The Christmas Surprise
Page 48

‘Invite him over,’ said Lilian. ‘Look for his soft side.’
‘That’s just not possible,’ said Rosie. ‘I loathe him.’
‘Maybe that’s exactly why you should do it,’ said Lilian. ‘Shower him with praise. What’s your alternative?’
Rosie looked around.
‘I don’t know. Tina’s mum’s back garden. In December.’
‘Exactly,’ said Lilian. ‘Exactly.’
Rosie wouldn’t have given much credence to the plan if she hadn’t run into Hye in the market – every second Thursday, traders turned up from miles around with sheets, blankets, livestock, cheap shoes and watches and radios, honey, home-made cheese and a general mishmash of items, and everyone flooded in from the surrounding valleys and farms, so it was always a busy day for the shop. Rosie was dashing out to grab some of the wonderful farm-made local Derby cheese when she ran slap bang into Hye buying a Victoria sponge. By the look on his face, Rosie reckoned he was planning on eating the entire thing himself.
‘Hello, young Rosie,’ he said. ‘How are things with your little chap?’
This was unlike Hye, who tended towards the brusque. Maybe he just liked being avuncular in public.
‘He’s great,’ said Rosie. ‘Would you like to see a picture? I have two thousand.’
‘I don’t think … Well, perhaps … Have you decided on a course of treatment yet?’
‘Oh,’ said Rosie. ‘No, not yet.’
‘No rush, no rush,’ he said. ‘I do have a good specialist friend, Dr Murphy. Well, Mrs Pike she operates as. But she is the best there is.’
Rosie was touched. Moray had recommended exactly the same surgeon.
‘Oh,’ she said. ‘Thank you.’
‘Not at all,’ said Hye. ‘You don’t want anything but the best for the little lad now, do you?’ Then, as if regretting having spoken so kindly, he barked at the woman behind the baking counter to hurry up and wrap his cake.
‘Hye,’ said Rosie, now they were chatting, ‘you’re on the council, aren’t you?’
‘I am.’
‘Why … why is Roy Blaine running Boys’ Brigade meetings?’
Hye laughed.
‘I hope you’re not implying he’s trying to hang out with small boys. Roy may be many things, but—’
‘NO!’ said Rosie, blushing puce. She genuinely hadn’t been. ‘No! I wasn’t, not at all. I was just wondering. It doesn’t …’
‘It doesn’t seem like him?’
‘No, not really.’
Hye grinned.
‘You’re right, it’s not at all like the old sod. He’s bought the plot, you see. Wants to build flats on it or something. But he has to run it as a community site for now and show he’ll still make it part of the community. Building regs and all that.’
‘Oh!’ said Rosie. ‘Oh, that explains it. How many flats?’
‘Between you and me,’ said Hye, ‘they’ll be an eyesore.’
‘Oh God, really?’
‘Totally. They’ll ruin the view of the church and he’ll have to knock into half the graveyard as well. But he’s getting his own way so far.’
‘That’s appalling,’ said Rosie. ‘That really is awful.’
Hye picked up his cake.
‘People need places to live, Rosie. And until he starts building, or offloads the site, he’s running a community centre.’
Which was how, four days later, Rosie found herself in the kitchen, chopping onions like a demon. She had been amazed that Roy had agreed immediately to the invitation when she’d popped into the surgery. In fact he seemed to see it as something totally expected, that of course she should want to have him round for dinner. Perhaps, it struck her horribly, perhaps he thought they had been getting on really well these last few years.
Stephen had looked horrified and desperately tried to pretend he was doing something else that night, but Rosie said Tina and Jake were already coming, and Stephen relaxed a little and she knew he and Jake would chat about livestock the entire evening and nobody else would get a word in edgeways. She’d invited Roy’s wife Laura, the traumatised mouse of a woman who never spoke two words – in fact, Rosie realised, she hadn’t seen her around for ages – but Roy had coughed and said Laura was busy that night, so it was just him. Probably just as well, Rosie caught herself thinking. He was going to be hard enough work as it was.
Tina had been speechless with gratitude, and was planning her charm offensive. She had a forty-eight-point plan on why he should let them borrow his hut.
For back-up Rosie had invited Moray, whose easy charm meant he got on well with just about everyone, plus he and Roy shared a certain professional courtesy; Pamela, who would probably have turned up anyway; and Lilian, of course, who didn’t want to miss out on any of the fun. She folded out the tiny table to its full extent, pushed the furniture against the walls and borrowed chairs from all and sundry, but it was still going to be a very tight squeeze in the little sitting room.
‘This is why we need to move,’ she had pointed out to Stephen as they squished past one another in the hallway.
‘So you can throw dinner parties for people you don’t like?’ said Stephen. ‘Seriously? Okay, I’ll tell the estate agent.’
Rosie rolled her eyes.
‘I know, as if we don’t have enough on.’
She was making a huge coq au vin, with lots of roast potatoes to soak up the gravy, and wilted greens, which Stephen observed was just a bunch of greens that were neither one thing nor the other and she had growled at him and he had retreated and announced he was taking Apostil for a walk.
‘I’ll try not to take him to the pub,’ he shouted as he left.
‘You probably could,’ pointed out Rosie with some degree of accuracy, ‘and everybody would think it was the sweetest thing ever.’
By seven she was just about ready, although she could really do with a quick shower after slaving away in the kitchen. She washed quickly, then looked at her hair – VERY frizzy after all the steam; it looked like she’d stuck her fingers in the plug socket. She pinned it up and tried to pull out a few artistic fronds, but they looked very peculiar too. Finally she just left it, and slapped on some BB cream and pinky-red lipstick.