The Christmas Surprise
Page 58
‘You’d keep me from my son?’
Rosie shook her head, shocked at her own outburst.
‘No. No. Of course not.’ She looked up at him. ‘But Stephen, it won’t just be you sacrificing everything for Apostil. It’ll be me too.’
Chapter Seventeen
After a sleepless night for both of them, Rosie opened the shop by herself on Saturday morning. She had completely forgotten – although Tina, typically, had not and had ordered up the stock well in advance – that there would be something of a run on sugared almonds to exchange as gifts, as well as the little wrapped jelly sweets that would be thrown out of the car. Although in her excitement at changing her by-the-book hotel wedding into a more down-home one, Tina had also cancelled the Rolls-Royce, so Rosie supposed she was just walking to the church now.
It was a perfect winter’s day. The sun was shining but the snow still lay – deep and crisp and even, Rosie liked to think – across the fields, each melting drop shining like a diamond. The roads, though, had been cleared, so people coming from further afield wouldn’t have to worry about getting snowed in. With a heavy heart she had left the black-tie babygro out where Stephen could see it, hoping he’d know to get Appy dressed in it. He was an usher, so he’d have to be down at the church early.
The shop was busy, which was a useful distraction, with mothers buying sweets for the little ones to keep them quiet in church, and boxes of chocolates being bought for the happy couple, as people decided that the vouchers that had been on their wedding list looked a little bit sad on their own. Rosie happily offered to wrap them in Christmas paper, thinking how pretty they would look under the surfeit of overdecorated Christmas trees. The vicar came in for his mints, of course, wearing his best dog collar and smiling cheerfully.
‘Is it true there’s going to be free fish and chips?’ he asked.
‘There is.’
He beamed.
‘God does love a wedding.’
Anton, formerly the village’s fattest man, came in. He was wearing a suit that was at least nine sizes too big for him.
‘Okay,’ he said. ‘Look at this! Don’t I look like an advert?’ He started to unbuckle his belt.
‘What are you doing?’ Rosie said, alarmed.
‘LOOK!’
He pulled the waistband of his suit trousers slowly outwards. There was enough free space there to fit another person inside.
‘Look at you!’ said Rosie, pleased.
‘I thought you would like it! This is the first time I’ve worn my suit in three years. It was for the funeral of an old pizza buddy,’ he added sadly.
‘Oh, I’m sorry about that.’
‘Well, he’d had his time.’
‘Really? How old was he?’
‘Fifty-two,’ said Anton sorrowfully.
‘Well look at you!’ said Rosie cheerfully. ‘You’ve done so brilliantly!’
‘I know,’ said Anton, buckling his belt again. ‘So. Can I have a pound of fudge?’
‘No,’ said Rosie.
‘Please?’
‘No. You can have one small packet of Parma violets,’ Rosie said sternly.
A last-minute rush meant there were just minutes to spare when she finally shut up shop and slipped next door. Stephen and Apostil had already left, but Moray and Lilian were there. Lilian was making up her face in the mirror. She was wearing a beautiful lavender dress, and a matching coat with a huge fur collar.
‘Is that real fur?’ asked Rosie.
Lilian looked at Moray.
‘No-ooo,’ she said. ‘It’s completely imaginary. You’re actually looking at a raincoat. Are you coming like that?’
‘Like this? In a black skirt and white shirt?’
‘You can never tell with your sartorial choices.’
‘Seriously? No, of course I’m not.’
She disappeared crossly and got into the pretty black and white flowered dress she’d bought specially. Annoyingly, she couldn’t zip it up the side and had to get Moray in to do it.
‘Breathe in, Podge,’ he said.
‘Shut up!’ said Rosie. ‘For goodness’ sake, has no one got a good word to say about me round here?’
Moray patted her on the shoulder.
‘You look beautiful. Like a goddess.’
‘Yeah, all right, all right.’
She turned to face the mirror and started applying make-up.
‘You do look nice,’ said Moray, musing. ‘Pretty. Softer. Motherhood suits you.’
‘I don’t want to be soft!’ said Rosie. ‘I need to be tough!’
Moray smiled and leaned forward, his face concerned.
‘Rosie, I got an email from the surgical team at Derby General. They need to start scheduling consultations. Darling, I hate to do this today of all days, but … it’s decision time. It really is. The longer you leave it, the harder it’s going to be for Appy to adjust as he starts to hit his milestones.’
Rosie swallowed hugely.
‘I know,’ she said. ‘It’s just … with so much going on …’
‘I understand,’ said Moray. ‘But there’s never a good time for any of this shit, I promise.’
‘I realise that.’
She closed her eyes.
‘I’m so sorry you have to move,’ said Moray.
‘Oh well, fair’s fair. It’s Pamela’s house and so on.’
‘Hmm,’ said Moray. ‘Spoiled brat.’
‘They’re both spoiled brats, those children,’ smiled Rosie. ‘It’s just I really fancy one of them.’
Moray stroked her hair.
‘Honestly,’ said Rosie. ‘Tell me honestly. If Apostil were your son, what would you do?’
‘I would want him to have every possible advantage in life,’ said Moray, gently. ‘Like I would for any child.’
Rosie nodded.
‘And Stephen’s not happy about it?’
It was kind of Moray to let her cry all down the front of his morning suit.
Lilian helped her clean herself up, wisely without asking too many questions, and put on her mascara for her.
‘Everyone cries at weddings,’ she said. ‘Can’t bear the damn things myself. Can’t believe you’re getting me to this one.’
‘You and Henry should have got married,’ sniffed Rosie.
Rosie shook her head, shocked at her own outburst.
‘No. No. Of course not.’ She looked up at him. ‘But Stephen, it won’t just be you sacrificing everything for Apostil. It’ll be me too.’
Chapter Seventeen
After a sleepless night for both of them, Rosie opened the shop by herself on Saturday morning. She had completely forgotten – although Tina, typically, had not and had ordered up the stock well in advance – that there would be something of a run on sugared almonds to exchange as gifts, as well as the little wrapped jelly sweets that would be thrown out of the car. Although in her excitement at changing her by-the-book hotel wedding into a more down-home one, Tina had also cancelled the Rolls-Royce, so Rosie supposed she was just walking to the church now.
It was a perfect winter’s day. The sun was shining but the snow still lay – deep and crisp and even, Rosie liked to think – across the fields, each melting drop shining like a diamond. The roads, though, had been cleared, so people coming from further afield wouldn’t have to worry about getting snowed in. With a heavy heart she had left the black-tie babygro out where Stephen could see it, hoping he’d know to get Appy dressed in it. He was an usher, so he’d have to be down at the church early.
The shop was busy, which was a useful distraction, with mothers buying sweets for the little ones to keep them quiet in church, and boxes of chocolates being bought for the happy couple, as people decided that the vouchers that had been on their wedding list looked a little bit sad on their own. Rosie happily offered to wrap them in Christmas paper, thinking how pretty they would look under the surfeit of overdecorated Christmas trees. The vicar came in for his mints, of course, wearing his best dog collar and smiling cheerfully.
‘Is it true there’s going to be free fish and chips?’ he asked.
‘There is.’
He beamed.
‘God does love a wedding.’
Anton, formerly the village’s fattest man, came in. He was wearing a suit that was at least nine sizes too big for him.
‘Okay,’ he said. ‘Look at this! Don’t I look like an advert?’ He started to unbuckle his belt.
‘What are you doing?’ Rosie said, alarmed.
‘LOOK!’
He pulled the waistband of his suit trousers slowly outwards. There was enough free space there to fit another person inside.
‘Look at you!’ said Rosie, pleased.
‘I thought you would like it! This is the first time I’ve worn my suit in three years. It was for the funeral of an old pizza buddy,’ he added sadly.
‘Oh, I’m sorry about that.’
‘Well, he’d had his time.’
‘Really? How old was he?’
‘Fifty-two,’ said Anton sorrowfully.
‘Well look at you!’ said Rosie cheerfully. ‘You’ve done so brilliantly!’
‘I know,’ said Anton, buckling his belt again. ‘So. Can I have a pound of fudge?’
‘No,’ said Rosie.
‘Please?’
‘No. You can have one small packet of Parma violets,’ Rosie said sternly.
A last-minute rush meant there were just minutes to spare when she finally shut up shop and slipped next door. Stephen and Apostil had already left, but Moray and Lilian were there. Lilian was making up her face in the mirror. She was wearing a beautiful lavender dress, and a matching coat with a huge fur collar.
‘Is that real fur?’ asked Rosie.
Lilian looked at Moray.
‘No-ooo,’ she said. ‘It’s completely imaginary. You’re actually looking at a raincoat. Are you coming like that?’
‘Like this? In a black skirt and white shirt?’
‘You can never tell with your sartorial choices.’
‘Seriously? No, of course I’m not.’
She disappeared crossly and got into the pretty black and white flowered dress she’d bought specially. Annoyingly, she couldn’t zip it up the side and had to get Moray in to do it.
‘Breathe in, Podge,’ he said.
‘Shut up!’ said Rosie. ‘For goodness’ sake, has no one got a good word to say about me round here?’
Moray patted her on the shoulder.
‘You look beautiful. Like a goddess.’
‘Yeah, all right, all right.’
She turned to face the mirror and started applying make-up.
‘You do look nice,’ said Moray, musing. ‘Pretty. Softer. Motherhood suits you.’
‘I don’t want to be soft!’ said Rosie. ‘I need to be tough!’
Moray smiled and leaned forward, his face concerned.
‘Rosie, I got an email from the surgical team at Derby General. They need to start scheduling consultations. Darling, I hate to do this today of all days, but … it’s decision time. It really is. The longer you leave it, the harder it’s going to be for Appy to adjust as he starts to hit his milestones.’
Rosie swallowed hugely.
‘I know,’ she said. ‘It’s just … with so much going on …’
‘I understand,’ said Moray. ‘But there’s never a good time for any of this shit, I promise.’
‘I realise that.’
She closed her eyes.
‘I’m so sorry you have to move,’ said Moray.
‘Oh well, fair’s fair. It’s Pamela’s house and so on.’
‘Hmm,’ said Moray. ‘Spoiled brat.’
‘They’re both spoiled brats, those children,’ smiled Rosie. ‘It’s just I really fancy one of them.’
Moray stroked her hair.
‘Honestly,’ said Rosie. ‘Tell me honestly. If Apostil were your son, what would you do?’
‘I would want him to have every possible advantage in life,’ said Moray, gently. ‘Like I would for any child.’
Rosie nodded.
‘And Stephen’s not happy about it?’
It was kind of Moray to let her cry all down the front of his morning suit.
Lilian helped her clean herself up, wisely without asking too many questions, and put on her mascara for her.
‘Everyone cries at weddings,’ she said. ‘Can’t bear the damn things myself. Can’t believe you’re getting me to this one.’
‘You and Henry should have got married,’ sniffed Rosie.
