Christmas at Rosie Hopkins’ Sweetshop
Page 74
It occurred to him yet again that if he’d joined the bloody army like his dad had wanted him to, he’d probably have all sorts of survival skills for this kind of situation.
Hetty went across to Lilian as the children scattered to open boxes and start putting toys together. Angie was standing by with about three hundred packets of emergency batteries and a packet of assorted screwdrivers.
‘Where’s Stephen?’ said Lilian in a low voice. ‘I thought he was on his way here.’
‘I sent him to you,’ said Hetty. ‘Well, we know he got that far. Did you put him off?’
‘I did my best,’ said Lilian thoughtfully. ‘But in the end he was pretty adamant about it.’
They both looked at Rosie, who was doing her absolute best to pretend she was fine and happy and helping Meridian put her Spiderman sticker book together.
‘I thought so too,’ said Hetty sadly. ‘I tell you what, Lilian, I know he’s my son and everything, and I know his life hasn’t always been easy. But if he muffs this up again and goes all wobbly on us, I swear I will kill the bugger.’
Lilian nodded sagely.
‘I know what you mean.’
Hetty picked up the phone in the hallway and called him again, but there was no response.
Stephen couldn’t feel his bad leg. This wasn’t a good sign, not at all. Not just the cold – his fingers were blue and numb, his teeth rattling uncontrollably in his head – but the fact that he couldn’t feel his leg meant that he didn’t know what harm was being done to it; there was already nerve damage. Still, it was unlikely that he was going to stumble upon a friendly local coffee shop in the next five miles, as he well knew. There was nothing to be done but carry on. He put his head down, wishing that he didn’t always seem to be heading straight into the wind. His hand felt as though it was frozen to the top of his stick. He tried to put the other hand in his pocket, but he needed it out for balance. Even with the sleeves of his jumper pulled right down, it was still perilously cold.
‘So,’ said Hetty, observing the scene before her. ‘Are we all going to church?’
The children looked up at her enquiringly.
‘Not me,’ said Lilian. ‘I’m Catholic.’
‘You are not Catholic!’ said Hetty. ‘My father wouldn’t have had you in the house!’
‘Ah, prejudice,’ said Lilian. ‘We are a long-tormented race, us Catholics.’
‘You can’t go Catholic on a whim, for one,’ said Hetty. ‘And you can’t go Catholic just because you hate the vicar.’
‘I do hate that vicar,’ said Lilian.
‘Well, then you’ll be entering a holy state with hatred in your heart,’ retorted Hetty, whose belief in the Church of England was as solid and unchanging as her belief in the gentry, the damage done to the country’s moral standards by decimalisation, indoor toilets, central heating and the loss of national service, and the superiority of dogs to cats. God in his heaven, Liptons in Lipton Hall and everything from there cascading downwards to sheep and the mice in the stables.
‘That’s all right,’ said Lilian serenely. ‘I can say sorry at the last minute and it will all be fine.’
Rosie didn’t feel like moving at all, much less saying hello to everybody in the village, and was going to offer to stay with her great-aunt, but her mother looked surprisingly interested.
‘Do you want to go?’ Rosie asked.
Angie shrugged.
‘Well… you know. Remember, this is where my dad grew up. This is the church he went to…’
‘He was always bunking off church,’ said Lilian.
‘… and the families he grew up with and the world he knew really well. So, I wouldn’t mind exactly.’
‘We want to go!’ said Kelly.
‘Yeah, we want to see our friends from sledging,’ said Shane. ‘And…’ He indicated a gift Rosie hadn’t seen. An old but well-polished sledge. It was Stephen’s, of course. Rosie looked over at Hetty, who shrugged.
‘He can use it when he visits. It needs a boy.’
‘Well,’ said Rosie, impressed. ‘Okay then.’
She heaved herself out of the armchair. Anything to distract herself, to get through this interminable day. Once she had waved them off tomorrow, then she could go home, and go upstairs to the little bedroom in the attic, and sob her heart out. She only had to hold on till then.
‘I shall take Buzz Lightyear,’ said Meridian, holding up a much-cherished new toy. ‘He LOVES church.’
‘He probably does,’ said Rosie.
From over the long side of the fell, Stephen, slightly disorientated, thought he heard the sound of cars starting up. Panicking, he felt sure in his exhaustion that they were gone; that he had missed his last chance to see Rosie before she left for ever. He started, ludicrously, to try running across the snow and ice. This landed him with nothing better for his pains than to tumble straight into a snowdrift, piled high, which soaked him through.
The cars were not coming this way. The noise disappeared. For a second, Stephen thought about staying put; pulling the snowdrift over him like a blanket and finally getting some sleep. He seemed to be out of the wind down here; more comfortable than he could have imagined…
His frozen fingers fumbled against the breast pocket of his coat, and he felt the tight, sharp outline of the little box. He had to go on.
Despite the vicar doing his best not to mention God at all in his sermon, Rosie couldn’t help enjoying it a little, even in her misery. Shane and Kelly seemed to have made an amazing number of friends in the short time they’d been here. Kent and Emily were both in their Sunday best, beaming at her, Emily incredibly like her mother, and clutching a huge doll with limpid blinking eyes, Kent wearing a tie, Jake’s hand on his shoulder. Tina was smiling her head off too; they did look like a family in an advertisement.
‘Hey,’ said Rosie, as Tina gave her a hug, concerned about how awful she looked. ‘Did you hear about Hester?’
‘Oh yes,’ said Tina. ‘It’s quite the news of the village. Is it really true she’s called Marie Christmas?’
‘I think I may have to have a word with Edison about this before they make it to the registrar,’ said Rosie.
She spotted Moray at the side door.
‘I didn’t have you for a God-botherer,’ she said, kissing him again.
Hetty went across to Lilian as the children scattered to open boxes and start putting toys together. Angie was standing by with about three hundred packets of emergency batteries and a packet of assorted screwdrivers.
‘Where’s Stephen?’ said Lilian in a low voice. ‘I thought he was on his way here.’
‘I sent him to you,’ said Hetty. ‘Well, we know he got that far. Did you put him off?’
‘I did my best,’ said Lilian thoughtfully. ‘But in the end he was pretty adamant about it.’
They both looked at Rosie, who was doing her absolute best to pretend she was fine and happy and helping Meridian put her Spiderman sticker book together.
‘I thought so too,’ said Hetty sadly. ‘I tell you what, Lilian, I know he’s my son and everything, and I know his life hasn’t always been easy. But if he muffs this up again and goes all wobbly on us, I swear I will kill the bugger.’
Lilian nodded sagely.
‘I know what you mean.’
Hetty picked up the phone in the hallway and called him again, but there was no response.
Stephen couldn’t feel his bad leg. This wasn’t a good sign, not at all. Not just the cold – his fingers were blue and numb, his teeth rattling uncontrollably in his head – but the fact that he couldn’t feel his leg meant that he didn’t know what harm was being done to it; there was already nerve damage. Still, it was unlikely that he was going to stumble upon a friendly local coffee shop in the next five miles, as he well knew. There was nothing to be done but carry on. He put his head down, wishing that he didn’t always seem to be heading straight into the wind. His hand felt as though it was frozen to the top of his stick. He tried to put the other hand in his pocket, but he needed it out for balance. Even with the sleeves of his jumper pulled right down, it was still perilously cold.
‘So,’ said Hetty, observing the scene before her. ‘Are we all going to church?’
The children looked up at her enquiringly.
‘Not me,’ said Lilian. ‘I’m Catholic.’
‘You are not Catholic!’ said Hetty. ‘My father wouldn’t have had you in the house!’
‘Ah, prejudice,’ said Lilian. ‘We are a long-tormented race, us Catholics.’
‘You can’t go Catholic on a whim, for one,’ said Hetty. ‘And you can’t go Catholic just because you hate the vicar.’
‘I do hate that vicar,’ said Lilian.
‘Well, then you’ll be entering a holy state with hatred in your heart,’ retorted Hetty, whose belief in the Church of England was as solid and unchanging as her belief in the gentry, the damage done to the country’s moral standards by decimalisation, indoor toilets, central heating and the loss of national service, and the superiority of dogs to cats. God in his heaven, Liptons in Lipton Hall and everything from there cascading downwards to sheep and the mice in the stables.
‘That’s all right,’ said Lilian serenely. ‘I can say sorry at the last minute and it will all be fine.’
Rosie didn’t feel like moving at all, much less saying hello to everybody in the village, and was going to offer to stay with her great-aunt, but her mother looked surprisingly interested.
‘Do you want to go?’ Rosie asked.
Angie shrugged.
‘Well… you know. Remember, this is where my dad grew up. This is the church he went to…’
‘He was always bunking off church,’ said Lilian.
‘… and the families he grew up with and the world he knew really well. So, I wouldn’t mind exactly.’
‘We want to go!’ said Kelly.
‘Yeah, we want to see our friends from sledging,’ said Shane. ‘And…’ He indicated a gift Rosie hadn’t seen. An old but well-polished sledge. It was Stephen’s, of course. Rosie looked over at Hetty, who shrugged.
‘He can use it when he visits. It needs a boy.’
‘Well,’ said Rosie, impressed. ‘Okay then.’
She heaved herself out of the armchair. Anything to distract herself, to get through this interminable day. Once she had waved them off tomorrow, then she could go home, and go upstairs to the little bedroom in the attic, and sob her heart out. She only had to hold on till then.
‘I shall take Buzz Lightyear,’ said Meridian, holding up a much-cherished new toy. ‘He LOVES church.’
‘He probably does,’ said Rosie.
From over the long side of the fell, Stephen, slightly disorientated, thought he heard the sound of cars starting up. Panicking, he felt sure in his exhaustion that they were gone; that he had missed his last chance to see Rosie before she left for ever. He started, ludicrously, to try running across the snow and ice. This landed him with nothing better for his pains than to tumble straight into a snowdrift, piled high, which soaked him through.
The cars were not coming this way. The noise disappeared. For a second, Stephen thought about staying put; pulling the snowdrift over him like a blanket and finally getting some sleep. He seemed to be out of the wind down here; more comfortable than he could have imagined…
His frozen fingers fumbled against the breast pocket of his coat, and he felt the tight, sharp outline of the little box. He had to go on.
Despite the vicar doing his best not to mention God at all in his sermon, Rosie couldn’t help enjoying it a little, even in her misery. Shane and Kelly seemed to have made an amazing number of friends in the short time they’d been here. Kent and Emily were both in their Sunday best, beaming at her, Emily incredibly like her mother, and clutching a huge doll with limpid blinking eyes, Kent wearing a tie, Jake’s hand on his shoulder. Tina was smiling her head off too; they did look like a family in an advertisement.
‘Hey,’ said Rosie, as Tina gave her a hug, concerned about how awful she looked. ‘Did you hear about Hester?’
‘Oh yes,’ said Tina. ‘It’s quite the news of the village. Is it really true she’s called Marie Christmas?’
‘I think I may have to have a word with Edison about this before they make it to the registrar,’ said Rosie.
She spotted Moray at the side door.
‘I didn’t have you for a God-botherer,’ she said, kissing him again.
