Welcome To Rosie Hopkins' Sweetshop Of Dreams (34 page)

Jake smiled at her from over by the pizza stand. ‘This is great,’ he said, and introduced her to some of the lads who worked with him, or were down for the fair. All of them were friendly and chatty and Rosie ordered a large ham and mushroom with extra pepperoni and cheese for her and Lilian (it was the fattiest thing she could think of; this feeding-up-Lilian project was going to have the most appalling effect on her own waistline, and that was before she took into account
the odd flying saucer she snaffled out the back in a break from work). She passed a pleasant ten minutes with the lads and then went home to the cottage.

To her horror, she had almost forgotten about Gerard coming till she and Lilian were halfway through dinner, which Lilian insisted on eating with a knife and fork, at the table, from a plate. She sniffed and made pointed remarks about the cleanliness of the pizza van and the undesirability of those who hung around it but she almost ate the entire thing, before Rosie remembered to mention him.

‘So,’ she said, ‘uhm, my boyfriend was thinking of coming up this weekend …’

Suddenly she wasn’t too sure she wanted Gerard and Lilian to meet. She was used to Lilian’s crusty ways; Gerard could get a bit chippy and take offence easily.

Lilian was regarding Rosie with that intense beady look she sometimes got.

‘So is he going to marry you?’

Rosie shrugged, twisting slightly. ‘Ha. Well, you know, we haven’t really discussed it!’

‘How long have you been a couple?’

‘Eight years.’

‘Hmm,’ said Lilian, with feeling. Rosie shifted in her seat. The thing was, she thought it was too long too. Every time she came across one of those magazine articles that said ‘he should propose after two years’, she quickly turned the page and mentally went lalala.

‘Don’t be sexist,’ she said.

‘And how old are you?’

‘Or ageist.’

Lilian kept her bright bird eyes fixed on her.

‘I’m thirty-one,’ said Rosie. ‘That’s nothing these days.’

‘Well, you’re hardly a couple of kids,’ said Lilian.

‘No,’ said Rosie slowly. ‘But I think we’re fine as we are, thanks.’

She started to clear away the dishes. Lilian looked at her, uncomprehending. Young people … didn’t she realise? That if it wasn’t the real thing, if it wasn’t proper, true love then she was wasting her time. She was wasting her life.

‘People always believe,’ said Lilian, musing, ‘that they have plenty of time.’

Chapter Thirteen

Coconut Ice

Now here is a sweet that is truly unjustly overlooked these days in favour of the gelatine and cheap sour-perfume scent of a conglomerate whose name I have been legally advised to remove. A marriage in pink and white; spring blossom and a wedding dress, powdered with confetti, a fine coconut ice is a joy for the eyes as well as the tongue. Even standard coconut refuseniks – and you know who you are – can’t fail to be enthralled by the perfect match of the sweet fondant with the slightly tart coconut pieces as it melts in the mouth, like two halves of a puzzle finding one another. It is both beautiful and useful.

9 oz sweetened condensed milk

9 oz icing sugar, sifted, plus extra for dusting

8 oz desiccated coconut

pink food colouring

Mix together the condensed milk and icing sugar in a large bowl until very stiff. Add coconut. It will not want to go. Make it. Use your hands. If you wear rings, take them off at this point.

Split the mix into two and knead a very small amount of food colouring into one half. Dust a board with icing sugar, then shape each half into a smooth rectangle and place one on top of the other. Roll with a rolling pin, reshaping with your hands every couple of rolls, until you have a rectangle of two-tone coconut ice about 1 inch thick.

Transfer to a plate and leave for at least 4 hrs or ideally overnight to set. This will keep for up to a month at least, if stored properly. If your coconut ice lasts for a month, you are not making it correctly.

The weather held into the weekend, and Rosie waited with anticipation for Gerard to arrive on Friday, the roar of his cool Alfa Romeo lighting up the quiet high street just after five o’clock. Rosie was in the shop – it had been another good day, with children popping in all ready for the weekend with pocket money to spend; her steady sales were around the well-known chocolate bars, but gradually, tentatively, the children were starting to experiment, to try new things. Edison had boldly come in holding up a shiny pound coin.

‘From the tooth fairy,’ he said, showing Rosie the gap. ‘I did wait up, but I didn’t see it. It was good to get the money, but I’d rather have had the fairy. My mother was not happy about that. I really did wait up an awfully long time. After
midnight. So, I have proved that the tooth fairy doesn’t come before midnight. That is what is called a start.’

‘It is,’ she said. ‘Now you know you have to choose what you want …’ she couldn’t forget the other side of things, ‘and make sure you brush your new teeth properly!’

Edison nodded gravely. ‘And replace your toothbrush every three moths,’ he said.

‘Months?’ said Rosie, wondering briefly when she’d last replaced hers.

‘No, moths, I think. When they come towards the bathroom light at bedtime? That’s when you know you need a new one.’

‘Hmm,’ said Rosie. ‘Now, young man, what would you like?’

Edison’s eyes looked enormous behind his glasses as he scanned the shelves anxiously.

‘I want to try something new. I think,’ he added, tentatively. Rosie eyed him up and down.

‘Well,’ she said. ‘Have you ever tried Edinburgh rock?’

Edison shook his head. ‘I don’t like rock. It’s too hard. It’s a little bit frightening.’

‘Aha,’ said Rosie. ‘Not
this
rock. This rock is soft and crumbly, like chalk. It’s like delicious chalk.’

Edison’s face perked up. ‘Can I …’

Rosie bent down, her face mock-stern.

‘Now,’ she said, ‘you’re not going to ask me for a free sample, are you?’

Edison shook his head vigorously.

‘OK. Do you trust me?’

The shaking turned to nodding.

‘Would you like me to make it a half and half, so you can have something else in there too in case you don’t love it?’

Edison gave her his steady gaze. ‘No thank you,’ he said. ‘Embra rock please.’

And he stoically handed over his pound coin. Rosie was just bending down to give him the bag when the door opened with its traditional ting, and Gerard walked in. For five seconds, Rosie found, blinking, that it was difficult to tell the difference between Edison’s six-year-old face and Gerard’s. Both had an expression of anticipatory joy. One was for the sweets and the other … Something surged in Rosie’s heart then. Gerard was looking delighted. But it wasn’t at her. He was scanning the shelves and the tins and bars with a cheerful, hungry look on his face.

‘Hello!’ said Rosie, as Edison tentatively bit into his first piece of pale pastel candy.

‘Hello!’ said Gerard cheerfully. ‘Wow, look at this place! You’ve got
everything
!’

‘And it’s lovely to see you, Rosie.’

‘And it’s lovely to … Have you got liquorice torpedoes?’

‘I have,’ said Rosie.

‘Wow. Can I have some?’

‘You can, for a pound.’

Gerard stuck out his lip. ‘I don’t get free sweets?’

‘You can,’ came a high-pitched voice from the floor. ‘But you have to lose a tooth. And then, do you know what happens?’

Gerard regarded the boy carefully. ‘Does a dragon come?’ he asked finally.

‘Noooo,’ said Edison, pleased he knew the answer.

‘Is it a goblin?’

‘Noooo!’

‘Is it a little mouse?’

‘It’s a
fairy
!’

‘No way! Excellent!’

Rosie smiled. Gerard had always been good with kids. Well, he was one, so that helped. She reached up to the high shelf and got the liquorice torpedoes, bright little red sweets shaped like paracetamol. A real boy’s sweet. Classic Gerard.

‘A pound please,’ she said, holding out her hand.

‘Or a tooth,’ added Edison.

Gerard grimaced, then handed over a pound.

‘Thank you,’ said Rosie. ‘We are, of course, a going concern.’

‘Yeah, yeah, yeah,’ said Gerard. He looked, Rosie thought, a bit wobbly; he’d put on some weight and his jowls were beginning to show. Too much of his mum’s indulgent cooking, or takeaways, she imagined. Inside, she couldn’t help but be a bit annoyed. So, if she was still to find him fit and attractive, she had to moderate his diet? That didn’t seem very fair. Although to be strictly truthful, her own waistband had grown a bit tighter since she’d been in Lipton.

‘Run along, Edison,’ she said to the figure below. ‘I’m closing up the shop now.’

Edison looked at her, his mouth full of pink and lemon gunky stuff, the gaping hole his bottom tooth had left acting like a conduit.

‘
These
,’ he said excitedly. ‘
these
are the
best things ever
. I mustn’t tell Reuben about them.’

‘No,’ said Rosie, with a sigh. She thought it was time to
have a word with Reuben’s mother, whoever she was. Wasn’t nice for a child to be victimised like that.

‘Who’s Reuben?’ asked Gerard when Edison had gone, clanging the door happily behind him.

‘His little mate. Isn’t allowed any sweets. Edison’s a good soul, keeps it secret from him.’

‘Well, wouldn’t he be a better soul if he shared them out?’

‘What, and have a marauding parent down here accusing me of child murder because white sugar was involved? No thank you.’

They regarded one another.

‘I’ve missed you,’ said Gerard.

‘I’ve missed you too,’ said Rosie, remembering back to those first chilly evenings. ‘Come here.’ She gave him a hug, smelled his familiar scent – aftershave, crisps – and smiled.

‘OK,’ said Gerard, greedily attacking his torpedoes. ‘What are you making for supper? I’m starving. Or sex first. Sex then supper? Or after supper? Or both? What about now? In the back room? I like the apron.’

Rosie grinned. ‘No, darling! I’ve got to lock up and cash up. I’ll clean in the morning.’

‘Well, hurry up,’ said Gerard. ‘Come on. Can’t you do it all tomorrow? It’s not really your shop.’

‘No,’ said Rosie. ‘But right now it’s my job. It won’t take long.’

Gerard looked pouty. ‘But please. I’ve come all this way.’

‘And I’ll be ten minutes. Wait here, then we can go and I’ll introduce you to Lilian. Or you can take yourself off to the pub
down the road and have a pint if you like and I’ll meet you in a minute.’

Rosie hadn’t meant the last one seriously, but to her disgruntlement his face immediately perked up and he asked her for directions.

‘Can you eat there?’ he asked.

Rosie nodded.

‘OK. Great. See you down there, yeah?’

Rosie turned back towards the till and started putting things away.

‘I really won’t be long,’ she protested.

‘Great,’ said Gerard, leaving her to it. ‘I’ll order you a gin and tonic.’