Welcome to Rosie Hopkins' Sweet Shop of Dreams
Page 70
Lilian hadn’t oversold market day. The entire town was absolutely thronged; there seemed to be as many horses as cars, and cows were lowing as they were driven through in large trucks on their way to the Stirlings’ field where the market would be held. Travellers had set up a large fair, and bunting was strung up all down the high street. Already Rosie could see a lost red helium balloon floating upwards through the trees. She took a deep breath and tied on her apron.
Outside the door of the shop her first customer was already waiting.
‘Does your mother know you’re here, Edison?’ asked Rosie, seeing no one behind him.
Edison nodded seriously. ‘Yup. She said it was the best place for me. Encourage self-safishsee.’
‘Really?’ said Rosie, slightly peeved. She wasn’t a daycare centre. ‘Why’s that then?’
Edison pushed his glasses up on his nose with a surprisingly adult-like gesture.
‘I am most terribly afraid of animals,’ he said.
‘What, all animals?’ said Rosie, turning the heavy key and finding she was smiling despite herself.
‘Yes,’ said Edison. ‘And some plants. That’s why it’s best if I keep myself out of the way.’ He wandered into the shop. ‘Hester said I should make myself useful.’
‘Who’s Hester?’
‘My mother.’
‘Of course she is,’ said Rosie. She called her mum Angie sometimes, but it didn’t seem quite the same.
‘She thinks I would be a good help to you.’
‘Does she now. Why doesn’t she take you to see the animals so you could find out they’re not scary?’
‘Hester thinks it’s wrong that animals get killed for us,’ mumbled Edison. ‘She doesn’t really prove.’
At that moment Hester appeared, grey hair glinting.
‘Hello,’ she said coolly. ‘Now. Listen. I have to go distribute these vegan leaflets at the market. Can I leave Edison with you for a little while? He’ll be a huge help, I’m sure.’
Rosie was taken aback. ‘Well,’ she stuttered, ‘well, I suppose so.’
‘Fantastic! Wonderful! The animals will thank you!’ said Hester, barely breaking stride.
Rosie and Edison watched her disappear down the high street. Then Rosie turned towards the skinny little boy.
‘The thing is,’ said Rosie, ‘everyone’s entitled to their own opinion. But I’m going down later to see all the animals.’
Edison looked at her, his eyes blinking anxiously behind his glasses.
‘Oh,’ he said.
‘You could come with me if you like,’ said Rosie. ‘I promise to protect you from them.’
Edison considered. ‘OK,’ he said.
‘OK,’ said Rosie. ‘Now, I need you to fold up these boxes very small and put them in this larger box for cardboard recycling.’
‘Can I draw on them first?’
‘You can,’ said Rosie, ‘as long as you keep out of my way.’
Edison looked at her.
‘Where’s the nice man who was here yesterday?’
Rosie bit her lip. ‘He had to go.’
‘Oh,’ said Edison. ‘That’s a shame. I liked him. He was nice to kids. Not everyone is nice to kids, did you know that?’
‘I did know that,’ said Rosie, suddenly hit with the feeling that she might have made a terrible mistake. ‘Gerard was very good at being nice to kids. He’s very like one, in a way.’
‘No he isn’t,’ said Edison. ‘He’s grown up.’
‘That’s a metaphor,’ said Rosie. ‘Surely Hester has taught you about those?’
Edison nodded. ‘But it’s not a metaphor. It’s a simile.’
‘Let’s open up, shall we?’ said Rosie. She could feel her temporary ebullience at the busy town leaking out of her like air from a balloon.
The next person she saw was hardly likely to cheer her up any further.
‘Mr Blaine,’ she said. Roy Blaine, the dentist, was standing in front of her, holding the newspaper in his hands. His own newspaper, of course.
‘I have notice of an advert here,’ he said.
Rosie squinted. What was he talking about?
‘About the forthcoming sale of a going concern …’
Rosie realised what it must be. ‘But I advertised in the Derby papers,’ she said.
‘We share advertising,’ said Mr Blaine. ‘It’s the same company.’
‘Oh.’
Roy marched round the shop, rather rudely sizing it up.
‘Hello,’ said Edison from down by the counter. He was drawing a large, very complicated machine on one of the cardboard boxes.
‘You need to come for your six-month check-up,’ said Roy, barely drawing breath. ‘I haven’t seen you.’
‘You don’t need to see me,’ said Edison, with a bravery Rosie thought rather commendable. ‘Hester says we’ll look after my teeth omopafica-lee.’
Both Rosie and Roy rolled their eyes.
‘And I don’t get sugar at home.’
‘No, just when you live in the sweetshop. So,’ said Roy, looking around. ‘It’s not exactly a going concern, is it? Couple of weeks of playing milkmaid.’
Rosie vowed to change this stupid apron.
‘After years of neglect. Not unlike some people’s mouths.’
‘Are you interested?’
‘I might be,’ said Mr Blaine. ‘This might make a rather good site for my new dental practice. Brand new veneers, perfect smiles, super-fast whitening, expensive fillings.’ He was practically rubbing his hands together. ‘Everyone wants that perfect smile nowadays.’
Personally Rosie thought that his hyper-straight, neon-white Hollywood teeth were creepy and weird, like a direct view of a skull picked clean by birds. But she didn’t want to say so.
‘Yes, it’s all new techniques in dentistry these days. A quaint little place like this might work rather well.’
‘So you wouldn’t be selling sweets?’
‘No!’ said Roy. ‘I’d be selling top-of-the-range teeth whiteners at four hundred pounds a pop. So what do you think about that, Snaggle Mouth?’
‘Did you just call me Snaggle Mouth?’ said Rosie.
‘Affectionately of course,’ said Roy. He looked around greedily a little longer, then checked his very expensive watch. ‘Well, I’d better get on. Time is teeth, and teeth are money,’ he said, with a final flash of his luminous grin. He left the shop, making the bell ring abruptly.
Outside the door of the shop her first customer was already waiting.
‘Does your mother know you’re here, Edison?’ asked Rosie, seeing no one behind him.
Edison nodded seriously. ‘Yup. She said it was the best place for me. Encourage self-safishsee.’
‘Really?’ said Rosie, slightly peeved. She wasn’t a daycare centre. ‘Why’s that then?’
Edison pushed his glasses up on his nose with a surprisingly adult-like gesture.
‘I am most terribly afraid of animals,’ he said.
‘What, all animals?’ said Rosie, turning the heavy key and finding she was smiling despite herself.
‘Yes,’ said Edison. ‘And some plants. That’s why it’s best if I keep myself out of the way.’ He wandered into the shop. ‘Hester said I should make myself useful.’
‘Who’s Hester?’
‘My mother.’
‘Of course she is,’ said Rosie. She called her mum Angie sometimes, but it didn’t seem quite the same.
‘She thinks I would be a good help to you.’
‘Does she now. Why doesn’t she take you to see the animals so you could find out they’re not scary?’
‘Hester thinks it’s wrong that animals get killed for us,’ mumbled Edison. ‘She doesn’t really prove.’
At that moment Hester appeared, grey hair glinting.
‘Hello,’ she said coolly. ‘Now. Listen. I have to go distribute these vegan leaflets at the market. Can I leave Edison with you for a little while? He’ll be a huge help, I’m sure.’
Rosie was taken aback. ‘Well,’ she stuttered, ‘well, I suppose so.’
‘Fantastic! Wonderful! The animals will thank you!’ said Hester, barely breaking stride.
Rosie and Edison watched her disappear down the high street. Then Rosie turned towards the skinny little boy.
‘The thing is,’ said Rosie, ‘everyone’s entitled to their own opinion. But I’m going down later to see all the animals.’
Edison looked at her, his eyes blinking anxiously behind his glasses.
‘Oh,’ he said.
‘You could come with me if you like,’ said Rosie. ‘I promise to protect you from them.’
Edison considered. ‘OK,’ he said.
‘OK,’ said Rosie. ‘Now, I need you to fold up these boxes very small and put them in this larger box for cardboard recycling.’
‘Can I draw on them first?’
‘You can,’ said Rosie, ‘as long as you keep out of my way.’
Edison looked at her.
‘Where’s the nice man who was here yesterday?’
Rosie bit her lip. ‘He had to go.’
‘Oh,’ said Edison. ‘That’s a shame. I liked him. He was nice to kids. Not everyone is nice to kids, did you know that?’
‘I did know that,’ said Rosie, suddenly hit with the feeling that she might have made a terrible mistake. ‘Gerard was very good at being nice to kids. He’s very like one, in a way.’
‘No he isn’t,’ said Edison. ‘He’s grown up.’
‘That’s a metaphor,’ said Rosie. ‘Surely Hester has taught you about those?’
Edison nodded. ‘But it’s not a metaphor. It’s a simile.’
‘Let’s open up, shall we?’ said Rosie. She could feel her temporary ebullience at the busy town leaking out of her like air from a balloon.
The next person she saw was hardly likely to cheer her up any further.
‘Mr Blaine,’ she said. Roy Blaine, the dentist, was standing in front of her, holding the newspaper in his hands. His own newspaper, of course.
‘I have notice of an advert here,’ he said.
Rosie squinted. What was he talking about?
‘About the forthcoming sale of a going concern …’
Rosie realised what it must be. ‘But I advertised in the Derby papers,’ she said.
‘We share advertising,’ said Mr Blaine. ‘It’s the same company.’
‘Oh.’
Roy marched round the shop, rather rudely sizing it up.
‘Hello,’ said Edison from down by the counter. He was drawing a large, very complicated machine on one of the cardboard boxes.
‘You need to come for your six-month check-up,’ said Roy, barely drawing breath. ‘I haven’t seen you.’
‘You don’t need to see me,’ said Edison, with a bravery Rosie thought rather commendable. ‘Hester says we’ll look after my teeth omopafica-lee.’
Both Rosie and Roy rolled their eyes.
‘And I don’t get sugar at home.’
‘No, just when you live in the sweetshop. So,’ said Roy, looking around. ‘It’s not exactly a going concern, is it? Couple of weeks of playing milkmaid.’
Rosie vowed to change this stupid apron.
‘After years of neglect. Not unlike some people’s mouths.’
‘Are you interested?’
‘I might be,’ said Mr Blaine. ‘This might make a rather good site for my new dental practice. Brand new veneers, perfect smiles, super-fast whitening, expensive fillings.’ He was practically rubbing his hands together. ‘Everyone wants that perfect smile nowadays.’
Personally Rosie thought that his hyper-straight, neon-white Hollywood teeth were creepy and weird, like a direct view of a skull picked clean by birds. But she didn’t want to say so.
‘Yes, it’s all new techniques in dentistry these days. A quaint little place like this might work rather well.’
‘So you wouldn’t be selling sweets?’
‘No!’ said Roy. ‘I’d be selling top-of-the-range teeth whiteners at four hundred pounds a pop. So what do you think about that, Snaggle Mouth?’
‘Did you just call me Snaggle Mouth?’ said Rosie.
‘Affectionately of course,’ said Roy. He looked around greedily a little longer, then checked his very expensive watch. ‘Well, I’d better get on. Time is teeth, and teeth are money,’ he said, with a final flash of his luminous grin. He left the shop, making the bell ring abruptly.
