Christmas at Rosie Hopkins' Sweetshop

by Jenny Colgan

  “A half pound of caramels, please,” said Lilian, her face made up lightly, the dress dated but still oddly pretty on her girlish figure.

  “Off to the hospital?” said Rosie. “Won’t you freeze?”

  “No,” said Lilian. “I’m from around here, not some vulgar interloper like you. Hello, Spiderman.”

  Meridian had been playing in a box behind the counter.

  “I NOT SPIDERMAN! I’M ROBOT! GOOD ROBOT,” she clarified.

  “Glad to hear it,” said Lilian. She cast an eye over the shelves.

  “You’re low on pineapple chunks.”

  “I know,” said Rosie. “There’s been a run on them for Christmas. No new deliveries until the new year.”

  “Well, that won’t help when someone wants some.”

  “I’ll direct them to the grapefruit suckers,” said Rosie. “We’ll battle through.”

  Lilian wasn’t listening, though. She was taking a long look around the little room, its dark red shelves repainted in the same shade they’d always been; the little mullioned windows, the tall glass jars, the ancient brass scales.

  “I’ll miss this place,” said Lilian.

  “Who says it’s going anywhere?” said Rosie stoutly.

  “Well, things change,” said Lilian. ­“People . . . leave.”

  “Even if I did leave,” said Rosie, “Tina would still be here. The sweetshop would still be here.”

  “Nothing lasts forever,” said Lilian.

  “ROBOTS LAST FOREVER,” came a little voice. Rosie smiled instinctively. Lilian looked at her carefully.

  “I must get on,” she said. “Moray’s waiting. Oh, and a quarter pound of golf balls, please.”

  “ . . . It’s a ‘small bag,’ Lilian. We can’t serve imperial anymore.”

  “I think,” said Lilian, getting out her little snap-­clasp purse and insisting on paying, “you can to me.”

  HENRY HAD DETERIORATED fairly swiftly during the night. Now he was being moved to full life support—­the same bed, coincidentally, that Edison had vacated so recently. Mutterings were being made, though, about perhaps the family wanted to come in. This was entirely unnecessary. Everyone was there. No one knew quite what to do, and there was a lot of offering to get coffee and “after yous” and politeness. Edward was not looking forward to his day. On top of the terrible news from the hospital, he was having lunch with Dorothy to very politely and generously tackle necessary changes to the will. He didn’t know Dorothy very well. Then he had an appointment with a police officer. He had been utterly aghast to find out what had happened, but his lawyer had advised him to be reasonably confident that the police would not file charges against his father for distracting a driver. He just wanted the strain lifted off the lorry driver before Christmas; the poor man was out on bail. He went in to the hospital first. Cathryn was there too, still anxious.

  “I can’t . . . I can’t say how sorry I am,” she said, grabbing Edward in the hallway. She had a terrible fear that the family were going to get very difficult—­and quite rightly. If she hadn’t been so distracted by the children’s beautiful singing, she wouldn’t have taken her eye off him. But she had been, and she had.

  Edward turned to her. He looked tired but, somehow less anxious.

  “Cathryn,” he said. “Listen to me. I don’t blame you, okay? He wandered off of his own accord. He is ninety-­one years old. I think we knew this day was going to come. But it’s not even that. Whatever else happened to my father out there, it brought him back. He has had the chance to be himself—­his real self, the person I never knew. I can’t . . . It’s the best thing that could have happened. If he’d been at home, we never would have had him back again. If he’d stayed at the care home, I don’t think . . . I think this had to happen. I think he had to come home.”

  . . . Cathryn swallowed.

  “Thank you,” she said. “Thank you.”

  “You are doing wonderful things up there,” said Edward. “Don’t stop, please.”

  Cathryn bit her lip.

  “Are they letting you take him home?”

  Edward shook his head.

  “No. Too risky to move him, they said. And he seems comfortable here, so maybe it’s best . . .”

  At that moment, his daughters and Ian, unusually smartly dressed, appeared to say their goodbyes. They looked embarrassed, worried that they would get it wrong. Edward wished he could tell them that there was no right or wrong with what they were doing; everyone was equally awkward. He smiled at them instead.

  “I must go,” he said.

  “Of course,” said Cathryn. “Oh, and Edward . . . if it helps. None of us ever really know our parents.”

  Edward paused for a moment.

  “You know,” he said. “I think it does.”

  EDWARD FOUND, ONCE in the room, that he couldn’t say what he wanted to say. He wished suddenly that he’d written it down. But the reality of his father in front of him was so odd and strange that he couldn’t get the words out. Something about seeing Mum again . . . but did he believe that? Oh, he wanted to. And that would be enough.

  He sat down. Henry had an oxygen mask on and struggled to take it off. Edward helped him. Henry sounded very choky and as if he couldn’t find the words, so Edward put it back on again and felt too hot in the stuffy space.

  “So,” said Edward. He glanced at his watch. “I’m . . . I’m just going to change your will, okay? To add something in Dorothy’s favor? I’m sorry. I know this is awkward”

  Henry nodded. “That’s fine,” he managed to rasp. “You are good to share.”

  Edward smiled and patted Henry’s hand. He’d had power of attorney for four years now and wanted to do what was right.

  “So I’m going to do that and come right back, okay?”

  “Yes, son. That’s grand.”

  They sat in silence, neither knowing what to say. Then Edward got up to go.

  “Um,” he started quickly. “You’ve been a good dad.”

  Henry blinked several times.

  “You . . . you’ve been a good son,” he croaked. And that was that.

  LILIAN DIDN’T SAY anything. She simply took off her coat and saw that he recognized her dress; saw how pleased he was to see it again; to simply have an awareness of where he was, in his own skin. She smiled. A friendly nurse helped her up onto the bed and checked Henry’s morphine levels.

  Then Lilian took out the large bag of caramels and carefully removed his mask. She put the bag under his nose so he could smell them, and then took a tiny piece that had separated from the rest and put it into his mouth. Then, very slowly, another. And Henry took hold of her hand and squeezed it until he couldn’t squeeze any more, and then when he could not squeeze, she held him. And then when there was no Henry left to hold any more, she kissed him gently on the forehead and wished her boy goodnight.

  Chapter 21

  CHRISTMAS EVE WAS a ridiculously busy day in the shop. Tina had been quite right, everyone went crazy at the end of the year. There wasn’t a large box of chocolates unsold; children bought boxes of travel sweets for their mums and dads because they liked the pictures on them; stocking fillers were bought, candy canes by the score, Turkish delight and marzipan fruit for after dinner; soft marshmallows for hot chocolate in cold fingers, chews for watching the telly, and of course boxes of assorted candies. Everyone had one of those. Big, small, and anywhere in between.

  Anton came in, looking timid.

  “Anton!” said Rosie, amazed. He must have lost even more weight. “Look at you!” His little wife next to him beamed with pride.

  “I know,” said Anton.

  “I don’t think you’re the fattest man in Lipton any more! I reckon Doctor Hye is fatter than you!”

  Anton beamed.

  “Well done,” said Rosie to his wife.

 
“Oh no, he had to want to do it,” she said. “Plus, after the accident the food delivery companies didn’t want to come out here so much. So he couldn’t get all those secret deliveries.”

  Rosie thought about this.

  “Well,” she said finally. “It’s nice to know that out of something so awful, some good could come.”

  “And I got a job!” said Anton.

  “No way! Wonderful!”

  “I’m Santa Claus!” said Anton. “At the shopping center in Carningford.”

  “Wonderful! What a perfect job for you, you’re so nice to everyone.”

  Anton flushed.

  “Of course, it means I have to keep a BIT of a tummy.”

  “Not at all,” said Rosie heartily. “Next year you can play an elf. Now what would you like? Small bags only.”

  Anton’s wife winked at her.

  “I would like . . . just the one lollipop,” said Anton. “As a treat.”

  Rosie looked at him.

  “Truly?”

  “Yes,” said Anton stoically. “I have changed. Thanks to you.”

  “Could you say that more loudly when there are more ­people around to hear you?” said Rosie, handing him his lollipop. “And not just a good robot.”

  “Can Robot have lollipop now?” came a robot voice from down near her feet.

  “No.”

  MORAY CALLED TO tell her Henry had died at just after three o’clock. Rosie looked at Tina and swallowed hard; it seemed ridiculous to feel so upset, she had hardly known him. But then, of course, it was Lilian she was sad for.

  “Who was with him?” asked Tina.

  “Lilian,” said Rosie. “Oh, I’m so glad. Although, poor Edward.”

  “I think Edward made his peace,” said Tina with the wise look of someone who’d gathered all the town gossip from Jake’s nights out at the Red Lion.

  “I think he did too,” said Rosie thoughtfully. “Oh dear, though. What about Lilian? To have gotten back the love of her life . . . for a week.”

  “Better to spend a week with someone you love than a lifetime with someone you don’t,” said Tina. She was only speculating, and was therefore entirely surprised to see Rosie suddenly collapse in tears.

  “What? What is it? What have I said?”

  “Oh Tina,” said Rosie, and all of a sudden it came flooding out. Tina put the BACK IN 5 MINUTES sign on the door and made them both large cups of tea.

  “He’s just . . . he said he doesn’t want to get married, that I’m bugging him, that it’s all . . . Tina, I think it’s all off!”

  Tina furtively twisted her own engagement ring.

  “Oh no, it’s not.”

  “I think so . . . I mentioned going to Australia, maybe, with my mum, and he didn’t even care! Didn’t even think about it. I don’t even . . . I don’t even . . . he’s just gone to London. I think when Angie goes away in a ­couple of days, he’s going to move back to Peak House . . . and I’ll be all by myself! Forever!”

  “I think we’re going to need more tea” said Tina. “Oh God, Rosie. I had no idea. I’m so sorry.”

  “Me too,” sobbed Rosie. “I love him so much Tina, so much. But now I don’t see that there’s any point in staying here after all.”

  “But you like it here, don’t you?”

  “I fell in love with it,” said Rosie. “With the town, with the ­people, with Stephen, with the shop, with everything.”

  She swallowed. “But I don’t think it loves me back.”

  “But what about Lilian?”

  “I think she thinks I should go. Spend time with my family,” said Rosie.

  Meridian came up to Rosie, still with her robot helmet on.

  “Don’t cry, Auntie Rosie,” she said, clumsily trying to dry away her tears. “Was Kelly mean to you?”

  “No,” said Rosie. “You guys are never mean to me.”

  “Kelly is mean to me,” said Meridian. She hugged Rosie tightly. “Would you like to come to my house and have a sleepover?”

  Rosie smiled.

  “Sometime.”

  “We can watch Finding Nemo. I like Nemo films. Or James Bond.’

  “You’re not allowed to watch James Bond.”

  “I. AM. JAMES. BOND.”

  “Oh dear,” said Tina. “Well. You know I grew up here, right?”

  Rosie nodded.

  “I’ve known Stephen Lakeman all my life, okay?’

  Rosie nodded again.

  “I’ve seen him with loads of girlfriends, half of them looking like total supermodels.”

  “Not helping.”

  “But I swear I’ve never . . . I’ve never seen him as smitten with anyone in my life as he is with you. I’ve never seen him live with someone, I’ve never seen him light up with someone like he does with you and I swear no one else ever got to meet his mother.”

  “Hmm.”

  “I think you’re mad. I think he does love you, and you’re just getting your knickers in a twist because it’s not moving as fast as you’d like it to. He’s just been in a big accident!”

  “I know,” said Rosie. “But it’s more than that. You know what he’s like. He can be so grudging, so sullen.”

  “Are you sure?” said Tina. “Are you sure it’s not just you picking faults?”

  “Well, if it’s that,” said Rosie, “then that’s just as bad, isn’t it? What would we be like in ten years?”

  Tina shrugged. “Oh, I could see you two in ten years.”

  “Really?” said Rosie, curious.

  “Oh yes. You’ll get nice and plump.”

  “Well, thanks a BUNCH!”

  “Oh, don’t be daft. Kids do that to you.”

  “You had twins and you look all right.”

  “I had twins at twenty-­four,” said Tina. “Anyway, shush, do you want to hear this or not?”

  “Yes,” said Rosie grudgingly. “Can you do another version where I’m really really slender and elegant?”

  “But he loves your gorgeous bosom and all of that. Trust me, if he wanted a stick, he had plenty of those London models after him.”

  “Yes, again, thank you,” said Rosie.

  “So, anyway. And he’ll still be rangy and thin and gorgeous.”

  “Great,” said Rosie. “Well, this just gets better and better.”

  “And he goes out striding the hills with the boys—­for sure you’ll have boys, you’re the type.”

  “Mm,” said Rosie.

  “And you’ll cook something yummy for when they come in all ruddy cheeked and starving, and it’ll be lovely.”

  There was a pause.

  “Are you sure,” asked Rosie eventually, “that you haven’t just mixed up my imaginary future with a gravy advert you saw on television?”

  Tina thought for a moment.

  “I think I did, didn’t I?”

  “Yes,” said Rosie.

  “Well, there’s no reason it can’t happen.”

  “What, gravy adverts come true?”

  “Mine’s going to,” said Tina.

  There was no arguing with that. Rosie opened up the shop again and tried to get distracted by the sheer number of customers piling in and out wishing them a happy Christmas and leaving gifts and cards for Lilian. They passed on the news again and again. ­People were stunned and fascinated; one or two of the older ones remembered Henry’s parents and the devastation they had lived with for the rest of their lives.

  “All of those losses,” said old Mrs. Bell from Bell’s Farm, picking up her favorite Parma violets for her visiting grandchildren, who hated them and found them sickly, but who in later life would love the smell because it would make them remember their grandmother who had always been so kind to them.“That war blew a hole through the village, you know.”
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  “Lilian always said.”

  “Well, I was born in the war, so I don’t remember it, but even as a girl you could feel it. The pain on ­people’s faces when they watched us playing. There were a few very late babies too. It’s hard to grow up in a home where a mother has lost a son,” she observed. “Some of them hated even letting their boys get married.”

  “I hadn’t even really thought about his mum and dad,” said Tina. “God.” She shivered again.

  “It must have just been a mix-­up,” continued Mrs. Bell. “Got shipped back to Halifax, found himself a job, built a new life. Just like that.”

  “Imagine,” said Rosie, deep in thought.

  AT FOUR THIRTY, after they’d sold basically everything, Rosie was on the point of closing up and giving Tina her Christmas bonus when there was a creak at the door. It barely tinkled as the bearded man with glasses pushed it open carefully. It was Edison’s dad, Arthur. He pushed the wheelchair in.

  “Edison!” said Rosie and Tina in unison, Rosie’s worries temporarily forgotten.

  Edison pushed himself in very slowly and carefully on his wheelchair. Meridian wandered out to see what was going on.

  “Who’s this?” asked Edison warily.

  “I’m a robot now,” said Meridian. “Only not a real robot. A little one.”

  “You see,” said Edison. “That’s mostly where I go. Behind there. It’s my place”

  “I like your robot chair.”

  “I know, it’s cool,” said Edison, brightening slightly.

  “Hello!” said Rosie. “How’s Hester?”

  “Uncomfortable,” said Arthur. “Hello there. Can I have two hundred and twenty grams of coconut spaceships?”

  “I have never been asked in metric before,” said Rosie. “Amazing. You really are a scientist, aren’t you?”

  He smiled shyly. “A scientist whose wife currently has very peculiar tastes. I also need two hundred and twenty grams of licorice allsorts and some gravel.”

  Rosie looked at Edison.

  “I miss you,” she said.

  Edison nodded and smiled, as if this was only to be expected.