Welcome to Rosie Hopkins' Sweet Shop of Dreams
Page 95

It probably wouldn’t have been so bad if Stephen hadn’t found it so funny, as she scurried about the kitchen, desperately trying to find something to cover herself with, giving up on the idea of shrugging herself back into Lilian’s tight green gown. When she came up with Mrs Laird’s flowery apron, she thought he was about to bust a gut.
‘Stop laughing and help me,’ she said, conscious of the sounds of feet crunching on gravel and people making a lot of noise.
‘But you don’t need anything! You look incredibly beautiful as you are.’
‘Piss off!’
‘Sorry, sorry,’ said Stephen, hurling her his jacket.
‘I’m going to run away upstairs,’ she said.
‘Don’t!’ he said. ‘You look lovely. And I thought you wanted to be introduced properly.’
‘Stop it,’ she said. ‘I’m going.’
But it was too late.
Rosie should have run and hid regardless, she figured later. They might have sniggered, but at least it would have been behind her back. If only she could have been more decisive about it …
First to come in were two red-faced rugby-playing gents.
‘Way hey!’ they leered, straight away. ‘Sorry, mate, should have knocked.’
‘Yeah, whatever,’ said Stephen. He could see Rosie was desperate to get away, and pulled her close to him, holding her hand. Rosie thought this was even worse, like she was some undignified doxy, half covered up.
‘This is Rosie,’ he managed. ‘We weren’t expecting you back so soon.’
‘Obviously!’ said the taller of the rugger buggers. They didn’t bother introducing themselves, simply turned round, looking for wine. There was a bottle of claret open on the big kitchen table and they grabbed that. Rosie felt herself go bright red.
Then in through the door walked CeeCee. What would it take, Rosie wondered, to jerk her out of her near-unconscious levels of coolness?
‘Oh yeah, hi,’ she said, sweeping Rosie with a glance that implied that she, Rosie, was still below notice.
‘Stephen, darling. I can’t believe you deserted us.’
‘Uh …’ Stephen stuttered again. Rosie shook her head. ‘Well.’
CeeCee accepted a glass of wine from one of the rugby boys.
‘Not to worry. I see you were having a spot of local fun.’ Venom dripped from her voice.
Rosie had had enough. She looked around the room to see if there was a way to reclaim her dignity. There wasn’t.
‘I’m going,’ she said to Stephen, whispering in his ear.
‘Don’t,’ he said. ‘Please don’t. You can stick on my pyjamas, they’re in my room.’
Rosie shook her head. ‘Uhm, no. I need to get Moray’s car back. Truly.’
Stephen blinked. He wondered if she were already regretting it.
‘OK … sorry, this lot are staying here tonight …’
The other three sipped their wine, completely unperturbed. Stephen saw her to the door, Rosie fully aware that she was wearing a ridiculous apron and a too-short dinner jacket. She found she wanted to cry again, but for very different reasons.
‘Don’t you want to get dressed?’ he said.
‘No,’ said Rosie, her face flaming. She wanted to get as far away as fast as she could.
‘I wish you could stay,’ said Stephen. ‘I know there’s guests, but …’
‘No thank you,’ said Rosie, realising her attempt to be as cool as CeeCee was coming across as silly.
‘OK. OK, then I’ll call you.’
Rosie shrugged. ‘If you get a signal.’
‘Uhm …’ CeeCee paused, as if she had been about to use Rosie’s name then realised she couldn’t remember it. ‘Uhm, don’t you want to take your knickers?’
Burning with frustration and embarrassment, Rosie didn’t answer, just tried her hardest not to give her the Vs on her way out.
Stephen stood in the doorway, his untucked shirt hanging out of his black trousers, looking at her car for a long time as she drove away down the long steep road. Rosie didn’t even notice him; she was looking at the other three, outlined in the kitchen windows, laughing their heads off.
Fully sober now, she caught up with her friends as they marched down from a darkened Lipton Hall.
‘Hurrah!’ said Moray. ‘I thought it had been nicked.’
Rosie opened the doors.
‘Do not say anything,’ she ordered as they all got in, Moray taking over the driving and Jake with his arm tightly around Tina’s shoulders. They were all giggly and happy and loved up.
‘But,’ said Tina.
‘Nope!’
‘You’ve got your dress on back to front.’
‘Stop it.’
‘What on earth?’ said Moray.
‘Not you either!’
Moray and Tina exchanged worried glances. Jake tried to hide a smirk and failed.
‘No smirking,’ said Rosie. ‘Otherwise I will cry, and I mean it.’
There was a long silence.
‘So,’ said Moray finally. ‘You pulled him then.’
The rest of the car collapsed in laughter.
‘It’s not funny,’ said Rosie. And Moray heard it in her voice, just before she started to cry.
‘Don’t worry, girl,’ he said. ‘Don’t worry. He’s just some posh nut job with a hole in his leg. He’s an idiot.’
‘He let them laugh at me,’ sobbed Rosie. ‘Like I was some stupid tart he’d picked up somewhere.’
‘Did he really?’ said Tina. ‘That sounds horrid.’
‘Arsehole,’ said Jake. ‘Would you like me to punch him for you?’
‘I would like that,’ said Rosie. ‘On his leg.’
Her sniffs turned to hiccups. ‘Oh God. Why did I shag him? He’ll be having such a laugh about it with his mates. We never even had a cup of coffee. Not a date or anything. Nothing. I’m just some slutty nurse who went round his house and did him. They’ll all be pissing themselves.’
‘No they won’t,’ said Tina, unconvincingly. ‘Or OK, even if they are. That means they are all pathetic idiots and fuck-wits and horrible twats. So it doesn’t matter.’
‘No,’ sniffed Rosie. ‘It doesn’t matter.’