Welcome to Rosie Hopkins' Sweet Shop of Dreams
Page 88
The news seemed to be getting slightly better; even Terence, on his leave, had seemed more cheerful. The tide was turning, everybody said. The Germans were in retreat. The war was going to finish.
Lilian couldn’t believe the war would ever be over. She had been a child when it started. Now, she felt about a hundred years old. People lost, people moved – she had taken a bus, a four-hour journey, to see Margaret’s baby, and they had discovered, once she had oohed and aahed at his little fingers and toes and round chunky cheeks, that they had very little in common any more.
Margaret kept asking her if she was stepping out with someone, and Lilian didn’t know how to answer; the very thought of it seemed unbearable. Not that men didn’t ask; didn’t come in looking for sweets on the top shelf to make her climb up, or casually ask if she wanted to go to a dance. But, having refused that first dance, Lilian didn’t know if she ever wanted to go to another. They seemed to cause nothing but trouble. Margaret urged her to find a beau – there’s no men left, you know, ducks, she said. There’s going to be a right scramble once this is all over – and pushed her in the direction of the American GIs, who seemed so tall and exotic and handsome. ‘Go wi’ one of them,’ she said. ‘You’ll get a whole new life.’ Gerda Skitcherd was talking about going to America; it sounded thrillingly exotic.
But Lilian didn’t want a whole new life. She wanted her brothers back round the table, and her da happy, and Henry back. The fact that these were impossible wishes didn’t seem to have any bearing on the way she felt about it at all. And she knew Margaret was giving her good advice; good within the ways of her world. Her George was a decent enough chap too, she knew. But it was as if she were frozen; she could feel all this good advice, but she couldn’t seem to move, to take it.
Gordon came home one honeysuckled spring evening. Henry had now been away for one year and four months, or 432 days. Rosie assumed Ida was getting word of him; she never heard and was far too proud to ask. She hoped he wasn’t scared out there. She hoped he wasn’t seeing terrible things. She wondered if he thought of her as much as she thought of him, while knowing, deep down, that that couldn’t possibly be the case. But she had changed now. She knew he wasn’t coming back to her, he couldn’t. Dorothy was toddling about now, while remaining quite the most thrawn child anyone in Lipton could remember. Her mouth was a permanent kidney bean of dissatisfaction. Ida was developing frown lines between her eyes. Lilian had seen Henry, once, on leave. The family was walking down the high street. Ida was obviously displeased at something; she was shouting at Henry, who had lost weight and gained muscle, and looked tall and rangy and somehow older in his army suit. He wasn’t saying anything. Lilian had hidden behind her bedroom curtains until he’d gone away.
But now, she told herself, all she cared about was that he was safe. That he wasn’t bleeding in a field somewhere; or with half a leg missing like Dartford Brown’s youngest, hopping about the streets, trying to make jokes about how it could have been worse, but with an ocean of pain behind him. Still, all she cared about, Lilian told herself, was that Henry came home safe. When the war finished. If it ever did.
‘Look what I have for you,’ said Gordon, ebullient as ever, dragging his huge heavy kitbag over the flagstones of the kitchen floor. Their da looked up from his ledger.
‘What’s this then, son?’
Gordon flashed his cheeky grin. He’d been promoted, twice, and was now a lance-corporal, but to Lilian he was still a fat-bottomed boy in short trousers, getting away with murder.
Gordon drew two bottles out of his kitbag, and their da wolf-whistled. ‘Is that …’
‘Certainly is,’ said Gordon. ‘It’s pure champagne. From the vineyards of Sham-pag-nee itself.’
‘I’ve never even seen it,’ said Da, shaking his head. He picked the bottles up very carefully. ‘You carted these back all the way?’
‘Slept on them like a pillow,’ said Gordon. ‘Case anyone nicked ’em. I’ve been doing a bit of, well, nod nod wink wink on the side for the men, like. Making sure they get some decent grub. And these came my way. Thought I might need ’em for a bribe coming home, but I forgot what a straight old place England still is. So here they are!’
Da sent Lilian down to the dairy for an ice block. Then he insisted they laid a bottle in it for an hour to get cool. Mostly, they sat around and watched it.
‘Put the other one away in the larder,’ said Da. ‘We’ll keep it for a special occasion.’
Lilian tucked it right at the back of the top shelf.
For when Henry comes home, she said to herself.
They decided, wisely, to steer clear of the vodka experiments this time. To let Lilian join in, Tina brought half the contents of her wardrobe over, and they tried on everything.
‘When did you ever need a cocktail dress?’ said Rosie.
‘Well, you never know,’ said Tina. Rosie raised her eyebrows.
‘OK, OK,’ said Tina. ‘So when Todd was going through his worst phase I maybe became a bit … shop-a-holicky. Apparently it was my way of getting him back for his illness. So his counsellor told me.’
‘Revenge cocktail dresses,’ marvelled Rosie, pulling them out. They really were beautiful. But however many they tried on Rosie – Tina was insisting on a little black sleeveless number – none of them was quite right. Most of them fitted OK as Rosie’s bust and small waist worked very well in a frock, but none was really her.
‘Oh well,’ said Rosie, coming and going for the sixth time. ‘The black one with the little bit of lace at the top – that’s probably the best we’re going to get.’
‘If you’d spoken to Lady Lipton before, we could have gone shopping,’ said Tina reproachfully. ‘In Derby they’ve got an Arndale.’
‘I don’t think you need to do any more shopping,’ said Rosie, looking at all the shoes.
‘No,’ said Tina. ‘I just need to go to more parties. Hurrah!’
Lilian sighed. ‘The black is no good. It works on little Tina, but—’
‘She’s not six any more!’ said Rosie.
‘She is to me,’ said Lilian.
‘Thanks, Miss Hopkins,’ said Tina.
‘But it’s no good for you. You need something to make you stand out. Make him notice you.’
Lilian couldn’t believe the war would ever be over. She had been a child when it started. Now, she felt about a hundred years old. People lost, people moved – she had taken a bus, a four-hour journey, to see Margaret’s baby, and they had discovered, once she had oohed and aahed at his little fingers and toes and round chunky cheeks, that they had very little in common any more.
Margaret kept asking her if she was stepping out with someone, and Lilian didn’t know how to answer; the very thought of it seemed unbearable. Not that men didn’t ask; didn’t come in looking for sweets on the top shelf to make her climb up, or casually ask if she wanted to go to a dance. But, having refused that first dance, Lilian didn’t know if she ever wanted to go to another. They seemed to cause nothing but trouble. Margaret urged her to find a beau – there’s no men left, you know, ducks, she said. There’s going to be a right scramble once this is all over – and pushed her in the direction of the American GIs, who seemed so tall and exotic and handsome. ‘Go wi’ one of them,’ she said. ‘You’ll get a whole new life.’ Gerda Skitcherd was talking about going to America; it sounded thrillingly exotic.
But Lilian didn’t want a whole new life. She wanted her brothers back round the table, and her da happy, and Henry back. The fact that these were impossible wishes didn’t seem to have any bearing on the way she felt about it at all. And she knew Margaret was giving her good advice; good within the ways of her world. Her George was a decent enough chap too, she knew. But it was as if she were frozen; she could feel all this good advice, but she couldn’t seem to move, to take it.
Gordon came home one honeysuckled spring evening. Henry had now been away for one year and four months, or 432 days. Rosie assumed Ida was getting word of him; she never heard and was far too proud to ask. She hoped he wasn’t scared out there. She hoped he wasn’t seeing terrible things. She wondered if he thought of her as much as she thought of him, while knowing, deep down, that that couldn’t possibly be the case. But she had changed now. She knew he wasn’t coming back to her, he couldn’t. Dorothy was toddling about now, while remaining quite the most thrawn child anyone in Lipton could remember. Her mouth was a permanent kidney bean of dissatisfaction. Ida was developing frown lines between her eyes. Lilian had seen Henry, once, on leave. The family was walking down the high street. Ida was obviously displeased at something; she was shouting at Henry, who had lost weight and gained muscle, and looked tall and rangy and somehow older in his army suit. He wasn’t saying anything. Lilian had hidden behind her bedroom curtains until he’d gone away.
But now, she told herself, all she cared about was that he was safe. That he wasn’t bleeding in a field somewhere; or with half a leg missing like Dartford Brown’s youngest, hopping about the streets, trying to make jokes about how it could have been worse, but with an ocean of pain behind him. Still, all she cared about, Lilian told herself, was that Henry came home safe. When the war finished. If it ever did.
‘Look what I have for you,’ said Gordon, ebullient as ever, dragging his huge heavy kitbag over the flagstones of the kitchen floor. Their da looked up from his ledger.
‘What’s this then, son?’
Gordon flashed his cheeky grin. He’d been promoted, twice, and was now a lance-corporal, but to Lilian he was still a fat-bottomed boy in short trousers, getting away with murder.
Gordon drew two bottles out of his kitbag, and their da wolf-whistled. ‘Is that …’
‘Certainly is,’ said Gordon. ‘It’s pure champagne. From the vineyards of Sham-pag-nee itself.’
‘I’ve never even seen it,’ said Da, shaking his head. He picked the bottles up very carefully. ‘You carted these back all the way?’
‘Slept on them like a pillow,’ said Gordon. ‘Case anyone nicked ’em. I’ve been doing a bit of, well, nod nod wink wink on the side for the men, like. Making sure they get some decent grub. And these came my way. Thought I might need ’em for a bribe coming home, but I forgot what a straight old place England still is. So here they are!’
Da sent Lilian down to the dairy for an ice block. Then he insisted they laid a bottle in it for an hour to get cool. Mostly, they sat around and watched it.
‘Put the other one away in the larder,’ said Da. ‘We’ll keep it for a special occasion.’
Lilian tucked it right at the back of the top shelf.
For when Henry comes home, she said to herself.
They decided, wisely, to steer clear of the vodka experiments this time. To let Lilian join in, Tina brought half the contents of her wardrobe over, and they tried on everything.
‘When did you ever need a cocktail dress?’ said Rosie.
‘Well, you never know,’ said Tina. Rosie raised her eyebrows.
‘OK, OK,’ said Tina. ‘So when Todd was going through his worst phase I maybe became a bit … shop-a-holicky. Apparently it was my way of getting him back for his illness. So his counsellor told me.’
‘Revenge cocktail dresses,’ marvelled Rosie, pulling them out. They really were beautiful. But however many they tried on Rosie – Tina was insisting on a little black sleeveless number – none of them was quite right. Most of them fitted OK as Rosie’s bust and small waist worked very well in a frock, but none was really her.
‘Oh well,’ said Rosie, coming and going for the sixth time. ‘The black one with the little bit of lace at the top – that’s probably the best we’re going to get.’
‘If you’d spoken to Lady Lipton before, we could have gone shopping,’ said Tina reproachfully. ‘In Derby they’ve got an Arndale.’
‘I don’t think you need to do any more shopping,’ said Rosie, looking at all the shoes.
‘No,’ said Tina. ‘I just need to go to more parties. Hurrah!’
Lilian sighed. ‘The black is no good. It works on little Tina, but—’
‘She’s not six any more!’ said Rosie.
‘She is to me,’ said Lilian.
‘Thanks, Miss Hopkins,’ said Tina.
‘But it’s no good for you. You need something to make you stand out. Make him notice you.’
