by Jenny Colgan
‘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 child
ren. 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.’
‘It is, it’s beautiful.’
‘I mean, there’s no reason why you couldn’t sell more things here. Little souvenirs maybe. Nothing tacky, just things to add on for holidaymakers to remember their time here, if they wanted to spend more than a pound. And rock.’
Rosie smiled.
‘I mean, it’s doing so well already.’
She lowered her voice as Rosie weighed out some expensive fudge for a cheery-looking family.
‘It sounds like you have lots of ideas,’ said Rosie.
Tina smiled. ‘Well, you know. Once Kent and Emily are at school I have a bit of time on my hands. And I have my divorce settlement …’
‘You’re divorced?’ Rosie said. Tina was so pretty, so obviously nice, with such nice children. Could it really happen to just about anyone?
Tina looked sad.
‘Well, let’s just say he preferred the bottle to me,’ she said. ‘Open secret round these parts, like bloody everything. That’s why I took a final settlement in the divorce,’ she whispered. ‘In case he drinks everything else away.’
She tried a half-smile but Rosie could feel a torrent of pain beneath the words.
‘If you like,’ she said, ‘you could come round one night and I’ll take you through the books.’
‘Really?’ said Tina. ‘But … well, I don’t know. I’d have to employ someone to help.’
‘Oh, it can’t be done alone,’ said Rosie. ‘I’m going half crazy here. Have to shut the shop if I’m to do anything else at all.’
‘But you’re not shutting up today?’
Rosie hadn’t stopped serving for a second since she’d unlocked the front door.
‘Well, I know it sounds a bit daft, but I kind of wanted to see the market-day fair? I won’t be here for it next year, and I thought it would probably be my only chance.’
Tina’s brow furrowed. ‘But this is one of your busiest days of the year!’
Rosie smiled. ‘You definitely have a business brain on you.’
‘You can’t just shut it up and go!’
‘But it’s my shop! And I want to take Edison.’
Tina grinned. ‘OK, how about I mind the shop for you for an hour?’
Rosie was taken aback. But she considered it from all angles. Tina seemed absolutely nice and decent. She was interested in the shop. If the worst happened and she ran away with the cash box, well, Moray would know where she lived. This was a village. Nothing bad would happen.
She made up her mind. ‘OK!’
‘Do you have hand sanitiser?’ asked Tina.
‘Uhm, no, just a sink,’ said Rosie.
‘See, if we put some hand sanitiser in, you wouldn’t have to run the water every five minutes.’
‘Did you say you ran a nursery or an international business conglomerate?’ said Rosie, joyfully taking off her apron. She watched Tina serve a couple of customers – of course she knew nearly all of them, and had a friendly word for each one, including, she noticed, the couple who asked after her exhusband, sadly. Reassured that Tina knew exactly what she was doing (and possibly, Rosie thought, watching her serve a young man in military uniform and talk him into buying one of the largest boxes of chocolates they had, slightly better than she did), Rosie hauled down another box for the tombola and set about persuading Edison.
‘Cows,’ he was explaining to Kent and Emily, who were only a little younger than him, ‘can stampede. That’s when they all run in a big line. They can kill you. Superfast.’
‘Superfast,’ said Kent.
‘Nobody is going to do any stampeding,’ said Rosie. ‘Come on.’
‘Also,’ said Edison, ‘there are pigs. Pigs will eat a man if there’s nuffink else to eat.’
‘Where do you get this stuff?’ said Rosie.
‘Vegan Playbees,’ said Edison obediently. Tina and Rosie swapped a look.
‘You know Hester then?’ asked Tina pleasantly.
‘Not well,’ said Rosie, equally pleasantly, as both women tried to avoid discussing Edison’s mother in front of him. ‘And I’ve never even heard of Vegan Playbees.’
‘It’s a vegan playgroup Hester set up,’ said Tina breezily. ‘To teach the correct lifestyle in the village!’
Rosie’s cheeks hurt, she wanted to giggle so much.
‘And was it successful?’
‘I believe Edison is the head of Vegan Playbees, isn’t that right, Edison?’ said Tina. ‘And sole member?’ Edison nodded seriously, then stood up and saluted and sang, very loudly and rather tunelessly:
‘Plants are our friends! Right to the end!
Soya is great and our very best mate!
Hummus is zoomus and kale never fails!
Vegan Playbees SAVE THE WHALES!’
The two women laughed, until Kent jumped up and announced, ‘I wan be Vegan Playbee,’ and Edison started teaching them the song, whereupon Rosie ushered him out.
‘Come on, Vegan Playbee. I promise only to take you to the marrow-growing competition, will that help?’
Edison looked awkward.
‘And the cake stall.’
‘I can’t have anything with eggs in.’
Rosie rolled her eyes. ‘Well, I’ll find you a flapjack then.’
‘And no gelatine.’
‘I’ll read the ingredients.’
‘And I’m allergic to strawberries.’
‘How you ever get out of bed in the morning I have no idea.’
Tina waved. ‘I’ll hold the fort. Enjoy yourself. I will!’
She was already, Rosie noticed, straightening up all the sweet jars that had been opened and not put back exactly right that morning, and turning to smile at the next customer. This could, Rosie thought to herself, just possibly work.
Chapter Sixteen
Tablet
Ahh. Tablet. Bonnie Prince Tablet.
2.2 lb white cane granulated sugar. Yes. 2.2 lb. Don’t look at me like that, this is a sweetshop.
1 tin sweetened condensed milk
4 oz unsalted butter
a drop of fresh milk to damp sugar
Damp the sugar with cold milk in the pan. Add the butter and the condensed milk, and turn the heat to medium-high.
Stir for 10 mins till it comes to the boil. If you are getting brown streaks, turn down the heat. Once boiling, turn down the heat. Keep stirring for 20 mins. The calories you expend you can pretend will balance out the tablet.
When the mix is ready, a ball will solidify in cold water.
Take the pan off the heat, and whisk extremely quickly. When the mix feels slightly stiffer, pour into a tray and let chill.
Ah. The Prince of Sweets.
Although the day was bright and sunny, there was a chill wind rushing down from the hills that made Rosie pull her cardigan closer around herself. ‘Autumn is coming in,’ she said, almost to herself. It seemed odd that she’d arrived here in high summer – however drenching it had been – and now the seasons were changing. Perhaps it was just because it was so much more obvious here. In London, she barely noticed the leaves
drifting off the stunted little trees that grew in iron cages in the parks, spotted with disease and discoloured by petrol fumes and dust. Here, it was as if the entire world had been painted over. The greens and deep blues of the hills had changed to ploughed-up fields and earthy browns; the huge oak trees at the end of the Isitts’ lane were barely believable shades of bright red and orange, leaves everywhere drifting into huge piles by the side of the road. And the north wind was picking up, sending tiny clouds scudding quickly beyond the mountains. The air had a freshness to it, a crisp edge. Rosie could smell bonfires.
‘Don’t you want to kick the leaves?’ she asked Edison.
Edison frowned. ‘Leaves are our friends.’
Rosie smiled. He looked very anxious about the market fair.
‘Don’t worry about anything,’ she said. In response, his little thin hand crept up to meet hers.
Very quietly he said, ‘I worry about everything.’
Feeling she ought to be brandishing her CRB certificate, Rosie squeezed his hand. In this sheltered vale a million miles, she often felt, from the real world, it seemed terrible that a child should worry about anything.
‘You shouldn’t,’ she said. ‘There’s a whole world beyond here, you know.’
‘I know,’ said Edison, dragging the front of his shoes along the ground. ‘Hester says it’s full of hoom rights aboo.’
‘Well, yes,’ said Rosie carefully, feeling in her pocket and handing him a lollipop from the collection she had taken to keeping in there. ‘But there’s lots of things you’d like too. Transport museums and railway lines and all-night supermarkets and … well, lots of things. Lots of nice people too.’
Edison sucked thoughtfully on his lollipop.
‘I’m glad,’ he said suddenly. ‘I’m glad you came to Lipton.’
Rosie was bowled over. She had, on balance, lost her boyfriend, her home probably and lots of lucrative agency work. But, somehow, she felt the same.