Welcome to Rosie Hopkins' Sweet Shop of Dreams
Page 58

‘Hello!’ said Rosie, as Edison tentatively bit into his first piece of pale pastel candy.
‘Hello!’ said Gerard cheerfully. ‘Wow, look at this place! You’ve got everything!’
‘And it’s lovely to see you, Rosie.’
‘And it’s lovely to … Have you got liquorice torpedoes?’
‘I have,’ said Rosie.
‘Wow. Can I have some?’
‘You can, for a pound.’
Gerard stuck out his lip. ‘I don’t get free sweets?’
‘You can,’ came a high-pitched voice from the floor. ‘But you have to lose a tooth. And then, do you know what happens?’
Gerard regarded the boy carefully. ‘Does a dragon come?’ he asked finally.
‘Noooo,’ said Edison, pleased he knew the answer.
‘Is it a goblin?’
‘Noooo!’
‘Is it a little mouse?’
‘It’s a fairy!’
‘No way! Excellent!’
Rosie smiled. Gerard had always been good with kids. Well, he was one, so that helped. She reached up to the high shelf and got the liquorice torpedoes, bright little red sweets shaped like paracetamol. A real boy’s sweet. Classic Gerard.
‘A pound please,’ she said, holding out her hand.
‘Or a tooth,’ added Edison.
Gerard grimaced, then handed over a pound.
‘Thank you,’ said Rosie. ‘We are, of course, a going concern.’
‘Yeah, yeah, yeah,’ said Gerard. He looked, Rosie thought, a bit wobbly; he’d put on some weight and his jowls were beginning to show. Too much of his mum’s indulgent cooking, or takeaways, she imagined. Inside, she couldn’t help but be a bit annoyed. So, if she was still to find him fit and attractive, she had to moderate his diet? That didn’t seem very fair. Although to be strictly truthful, her own waistband had grown a bit tighter since she’d been in Lipton.
‘Run along, Edison,’ she said to the figure below. ‘I’m closing up the shop now.’
Edison looked at her, his mouth full of pink and lemon gunky stuff, the gaping hole his bottom tooth had left acting like a conduit.
‘These,’ he said excitedly. ‘these are the best things ever. I mustn’t tell Reuben about them.’
‘No,’ said Rosie, with a sigh. She thought it was time to have a word with Reuben’s mother, whoever she was. Wasn’t nice for a child to be victimised like that.
‘Who’s Reuben?’ asked Gerard when Edison had gone, clanging the door happily behind him.
‘His little mate. Isn’t allowed any sweets. Edison’s a good soul, keeps it secret from him.’
‘Well, wouldn’t he be a better soul if he shared them out?’
‘What, and have a marauding parent down here accusing me of child murder because white sugar was involved? No thank you.’
They regarded one another.
‘I’ve missed you,’ said Gerard.
‘I’ve missed you too,’ said Rosie, remembering back to those first chilly evenings. ‘Come here.’ She gave him a hug, smelled his familiar scent – aftershave, crisps – and smiled.
‘OK,’ said Gerard, greedily attacking his torpedoes. ‘What are you making for supper? I’m starving. Or sex first. Sex then supper? Or after supper? Or both? What about now? In the back room? I like the apron.’
Rosie grinned. ‘No, darling! I’ve got to lock up and cash up. I’ll clean in the morning.’
‘Well, hurry up,’ said Gerard. ‘Come on. Can’t you do it all tomorrow? It’s not really your shop.’
‘No,’ said Rosie. ‘But right now it’s my job. It won’t take long.’
Gerard looked pouty. ‘But please. I’ve come all this way.’
‘And I’ll be ten minutes. Wait here, then we can go and I’ll introduce you to Lilian. Or you can take yourself off to the pub down the road and have a pint if you like and I’ll meet you in a minute.’
Rosie hadn’t meant the last one seriously, but to her disgruntlement his face immediately perked up and he asked her for directions.
‘Can you eat there?’ he asked.
Rosie nodded.
‘OK. Great. See you down there, yeah?’
Rosie turned back towards the till and started putting things away.
‘I really won’t be long,’ she protested.
‘Great,’ said Gerard, leaving her to it. ‘I’ll order you a gin and tonic.’
Rosie was so cross she dawdled doing the books, then nipped back next door to get changed.
‘Isn’t your young man coming?’ asked Lilian by the door. She had clearly dressed up and was wearing a lavender coat dress and matching lipstick.
‘Ooh, you look nice,’ said Rosie. She almost added, ‘Are you going somewhere?’ but thankfully stopped herself just in time.
‘Well, where is he?’
‘Uhm … he’s … I’m meeting him at the pub.’
‘At the pub?’ said Lilian, as if she’d said ‘at the brothel’.
‘Yes, it’s all right. Here, I have pie and beans for you, I’m just going to heat it up in the microwave.’
With her first week’s profits, Rosie had bought Lilian a microwave. Even though she refused to go near it, Rosie felt better knowing it was there.
‘Sorry, I know it’s nothing fancy, but it’s delicious and full of calories.’
‘He’s at the pub?’ asked Lilian again as if she hadn’t heard her. ‘He didn’t come to say good evening?’
Rosie tried to tell herself that Lilian was just an old fuddy-duddy caught up in old-fashioned ideas. That was it. She was old and set in her ways. But even so, doubt crept in. It was terribly rude, wasn’t it? Not to greet someone who was putting a roof over your head for the night? Classic Gerard.
‘He was really exhausted after driving up here,’ she said.
‘So he can’t stay off the sauce?’ said Lilian acidly.
‘No,’ said Rosie. ‘I’ll … I’ll go meet him. We’ll see you later.’
‘I don’t like that pub,’ said Lilian. ‘Never set foot in it again.’
‘Again what?’ said Rosie, but Lilian didn’t answer. ‘Are you all right?’ asked Rosie, taking dinner out of the microwave, but Lilian waved her away.