Christmas at Rosie Hopkins’ Sweetshop
Page 70
‘Quick, give me a whisky,’ said Hester. ‘Before my milk comes in.’
‘I seem to like her a lot more today,’ said Rosie as she and Moray shared the soap.
The midwife was full of apologies, as well as praise for what they’d managed. She took over efficiently upstairs while they sidled off to the kitchen to start on some epic tea-making. Moray found some whisky and poured them both a jolly measure.
‘Merry Christmas,’ he said. ‘You can wipe those tears off your face now.’
‘I’m not crying!’ said Rosie. Then she touched her face. ‘Oh,’ she said. ‘So I am.’
‘Miracle of nature,’ said Moray, smiling. ‘Just because it happens to basically everyone doesn’t stop it being extraordinary.’
Rosie nodded.
‘Amazing. Like, “How many people are in this room?… And NOW how many?”’ She glanced down at her hand. It was shaking slightly. ‘Oh,’ she said. ‘I’m all jittery.’
‘Are you so excited about whether Santa’s been?’
‘Oh my goodness!’ she said. ‘It’s Christmas morning!’
For a second her face lit up, then she remembered everything.
‘Oh yes,’ she said. ‘I have a really busy, miserable day ahead, then tomorrow I have to say goodbye to everyone I love!’
Moray chinked whisky mugs with her.
‘I’m here,’ he said.
‘Thank you,’ said Rosie. She looked into the cup. ‘Maybe I’ll just drink ALL DAY,’ she said.
‘Yeah, YOU aren’t on call,’ said Moray.
They went upstairs to say their goodbyes to the new arrival, who was already looking happy and contented on her mother’s breast.
‘What are you going to call her?’ said Rosie.
Edison was looking very serious.
‘I am going to name her,’ he said. ‘Because I am now a big brother.’
‘Well, that makes sense,’ said Rosie, hoping he wasn’t going to go for something like ‘Robotrix’.
‘I think she should be called Marie,’ he said, pronouncing it MAH-ri.
‘Oh, that’s lovely,’ exclaimed Rosie, surprised. ‘Because it’s Christmas Day?’
‘Like Marie Christmas?’ added Moray.
‘No,’ said Edison, furrowing his brow. ‘After Madame Curie, first lady of science.’
Rosie and Moray swapped looks.
‘I think that’s perfect,’ said Arthur.
‘And at least I got to be the first person ever to make that joke to you, little dove,’ said Moray, leaning over the tiny red-faced baby tenderly. Her fist was clenching and unclenching. ‘But not, I suspect, the last.’
Rosie smiled.
‘I think… we’re just going to go.’ It felt a bit strange making polite conversation after everything they’d been through together.
‘That’s fine,’ said the midwife. ‘We’re basically okay here. I might see if anyone fancies toast.’
‘I’m so hungry I could eat Edison,’ said Hester. She looked pointedly at Arthur. ‘Oh, and by the way, I shan’t be doing THAT again.’
‘Oh, nonsense,’ said the midwife. ‘Next one will walk out.’
Arthur beamed benevolently, and Rosie and Moray exchanged smiles at the look of abject horror on Hester’s face.
‘Thank you for my baby sister, Rosie,’ said Edison as she went to give him a cuddle.
‘That’s all right,’ she said, kissing his soft boy hair. ‘I’m pleased there’s two of you.’
‘I hope she really likes robots,’ said Edison. ‘And having Wolverine for a big brother.’
‘You’ll help her,’ said Rosie. ‘And when she’s three, you can bring her in for her first bit of Edinburgh rock.’
His face brightened.
‘I’m going to love being a big brother.’
‘I think it’ll be the making of you,’ said Rosie, and she kissed him again and settled him down on the bed with the rest of his family, before taking Moray’s arm and heading out into the slow dawn of a crisp, clear, shockingly cold Christmas morning.
Mrs Laird was, amazingly, up when Stephen, red-eyed and slightly frantic, turned up at 6 a.m., having broken every speed limit between Chelsea and Derbyshire in absolutely filthy weather conditions. She turned round in surprise from the front of the range, then rallied immediately to pour him the best cup of tea he’d ever tasted in his life.
Stephen had done a lot of thinking on the drive along the deserted motorways. He had thought about how he had dealt with his first accident; how Rosie had saved him. And how he had kept himself so bottled up this time for fear of coming apart. But if he’d shared more with Rosie, he knew, he knew for certain, that it would have been okay. They were partners, they were a team, and he had never met anyone in his life who was more there for him than she was.
All he could see were little flashes of their life together: kissing under the tree at Lilian’s home; knitting on the sofa; making love in the upstairs bedroom, her pale skin flushed as bright red as the spring hollyhocks that knocked against the window. The look on her face the first time she’d met that stupid dog; her ready smile whenever the bell of the sweetshop dinged – but never so wide, never so happy as when the person walking through the door was himself.
‘Is her ladyship stirring?’ he said when he’d downed the tea, and eyed the bacon and mushrooms Mrs Laird was getting out of the fridge. Though he didn’t have the stomach to eat, not right now.
‘She is,’ said Hetty from the stairs. She was wearing a dressing gown he recognised with something of a shock as having been his father’s. Two dogs were groggily circling her feet, sniffing the air for bacon. ‘With the ludicrous noise you made arriving, I don’t know how I could have been anything else.’
‘Yeah, sorry,’ said Stephen, feeling a bit dampened. ‘Happy Christmas.’
He realised with a horrible start as he said it that he hadn’t done any Christmas shopping for his mother in London. Ah, damn it, damn it, damn it.
‘I’m afraid I didn’t bring you anything,’ he said, remembering guiltily that he did however have a bottle of champagne and a new jumper for Mrs Laird in the car. He never forgot her.
‘I seem to like her a lot more today,’ said Rosie as she and Moray shared the soap.
The midwife was full of apologies, as well as praise for what they’d managed. She took over efficiently upstairs while they sidled off to the kitchen to start on some epic tea-making. Moray found some whisky and poured them both a jolly measure.
‘Merry Christmas,’ he said. ‘You can wipe those tears off your face now.’
‘I’m not crying!’ said Rosie. Then she touched her face. ‘Oh,’ she said. ‘So I am.’
‘Miracle of nature,’ said Moray, smiling. ‘Just because it happens to basically everyone doesn’t stop it being extraordinary.’
Rosie nodded.
‘Amazing. Like, “How many people are in this room?… And NOW how many?”’ She glanced down at her hand. It was shaking slightly. ‘Oh,’ she said. ‘I’m all jittery.’
‘Are you so excited about whether Santa’s been?’
‘Oh my goodness!’ she said. ‘It’s Christmas morning!’
For a second her face lit up, then she remembered everything.
‘Oh yes,’ she said. ‘I have a really busy, miserable day ahead, then tomorrow I have to say goodbye to everyone I love!’
Moray chinked whisky mugs with her.
‘I’m here,’ he said.
‘Thank you,’ said Rosie. She looked into the cup. ‘Maybe I’ll just drink ALL DAY,’ she said.
‘Yeah, YOU aren’t on call,’ said Moray.
They went upstairs to say their goodbyes to the new arrival, who was already looking happy and contented on her mother’s breast.
‘What are you going to call her?’ said Rosie.
Edison was looking very serious.
‘I am going to name her,’ he said. ‘Because I am now a big brother.’
‘Well, that makes sense,’ said Rosie, hoping he wasn’t going to go for something like ‘Robotrix’.
‘I think she should be called Marie,’ he said, pronouncing it MAH-ri.
‘Oh, that’s lovely,’ exclaimed Rosie, surprised. ‘Because it’s Christmas Day?’
‘Like Marie Christmas?’ added Moray.
‘No,’ said Edison, furrowing his brow. ‘After Madame Curie, first lady of science.’
Rosie and Moray swapped looks.
‘I think that’s perfect,’ said Arthur.
‘And at least I got to be the first person ever to make that joke to you, little dove,’ said Moray, leaning over the tiny red-faced baby tenderly. Her fist was clenching and unclenching. ‘But not, I suspect, the last.’
Rosie smiled.
‘I think… we’re just going to go.’ It felt a bit strange making polite conversation after everything they’d been through together.
‘That’s fine,’ said the midwife. ‘We’re basically okay here. I might see if anyone fancies toast.’
‘I’m so hungry I could eat Edison,’ said Hester. She looked pointedly at Arthur. ‘Oh, and by the way, I shan’t be doing THAT again.’
‘Oh, nonsense,’ said the midwife. ‘Next one will walk out.’
Arthur beamed benevolently, and Rosie and Moray exchanged smiles at the look of abject horror on Hester’s face.
‘Thank you for my baby sister, Rosie,’ said Edison as she went to give him a cuddle.
‘That’s all right,’ she said, kissing his soft boy hair. ‘I’m pleased there’s two of you.’
‘I hope she really likes robots,’ said Edison. ‘And having Wolverine for a big brother.’
‘You’ll help her,’ said Rosie. ‘And when she’s three, you can bring her in for her first bit of Edinburgh rock.’
His face brightened.
‘I’m going to love being a big brother.’
‘I think it’ll be the making of you,’ said Rosie, and she kissed him again and settled him down on the bed with the rest of his family, before taking Moray’s arm and heading out into the slow dawn of a crisp, clear, shockingly cold Christmas morning.
Mrs Laird was, amazingly, up when Stephen, red-eyed and slightly frantic, turned up at 6 a.m., having broken every speed limit between Chelsea and Derbyshire in absolutely filthy weather conditions. She turned round in surprise from the front of the range, then rallied immediately to pour him the best cup of tea he’d ever tasted in his life.
Stephen had done a lot of thinking on the drive along the deserted motorways. He had thought about how he had dealt with his first accident; how Rosie had saved him. And how he had kept himself so bottled up this time for fear of coming apart. But if he’d shared more with Rosie, he knew, he knew for certain, that it would have been okay. They were partners, they were a team, and he had never met anyone in his life who was more there for him than she was.
All he could see were little flashes of their life together: kissing under the tree at Lilian’s home; knitting on the sofa; making love in the upstairs bedroom, her pale skin flushed as bright red as the spring hollyhocks that knocked against the window. The look on her face the first time she’d met that stupid dog; her ready smile whenever the bell of the sweetshop dinged – but never so wide, never so happy as when the person walking through the door was himself.
‘Is her ladyship stirring?’ he said when he’d downed the tea, and eyed the bacon and mushrooms Mrs Laird was getting out of the fridge. Though he didn’t have the stomach to eat, not right now.
‘She is,’ said Hetty from the stairs. She was wearing a dressing gown he recognised with something of a shock as having been his father’s. Two dogs were groggily circling her feet, sniffing the air for bacon. ‘With the ludicrous noise you made arriving, I don’t know how I could have been anything else.’
‘Yeah, sorry,’ said Stephen, feeling a bit dampened. ‘Happy Christmas.’
He realised with a horrible start as he said it that he hadn’t done any Christmas shopping for his mother in London. Ah, damn it, damn it, damn it.
‘I’m afraid I didn’t bring you anything,’ he said, remembering guiltily that he did however have a bottle of champagne and a new jumper for Mrs Laird in the car. He never forgot her.
