The Christmas Surprise
Page 45
Roy was not like that. He was the opposite of that. He seemed to have taken his attitude towards his job from a terrifying children’s book. In fact she had no idea why he was mixing with children at all. He hated the blighters.
Now he blinked at her behind his unpleasant frameless glasses, then showed his horrifically white tombstone teeth in one of his wide, insincere grins.
‘Miss Hopkins,’ he said. He inclined his head. ‘And your new …’
He seemed to run out of words here and flapped his hands. Rosie gasped at his rudeness.
‘This is my baby Apostil,’ she said. But Roy ignored her and turned to Tina.
‘And Miss Ferrers,’ he said. ‘Have you made a decision about young Emily’s brace yet? If you don’t do it soon, I’ll have to dislocate her jaw or she’ll be disfigured for life.’
‘She’s only nine,’ gasped Tina. ‘And it’s so expensive.’
‘Too expensive to avoid lifelong disfigurement? Oh well. That is a shame.’
‘Why are you running the Boys’ Brigade?’ asked Rosie in some shock.
‘Because, Miss Hopkins, thanks to you and your fellow sugar-pushers, the children of this village are WEAK. Lily-livered, pathetic mewling milquetoasts.’
Edison, still wearing his oddly tilted beret, had marched up to the door.
‘Hello, Miss Rosie!’ he said, beaming. Roy shot him a look and he instantly stiffened.
‘They need backbone. Sinew.’
Edison nodded vigorously.
‘We’re weak, Miss Rosie.’
Rosie couldn’t exactly argue with that, but her brow furrowed.
‘But what’s in it for you?’
‘The satisfaction of building healthy young bodies and minds, rather than poisoning them with sugar as you do.’
He cleared his throat.
‘Sixty-four more laps of the hut, please!’
Rosie narrowed her eyes at him. She didn’t buy this for a second. Tina coughed, and she remembered why she was there. She tried to make her voice more conciliatory.
‘The thing is, we need to borrow the hut. In two weeks.’
‘There isn’t a town council meeting until the new year,’ said Roy. ‘So no.’
‘But,’ said Tina desperately, ‘it’s for my wedding.’
‘You’re supposed to plan these things more than a couple of weeks in advance,’ said Roy. There was a Mrs Blaine – Rosie had seen her, a pinched, terrified-looking woman called Laura, who never came into the shop – but Rosie found the concept of Roy Blaine proposing marriage terrifying in the extreme.
Tina burst into noisy tears.
‘Ssssh,’ said Rosie. ‘I’m sure Mr Blaine will do the right, kind thing and change his mind.’
‘I’ll do the right thing and send it through the proper council channels,’ said Roy. ‘Now if you don’t mind, I have drill.’
He turned back into the room of slightly terrified-looking little boys and shouted, ‘Atten-HUT!’ and they all leapt to attention.
Rosie took Tina for a drink in the Red Lion. Les, the lugubrious landlord, didn’t realise Apostil was there till he was handing over their white wines.
‘No kids in ’ere,’ he said, his moustache drooping into the lines that ran down from his nose.
‘I haven’t … Oh,’ said Rosie, remembering. She had been so caught up in wondering what to do about Tina’s wedding, she had completely forgotten the baby was there. ‘Oh, dammit, he’ll never sleep tonight. We’ll just have to sit up and watch I’m a Celebrity.’
She turned round and, to her horror, caught the eye of Joy, the social worker, who was sitting at a corner table with a cup of tea, marking something up on her omnipresent iPad.
‘Oh Lord,’ said Rosie. ‘It’s just one thing after another.’ She gave a weak wave. Joy got up and stalked over.
‘You know you’re not allowed to bring Baby to the pub?’
Well, if there was a Starbucks in Lipton we’d probably have gone there and parked our buggy right in everybody’s way, like all those ‘good mothers’, was what Rosie wanted to say, but she didn’t dare, just hung her head.
‘Sorry, I just popped in … my friend was a bit upset.’
‘Now,’ said Joy, in a sing-song voice that was supposed to be soothing but was actually quite the opposite, ‘I realise you’re a first-time mother, and that Apostil is an adopted child …’
Mentally Rosie rolled her eyes.
‘But we don’t consider “the pub”’ – she made air quotation marks – ‘to be the safest or best environment for Baby.’
‘Um. Yes. Thank you,’ said Rosie, feeling rebellious inside. She was tempted to order a double whisky, even though she’d never ordered whisky in her life because she hated the taste of the stuff. ‘I was just going,’ she said instead.
‘Don’t you want your wine?’ said Tina.
‘No, of course not,’ said Rosie, forcing herself. ‘I would never drink wine in front of … Baby.’
Joy gave her a patronising smile as Rosie, feeling absolutely red hot, slowly got up and walked across the pub, leaving behind the full glass of wine on the table. She was watched by an agonisingly embarrassed Tina and a smug-looking Joy, as well as a full complement of locals. It would be all over the village by the next morning.
Standing up woke Apostil, who greeted the room with a hearty yell, thus alerting the last two chess-playing pensioners in the corner, who had been previously unaware of what was happening. Rosie stomped out of the pub and, crossly, into the street.
‘What’s up with you?’ said Stephen as she threw open the door ten minutes later with a face like thunder. ‘You look like my mother.’
Pamela was pacing up and down in front of the fire, shouting into her phone.
‘Oh good,’ said Rosie through gritted teeth. ‘Pamela’s back. After she threw you out of your home, she appears to be squatting at ours.’
Stephen looked uncomfortable.
‘She’s not been well,’ he said. ‘Also she says she needs miso and I don’t know where to get any.’
‘Halifax,’ sniffed Rosie. ‘Shall we go and drive her there now? There’s a Force 4 coming in, but anything for Pamela.’
Now he blinked at her behind his unpleasant frameless glasses, then showed his horrifically white tombstone teeth in one of his wide, insincere grins.
‘Miss Hopkins,’ he said. He inclined his head. ‘And your new …’
He seemed to run out of words here and flapped his hands. Rosie gasped at his rudeness.
‘This is my baby Apostil,’ she said. But Roy ignored her and turned to Tina.
‘And Miss Ferrers,’ he said. ‘Have you made a decision about young Emily’s brace yet? If you don’t do it soon, I’ll have to dislocate her jaw or she’ll be disfigured for life.’
‘She’s only nine,’ gasped Tina. ‘And it’s so expensive.’
‘Too expensive to avoid lifelong disfigurement? Oh well. That is a shame.’
‘Why are you running the Boys’ Brigade?’ asked Rosie in some shock.
‘Because, Miss Hopkins, thanks to you and your fellow sugar-pushers, the children of this village are WEAK. Lily-livered, pathetic mewling milquetoasts.’
Edison, still wearing his oddly tilted beret, had marched up to the door.
‘Hello, Miss Rosie!’ he said, beaming. Roy shot him a look and he instantly stiffened.
‘They need backbone. Sinew.’
Edison nodded vigorously.
‘We’re weak, Miss Rosie.’
Rosie couldn’t exactly argue with that, but her brow furrowed.
‘But what’s in it for you?’
‘The satisfaction of building healthy young bodies and minds, rather than poisoning them with sugar as you do.’
He cleared his throat.
‘Sixty-four more laps of the hut, please!’
Rosie narrowed her eyes at him. She didn’t buy this for a second. Tina coughed, and she remembered why she was there. She tried to make her voice more conciliatory.
‘The thing is, we need to borrow the hut. In two weeks.’
‘There isn’t a town council meeting until the new year,’ said Roy. ‘So no.’
‘But,’ said Tina desperately, ‘it’s for my wedding.’
‘You’re supposed to plan these things more than a couple of weeks in advance,’ said Roy. There was a Mrs Blaine – Rosie had seen her, a pinched, terrified-looking woman called Laura, who never came into the shop – but Rosie found the concept of Roy Blaine proposing marriage terrifying in the extreme.
Tina burst into noisy tears.
‘Ssssh,’ said Rosie. ‘I’m sure Mr Blaine will do the right, kind thing and change his mind.’
‘I’ll do the right thing and send it through the proper council channels,’ said Roy. ‘Now if you don’t mind, I have drill.’
He turned back into the room of slightly terrified-looking little boys and shouted, ‘Atten-HUT!’ and they all leapt to attention.
Rosie took Tina for a drink in the Red Lion. Les, the lugubrious landlord, didn’t realise Apostil was there till he was handing over their white wines.
‘No kids in ’ere,’ he said, his moustache drooping into the lines that ran down from his nose.
‘I haven’t … Oh,’ said Rosie, remembering. She had been so caught up in wondering what to do about Tina’s wedding, she had completely forgotten the baby was there. ‘Oh, dammit, he’ll never sleep tonight. We’ll just have to sit up and watch I’m a Celebrity.’
She turned round and, to her horror, caught the eye of Joy, the social worker, who was sitting at a corner table with a cup of tea, marking something up on her omnipresent iPad.
‘Oh Lord,’ said Rosie. ‘It’s just one thing after another.’ She gave a weak wave. Joy got up and stalked over.
‘You know you’re not allowed to bring Baby to the pub?’
Well, if there was a Starbucks in Lipton we’d probably have gone there and parked our buggy right in everybody’s way, like all those ‘good mothers’, was what Rosie wanted to say, but she didn’t dare, just hung her head.
‘Sorry, I just popped in … my friend was a bit upset.’
‘Now,’ said Joy, in a sing-song voice that was supposed to be soothing but was actually quite the opposite, ‘I realise you’re a first-time mother, and that Apostil is an adopted child …’
Mentally Rosie rolled her eyes.
‘But we don’t consider “the pub”’ – she made air quotation marks – ‘to be the safest or best environment for Baby.’
‘Um. Yes. Thank you,’ said Rosie, feeling rebellious inside. She was tempted to order a double whisky, even though she’d never ordered whisky in her life because she hated the taste of the stuff. ‘I was just going,’ she said instead.
‘Don’t you want your wine?’ said Tina.
‘No, of course not,’ said Rosie, forcing herself. ‘I would never drink wine in front of … Baby.’
Joy gave her a patronising smile as Rosie, feeling absolutely red hot, slowly got up and walked across the pub, leaving behind the full glass of wine on the table. She was watched by an agonisingly embarrassed Tina and a smug-looking Joy, as well as a full complement of locals. It would be all over the village by the next morning.
Standing up woke Apostil, who greeted the room with a hearty yell, thus alerting the last two chess-playing pensioners in the corner, who had been previously unaware of what was happening. Rosie stomped out of the pub and, crossly, into the street.
‘What’s up with you?’ said Stephen as she threw open the door ten minutes later with a face like thunder. ‘You look like my mother.’
Pamela was pacing up and down in front of the fire, shouting into her phone.
‘Oh good,’ said Rosie through gritted teeth. ‘Pamela’s back. After she threw you out of your home, she appears to be squatting at ours.’
Stephen looked uncomfortable.
‘She’s not been well,’ he said. ‘Also she says she needs miso and I don’t know where to get any.’
‘Halifax,’ sniffed Rosie. ‘Shall we go and drive her there now? There’s a Force 4 coming in, but anything for Pamela.’
