Welcome to Rosie Hopkins' Sweet Shop of Dreams
Page 38
‘Well,’ said Rosie, ‘here is a sweetie for you. And do you have any brothers or sisters?’
The boy shook his head.
‘Oh. That’s a shame. Well, would you like a spare one to give a friend?’
‘My friend isn’t allowed sweets,’ said the boy. Rosie had an idea of what the boy and his friend might be like.
‘OK,’ she said. Then she crouched down and whispered, ‘Would you like to eat his?’
The boy’s already magnified eyes widened.
‘But I don’t want the dentist to come and get me,’ he said.
‘OK,’ said Rosie. ‘Just the one then.’
‘Yes,’ said the boy hesitantly. ‘I think that would be best. Thank you very much for having me. Goodbye.’
He scampered off down the road.
‘What a peculiar chap,’ said Rosie.
‘Some academic and his hippy wife,’ said Lilian scornfully. ‘They’ve pampered the bloody life out of him, poor booby. He has a terrible time of it.’
‘That’s awful,’ said Rosie, genuinely sympathetic. ‘Well, I like him. What’s his name?’
‘Edison,’ said Lilian, ‘short for Edison, have you ever heard anything more ridiculous?’
‘Ooh, I rather like it,’ said Rosie.
Lilian peered over her niece’s shoulder through the shop door. ‘Scrubbing up, are you?’
Her tone was less peevish and sarcastic than usual.
‘Yup,’ said Rosie proudly. She’d covered a lot of ground today. ‘And I’m doing a stocktake.’
‘What’s that?’ said Lilian, absent-mindedly picking up the box of flying saucers and turning to go back indoors.
‘It’s … never mind,’ said Rosie. ‘And I’m going to need to see your accounts!’ she yelled after the elegantly departing figure, who did nothing apart from wave a bony hand in response.
Several hours later, with Lilian napping again and the shop clean as a whistle, the sun streaming in through the immaculate mullioned windows, Rosie looked around her with some satisfaction. Then she glanced at her watch: only three o’clock. She wondered what to do. Sighing, she thought she’d better go out and explore.
There was no way it was going to rain, she decided. The coat was frankly doomed, and Hetty’s mud duster was going to stay right there on the peg until Hetty came to get it or it crawled home under its own steam. Or, better, Rosie thought, as soon as she learned to ride that bicycle, she’d ride up to the big house and deliver it personally.
Her mobile rang. She squinted at the unfamiliar number. ‘Hello?’
‘Nurse Rosie?’ came the amused-sounding tones.
‘Moray!’ she said, pleased. ‘What are you doing? If it’s catheterisation, I’m really incredibly busy.’
‘Nothing quite that exciting,’ said Moray. ‘Actually I was going to ask you another one of those special favours.’
The little road to Peak House looked more fairytale than ever, with the first leaves littering the pathway leading up to the grey stone building. Moray didn’t park out the front of course, but drove round the side, honking the horn loudly.
‘That’ll sort him out if he’s got headphones on,’ he said, then, getting out of the car, shouted loudly, ‘Medical! Medical!’ and to Rosie, ‘Now, use the kitchen door.’
‘Why is everyone so frightened of this guy?’ Rosie took the pills Moray had prescribed, as well as the page of written instructions.
‘I’m not frightened of him,’ said Moray. ‘Apart from the fact that he shouts a lot and has a gun.’
Rosie raised an eyebrow at him.
‘I’m not, honestly,’ said Moray, laughing. ‘Trust me. I did my training in Glasgow. Very little scares me.’ His face turned serious for an instant. ‘He’s one of my patients and I’d like him to get well. And it seemed the other day that you might have been getting through to him. That is, he spoke to you.’
‘Rudely,’ added Rosie.
‘Yes, but that’s more than anyone else has had in a long time. I just wanted to borrow your skills.’
‘You’re a flatterer.’
‘Plus, I think it was a good move with the sweets.’
Rosie smiled. She had a box of little fruit salads with her and she’d only chewed four so far, Moray two.
‘Fine,’ she said, ‘if you swing by later and see Lilian. I know she won’t make appointments, but she really does need checking out.’
Moray shook his head. ‘It’s amazing, you know. I become a doctor to help people and not one solitary bugger wants me anywhere near them.’
A sudden silence fell, in which Rosie felt an overwhelming urge to giggle.
‘OK,’ she said finally. ‘I’m going in. And I’m armed.’ She held up the fruit salads.
Moray smiled. ‘You’re a brick.’
Rosie shook her head. ‘Just what girls love to hear. Keep the engine running.’
Rosie went straight up to the kitchen door and hammered loudly.
‘SWAT strike!’ she yelled, then realised that shouting something like that was at best tasteless and at worst dangerous for someone who probably used to be in the services and wasn’t any more, so she simply tried the handle.
‘Stephen? We’re here to check up on you.’
She needn’t have worried about the noise. At first she got a shock. A man was lying with his head on the table, thick hair flopping over his forearm. Rosie started forward.
‘Stephen?’ she repeated, and with a jerk the figure moved, the head lifted from the table.
‘Gah?’ came out. Clearly disorientated, he stared at her through bloodshot eyes. His face was bleary and unshaven, and a half-empty whisky bottle and a dirty glass sat next to him on the wooden kitchen table.
‘Now now,’ said Rosie, suddenly overcome by a wave of sympathy for this young wreck of a man. ‘What’s this?’
The apparition blinked at her, then rubbed at his bristle. A practical person, Rosie filled a glass of water at the sink – it was freezing cold – and handed it to him. He drank it in one gulp and his eyes gradually began to focus.
‘Stephen Lakeman,’ said Rosie. ‘This is getting out of hand.’
Stephen sighed. ‘Oh God. What do I have to do to get people to leave me alone?’
The boy shook his head.
‘Oh. That’s a shame. Well, would you like a spare one to give a friend?’
‘My friend isn’t allowed sweets,’ said the boy. Rosie had an idea of what the boy and his friend might be like.
‘OK,’ she said. Then she crouched down and whispered, ‘Would you like to eat his?’
The boy’s already magnified eyes widened.
‘But I don’t want the dentist to come and get me,’ he said.
‘OK,’ said Rosie. ‘Just the one then.’
‘Yes,’ said the boy hesitantly. ‘I think that would be best. Thank you very much for having me. Goodbye.’
He scampered off down the road.
‘What a peculiar chap,’ said Rosie.
‘Some academic and his hippy wife,’ said Lilian scornfully. ‘They’ve pampered the bloody life out of him, poor booby. He has a terrible time of it.’
‘That’s awful,’ said Rosie, genuinely sympathetic. ‘Well, I like him. What’s his name?’
‘Edison,’ said Lilian, ‘short for Edison, have you ever heard anything more ridiculous?’
‘Ooh, I rather like it,’ said Rosie.
Lilian peered over her niece’s shoulder through the shop door. ‘Scrubbing up, are you?’
Her tone was less peevish and sarcastic than usual.
‘Yup,’ said Rosie proudly. She’d covered a lot of ground today. ‘And I’m doing a stocktake.’
‘What’s that?’ said Lilian, absent-mindedly picking up the box of flying saucers and turning to go back indoors.
‘It’s … never mind,’ said Rosie. ‘And I’m going to need to see your accounts!’ she yelled after the elegantly departing figure, who did nothing apart from wave a bony hand in response.
Several hours later, with Lilian napping again and the shop clean as a whistle, the sun streaming in through the immaculate mullioned windows, Rosie looked around her with some satisfaction. Then she glanced at her watch: only three o’clock. She wondered what to do. Sighing, she thought she’d better go out and explore.
There was no way it was going to rain, she decided. The coat was frankly doomed, and Hetty’s mud duster was going to stay right there on the peg until Hetty came to get it or it crawled home under its own steam. Or, better, Rosie thought, as soon as she learned to ride that bicycle, she’d ride up to the big house and deliver it personally.
Her mobile rang. She squinted at the unfamiliar number. ‘Hello?’
‘Nurse Rosie?’ came the amused-sounding tones.
‘Moray!’ she said, pleased. ‘What are you doing? If it’s catheterisation, I’m really incredibly busy.’
‘Nothing quite that exciting,’ said Moray. ‘Actually I was going to ask you another one of those special favours.’
The little road to Peak House looked more fairytale than ever, with the first leaves littering the pathway leading up to the grey stone building. Moray didn’t park out the front of course, but drove round the side, honking the horn loudly.
‘That’ll sort him out if he’s got headphones on,’ he said, then, getting out of the car, shouted loudly, ‘Medical! Medical!’ and to Rosie, ‘Now, use the kitchen door.’
‘Why is everyone so frightened of this guy?’ Rosie took the pills Moray had prescribed, as well as the page of written instructions.
‘I’m not frightened of him,’ said Moray. ‘Apart from the fact that he shouts a lot and has a gun.’
Rosie raised an eyebrow at him.
‘I’m not, honestly,’ said Moray, laughing. ‘Trust me. I did my training in Glasgow. Very little scares me.’ His face turned serious for an instant. ‘He’s one of my patients and I’d like him to get well. And it seemed the other day that you might have been getting through to him. That is, he spoke to you.’
‘Rudely,’ added Rosie.
‘Yes, but that’s more than anyone else has had in a long time. I just wanted to borrow your skills.’
‘You’re a flatterer.’
‘Plus, I think it was a good move with the sweets.’
Rosie smiled. She had a box of little fruit salads with her and she’d only chewed four so far, Moray two.
‘Fine,’ she said, ‘if you swing by later and see Lilian. I know she won’t make appointments, but she really does need checking out.’
Moray shook his head. ‘It’s amazing, you know. I become a doctor to help people and not one solitary bugger wants me anywhere near them.’
A sudden silence fell, in which Rosie felt an overwhelming urge to giggle.
‘OK,’ she said finally. ‘I’m going in. And I’m armed.’ She held up the fruit salads.
Moray smiled. ‘You’re a brick.’
Rosie shook her head. ‘Just what girls love to hear. Keep the engine running.’
Rosie went straight up to the kitchen door and hammered loudly.
‘SWAT strike!’ she yelled, then realised that shouting something like that was at best tasteless and at worst dangerous for someone who probably used to be in the services and wasn’t any more, so she simply tried the handle.
‘Stephen? We’re here to check up on you.’
She needn’t have worried about the noise. At first she got a shock. A man was lying with his head on the table, thick hair flopping over his forearm. Rosie started forward.
‘Stephen?’ she repeated, and with a jerk the figure moved, the head lifted from the table.
‘Gah?’ came out. Clearly disorientated, he stared at her through bloodshot eyes. His face was bleary and unshaven, and a half-empty whisky bottle and a dirty glass sat next to him on the wooden kitchen table.
‘Now now,’ said Rosie, suddenly overcome by a wave of sympathy for this young wreck of a man. ‘What’s this?’
The apparition blinked at her, then rubbed at his bristle. A practical person, Rosie filled a glass of water at the sink – it was freezing cold – and handed it to him. He drank it in one gulp and his eyes gradually began to focus.
‘Stephen Lakeman,’ said Rosie. ‘This is getting out of hand.’
Stephen sighed. ‘Oh God. What do I have to do to get people to leave me alone?’
