Welcome to Rosie Hopkins' Sweet Shop of Dreams
Page 101

‘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.’