Christmas at Rosie Hopkins’ Sweetshop
Page 60
‘Well, everything’s a matter of time,’ she said, cross at the euphemism. ‘How much time?’
‘Short of a second miracle… days,’ said Moray, then, as she gasped again, drew her into his arms to hold her tight.
Edward was on the phone with a journalist who was pinning him down to dates.
‘You mean to say, he had a freak-out going through the village? Because he remembered it?’
‘I wouldn’t call it a freak-out exactly,’ said Edward stiffly. ‘Well, yes, a freak-out, I suppose. He grabbed the steering wheel.’
‘When was this?’ asked the journalist, then glanced idly at his computer. ‘Oh, that’s the same day Lipton school was hit by that lorry.’
The colour drained out of Edward’s face.
‘The what?’ he said.
‘Oh, you didn’t hear? A lorry knocked the school down.’
‘Oh my God, was anyone hurt?’
‘Yes, one little boy broke his neck.’
Edward couldn’t say anything else; he just put the phone down in silence. Everything had suddenly become too much.
‘Doreen,’ he said quietly. ‘Oh Doreen, something really bad has happened.’
Seeing as she was here, thought Rosie, in Carningford with its vast twenty-four-hour supermarket, she might as well do her Christmas food shopping, get it over with. Pip was with her.
‘Well, I thought nothing much happened here, sis,’ he said.
‘Me too,’ said Rosie, hauling on the trolley. ‘Get those for me, will you?’
Pip jumped to help.
‘Ha,’ she said. ‘You’re well trained. When we were little, you’d never do anything I asked.’
Pip smiled.
‘I like a quiet life. Unlike you.’
‘True,’ said Rosie.
It was very odd, she thought, travelling amongst the laden aisles, stocking up with all sorts of things – dates, brandy butter, marzipan – that she couldn’t really imagine eating any other time of year, how normally everybody else was behaving: having arguments in the wine aisle, bickering about crackers, exhausted-looking mothers hurling lollipops at children to keep them quiet whilst they got the damn thing done. She and Pip chose a large turkey, some stuffing, plenty of chipolatas for the children, fizzy wine, cola, lots of potatoes for roasting…
It was good to have her brother there. She couldn’t allow herself to think whether or not Stephen was coming back. They would have Christmas lunch up at Peak House and she’d make up some kind of excuse about him for everyone, and then straight after Christmas, she supposed… well, she supposed everyone would go. But for now she wanted to ask Pip about his children, especially Meridian, and he liked to talk about them. It was odd, she thought, that her little brother was the grown-up now, with the well-paid job and the family and everything… everything she herself might have liked. She wondered if Lilian had felt the same about her little brother Gordon.
‘You are… you are happy, aren’t you, Pip?’ she asked as they queued. Pip looked at her.
‘Honestly, R?’ He weighed up what he was about to say, as if unsure.
‘Yes.’
‘I wouldn’t… I mean, even for a bloke like Stephen, right? I wouldn’t… I wouldn’t miss out on having a family for anything, okay?’
Rosie fell silent.
‘Even when Desleigh is shouting at me and Shane won’t put his bloody DS down and everyone’s shrieking and stuff gets left everywhere… I wouldn’t change a bit of it. Don’t let it pass you by. And you know, we would love you to come out there… Mum especially.’
Rosie was silent all the way back. Either way, she couldn’t see the right way forward. The future was not an appealing prospect.
The pain of not seeing Stephen, not being with him, felt unbearable. She had always feared this; she had spent years in a relationship where she was not ‘the one’, and she couldn’t go through it again if nothing she could do and nothing she could change about herself would alter the immutable facts. He was the one for her, but if it wasn’t returned, she would live a life as full of disappointment as her great-aunt. And she didn’t think she could bear it.
A fresh start, in a sunny, warm land, full of friendly people and spectacular food and beaches and swimming pools and barbecues and well-paid nursing jobs… that, on the other hand, made a ton of sense. To be close to her mum, and watch the little ones grow up… It was a hard solution, but it was almost certainly the right one.
Up at Peak House she relayed the news about Henry to a breathless Angie and Desleigh, who were rapt. ‘Never a dull moment round here,’ as Angie pointed out. ‘Where are the children?’ Rosie asked. Normally Meridian was stuck to her side like a limpet.
‘It’s amazing,’ said Desleigh. ‘Seriously, they’re changed kids.’
Rosie went to the window. All three were in the garden, building an igloo together. The girls weren’t squabbling, and Rosie wouldn’t put money on it, but she thought Kelly had lost a little weight. Shane’s DS was nowhere to be seen. Instead, they were chatting, laughing, co-operating.
‘It’s a good place here,’ said Desleigh.
Rosie swallowed. She couldn’t answer.
Back at the sweetshop, she smiled at every child who came in, all of them bursting with secrets about what Santa was bringing them; all enraptured by the tiny train in the window; little cheeks rosy, eyes bright and round; parents tired but happy. She knew everyone now, and they knew her. She would miss them too, terribly, she thought, as she wrapped selection boxes, marzipan fruit and Turkish delight for the big day.
Chapter Seventeen
It was obvious to everyone at the hospital now that things were slipping. And slipping quickly. Not even Lilian could continue in denial. So it was all about spending as much time with him as possible, without wearing him out. He relied very heavily on the oxygen mask, so couldn’t speak very well or very quickly, but it was very rare that he phased out or didn’t appear to be following what went on. Of course they had to share him. Ida Delia liked to talk about him a lot, and swank about the man who was, after all, her husband, but alone in the room with him – his papery skin bordering on translucent; the smells and the plastic tubes; the dryness of the once luxuriant hair – she found it unpleasant and creepy and a reminder of what was coming for all of them in the end. She also found, as ever, that she had nothing much to say to him.
‘Short of a second miracle… days,’ said Moray, then, as she gasped again, drew her into his arms to hold her tight.
Edward was on the phone with a journalist who was pinning him down to dates.
‘You mean to say, he had a freak-out going through the village? Because he remembered it?’
‘I wouldn’t call it a freak-out exactly,’ said Edward stiffly. ‘Well, yes, a freak-out, I suppose. He grabbed the steering wheel.’
‘When was this?’ asked the journalist, then glanced idly at his computer. ‘Oh, that’s the same day Lipton school was hit by that lorry.’
The colour drained out of Edward’s face.
‘The what?’ he said.
‘Oh, you didn’t hear? A lorry knocked the school down.’
‘Oh my God, was anyone hurt?’
‘Yes, one little boy broke his neck.’
Edward couldn’t say anything else; he just put the phone down in silence. Everything had suddenly become too much.
‘Doreen,’ he said quietly. ‘Oh Doreen, something really bad has happened.’
Seeing as she was here, thought Rosie, in Carningford with its vast twenty-four-hour supermarket, she might as well do her Christmas food shopping, get it over with. Pip was with her.
‘Well, I thought nothing much happened here, sis,’ he said.
‘Me too,’ said Rosie, hauling on the trolley. ‘Get those for me, will you?’
Pip jumped to help.
‘Ha,’ she said. ‘You’re well trained. When we were little, you’d never do anything I asked.’
Pip smiled.
‘I like a quiet life. Unlike you.’
‘True,’ said Rosie.
It was very odd, she thought, travelling amongst the laden aisles, stocking up with all sorts of things – dates, brandy butter, marzipan – that she couldn’t really imagine eating any other time of year, how normally everybody else was behaving: having arguments in the wine aisle, bickering about crackers, exhausted-looking mothers hurling lollipops at children to keep them quiet whilst they got the damn thing done. She and Pip chose a large turkey, some stuffing, plenty of chipolatas for the children, fizzy wine, cola, lots of potatoes for roasting…
It was good to have her brother there. She couldn’t allow herself to think whether or not Stephen was coming back. They would have Christmas lunch up at Peak House and she’d make up some kind of excuse about him for everyone, and then straight after Christmas, she supposed… well, she supposed everyone would go. But for now she wanted to ask Pip about his children, especially Meridian, and he liked to talk about them. It was odd, she thought, that her little brother was the grown-up now, with the well-paid job and the family and everything… everything she herself might have liked. She wondered if Lilian had felt the same about her little brother Gordon.
‘You are… you are happy, aren’t you, Pip?’ she asked as they queued. Pip looked at her.
‘Honestly, R?’ He weighed up what he was about to say, as if unsure.
‘Yes.’
‘I wouldn’t… I mean, even for a bloke like Stephen, right? I wouldn’t… I wouldn’t miss out on having a family for anything, okay?’
Rosie fell silent.
‘Even when Desleigh is shouting at me and Shane won’t put his bloody DS down and everyone’s shrieking and stuff gets left everywhere… I wouldn’t change a bit of it. Don’t let it pass you by. And you know, we would love you to come out there… Mum especially.’
Rosie was silent all the way back. Either way, she couldn’t see the right way forward. The future was not an appealing prospect.
The pain of not seeing Stephen, not being with him, felt unbearable. She had always feared this; she had spent years in a relationship where she was not ‘the one’, and she couldn’t go through it again if nothing she could do and nothing she could change about herself would alter the immutable facts. He was the one for her, but if it wasn’t returned, she would live a life as full of disappointment as her great-aunt. And she didn’t think she could bear it.
A fresh start, in a sunny, warm land, full of friendly people and spectacular food and beaches and swimming pools and barbecues and well-paid nursing jobs… that, on the other hand, made a ton of sense. To be close to her mum, and watch the little ones grow up… It was a hard solution, but it was almost certainly the right one.
Up at Peak House she relayed the news about Henry to a breathless Angie and Desleigh, who were rapt. ‘Never a dull moment round here,’ as Angie pointed out. ‘Where are the children?’ Rosie asked. Normally Meridian was stuck to her side like a limpet.
‘It’s amazing,’ said Desleigh. ‘Seriously, they’re changed kids.’
Rosie went to the window. All three were in the garden, building an igloo together. The girls weren’t squabbling, and Rosie wouldn’t put money on it, but she thought Kelly had lost a little weight. Shane’s DS was nowhere to be seen. Instead, they were chatting, laughing, co-operating.
‘It’s a good place here,’ said Desleigh.
Rosie swallowed. She couldn’t answer.
Back at the sweetshop, she smiled at every child who came in, all of them bursting with secrets about what Santa was bringing them; all enraptured by the tiny train in the window; little cheeks rosy, eyes bright and round; parents tired but happy. She knew everyone now, and they knew her. She would miss them too, terribly, she thought, as she wrapped selection boxes, marzipan fruit and Turkish delight for the big day.
Chapter Seventeen
It was obvious to everyone at the hospital now that things were slipping. And slipping quickly. Not even Lilian could continue in denial. So it was all about spending as much time with him as possible, without wearing him out. He relied very heavily on the oxygen mask, so couldn’t speak very well or very quickly, but it was very rare that he phased out or didn’t appear to be following what went on. Of course they had to share him. Ida Delia liked to talk about him a lot, and swank about the man who was, after all, her husband, but alone in the room with him – his papery skin bordering on translucent; the smells and the plastic tubes; the dryness of the once luxuriant hair – she found it unpleasant and creepy and a reminder of what was coming for all of them in the end. She also found, as ever, that she had nothing much to say to him.
