by Nicola May
She had never really known normal family life as such. Her birth mum had been an
alcoholic and there wasn’t a father named on Rosa’s birth certificate. The story was that at six months, despite every effort her mum had made to look after her, social services had still taken her away.
And then there were Maureen and Len who, after having no luck bearing children themselves, had fostered her with a view to adoption. Tragically, Maureen was diagnosed with terminal cancer when Rosa was just six years old and Len was unable to cope with a young child and a dying wife. Then began an unstable journey of children’s homes and foster carers. There were a couple of ‘almost’ adoptions along the way, but with Rosa being such a troubled child, nobody had been willing to take her on permanently.
Rosa sighed and nursed Hot into her lap. Being honest, her dysfunctional, blow job (only when drunk) relationship with Josh had been the nearest feeling to happiness that she had ever felt - and now she had given that up too.
But giving up was a common occurrence for Rosa. She didn’t tolerate fools.
Seb looked over to her. ‘That was a big sigh. We are nearly there - just around this corner and the Ship will be in front of us.’ He slowed down and changed gear, waiting for a motorbike to roar past.
It was then Rosa noticed it. The shop. Lit by the van’s headlights, she saw that it had an interesting curved frontage. Turquoise paint was peeling from the front door, where a battered-looking CLOSED sign still hung. In faded letters, above the beautiful curved windows, were the words The Corner Shop. There seemed to be a vacant flat above the shop. Seeing this, Rosa felt a surge of excitement. If accommodation was part of the package, then suddenly the whole thing didn’t seem such a bad idea.
‘What a shame,’ she said softly to herself.
‘The Corner Shop, you mean?’ Seb asked.
‘Yes.’
‘It’s been shut for about five years now. Used to be a little goldmine.’
‘What did it sell?’
‘Everything and anything. It was a real favourite with locals and tourists alike. Bit of a mystery actually, as old Mr Myers who ran it literally worked until he couldn’t manage the steep steps up to the flat any more.’
‘Aw, bless him, but why a mystery?’
‘Oh, just that none of us can understand why it hasn’t gone up for sale.’
‘Did he not have family?’
‘Not that he ever mentioned. He died at the age of ninety-eight, in the nursing home up the hill, surrounded by the many friends he had made here.’
‘Ah, right.’
‘Here we are then. The Ship Inn, me lady.’
‘Thanks so much, Seb. Can I give you some money for petrol?’ Rosa was suddenly conscious of the wads of cash in her bag and remembered sensible Josh saying she should open a new bank account with it as soon as she could.
‘Nah, don’t be silly. Buy me a drink in here one night.’ He smiled. ‘Now you and Hot Dog get settled - and if I don’t see you, although I’m sure I will down here, have a lovely break and Happy Christmas to the both of you.’ He tickled the tiny dachshund behind his ears then got out to help Rosa down from the passenger seat before lifting her luggage from the rear.
CHAPTER 3
Rosa was feeding Hot in her room at the Ship when Josh phoned.
‘Just checking you made it down to Devon all right.’
‘Yes, we got here safe and sound. The shop is in disrepair by the look of it though. I learned that it’s been empty for five years and I hate to say it, but I think a few of the locals are going to be a little perturbed by a young upstart from the Smoke taking it on.’
‘So, you’ve been to see it already, have you?’
‘Nope, just drove past it on the way here. It is really quaint with the most beautiful bay windows.’
‘So, reckon you’re up for the challenge then?’
‘Well, I don’t have much choice, do I? I can’t let my mystery benefactor down. Although I’m scared, Josh. I know nothing about running a business.’
‘Don’t worry. Go in and take a proper look tomorrow and see what you think. I can drive down with my mate Carlton, if you like. He’s renovated loads of shops. It may just need a good clean and touch-up.’
‘OK, thank you. My room’s cosy here at the pub though and I’m glad I’ve booked it for a few nights. I’m overlooking the bay. Oh Josh, I’ve only seen it in the dark but it really is quite beautiful with the twinkly Christmas lights reflecting onto the sea. I cannot wait until morning so Hot and I can go and explore. But listen, the main thing is – guess what? There’s a flat above the shop.’
‘Oh Rosa, what a bonus! How amazing is that.’
‘Well, let’s see what state it’s in, shall we? It belonged to an old man in his nineties and he lived in it for years.’
‘Do you think it was him who left it to you then?’
‘I don’t even want to think about that. I am here now and need to see what’s going on.’ At that moment, the dachshund stood up on the bed and started slapping her face with his tongue. ‘Eeek,’ Rosa said, trying not to laugh. ‘Hot says hi, by the way.’
‘Hi, back.’ Josh paused, then added: ‘It’s bloody lonely without you two.’
‘You’ll be relishing the freedom soon - and like you say, you can pop down anytime you like. I don’t know how big the flat is yet. I will give you a call tomorrow night.’
‘OK. Sleep well and just be positive when you go in there tomorrow. I think this is good for you - a fresh new start.’
‘I love London though, Josh.’
‘I know you do, Rosa, but remember - how many times have you said you wanted to be your own boss?’
‘Be careful what you wish for and all that, eh?’ Rosa laughed. ‘Hot and I will be just fine. I’m trying to make sure he doesn’t bark the pub down tonight, but bless him, he seems as knackered as I am. Right - bath and bed. Night, night.’
‘Goodnight, madam.’
CHAPTER 4
Rosa was awoken from a deep sleep by a knock on the door.
‘Morning, dear. Just checking if you would like breakfast? We finish serving in twenty.’
‘Oh yes, please.’ Rosa realised that in all the excitement of her arrival at the pub last night, she had not had any dinner and was starving. ‘Is it OK for my dog to come down to the dining area with me?’
‘Of course. I cannot wait to see the little fella, to be honest. I’ve got some pigs’ ears on the bar with his name on.’
Rosa smiled. Everyone did seem super-friendly down here. She would make the most of it before they realised she was now the new owner of their beloved Corner Shop.
Sheila Hannafore had what Rosa could only describe as bright white hair, in a sort of old-fashioned brushed-out perm style. She must have been in her mid-sixties but looked really good for her age. Her ruddy cheeks suited her pleasant face and she had the most perfect teeth Rosa thought she had ever seen.
‘Sheila, isn’t it? Sorry, I’m terrible with names.’
‘Yes, that’s me. Owner and manager of the Ship Inn for the past thirty years. Live and breathe it, my love, I do.’
‘You run it on your own, do you?’
‘Sadly, yes. Brian, my late husband, passed just last year.’
‘I’m so sorry.’
‘Don’t be, he was a miserable old bugger and I had a face-lift and my teeth done with one of his insurances, which helped numb the pain slightly.’
‘I almost commented on your teeth, they are amazingly bright.’
‘Yes, the sailors say we don’t need a lighthouse any more when I start flashing me gnashers.’
‘That’s funny.’
‘Right - full English, is it, girl? Or are you one of those funny Southerners who’s frightened of a bit of wheat or meat?’
‘As it comes, please.’
‘Good, good. I’ll bring some water - and help yourself to an ear for your dog. Althou
gh in this place it’s more hair of the dog that’s required. I’ve only gone and forgotten his name now.’
‘Hot.’
‘No, not today, love. It’s minus one out there.’
‘No, that’s my dog’s name - Hot.’
‘Well, I never. You’ve thrown me a little over the edge with that one.’
Rosa laughed. She liked the Devon accent. On first impression, she liked Sheila Hannafore.
‘I’ll just take him out for a quick walk whilst you’re cooking,’ she said.
‘You do what you need to do, my lovely. I’ll be back out in a jiffy.’
With Hot walked and happy and now under the table chewing on his pig’s ear, Rosa felt her tummy rumble loudly. Just in time, Sheila appeared from behind the bar with a huge plate of food.
‘Now that’s what I call a feast.’ Rosa picked up her knife and fork. ‘Thank you so much.’
‘Enjoy, my love - and can I ask what brings you to these parts?’
‘Er . . . just visiting family.’ Rosa dipped a sausage into the bright yellow yolk of one of her eggs.
‘Who be that then? I’ve never seen you down these parts before.’
‘Sheila - it’s OK if I call you Sheila, is it?’
‘Of course, dear.’
‘I just needed time out from London. It gets mad there and I heard how lovely Devon was, and well . . . I’m here now.’
‘So you’re not spending Christmas with your folks then?’
‘No. We’re not very close.’
‘Aw, that’s a shame. My boys never fail to visit. The youngest, he’ll drive down later. Shame his excuse for a girlfriend will follow, but you can’t tell ’em what to do at your age, can you? My oldest is coming with Martha, that’s his wife, and of course all the grandkids, Christmas morning. They just live around the corner, see. Three of the little darlings I’ve got, and I love ’em to the horizon and back.’
‘That’s nice.’
‘Well, I hope so. They’ll have to muck in a bit, it’s the hub of activity in here over Christmas. I’ve got turkeys stuffed out back, ready for the deluge.’
‘So, you open Christmas Day, do you?’
‘Oh, it’s three hundred and sixty-six days a year here, love. I always add on a day for the number of lock-ins we have.’
‘Sounds like my kind of place,’ Rosa told her.
‘Well, you’re booked in until Christmas Eve - why don’t you stay a couple of days longer? It’s one big happy family here.’
‘I may well just do that. I’ll let you know later, if that’s OK?’
‘Course it is. I always keep one room spare for waifs and strays. You’ll be sharing the bathroom with my lot, but they are all completely house-trained. Right, I’d better get on. I’ve got cakes to ice. Enjoy your time here, my love.’
Rosa let out a huge burp as she walked up the steep stairs back to her room.
‘Better out than in, I always say.’
‘Pardon me.’ Rosa put her hand to her mouth. ‘Sorry, I didn’t know anyone else was up here.’
The girl at the top of the landing carried on, ‘I’m Titch Whittaker. Five foot nothing with tits to die for, according to Seb Watkins.’
‘Ah, right.’ Rosa grinned.
‘Just been cleaning your room, whilst you scoffed. Nice bomber jacket you have hanging up there.’
‘Er . . . thanks.’ Titch must be in her early twenties, Rosa thought.
‘Well, enjoy your day – Rose, isn’t it?’
‘Rosa, and thanks, I will do.’
‘Isn’t Rosa a gypsy’s name?’
‘Um, I’m not sure.’
‘And that raven hair of yours – it’s really lovely. You’re like a wild animal, Rosa.’ With furniture polish in hand, Titch disappeared back down the stairs.
Rosa opened her case and double-checked how much money she had left. Bless Josh for not taking the £500 rent she owed. He really was quite a special person. With the £100 train fare taken out and if she now paid for five nights here at £60 per night, that made £400: she still had around £1,600 left. A fortune to her, in cold hard cash. It wouldn’t hurt to go and look around the shops and have a little spend-up later, she thought, but her first visit must be to the Corner Shop.
She dug out the set of keys on the starfish keyring that had been in the battered case, put Hot on his lead, carried him downstairs and headed out.
Despite it being cold, the air was fresh, and Rosa sighed happily as she took in the beautiful scenery all around her. The pub was situated on the sea front, so she just had to walk down a few steps and was right on the beach. Once off the lead, Hot barked and ran around crazily. He had never felt sand on his paws before and had only ever dipped them in water in a fountain at Battersea Park. Rosa had also never seen a beach quite like it, with rock pools and cliffs to each side, leading up to fields with a well-trodden cliff path that seemed to go on forever.
The sea was still and sending up little wafts of steam in places where it hit the cold air. She threw a piece of driftwood to Hot, then walked down to the edge of the water, wondering at the lacy, rippling effect as it touched the shoreline. Holidays had never really been on the agenda at the children’s home; they did go out on day trips now and then, and when they did go on what they called a holiday, they were just shipped down to an equivalent home in Wiltshire, where it was more fields and flowers than sea and sand.
Rosa imagined how glorious it would be here in the summer, but also how busy – which would be good if you were running a business here. Today though, she quite liked the fact that it was just her and one other dog walker braving the winter chill.
She looked back at the Ship Inn. It was an old, white-painted building, weathered by the elements and with an old-fashioned sailing boat depicted on the sign, and she wondered what stories it could tell. The other dog walker - a tall, skinny figure - was striding towards her and as he got closer she could make out the beard and ponytail of Seb Watkins.
‘All right, Rosa? How’s it going?’
Rosa had a chance to see his face properly in the daylight. She had trouble guessing his age, as despite having a youthful-looking face, the wrinkles around his eyes were quite evident. Early thirties maybe, she thought. She wondered what he’d look like without a beard. She didn’t mind gingers one little bit, but hated beards. They reminded her of a male carer at the children’s home, whose greedy eyes for the teenage girls, including herself, had made her feel sick.
‘Fine, thanks. You didn’t mention you had a dog.’ The black Labrador was now sniffing around Hot before they started playing together.
‘I don’t mention a lot of things,’ Seb told her, and smiled.
‘What’s his name?’
‘Jet. Anyway, bet you’re stuffed to the gills with a Ship’s breakfast?’
‘Bloody lovely it was too.’
‘Yes, Sheila certainly knows how to keep everyone’s stomach happy, at least. So, what are you up to today?’
‘Oh, this and that. Going to explore a bit more, I think. Look round the shops, you know.’ Fingering the keys in her pocket, she thought she might have to come clean about the shop far sooner than she wanted to. It certainly wasn’t like London down here; it would be nigh-on impossible to keep herself to herself.
Hot came running up to her with an old plastic bottle that had been washed up on the shore and dropped it at her feet.
Seb shook his head. ‘Ruddy plastic bottles.’ He leant down to pick it up. ‘We have one planet - people need to realise that.’
‘You not working today, Seb?’
‘Yep, but not till a bit later. There aren’t that many passengers on the earlier trains this time of year, so it’s not worth my while.’
Hot barked his annoyance at Seb for confiscating his new toy. Rosa hastily clicked on his lead.
‘Well, have a good day,’ she said.
‘You too. I’ll see you around.’
It was lovely to smell coffee and baking coming from the various eateries. In fact, it was lovely to feel free. No boring job to have to go to. No rush-hour Underground to negotiate. In fact, she was beginning to realise just how good it felt, simply to have some time. Time to herself. Time to be free.
She looked back down to the bay. Seagulls were now swooping around the front. She would certainly have to get used to the noise of their cries, which were nearly as annoying as Hot in one of his barking episodes.
In trepidation, she arrived at the front of the shop. Luckily it was opposite a bank, which hadn’t opened yet, so there were no immediate voyeurs. Turning the key in the old lock, Rosa felt a rush of excitement. Whatever lay waiting for her behind the blue door, the old Corner Shop was, as Josh had said, her very own bricks and mortar. Her very first home. A gift. It was unbelievable really, and she was still unsure if it wasn’t all a big mistake. She had never been given anything before - and why her, anyway?
She jumped as a cobweb fell from the doorframe. Brushing it from her face, she quickly shut the door behind her, Hot close on her heels. She remembered watching on TV an episode of Location, Location, Location where a blind lady had said that her guide dog would know if a house was right for her, so she was going to make sure she watched how Hot reacted.
She pressed the light switch - nothing. But then of course there wouldn’t be; the shop had been empty for five years. She shivered with cold. There was a radiator in the corner, so at least when everything was up and running, she would have heat. The plentiful, once-white shelves were thick with dust. Smiling to herself, she lifted a dirty blue teddy bear and an old copper kettle, which sat next to a damp pink scarf and an alarm clock; remnants of the eclectic stock that old Mr Myers had apparently been so successful at selling.