one was needed, for a myriad of quiet tears to be shed for one reason or another.
Chapter Sixteen
Rosie sent Tina home with the children and went back to Lipton Hall to tidy up the stall and help Stephen. He was buzzing with adrenalin.
‘Look at you,’ she teased gently. ‘You look like you’ve just won The X Factor.’
‘I have no idea what you’re talking about,’ he said, with a smile playing on his lips.
It felt like a truce.
‘You know. That show you watch all the time on Saturday evenings whilst pretending to be reading a big newspaper.’
‘Oh yes. The newspaper I cut the eyeholes out of.’
‘The very one.’
‘Come on,’ said Stephen. ‘Aren’t you thrilled? The school is saved, therefore the sweetshop is saved, and Roy Blaine will be spitting even more venom into his pink dentist water than usual. You can’t say today wasn’t a success.’
‘I know,’ said Rosie. ‘I know.’
But what she was also thinking was: six more days till Angie leaves.
‘Come here, you,’ said Stephen, putting his arm round her. ‘What’s up?’
She looked at him.
‘Do you really not know?’ she said.
He shook his head.
‘You don’t think it upsets me… that I am giving up my entire family, my mum, my little nieces and nephew, and everything… for what? To hang around here being patronised by your mother and treated as second fiddle by you?’
Stephen was completely stunned. Rosie was instantly terrified. She had gone too far.
But on the other hand, if she didn’t say what was in her heart now, how would it get any better down the line? If she didn’t find out now, she never would find out. She would never know.
Stephen’s face had fallen.
‘I didn’t know that’s how you felt,’ he said. ‘Have you been feeling like this for a long time?’
‘No,’ said Rosie. ‘But for a little while, maybe.’
‘Well don’t I feel stupid?’ said Stephen, bewildered.
Rosie closed her eyes. This was horrible.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said, turning away. ‘I’m sorry. I thought I was enough for you.’
‘You are,’ said Rosie. Then she thought about it again. ‘No,’ she said. ‘You are everything, and I love you. But I don’t see why I can’t have what other people have. A wedding, a family. All of that.’
She looked at Stephen’s face; he seemed stunned. Tears sprang to her eyes. Stephen glanced around the room.
‘Do you even know what it means for me to get married?’ he said. ‘I have to inherit. I have to take on this bloody place. I have to spend my entire time with lawyers and my mother, and of course unless I marry someone with money, I have to spend the rest of my life completely encumbered, completely skint, and bowing and scraping to anyone who wants to come here and have some tacky wedding in my back garden… Oh Rosie, I just don’t think we’re in the same place. I —’
‘I see,’ said Rosie. ‘Okay. I see.’
Stephen stopped short suddenly.
‘I need to get away for a bit,’ he said. ‘Sort my head out.’
Rosie’s heart plummeted, and she stared at him in utter dismay. The silence was broken by Cathryn charging through the door.
‘Have you seen him?’ she said, her normally implacable face white and horrified.
‘Seen who?’ said Rosie, furiously wiping at her eyes, her brain still trying to take in the implications of their fight.
‘James Boyd,’ said Cathryn. ‘He’s vanished.’
They both instantly sprang into action. Rosie called Jake to get him to round up a posse. Stephen directed Mrs Laird to search through the house, but there didn’t seem to be a trace of him anywhere.
‘He can’t have gone far,’ said Rosie. ‘He’s so old.’
‘He’ll be in the grounds,’ said Stephen, hurrying past.
‘Dementia patients often roam further than you think,’ warned Cathryn. ‘Oh, I can’t believe I took my eye off him. There was just so much commotion… Oh dear.’ Her hands fluttered to her face, then down again.
‘Okay, let’s get organised,’ she said, more determined. ‘I’ll give it five minutes before I call the police.’
She looked out over the white garden, the balustrades of the formal terrace completely hidden under the snow, then blew out her fringe and put on her coat. She glanced, briefly, at James’s coat, still hanging on the coatstand.
‘I’ll call Edward,’ she said. ‘Now, can everyone else stay here?’
Hetty strode in, back from the village.
‘We’ll have tea,’ she said. ‘You must all stay for tea. I am so happy to be rid of those snotty-nosed brats I feel we ought to celebrate.’
Night was already coming in. Rosie realised with a start that it was 21 December, the shortest day of the year. Stephen was covering Lipton Hall, Jake was co-ordinating the efforts in town and Moray was going to meet her in the middle to check the road.
Stephen hadn’t said anything to her, merely handed her a large torch. She had taken one of Hetty’s coats, too, to protect her against the weather. She shouted for James, but her voice sounded like nothing against the wind. And snow was starting to fall again; it was bitterly cold. She could barely remember now how excited she had been when the land was first covered in its soft whiteness.
She couldn’t think about Stephen’s words; their sting. She would have to deal with that later. There was a great block of ice in the pit of her stomach that had absolutely nothing to do with the weather.
Tina looked at Stephen.
‘Can she?’
Stephen looked at Mrs Baptiste.
‘I can’t think of a better way to christen the new building than with a song,’ she said.
She did, however, first have to get through the front door by cutting a huge red ribbon as everyone clapped. Now most of the town really was here (with the notable exception of Roy Blaine), and they all filed eagerly into the building, despite its chill from not having the boiler back on. The children lined up in the assembly hall – with a proper stage this time – and Mrs Baptiste tried to keep her fingers warm enough to play the piano as everyone joined in, Emily’s solo providing an excuse, if one was needed, for a myriad of quiet tears to be shed for one reason or another.
Chapter Sixteen
Rosie sent Tina home with the children and went back to Lipton Hall to tidy up the stall and help Stephen. He was buzzing with adrenalin.
‘Look at you,’ she teased gently. ‘You look like you’ve just won The X Factor.’
‘I have no idea what you’re talking about,’ he said, with a smile playing on his lips.
It felt like a truce.
‘You know. That show you watch all the time on Saturday evenings whilst pretending to be reading a big newspaper.’
‘Oh yes. The newspaper I cut the eyeholes out of.’
‘The very one.’
‘Come on,’ said Stephen. ‘Aren’t you thrilled? The school is saved, therefore the sweetshop is saved, and Roy Blaine will be spitting even more venom into his pink dentist water than usual. You can’t say today wasn’t a success.’
‘I know,’ said Rosie. ‘I know.’
But what she was also thinking was: six more days till Angie leaves.
‘Come here, you,’ said Stephen, putting his arm round her. ‘What’s up?’
She looked at him.
‘Do you really not know?’ she said.
He shook his head.
‘You don’t think it upsets me… that I am giving up my entire family, my mum, my little nieces and nephew, and everything… for what? To hang around here being patronised by your mother and treated as second fiddle by you?’
Stephen was completely stunned. Rosie was instantly terrified. She had gone too far.
But on the other hand, if she didn’t say what was in her heart now, how would it get any better down the line? If she didn’t find out now, she never would find out. She would never know.
Stephen’s face had fallen.
‘I didn’t know that’s how you felt,’ he said. ‘Have you been feeling like this for a long time?’
‘No,’ said Rosie. ‘But for a little while, maybe.’
‘Well don’t I feel stupid?’ said Stephen, bewildered.
Rosie closed her eyes. This was horrible.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said, turning away. ‘I’m sorry. I thought I was enough for you.’
‘You are,’ said Rosie. Then she thought about it again. ‘No,’ she said. ‘You are everything, and I love you. But I don’t see why I can’t have what other people have. A wedding, a family. All of that.’
She looked at Stephen’s face; he seemed stunned. Tears sprang to her eyes. Stephen glanced around the room.
‘Do you even know what it means for me to get married?’ he said. ‘I have to inherit. I have to take on this bloody place. I have to spend my entire time with lawyers and my mother, and of course unless I marry someone with money, I have to spend the rest of my life completely encumbered, completely skint, and bowing and scraping to anyone who wants to come here and have some tacky wedding in my back garden… Oh Rosie, I just don’t think we’re in the same place. I —’
‘I see,’ said Rosie. ‘Okay. I see.’
Stephen stopped short suddenly.
‘I need to get away for a bit,’ he said. ‘Sort my head out.’
Rosie’s heart plummeted, and she stared at him in utter dismay. The silence was broken by Cathryn charging through the door.
‘Have you seen him?’ she said, her normally implacable face white and horrified.
‘Seen who?’ said Rosie, furiously wiping at her eyes, her brain still trying to take in the implications of their fight.
‘James Boyd,’ said Cathryn. ‘He’s vanished.’
They both instantly sprang into action. Rosie called Jake to get him to round up a posse. Stephen directed Mrs Laird to search through the house, but there didn’t seem to be a trace of him anywhere.
‘He can’t have gone far,’ said Rosie. ‘He’s so old.’
‘He’ll be in the grounds,’ said Stephen, hurrying past.
‘Dementia patients often roam further than you think,’ warned Cathryn. ‘Oh, I can’t believe I took my eye off him. There was just so much commotion… Oh dear.’ Her hands fluttered to her face, then down again.
‘Okay, let’s get organised,’ she said, more determined. ‘I’ll give it five minutes before I call the police.’
She looked out over the white garden, the balustrades of the formal terrace completely hidden under the snow, then blew out her fringe and put on her coat. She glanced, briefly, at James’s coat, still hanging on the coatstand.
‘I’ll call Edward,’ she said. ‘Now, can everyone else stay here?’
Hetty strode in, back from the village.
‘We’ll have tea,’ she said. ‘You must all stay for tea. I am so happy to be rid of those snotty-nosed brats I feel we ought to celebrate.’
Night was already coming in. Rosie realised with a start that it was 21 December, the shortest day of the year. Stephen was covering Lipton Hall, Jake was co-ordinating the efforts in town and Moray was going to meet her in the middle to check the road.
Stephen hadn’t said anything to her, merely handed her a large torch. She had taken one of Hetty’s coats, too, to protect her against the weather. She shouted for James, but her voice sounded like nothing against the wind. And snow was starting to fall again; it was bitterly cold. She could barely remember now how excited she had been when the land was first covered in its soft whiteness.
She couldn’t think about Stephen’s words; their sting. She would have to deal with that later. There was a great block of ice in the pit of her stomach that had absolutely nothing to do with the weather.
