The Christmas Surprise
Page 43
‘It does slightly suck not having any money,’ said Stephen.
‘Mmm,’ said Rosie, who had never had any, nor any expectation of having any, so didn’t think the same way.
‘God,’ Stephen said suddenly. ‘You know, Pamela’s planning to spend all that money she earned – all of it, tons of it, enough to run six thousand schools in Africa, or redo Mum’s roof a hundred times – on ridiculously expensive curtains she saw in a magazine. She has never offered to share a penny of it. Not that I want it, but. You know.’
Rosie nodded.
‘But she doesn’t seem too happy. Whereas Lilian was positively cheerful.’
‘Hmm,’ said Stephen. ‘Are you giving a moral lecture, by any chance?’
Rosie smiled.
‘Would you like to balance it up by doing something extremely immoral to me?’
‘Yes,’ said Stephen. ‘Before that baby wakes up and we all have to move into the Land Rover, I really think I would.’
The next day in the shop passed slowly, with occasional hiccups from Tina. At three, the bell above the door jangled with unseemly force, and Lady Lipton pushed her way inside. Rosie started nervously.
‘Um, hello,’ she said.
‘Have you seen my daughter?’ demanded Henrietta without so much as a good afternoon.
‘Isn’t she at Peak House?’
‘She isn’t answering her bloody phone. She can’t just go knocking down walls, she needs proper surveyors and stuff.’
‘Lady Lipton?’ said a quiet voice. ‘Um, excuse me, Lady Lipton?’
Henrietta looked round from where she was examining the Fry’s Chocolate Creams, as if she’d been summonsed by a mouse. Finally her gaze rested on Tina.
‘What?’ she snapped.
‘Um …’ Tina’s face was a picture of misery as she twisted her fingers in her apron. ‘Um, ma’am … I was … I was supposed to be getting married in the Hyacinth …’
Lady Lipton raised an eyebrow.
‘Insurance job. Don’t you think, Rosie?’
‘Not a clue,’ said Rosie hurriedly.
‘And I was wondering …’ went on Tina. ‘It’s … it’s in two weeks and … Well, I was wondering if …’
‘Spit it out, girl.’
‘If we could maybe use your house … I mean, just a bit of it … I mean …’
‘Oh. No,’ said Lady Lipton, handing over money for the chocolate bar.
‘She was just wondering if you might be able to help with an alternative,’ said Rosie, stung by her rudeness. ‘She was only asking.’
‘That’s fine,’ said Lady Lipton. ‘And I’m only saying. No. She can’t. Weddings are a big pain at the best of times, without half the local farming establishment getting their muddy boots on my chesterfields. I’ve no heating, no loos, no catering … It’s bad enough having to think about my own son’s wedding.’
‘Is it?’ said Rosie quickly, startled.
‘And of course we’re having the christening on Christmas Day.’
‘Are we?’
Henrietta looked at Rosie over the top of her glasses.
‘It’s already sorted with the church. He can wear Stephen’s christening gown.’
Over my dead body, thought Rosie.
‘So as you can see, I have quite enough on my plate. I would have thought you all did. Good day.’
And she swept out of the shop in her usual imperious fashion, like a galleon cutting through stormy seas.
Tina collapsed in tears yet again. Rosie put her arms around her.
‘Hush,’ she said. ‘Don’t worry.’
‘Don’t worry? I’ve got a hundred people turning up in two weeks’ time!!! And a church service and no reception!’
Rosie gave her a cuddle.
‘Look, if we have to have it round your mum’s, we will.’
‘It’s a three-bed semi!’ said Tina, still in floods.
Another thought struck Rosie.
‘Oh, we could have had it at Peak House … if Stephen still had Peak House,’ she finished lamely.
‘That place is cold,’ said Tina.
‘Hey!’ said Rosie. ‘Trying to help here. Can’t you cancel?’
‘We’ve paid the deposit for the photographer and the flowers and everything,’ said Tina, snivelling. ‘There’s a juggler and mime artistes, and a lighting operator …’
‘Seriously?’ said Rosie. ‘A lighting operator?’
‘For ambience,’ sniffed Tina. ‘You can’t really have a wedding without it.’
‘Oh,’ said Rosie. ‘I wasn’t aware of that.’
They sat in silence for a while, punctuated by occasional sniffles from Tina. Then the bell tinged again, and Edison came in.
Rosie took a while to clock that it was him.
‘Um, hello, Edison.’
He was wearing a slightly skew-whiff beret, a blue shirt with buttons done up and badges on the arm, and a tight belt. He appeared to be carrying a rolled-up flag.
‘Uh, what are you doing?’
In answer, Edison clicked his heels together and saluted.
‘Boys’ Brigade, ma’am.’
Rosie broke into a smile.
‘Seriously?’
‘Yes, ma’am! Atten-HUT!’
‘But isn’t that …’
‘It’s quas-miltree,’ nodded Edison, blinking through his glasses as if he’d anticipated the question. ‘Hester is furious.’
‘That’s a new development,’ said Rosie. ‘So why are you going?’
‘Dr Moray says I need the drills,’ said Edison. ‘Good for spinal development.’
‘Does he now?’ Rosie smiled to herself. It sounded exactly like Moray, trying to give Edison some kind of a normal social life outside the world of school, the social rules of which he found somewhat difficult to follow.
‘And my dad thinks it’s a good idea.’
‘I like your dad,’ said Rosie. ‘Are you enjoying it?’
Edison’s brow furrowed and he lowered his voice.
‘Some of the mean boys at school … they laugh at my uniform.’
‘Well don’t wear it to school,’ said Rosie.
‘Mmm,’ said Rosie, who had never had any, nor any expectation of having any, so didn’t think the same way.
‘God,’ Stephen said suddenly. ‘You know, Pamela’s planning to spend all that money she earned – all of it, tons of it, enough to run six thousand schools in Africa, or redo Mum’s roof a hundred times – on ridiculously expensive curtains she saw in a magazine. She has never offered to share a penny of it. Not that I want it, but. You know.’
Rosie nodded.
‘But she doesn’t seem too happy. Whereas Lilian was positively cheerful.’
‘Hmm,’ said Stephen. ‘Are you giving a moral lecture, by any chance?’
Rosie smiled.
‘Would you like to balance it up by doing something extremely immoral to me?’
‘Yes,’ said Stephen. ‘Before that baby wakes up and we all have to move into the Land Rover, I really think I would.’
The next day in the shop passed slowly, with occasional hiccups from Tina. At three, the bell above the door jangled with unseemly force, and Lady Lipton pushed her way inside. Rosie started nervously.
‘Um, hello,’ she said.
‘Have you seen my daughter?’ demanded Henrietta without so much as a good afternoon.
‘Isn’t she at Peak House?’
‘She isn’t answering her bloody phone. She can’t just go knocking down walls, she needs proper surveyors and stuff.’
‘Lady Lipton?’ said a quiet voice. ‘Um, excuse me, Lady Lipton?’
Henrietta looked round from where she was examining the Fry’s Chocolate Creams, as if she’d been summonsed by a mouse. Finally her gaze rested on Tina.
‘What?’ she snapped.
‘Um …’ Tina’s face was a picture of misery as she twisted her fingers in her apron. ‘Um, ma’am … I was … I was supposed to be getting married in the Hyacinth …’
Lady Lipton raised an eyebrow.
‘Insurance job. Don’t you think, Rosie?’
‘Not a clue,’ said Rosie hurriedly.
‘And I was wondering …’ went on Tina. ‘It’s … it’s in two weeks and … Well, I was wondering if …’
‘Spit it out, girl.’
‘If we could maybe use your house … I mean, just a bit of it … I mean …’
‘Oh. No,’ said Lady Lipton, handing over money for the chocolate bar.
‘She was just wondering if you might be able to help with an alternative,’ said Rosie, stung by her rudeness. ‘She was only asking.’
‘That’s fine,’ said Lady Lipton. ‘And I’m only saying. No. She can’t. Weddings are a big pain at the best of times, without half the local farming establishment getting their muddy boots on my chesterfields. I’ve no heating, no loos, no catering … It’s bad enough having to think about my own son’s wedding.’
‘Is it?’ said Rosie quickly, startled.
‘And of course we’re having the christening on Christmas Day.’
‘Are we?’
Henrietta looked at Rosie over the top of her glasses.
‘It’s already sorted with the church. He can wear Stephen’s christening gown.’
Over my dead body, thought Rosie.
‘So as you can see, I have quite enough on my plate. I would have thought you all did. Good day.’
And she swept out of the shop in her usual imperious fashion, like a galleon cutting through stormy seas.
Tina collapsed in tears yet again. Rosie put her arms around her.
‘Hush,’ she said. ‘Don’t worry.’
‘Don’t worry? I’ve got a hundred people turning up in two weeks’ time!!! And a church service and no reception!’
Rosie gave her a cuddle.
‘Look, if we have to have it round your mum’s, we will.’
‘It’s a three-bed semi!’ said Tina, still in floods.
Another thought struck Rosie.
‘Oh, we could have had it at Peak House … if Stephen still had Peak House,’ she finished lamely.
‘That place is cold,’ said Tina.
‘Hey!’ said Rosie. ‘Trying to help here. Can’t you cancel?’
‘We’ve paid the deposit for the photographer and the flowers and everything,’ said Tina, snivelling. ‘There’s a juggler and mime artistes, and a lighting operator …’
‘Seriously?’ said Rosie. ‘A lighting operator?’
‘For ambience,’ sniffed Tina. ‘You can’t really have a wedding without it.’
‘Oh,’ said Rosie. ‘I wasn’t aware of that.’
They sat in silence for a while, punctuated by occasional sniffles from Tina. Then the bell tinged again, and Edison came in.
Rosie took a while to clock that it was him.
‘Um, hello, Edison.’
He was wearing a slightly skew-whiff beret, a blue shirt with buttons done up and badges on the arm, and a tight belt. He appeared to be carrying a rolled-up flag.
‘Uh, what are you doing?’
In answer, Edison clicked his heels together and saluted.
‘Boys’ Brigade, ma’am.’
Rosie broke into a smile.
‘Seriously?’
‘Yes, ma’am! Atten-HUT!’
‘But isn’t that …’
‘It’s quas-miltree,’ nodded Edison, blinking through his glasses as if he’d anticipated the question. ‘Hester is furious.’
‘That’s a new development,’ said Rosie. ‘So why are you going?’
‘Dr Moray says I need the drills,’ said Edison. ‘Good for spinal development.’
‘Does he now?’ Rosie smiled to herself. It sounded exactly like Moray, trying to give Edison some kind of a normal social life outside the world of school, the social rules of which he found somewhat difficult to follow.
‘And my dad thinks it’s a good idea.’
‘I like your dad,’ said Rosie. ‘Are you enjoying it?’
Edison’s brow furrowed and he lowered his voice.
‘Some of the mean boys at school … they laugh at my uniform.’
‘Well don’t wear it to school,’ said Rosie.
