Welcome to Rosie Hopkins' Sweet Shop of Dreams
Page 82
It was the most beautiful envelope Rosie had ever received.
Carefully, she unstuck the back and pulled out a stiff cream card. At the top was a little golden crest and a coat of arms. Rosie gave herself a stern talking-to about how ridiculous it was to be impressed by this kind of thing. Nonetheless she couldn’t help it; it was pretty impressive.
Lady Henrietta Lipton
invites you to the Lipton Hunt Ball
Saturday 27th October 8pm
Lipton Hall
Carriages: 1am
Dress: black or regimental tie; hunting colours
Ooh, thought Rosie to herself. It was the first thing that had perked her up all day.
Chapter Eighteen
Liqueurs
Something unexpected on the inside is always welcome. This can go too far – witness the a chocolate noisette product clearly marketed for whores by whores and bought only by professional whores, or ‘sex workers’ as I believe we must call them these days (note to legal: this is not disrespectful to the brand. It’s disrespectful to whores, if anything).
But a liqueur chocolate, out of fashion since the young decided that the only way to sample alcohol was to drink nine bottles of blue synthetic gunk and hurl up their innards into the nearest hedge or, if that is not available, my doorstep, is an overlooked pleasure. For once the dark chocolate is appropriate, as it does not jar too strongly with the sharper taste of the alcohol within, both held back from one another by a delicate candied mesh that melts on the tongue then vanishes, allowing the inner warmth of the spirit and the outer of the chocolate to join one another in a transcendent depth and strength of flavour. Cherry is the best, followed by raspberry. Honey is to be avoided at all costs. If you can’t handle your drink, leave well alone.
The harvests were gathered in, great bales of corn sheathed in fields, just as the rains came tearing down the mountains from across the Irish Sea, freezing and soaking anyone unwise enough to step out of doors. Lilian’s garden was a sea of mud, the petals from the roses long since washed away, and getting down the street was a constant kicking of leaves.
Some mornings felt sharp and frosty, fresh and different; Rosie sensed the encroaching dark, the wheel of the year turning. She wasn’t sure if it was because the summer had seemed to last so long, or because, for the first time in her life, she was fully aware of the changing seasons. The stars from her bedroom window, without the light pollution from the city, were huge, the Plough looming into view as the Libran sky took over. The first new season in such a long time that she was alone, she thought, wondering what stars her mother and brother saw on the other side of the world.
The one thing that kept her cheered was the sweetshop, of all things. It was small enough that with a little heating it became very cosy in there. She and Tina got on well, and it was lovely to have a friend, and she was hopping up and down the ladder to the topmost jars. Jake had come in once and repeated his request for mint toffees, which were kept on the very highest shelf.
‘Are you doing this to see up my skirt?’ she’d finally managed to ask. Jake had smiled, utterly unembarrassed.
‘Come on, love,’ he said. ‘What else am I meant to do for fun round here?’
Tina had chuckled.
‘That’s not funny,’ said Rosie. ‘That’s harassment.’
‘You’re the one in the short skirt.’
Rosie rolled her eyes. ‘No more mint toffee for you.’
‘I’ll have some sweetie bananas.’
‘Jake!’
‘Also your gorgeous assistant.’ He bowed. ‘Hello. I’m Jake.’
‘How come she gets bowed to like you’re a highwayman and I get leered at like I’m Barbara Windsor in 1965?’ grumbled Rosie, marching up the steps in an awkward sideways movement so as not to reveal a snatch of thigh.
‘Because Tina’s a lady who doesn’t throw it about,’ came the voice over the baby monitor.
‘Thanks, Lilian,’ said Rosie.
‘Maybe that’s because I never get the chance,’ said Tina. ‘Children and an evil ex and a mortgage I can barely pay.’
‘Don’t be daft, you’re still young and gorgeous,’ said Rosie. ‘And, as soon as you hear from the bank, you’ll become an entrepreneur.’
Tina smiled. ‘Oh, yes. I hope they hurry up with that.’ She let out a sigh. ‘It’s a big ask.’
‘You’ll do it though,’ said Rosie. ‘And you’ll have help.’
‘Did you mean that in a sarcastic way?’ came the voice from the intercom.
‘Noooo,’ said Rosie. ‘I said “help”, not “constant shouted instructions”.’
‘Have you taken the rhubarb and custards through from the back?’
‘Yes! It’s like living with a particularly bossy Jesus,’ explained Rosie.
‘I heard that.’
Jake wasn’t listening, however. He was looking at Tina, with a little smile on his face.
‘You and that doof finally broken up then?’
Tina looked a little pink and shrugged.
‘If he asks if you would like to go out on a bicycle,’ said Rosie, ‘don’t go.’
‘You’re coming to the pub this weekend, aren’t you, Rosie?’
‘No,’ said Rosie. ‘I’m going to Kuala Lumpur in a private jet.’
Jake ignored this.
‘Why don’t you bring Tina?’
Tina started stuttering. ‘Oh, I … I mean, I’d have to find a babysitter …’
‘Couldn’t your mum do it?’
‘Yes, I suppose …’
‘Amazing, how everyone knows everyone’s business,’ said Rosie.
‘And useful too, sometimes,’ mused Tina. She did, though, still look terrified. Rosie decided to take over.
‘She’ll call you,’ said Rosie practically. ‘Or send a badger or whatever it is you country folks do to communicate.’
Jake smiled his slow, handsome Brad Pitt smile, and held up his sweets.
‘Well, give me an answer quickly before I turn into Anton.’
Rosie grinned as the doorbell tinged and he left.
Tina turned, cheeks pink. ‘Well!’ she said.
‘I think,’ said Rosie gently, ‘without wanting to be a killjoy at all, and you know you are completely gorgeous in every way, but I will say that when I arrived …’
Carefully, she unstuck the back and pulled out a stiff cream card. At the top was a little golden crest and a coat of arms. Rosie gave herself a stern talking-to about how ridiculous it was to be impressed by this kind of thing. Nonetheless she couldn’t help it; it was pretty impressive.
Lady Henrietta Lipton
invites you to the Lipton Hunt Ball
Saturday 27th October 8pm
Lipton Hall
Carriages: 1am
Dress: black or regimental tie; hunting colours
Ooh, thought Rosie to herself. It was the first thing that had perked her up all day.
Chapter Eighteen
Liqueurs
Something unexpected on the inside is always welcome. This can go too far – witness the a chocolate noisette product clearly marketed for whores by whores and bought only by professional whores, or ‘sex workers’ as I believe we must call them these days (note to legal: this is not disrespectful to the brand. It’s disrespectful to whores, if anything).
But a liqueur chocolate, out of fashion since the young decided that the only way to sample alcohol was to drink nine bottles of blue synthetic gunk and hurl up their innards into the nearest hedge or, if that is not available, my doorstep, is an overlooked pleasure. For once the dark chocolate is appropriate, as it does not jar too strongly with the sharper taste of the alcohol within, both held back from one another by a delicate candied mesh that melts on the tongue then vanishes, allowing the inner warmth of the spirit and the outer of the chocolate to join one another in a transcendent depth and strength of flavour. Cherry is the best, followed by raspberry. Honey is to be avoided at all costs. If you can’t handle your drink, leave well alone.
The harvests were gathered in, great bales of corn sheathed in fields, just as the rains came tearing down the mountains from across the Irish Sea, freezing and soaking anyone unwise enough to step out of doors. Lilian’s garden was a sea of mud, the petals from the roses long since washed away, and getting down the street was a constant kicking of leaves.
Some mornings felt sharp and frosty, fresh and different; Rosie sensed the encroaching dark, the wheel of the year turning. She wasn’t sure if it was because the summer had seemed to last so long, or because, for the first time in her life, she was fully aware of the changing seasons. The stars from her bedroom window, without the light pollution from the city, were huge, the Plough looming into view as the Libran sky took over. The first new season in such a long time that she was alone, she thought, wondering what stars her mother and brother saw on the other side of the world.
The one thing that kept her cheered was the sweetshop, of all things. It was small enough that with a little heating it became very cosy in there. She and Tina got on well, and it was lovely to have a friend, and she was hopping up and down the ladder to the topmost jars. Jake had come in once and repeated his request for mint toffees, which were kept on the very highest shelf.
‘Are you doing this to see up my skirt?’ she’d finally managed to ask. Jake had smiled, utterly unembarrassed.
‘Come on, love,’ he said. ‘What else am I meant to do for fun round here?’
Tina had chuckled.
‘That’s not funny,’ said Rosie. ‘That’s harassment.’
‘You’re the one in the short skirt.’
Rosie rolled her eyes. ‘No more mint toffee for you.’
‘I’ll have some sweetie bananas.’
‘Jake!’
‘Also your gorgeous assistant.’ He bowed. ‘Hello. I’m Jake.’
‘How come she gets bowed to like you’re a highwayman and I get leered at like I’m Barbara Windsor in 1965?’ grumbled Rosie, marching up the steps in an awkward sideways movement so as not to reveal a snatch of thigh.
‘Because Tina’s a lady who doesn’t throw it about,’ came the voice over the baby monitor.
‘Thanks, Lilian,’ said Rosie.
‘Maybe that’s because I never get the chance,’ said Tina. ‘Children and an evil ex and a mortgage I can barely pay.’
‘Don’t be daft, you’re still young and gorgeous,’ said Rosie. ‘And, as soon as you hear from the bank, you’ll become an entrepreneur.’
Tina smiled. ‘Oh, yes. I hope they hurry up with that.’ She let out a sigh. ‘It’s a big ask.’
‘You’ll do it though,’ said Rosie. ‘And you’ll have help.’
‘Did you mean that in a sarcastic way?’ came the voice from the intercom.
‘Noooo,’ said Rosie. ‘I said “help”, not “constant shouted instructions”.’
‘Have you taken the rhubarb and custards through from the back?’
‘Yes! It’s like living with a particularly bossy Jesus,’ explained Rosie.
‘I heard that.’
Jake wasn’t listening, however. He was looking at Tina, with a little smile on his face.
‘You and that doof finally broken up then?’
Tina looked a little pink and shrugged.
‘If he asks if you would like to go out on a bicycle,’ said Rosie, ‘don’t go.’
‘You’re coming to the pub this weekend, aren’t you, Rosie?’
‘No,’ said Rosie. ‘I’m going to Kuala Lumpur in a private jet.’
Jake ignored this.
‘Why don’t you bring Tina?’
Tina started stuttering. ‘Oh, I … I mean, I’d have to find a babysitter …’
‘Couldn’t your mum do it?’
‘Yes, I suppose …’
‘Amazing, how everyone knows everyone’s business,’ said Rosie.
‘And useful too, sometimes,’ mused Tina. She did, though, still look terrified. Rosie decided to take over.
‘She’ll call you,’ said Rosie practically. ‘Or send a badger or whatever it is you country folks do to communicate.’
Jake smiled his slow, handsome Brad Pitt smile, and held up his sweets.
‘Well, give me an answer quickly before I turn into Anton.’
Rosie grinned as the doorbell tinged and he left.
Tina turned, cheeks pink. ‘Well!’ she said.
‘I think,’ said Rosie gently, ‘without wanting to be a killjoy at all, and you know you are completely gorgeous in every way, but I will say that when I arrived …’
