by Jenny Colgan
‘I took Felix off Hetty’s hands for a few years. Oh, don’t look so shocked,’ Lilian said, seeing Rosie’s face. ‘It was the sixties. Everyone was at it. Hetty didn’t mind a bit, she was getting tupped by the under-gardener.’
‘If you tell me you are really Stephen’s mother I am going to kill you,’ said Rosie.
‘Oh goodness gracious no, don’t be absurd,’ said Lilian. ‘No, no. I was just helping Hetty out. Felix was so terribly demanding.’
‘You are good friends,’ said Rosie. ‘Please don’t tell me any more.’
‘And there was …’
‘OK, OK. I get it.’ Rosie looked at her. ‘When I was little I thought you were just some old lady who sent us cough drops,’ she said.
‘Did you now,’ said Lilian.
‘This has been a good life,’ said Lilian later. It was getting late, but it was so cosy in front of the fire. Rosie had poured them both a sherry. She’d always thought she hated sherry, but it appeared she didn’t mind it after all.
Rosie looked around at the lovely sitting room with the fire still crackling away merrily. ‘I meant to ask you,’ she said, ‘how do you keep this place so nice? You can hardly move and I’m out all day and the garden is immaculate and the logs are always chopped. I know Hetty comes in, but …’
Lilian smiled. ‘Ah, my elves.’
Rosie raised an eyebrow.
‘Pretty much everyone comes by once in a while,’ Lilian said. ‘When you’ve served every child in the village, they don’t forget. They still remember. And they drop in. A bit of wood-chopping here, a bit of cleaning there.’
Rosie looked at her straight on. ‘Amazing.’
‘Well, there are some benefits to living in the same place for a long time,’ said Lilian. ‘Don’t pity me please.’
Rosie shook her head. ‘Not in a million years,’ she said, though she wasn’t quite speaking the truth.
‘I’ve had a happy life here,’ said Lilian. ‘I have a lot of friends. A lot of people who help take care of me. A good job. I never lost a son to war, or a man to the bottle, or a baby. I’ve never been rich, but I’ve paid my way – well, almost.’ She laughed, ruefully. ‘And I’ve had some adventures and kept safe and sound, and lived in a beautiful place and enjoyed every season of it. This has been a good life.’
Rosie let out a great sigh. It did sound like a good life.
‘I know. I know. But me – I’ve made such a fool of myself.’
‘Oh, you’ve been making a fool of yourself since you arrived,’ said Lilian. ‘Why stop now, I say.’
Rosie bit her lip.
‘Bed,’ she said.
Next morning was bleak; a grey Tuesday morning for Rosie, after a sleepless night thinking of everything Lilian had been through. She made a decision. It was the right thing to do, she was sure of it. She needed, she knew, to make a call. It was just that the very idea of it made her feel sick. Lilian, conversely, slept well and woke up feeling rested and calm, as if something had been decided for her. Which in a sense it had. Angie had rung in the dead of night Australian time, when she knew Rosie would be at the shop, and had let the phone ring till Lilian had picked it up.
‘Aunt Lily,’ Angie had said, in her no-nonsense tone with its new Australian twang. ‘You know what you have to do.’
‘Of course I do,’ Lilian had grumbled.
‘She’s a good girl, you know. She’s my good girl.’
‘She is, she is.’
‘But there are limits, you know?’
‘I know,’ said Lilian, crossly.
‘Will you miss her?’
Lilian sat up straight on the bed.
‘I do not for the life of me know how you can bear to be apart from her,’ she said in a tight voice.
Angie smiled ruefully.
‘Me neither. Listen, don’t tell her, I’m going to come back for a bit. Just for a bit; the little ones need me here, you know. But I want to visit, come and see you all. It sounds like you’ve been getting up to all sorts.’
‘We’ve been doing nothing of the kind,’ said Lilian stiffly.
‘Ah, you would say that though, wouldn’t you? Always been a dark horse.’
And Lilian’s mind was made up.
‘I think,’ she said at breakfast, ‘I think maybe, maybe I might like to visit Ida Delia.’
Rosie looked at her, bleary-eyed. She knew this was coming. She knew what it meant.
‘Sure,’ she said. Carefully.
Lilian smiled.
‘She’s probably doolally,’ she said, almost to herself. ‘Probably won’t remember me at all.’
‘Maybe,’ said Rosie. ‘Maybe not.’ Something else struck her. ‘How could you have been getting milk from Mrs Isitt all these years and never ever asked after her mother?’
Lilian shrugged. ‘Well, you know. We respect privacy around here.’
‘Ha!’ said Rosie. ‘My bum. Anyway.’ She had decided in the night. She was going to do it. She was going to make the call. ‘I have to use the phone.’
Lilian raised her eyebrows. Rosie would not be drawn, but instead went upstairs and crouched by the window, the only place with a signal. Lilian wanted her to use the home telephone but Rosie didn’t want to be overheard. Plus she didn’t like the heavy old rotary dial, she kept getting the numbers wrong.
Her heart quaking in her chest, slowly she scrolled through her address book and pressed the button. She tried to imagine what he’d be doing right now, and found, somewhat to her surprise, that she couldn’t. However, he answered on the second ring. Rosie felt her heart leap in her chest.
‘Hello?’ came the voice. He sounded busy and preoccupied.
‘Hello,’ said Rosie, finding herself shaking. ‘Hello, Gerard.’
Chapter Twenty-three
Oh well, all right.
Peanut Brittle
TOOTHPICKS. Keep handy.
4 oz unsalted peanuts
4 oz golden caster sugar
2 oz butter
pinch salt
4 tsp water
Spread the peanuts in a single layer on a buttered oven tray. Put the other ingredients in a saucepan and start to heat very slowly, stirring all the while. When the sugar has dissolved, increase the heat a little and stir more vigorously until a caramel is formed. When it reaches the correct colour, according to taste, take it off the heat, pour it over the peanuts and leave to cool.
After breaking the news to Lilian, Rosie decided to walk down the high street even though the weather was horrid. She layered up her cardigans and borrowed Lilian’s umbrella, which was a ridiculous lavender frou-frou number with fringing that only Lilian could conceivably pull off, but it did the job. Even the lowering clouds that touched the top of the hills, and the sucking mud that had sunk in by the side of the road, could not daunt her spirits. Halfway down, she caught sight of Edison, kicking his away along the road by himself as usual.
‘Hello!’ he said cheerily when she caught up with him.
‘What are you doing?’ she asked, looking around for his mother. As usual, she was nowhere to be seen. Ghastly woman.
‘I’m mingering,’ said Edison proudly.
‘You’re what?’
‘Min-ger-ring. It’s when something bad has to happen but you don’t want it to happen so you walk about going hum-hum-hum, hoping it will happen later.’
‘Malingering?’ said Rosie.
‘What I said,’ said Edison.
‘I’m not sure that’s quite right,’ said Rosie.
‘Yes it is,’ said Edison. ‘I am very smart and have a huge cablary.’
Not for the first time, Rosie wanted to wring his mother’s neck.
‘OK,’ she said. ‘What are you mingering about?’
Edison blinked sadly behind his enormous glasses.
‘I have to see Dr Roy.’
‘Who’s that?’
‘For my teeth.’
‘He’s not a real doctor.’
‘He likes to be called Dr Roy,�
�� said Edison. ‘He thinks it’s friendlier.’
‘I think it’s fraudulent,’ said Rosie. ‘Hmmm.’
‘He will say, “No sweets”, said Edison sadly.
‘Well, do you have any sore teeth?’
Edison shook his head.
‘Open your mouth.’
Rosie looked around thoroughly. A healthier set of straight white teeth and pink gums was hard to imagine.
‘Dr Roy said he was sure he’d find lots of cavays because he sees me in the sweetshop,’ said Edison mournfully.
‘Where’s your mother?’ asked Rosie.
‘She sent me by myself. She says she needs to do her meditates and that I am a big boy and she will be over in ten minutes.’
‘Well,’ said Rosie, ‘as it happens I’m going that way myself and I’ll take you.’
She marched up with him into the dentist’s, absolutely furious.
‘Ah, the young sugar addict,’ said Roy, his sparkling gnashers on display and his pristine uniform buttoned up to his neck. ‘Your mother said she’d be in in five minutes.’
‘She’s doing her meditates,’ said Edison.
‘Very good, very good,’ said Roy.
‘I’m here though,’ said Rosie.
Roy looked at her.
‘Here to accept my offer?’
Edison jumped up on the dentist’s chair.
‘I am going into space,’ he announced loudly. ‘Hello, space. Countdown is progressing. We are OK to go.’
‘Don’t touch anything,’ said Roy.
‘I’m going to stay for Edison’s examination,’ said Rosie. ‘He wants me here.’
‘Ten,’ said Edison. ‘Nine.’
Roy’s face fell immediately.
‘Just to make sure he doesn’t have any unnecessary work done.’ Rosie was staring him straight in the face. ‘You hear a lot about that with dentists these days,’ she said. ‘Of course you would never do that.’
‘Eight … seven.’
‘I’ll be a lot happier when you’re no longer around here making trouble, Miss Hopkins.’
‘Well, I don’t know about that,’ said Rosie, as he picked up his mirror and tiny pointed probe. ‘You see, I’ve had a little stroke of luck. Finally.’
‘Six … five.’
‘My ex is selling our flat and moving in with his new girlfriend.’
‘Aww, you can’t hold on to your man,’ sneered Roy, moving around.
‘Four … three.’
‘And he’s giving me my share of the proceeds. Very fairly in fact. He didn’t have to.’
Gerard’s grace, in the end, had overwhelmed her. She knew it had a lot to do with him not wanting confrontation, and wanting to get on with moving in with Yolande. It turned out she had a proper little house with a garden in Bow, and cooked a mean chilli con carne and his mother absolutely loved her. She had been happy for him. But for him to give Rosie a share of the profits, rather than just what she’d put in, was more than kind. It was charming. And just like him. All the good things, she’d remembered, not just his annoying habits that had worn her down. She had been right to love him. He was worthy of it. She hadn’t set her sights too low. Not at all.
Finally, Rosie swallowed and said what she had come to say.
‘So I’m buying the shop. I’m buying the shop and running it and I’ll rent half the cottage and that will be enough to cover it all and get Lilian into the nice home. If she wants to go. She doesn’t know she wants to go, but she does really. So you can’t have it.’
‘Two … one …’
Roy looked at her, startled.
‘You can stuff your new surgery. I’m keeping it.’
‘Blastoff,’ shouted Edison, spraying a whole load of spit over Roy’s face. Rosie smiled at the boy.
‘Get down,’ barked Roy. ‘There’s nothing wrong with your teeth. Tell your mother I’ll send her the bill.’
Edison jumped off and pretended he was in space, careering around in orbit. Rosie couldn’t help giggling as he knocked into trays of instruments.
‘Careful!’ she said.
‘And you too,’ she said with a backward glance at Roy as she left the surgery. ‘There’re a lot of overcharging dentists doing unnecessary work these days. I’ll be telling everyone to keep an eye out for it.’
Rosie ran into Hester in the street outside. She was wearing her usual expression of smug calm.
‘Sorry,’ said Rosie. She pasted the biggest, brightest smile on her face so Edison, still careering up and down being in a spaceship, wouldn’t realise what she was saying. ‘I don’t mean to be rude. But if you let your gorgeous, charming, delightful six-year-old roam the streets alone one more time instead of behaving like a proper mother, I’m reporting you to social services.’
Hester took a step back, her mouth falling open. Rosie ruffled Edison’s hair and marched on up the street.
‘Come and visit me soon,’ she hollered to Edison. ‘We’ll watch Star Wars.’
‘What’s Star Wars?’
‘You’ll like it.’
Up towards the turn-off, Rosie spied something that at first didn’t make sense. It looked like two old men walking … but also someone very familiar. It took a second for her vision to crystallise and then she realised who it was. It was Peter Isitt, walking … with Stephen. They both had long walking sticks carved from something that looked ancient, and they were proceeding very slowly up the road.
Rosie looked around. Either she could slow to a crawl, which would probably mean Roy coming out of his office to harangue her again, or run past them, which would be weird. London was always full of people hurtling down the streets, whether they were jogging or mugging or trying to catch a bus. Here nobody ran. Everyone ambled; there was no point in running if you were going to get caught up behind a flock of sheep and anyway, what was the rush? There was always work to be done, and it would keep. The rhythm of the earth was more important; the seasons and the weather. So Rosie tried to keep up her normal pace, hoping she wouldn’t get noticed. As usual, in a village, this didn’t exactly work.
‘Hi, Rosie!’ called Anton cheerily from the top of the high street. He held his belt open. ‘Look! Look! I have space in my trousers!’
The two men turned to look as Rosie felt her face redden.
‘I … I …’ She hurried towards Anton. ‘That’s great news.’
Anton beamed. ‘And it’s down to you! I decided just to eat one of everything! So on Monday I have one fish and chips and on Tuesday I have one burger and chips and on Wednesday I have one chicken and chips and on Thursday I have one sausage and chips and …’
He was continuing, but Rosie hushed him.
‘That’s not exactly what I had in mind,’ she began, but then, seeing his fallen face, consoled him. ‘Well, if it’s working for you, that’s fantastic.’
‘I know,’ said Anton. ‘Can I have some fudge?’
‘When you’re in trousers you can buy from a shop,’ said Rosie. ‘A real shop. Trousers with buttons.’
‘I think I’ve forgotten how to do buttons,’ said Anton sadly.
‘I’m sure you’ve forgotten how to do a lot of things,’ said Rosie, winking at him. ‘But I suspect it’s all about to come back to you.’
Anton was giggling smuttily when Peter and Stephen reached them.
‘Hello,’ said Rosie.
Anton smirked. ‘Rosie and I were just discussing … bedroom matters,’ he sputtered out. Stephen raised an eyebrow.
‘All part of the service?’ he said, and Rosie wanted to kick him. Instead she smiled tightly.
‘Hello,’ she said again. ‘Glad to see you’re both out and about.’
She hadn’t, she realised, seen Stephen properly outdoors before. She couldn’t help but admire how tall he was – and now, how straight his back. Then she told herself to put these ideas right out of her head. She’d been a passing fancy for him, nothing more. She steeled herself not to think about it.
‘You both loo
k much better.’
Peter smiled at her. How odd, she thought, that he had spent his entire life married to the daughter of Lilian’s great love. Did he know? He must do. Was he happy?
‘Well,’ he said, as Anton lumbered off in the direction of Malik’s. ‘I’d better get back. She’ll be on the lookout for me.’
‘Hey,’ said Stephen. ‘Thanks for the walk. It’s hard to find … well, people who understand.’
Peter looked at him for a long moment.
‘People do understand,’ he said, strangely. ‘More than you think, young man.’
Stephen blinked.
‘What do you think he meant by that?’ he said as Peter turned down his lane. Rosie didn’t answer. ‘Is it one of those things about me being a spoilt idiot again?’
Rosie shrugged and didn’t laugh. He looked at her curiously.
‘So have your friends left?’ she said, for want of something better to say.
‘Yes,’ said Stephen carefully. ‘They have. They’ve gone back to London. But I’ve been thinking …’
He paused. Rosie couldn’t help it. She couldn’t help the little burst of excitement that leapt inside her now they were gone. It was stupid; he’d been awful and he hadn’t contacted her or anything to apologise or to mention it or – it was all too embarrassing for words. She kept her eyes on the ground.
‘I was thinking about what you said … You know, I do need something to do. Something practical to do with my life instead of sitting around moping. I see that now. So I’ve decided.’
At once Rosie knew what was coming. Unbelievable. Although, in a funny way, what would have been worse? Living in some rotten flatshare in London, starting over from the bottom, going out on hideous dates while knowing all the while that he was swanning around town living it up with CeeCee and Weapon and God knows who while she worked night shifts? Well, no. At least she wouldn’t be doing that.
‘You’re going down to London,’ she said, her voice sounding choked and husky.