Welcome to Rosie Hopkins' Sweet Shop of Dreams
Page 83

Tina grinned. ‘Oh, you don’t need to tell me. I was at school with Jake Randall. Always got through the womenfolk.’ She shook her head. ‘I was a bit older than him. Never thought he’d get round to me.’
‘He’ll make you plant vegetables.’
Tina picked up her feather duster – Rosie had not known it was still possible to buy such a thing – and started to dust the top shelves again, something, Rosie had realised, she did when she was nervous.
‘When Todd … when Todd got really bad. And he had good days and bad days. But. Well. You can’t imagine how far away from … from going out. For a drink. With anyone.’
‘And?’
‘And …’ Tina bit her lip. ‘Do you think I should go?’
‘Of course!’ said Rosie. ‘Go out and get back on the horse.’
‘The horse you didn’t want?’ said Tina mischievously.
‘Well, I was in a relationship then.’
‘Ha! I’m still married. Technically.’
‘He’s all yours,’ said Rosie. ‘I saw the way he was looking at you.’
‘Honestly?’
‘Honestly.’
‘Just get over yourselves and step out with him,’ came the wobbly but opinionated voice over the intercom. ‘You girls don’t know you’re born. There’s no point messing about with these things.’
‘Would you like a shot at him, Lilian?’ said Rosie into the speaker.
‘Be quiet,’ came the voice. ‘I’m listening to The World at One.’
That Saturday, Tina came over to Rosie’s to get ready, oohing and aahing at how sweet the cottage was. She lived in a modern house behind the main street. Although, as she pointed out, she could let the children run wild on the scrubby grass, whereas here the front door opened straight on to the main road and the children would ruin the beautiful back garden, vault the fence and never be seen again. But the first thing she jumped on was the invite.
‘Ooh!’ she said.
Lilian had propped it up on the mantelpiece, even though Rosie had wanted to stick it in a drawer somewhere. She was sitting by the fireplace. Rosie had insisted on getting her a DVD player, although she couldn’t work it. Then Rosie had ordered a cheap job lot of DVDs off eBay with names she’d heard of only distantly: Errol Flynn; Rita Hayworth; Esther Williams; Joan Crawford; Douglas Fairbanks junior. As the evenings had grown longer, and the rain hammered down ever harder, she’d pretended she wanted to watch them, and sure enough Lilian had come round, sometimes gasping in recognition of something she hadn’t seen for half a century, or taking against someone – Ava Gardner, for example – for reasons lost in the mists of time.
Rosie had originally done it to help her aunt, but soon realised she had selfish reasons for losing herself in these wonderful old black and white movies … It Happened One Night, The Philadelphia Story. By the time they got to Brief Encounter, both of them sniffling quietly by the fire, she was completely hooked on the dramatic romances, self-sacrifice, real men wearing proper hats, with their clipped accents and deep devotion. Part of her knew that hiding herself away here, with a small bag of lemon bonbons for her and a very few marshmallows for Lilian as long as she’d eaten her shepherd’s pie, immersing herself in other people’s romances, was not exactly consistent with the vow she’d made to get on with her life. But as she waited for Tina to work out the details of purchasing the shop – and for anyone else to come forward before the end of the month – well, she knew what she should be doing. She should be sorting out a new place in London. Finding a home for Lilian. Making sure all the paperwork for the shop was in order. Preparing to leave. Not making herself comfortable by the fire. It was as if there was a whole new life clamouring at her door, but she wasn’t quite able to open it up yet.
The total silence – apart from the occasional hooting of a lonely owl – of the country, its all-encompassing dark blanket, felt peaceful. There was money coming in from the shop, not a fortune but enough for them to get by; the fire was cosy; Lilian, if even more restricted in her movements, didn’t seem much worse in the head following her stroke.
Now, she turned round as Tina entered the sitting room.
‘A woman?’ she said loudly. ‘Have you managed to make a female friend, Rosemary? I thought it was just every boy in town you were touting yourself around.’
‘This is my great-aunt,’ said Rosie.
‘Yes, we’ve spoken on the intercom,’ said Tina. ‘Hello.’
‘You’re Todd’s wife. His father was no good,’ said Lilian. Tina looked taken aback.
‘Sorry,’ said Rosie. ‘It’s like Tourette’s, only she does it on purpose.’
‘Did you know Harold?’
‘Everyone knew Harold,’ said Lilian. ‘Always stumbling out of the Red Lion whenever he’d had a free five minutes.’
Tina smiled ruefully. ‘Like father like son, I’m afraid.’
Lilian blinked. ‘I’m sorry to hear that. Man hands on misery to man.’
‘Uh, yes,’ said Tina. ‘Anyway.’ She looked suddenly nervous. ‘I’ve always loved your shop. When I was little I used to hang about for ages before I could decide what to buy.’
Lilian took off her glasses.
‘I never forget a child,’ she said, and peered at Tina closely. Then she sat back. ‘Christina Fletcher,’ she said with evident satisfaction. ‘Candy shrimps and gobstoppers. But you always took a long time deciding. Then chose the same things, every Saturday.’
‘That’s amazing,’ said Rosie. ‘Your mind is like a steel trap.’
‘Yes, well, it is now,’ said Lilian. ‘Wait till I’ve been five minutes in that home you’re dumping me in. It will have turned to mush, and I’ll be dribbling and crying and wetting my chair at the same time. While listening to popular music that they’ll pipe in at a ludicrous volume.’
‘Yes, yes,’ said Rosie. ‘Do you need to go to the toilet?’
‘Yes please,’ said Lilian.
Once they were back, Lilian relaxed a bit.
‘You were such a quiet little thing, Christina,’ she said. ‘Not like Drew, that brother of yours that liked the fizz bombs.’