Welcome To Rosie Hopkins' Sweetshop Of Dreams (42 page)

‘Why don’t I bring them down later?’ said Rosie. ‘I’ll probably need a walk.’

‘That would be fantastic,’ said Chrissie.

‘You know,’ said Rosie to the pair of them, ‘you could run this sweetshop.’

There was a ringing of the door right behind her. Rosie didn’t even have to turn round.

‘What are you doing now, Hopkins?’ said Moray, sighing. ‘I wish you’d stop trying to kill all my patients.’

‘I
meant
,’ said Rosie, ‘when he’s slim enough to get behind the counter. Like a challenge. What do you think, Anton?’

Anton looked thrilled, his wife less so.

‘Hmm,’ she said. ‘I don’t want you up any ladders.’

‘I would like to run a sweetshop,’ said Anton.

‘No!’ said Moray. ‘Out of here.’

Anton looked glumly into his now-empty paper bag. ‘I don’t even remember eating those mice.’

‘Will you just get him that gastric band appointment?’ said Rosie.

‘No!’ said Moray. Anton heaved his vast bulk out of the shop, a tad sadly.

‘I only sold him four,’ said Rosie defiantly. ‘I talked him down from nineteen.’

Moray checked his watch. ‘Well, we’ve been in the same space for almost four minutes and nothing has turned up bleeding to death. A record for us, wouldn’t you say?’

Rosie smiled. ‘What can I get you?’

‘Just some mints. I’m judging the baking and some of those old ladies get a tad overenthusiastic when they win.’

‘I bet they do,’ said Rosie. Moray was looking very dapper today in his green tweed jacket and checked shirt. She was less sure about the mustard-coloured trousers.

‘Are you looking at my trousers?’ asked Moray.

‘Yes, but I’ll stop before I go blind.’

‘They’re
country
,’ said Moray. ‘Anyway, you are in no position to be making sartorial comments.’ Which was the exact moment when, in a blinding flash, Rosie realised – it wasn’t like her to be slow; after all, she’d been surrounded by male nurses – that Moray hadn’t been asking her out on dates.

‘They are a little bit country and a little bit rock ’n’ roll,’ said Rosie, grinning at him with sudden – what? Relief? Disappointment? ‘Do they like you, those little old ladies?’

‘They mostly like doctors who have been on television,’ said Moray, crunching into a Mint Imperial. ‘But in their absence, yes, sometimes I have to do.’

‘What’s happened?’ asked Rosie, impatiently. ‘How’s Stephen?’

‘I thought you were going to go with the ambulance,’ said Moray.

‘Yup,’ said Rosie. ‘But once that old bag was on the scene …’

‘She’s all right, Hetty,’ said Moray. ‘Her life is just a bit different to ours, that’s all. Remember, she only lost her husband last year.’

Rosie instantly felt a bit guilty. It was true, she’d been thinking of Stephen’s parents, whoever they were, as awful deserters. But she’d only ever seen one side of the story.

‘Anyway?’

‘Anyway,’ said Moray, lowering his voice as Rosie served two teenagers enormous portions of candy bananas. ‘I called the hospital this morning. They got plenty of blood into him. He was very weak, but they put him on a drip. He was malnourished too.’

Rosie suddenly got a flashback to his pale, white chest.

‘Good,’ she said, unconvinced.

‘Then as soon as they’d checked him out – I did a beautiful stitching job by all accounts—’

‘Helped by me,’ said Rosie.

‘By my glamorous assistant, yes. Anyway, as soon as they’d patched him up, he insisted on discharging himself. Doesn’t like hospitals apparently.’

Rosie tried to think of him alone in a military field hospital in Africa. She wasn’t at all surprised.

‘So. Just goes to show he should have done this months ago. Bloody stubborn idiot,’ said Moray.

‘Sounds as if you rather like the bloody stubborn idiot.’

‘Oh, Stephen was always different. Always his own man,’ said Moray. He picked up his bag of sweets. ‘And some Golf Balls,’ he said. ‘I’ll drop them off at Peak House.’

‘Were you guys good friends?’ asked Rosie.

Moray nodded. ‘We were actually. Till he went off on his do-gooder jobs in Africa. Couldn’t believe I didn’t want to go with him.’

‘Why not?’

Moray snorted.

‘Would you? Anyway, I believe my sort isn’t exactly welcome over there. No. Seriously, I’d have been rubbish, no help at all. I like my home comforts too much. Just too selfish. Anyway, of course he pulled a classic Stephen, stormed off and I didn’t hear from him … I didn’t even know where he got his injury, I only found that out the other day. I figured he’d been bitten by a stoat or something and was just too embarrassed to tell anyone. Or a tiger.’

‘You don’t get tigers in Africa,’ piped up Edison.

‘And that,’ said Moray, ‘is why I’m better off in Derbyshire.’

They fell quiet for a moment.

‘Well, when you see him …’ said Rosie. Then she couldn’t think what she meant to say. ‘Oh, nothing. Just say hello from me. And that he’s an idiot.’

‘Will do,’ said Moray. ‘Are you coming down later?’

‘Yes, in a bit. Keep some cake for me.’

‘Is that really what you feel like after a morning surrounded by fudge? Cake?’

‘It’s for Lilian,’ said Rosie strictly. ‘Don’t you start. I’ve already had Blaine in here. And Hester the Vegan.’

Moray shuddered. ‘Ugh. Dentist cooties,’ he said, and winked and turned to go.

‘Hi, Edison,’ he said to the small figure crouched behind the counter. ‘How’s the stress constipation?’

‘Much better, thank you,’ said Edison seriously. ‘I think perhaps the yoga is helping after all.’

Rosie looked at Moray.

‘I suspect being here, in an environment where no one makes you do yoga, is helping after all,’ said Moray quietly to Rosie. ‘Good for you.’

Rosie watched him leave, shaking her head in disbelief. The country air had clearly made her gaydar go on the blink. She was pleased too, though kicked herself for feeling that it would have been strange for such a good-looking man to fancy her. It wouldn’t have been strange, she told herself, trying to make herself believe it. She still couldn’t get her head round it; after being in a relationship for eight years, she was single. Single at thirty-one. It was terrifying and upsetting and oddly liberating.

‘
I wan egg wi present!
’ a child was screeching on the floor, as the mother rotated anxiously, her hands fluttering like butterflies.

‘I’m so sorry,’ said Rosie, for the tenth time. Lilian had very strong views on candy that came with toys and after forcing her to back down on the whole gum issue, Rosie hadn’t pushed it any more than she needed to. ‘We just don’t have any.’

Rosie came out from behind the counter and crouched down beside the child. Behind, a queue was building up. Rosie was used to dealing with children in hospital – scared, in pain – and was good at coaxing. But pointless fury she couldn’t really get a handle on.

‘
I want an egg!
’

Rosie realised the child wasn’t as small as she had thought before. In fact, he was a big bruiser of a boy, which probably explained why his mum was not exactly rushing to pick him up.

‘Now, Nathan, they don’t have any,’ the mother was saying anxiously. ‘I’m very sorry, I’m sure we can find another place.’

‘
Want it now!
’

‘Mummy will get it for you just as soon as—’

‘
Now!
’

‘Come now, little man,’ said Rosie, gently. ‘Would you like to try our bird’s eggs? They have a candy shell, then chocolate, then inside a little candy bird. What do you think?’

‘
Shut up!
’ shouted the boy. Rosie smiled apologetically at the queue, who were rolling their eyes, and decided to move back behind the counter pronto, but nobody really liked to buy sweets while someone was screaming, and people quickly grabbed chocolate bars or just left altogether. Finally, Edison popped his head out from behind the counter.

‘That’s Nathan,’ he hissed to Rosie, who was wondering how she could politely order the child’s mother to remove him without sounding like an evil witch.

‘So it appears,’ said Rosie.

‘He’s the mean kid who took my lollipop,’ whispered Edison.

‘Him?’ said Rosie, surprised. ‘That little squirt?’ Edison nodded. He touched her knee, obviously frightened.

‘But he’s pathetic,’ said Rosie. ‘Go take a look at him.’

Edison shook his head frantically. ‘He’s mean.’

‘He’s rubbish,’ said Rosie. ‘Come on, let’s have a look.’

Gently, she coaxed Edison out to the front of the shop, where Nathan was rolling from side to side on the floor, shouting about how it wasn’t fair and he wanted his egg. As soon as Nathan felt them looking at him, he turned. When he saw it was Edison his eyes widened. He clearly became conscious of how he was lying prostrate on the floor. The two boys regarded each other for a long time. Edison pushed his glasses up on his nose.

‘Hello, Nathan,’ he managed eventually, his voice quavering. There was a pause.

‘Is this your sweetshop?’ came the voice from the floor. Rosie nodded her head.

‘Yes,’ said Edison. ‘Kind of.’

Casually, as if it was the sort of thing anyone might do, Nathan picked himself up off the floor.

‘You’ve got a whole sweetshop?’

Edison shrugged. ‘Whatever.’

Rosie looked at him. ‘Did you just say “whatever”?’

Edison got up on tiptoes to whisper in her ear.

‘I don’t know what it means,’ whispered Edison. ‘It’s something you’re meant to say.’

‘OK then,’ Rosie whispered back.

Nathan was now rubbing the back of his shaved head.

‘Iss all right,’ he said.

‘Did you want anything?’ said Rosie, as if she and Edison were equal partners.

Nathan shrugged. ‘Chocolate eggs please.’

Nathan’s mother was practically sobbing with gratitude as she handed over the money.

‘Thank you so much … He’s just tired, aren’t you, Nathan?’ she said, nervously caressing her son’s shoulders.

Nathan pushed her hand away. ‘Whatever,’ he said.

‘See?’ whispered Edison.

Nathan took the chocolate bag without a thank you. Then, turning to go, he looked back.

‘Wan one?’

Edison’s eyes popped behind his spectacles. Hardly daring to believe it wasn’t a trick, he stepped forward very shyly and carefully. Rosie reckoned Nathan was buying his silence. But whatever was happening, it would clearly feel worth it to Edison. Rosie felt sad, suddenly, that it would make the unusual, interesting Edison happier to be part of this boy’s horrible gang of screaming yobbos. Even worse, not an equal member of the gang, probably, but some kind of craven lieutenant. Even though she knew this was just how school was, it still made her sad. But this was Edison’s life, not hers.

Tentatively Edison reached out his hand towards the bag. Then, suddenly, he stopped himself.

‘Neh,’ he said. ‘It’s my shop. I can have anything I want. Can’t be bothered.’

There was a moment’s silence, as Nathan reassessed the skinny boy standing in front of him as though through totally new eyes. Then he nodded.

‘Awright,’ he said. ‘Maybe see you down the fête later?’

‘Maybe,’ said Edison, nonchalantly.

‘Edison,’ Rosie said, after they had left and the bell had safely dinged, ‘I could kiss you.’

‘Please don’t do that,’ said Edison. ‘It would be Inpropreet Behaviour.’

Rosie smiled. ‘I would not like to inflict inpropreet behaviour on you,’ she said. ‘But well done.’

Edison shrugged and went back to playing with the boxes.

‘Some of them are quite a handful, aren’t they?’ came a voice, nodding down the road to where Nathan had torn the bag out of the hands of his mother, who had obviously suggested he keep some for later. (She had also asked him, a six-year-old, whether he wanted the small or the large bag.) Rosie looked up; she hadn’t even noticed the nice woman from before, Tina Ferrers, quietly browsing the powdered sugar sweets with the twins, Kent and Emily.

‘Not yours,’ said Rosie. ‘Yours are angels.’

Tina laughed, showing nice teeth.

‘Ha, right. Yeah. They do show an amazing turn of being angels when promised a visit to your sweetshop though, I will say that.’

Rosie smiled. ‘I wish all of them did.’

‘It’s part of the job, isn’t it?’ said Tina. ‘You can’t just like the nice children. I used to work in a nursery,’ she added.

‘Oh yes? Did you like it?’

‘Loved it. Alas …’ She gesticulated towards the children. ‘Unfortunately the times I could work after these guys were the times other people can work too. When they need a nursery assistant is early, late … Couldn’t make it fit.’ She looked around. ‘I love what you’ve done here though. It’s
brilliant. Imagine, having your own business. I’m totally in awe of that.’

‘Oh, it’s not mine,’ said Rosie. ‘I’m only caretaking for my aunt. In fact, it’s going up for sale.’

Tina blinked. ‘Really?’ She ran her hands down one of the shelves, and sighed.

‘What?’ said Rosie.

‘Oh, nothing. Just a silly idea …’

Rosie smiled. She liked this woman.

‘What, about this place?’

‘Oh, I couldn’t …’ Tina looked around. ‘It really is lovely, you know.’