by Nicola May
‘Mr Smith,’ she greeted him.
‘Rosalar. You all right?’
‘Don’t faint, but I’ve been cleaning for hours.’
‘What, the girl from the “I’ll just show the table a duster and it’ll be fine” school of cleaning - that girl?’
Rosa laughed. ‘Yes, that girl. And I actually enjoyed it. Very satisfying.’
‘Whoa, don’t say that or we’ll be getting snow on Christmas Day. But it’s good that you are sounding so positive.’
‘Yes, all is going well, so far anyway. I also hope you might be proud of me, as - listen to this - the heating and hot water are connected and working, and I have electricity already.’
‘Bloody hell, girl. You got hold of a plumber then?’
‘Yep. I bit the bullet and asked Sheila from the pub for a recommendation. He was cute too.’
‘How much did he charge?’
‘Just a hundred pounds cash – I thought that was reasonable.’
‘Yes, it was cheap and yes, I am proud of you. I thought it would take a lot longer to get all that sorted, this time of year.’
‘So, are you coming down to see us then?’
‘If you still want me to. Is there anything you’re missing that you need desperately?’
‘’I don’t think what I need will quite fit in your sporty two-seater because I need a mattress and a sofa too. The one here is beyond saving. I’m even too scared to put my hand down the back of it to see if there’s any money to find.’
‘To buy new will be pricy,’ Josh mused. ‘Maybe have a look at some ads in the paper or in shop windows down there.’
‘I can’t be doing with a second-hand mattress.’
‘Hark at you, when did you get so posh?’
Rosa went quiet. Josh had obviously forgotten the time she had confided in him that she had had to sleep on so many dirty and sometimes wet mattresses, from her own accidents as a child, she had vowed that when she could afford it, she would never have a second-hand mattress again. But then again, they had been drunk when she told him that. She found it easier telling the truth about private things when she was inebriated.
‘OK, I hear you. So just bring yourself, that’s fine. It will be so lovely to see you. I’m moving into the upstairs flat on Boxing Day, and will sleep on the sofa with my bedding and pillow - so that will do me until I get sorted. But what about you – where will you sleep? Can you fit a blow-up bed and duvet in the car?’
‘Don’t worry about me, I’ll organise something. So, try and enjoy your Christmas anyway, you hear? What are you going to do?’
‘I’m going to have a drink with the locals tonight in the pub, then lunch with Sheila and her family on Christmas Day, although the gossip of the year is her son’s girlfriend was involved in a hit-and-run accident last night.’
‘Shit.’
‘I know. I haven’t spoken to Sheila about it yet, wanted to keep out of the way for the moment. You won’t believe how nosy everyone is around here.’
‘Well, on a positive, you’re old news now.’
Rosa laughed. ‘I hadn’t thought of that.’
‘How’s Hot doing?’
‘He loves it down here. He’s addicted to the beach and seagull chasing.’
‘Aw, bless him. Right, I’d better go. I’m driving down to the folks later and I haven’t packed yet. Get your hand down that sofa, you never know what you might find.’
‘Vile. Right, drive carefully. So what day are you going to come?’
‘I’ll stay Boxing Night with the parentals, then head down.’
‘Great, see you then and have a good Christmas.’
Rosa put her rubber gloves on for protection and felt down the back of the sofa. She carried on delving down the right-hand side and was disappointed to only come up with a knitting needle, a large safety pin and two pencils.
‘Not even a penny, Hot, that’s no good.’ The tiny dachshund raised one eye and went back to sleep next to her as she delved in the other side. After a moment, she felt something hard. ‘Hey, might even be a two-pound coin.’
But it wasn’t a coin. Attached to the round object was some kind of chain. Pulling gently, Rosa revealed the hidden object and gasped. For there, attached to a somewhat tarnished but obviously real gold chain was a huge sapphire, centred within an ornate gold setting. Taking off her gloves, she had a good look at it. Around the edge of the frame were the words My Darling T. On turning it over she noticed some more beautiful engraving: Meet me where the sky touches the sea X
‘That’s so romantic,’ Rosa murmured. Reverently, she rubbed the exquisite piece of jewellery with her duster. Lucky T, whoever T was. She had no idea how old the necklace was, or how long the sofa had been here. Maybe the necklace had been for sale in the shop and had made its way upstairs somehow?
Rosa decided she would show it to Josh, see what he thought. If it was worth a few quid, maybe she could sell it and use the money for stock.
CHAPTER 8
‘Bugger.’
Rosa threw her one and only - and now laddered - pair of tights into the rubbish bin beneath her dressing-table. Even though Christmas was not her favourite time of year, she thought she ought to make a bit of an effort. She had wanted to wear her red woollen mini-dress and her black boots. Trying the outfit on, she looked at herself in the mirror and thought, Sod it, I’ll just wear it without tights. Her legs were good enough and she knew Sheila would have the fire blazing as always.
Hot was asleep on the floor and raised one eye as Rosa put a chicken chew next to him and a bowl of fresh water. There was a good chunk of the cucumber left too. Ignoring her, he attacked the cucumber in a very un-cute way.
She stroked his soft ears, promising, ‘I won’t be long, boy. I’ll just show my face and be back in no time.’
She put some cash in her purse and went downstairs. Christmas tunes were already blaring out and despite it only being seven o’clock, the bar was already rammed.
Seb immediately rushed to her side. ‘Your brush up all right, don’t you?’ he said, and squeezed her left bum cheek.
‘Hey, get off! It’s not Christmas yet, sunshine.’
‘Seb Watkins, you keep your hands to yourself.’ Sheila smiled her film-star smile from behind the bar. ‘Now, what can I get you, my lovely?’
‘A large JD and Coke please, with lots of ice.’
‘Everything all right?’
‘Yes, thank you. Sorry I didn’t make it down for breakfast the last couple of days. I thought you had enough going on what with Christmas and . . . everything.’
‘Young Jasmine getting knocked for six, you mean.’
‘Yes. I was so sorry to hear that - your son must be very upset.’
‘He’s with her at the hospital now. She had to have an operation - quite a whack she received.’
Rosa didn’t want to prolong the conversation and ask whether it was her arm, leg or any other bodily part that had been affected. She was sure she would find out soon enough.
‘You’ve been busy, haven’t you?’ the landlady said, changing the subject. ‘Who’d have thought there was so much to do in this small town.’
She then started serving her next customer before Rosa had a chance to answer. She took a large swig of her drink, wondering, did everybody know what she was up to? Maybe they had special CCTV that linked back to the pub, or perhaps they’d wired the shop ready for when somebody took it over.
Not even thinking to have asked Luke what he was doing for Christmas, she looked around to see if he was amongst the customers. It did seem like half the town was in here.
Titch suddenly bobbed up from nowhere. Her low-cut black dress made Rosa’s dress-without-tights combo seem positively tame. The girl was slightly slurring her words.
‘Nice dress, Rose. Here, come with me.’ She took Rosa by the hand, dragged her over to the corner of the bar, then said in her ear, ‘So, am I assuming you are
young, free and single?’
‘True, yes, but it just so happens I’m not in the mood to mingle tonight.’
‘Like it, like it.’ Titch was drinking pints of what looked like cloudy cider. Belching, she put her drink down on the bar and confided, ‘There are not many decent blokes in this town, and that’s the sad truth.’ Her eyes lit up. ‘I love it when the tourist season is on and we get the odd stag party on their way through to Ulchester. Those guys are always up for it.’
‘What about Seb?’
Titch turned up her nose. ‘What about him? He’s a pervy bastard, that’s all he is.’
‘Or Luke?’
‘Luke? I don’t know of any Lukes round here.’
‘Oh.’ But it was impossible to talk further. Titch had started singing along to the music. ‘So here it is, Merry Christmas,’ she bellowed, then raised her drink in the air and shimmied over to chat to some people sitting near the fire.
Rosa took another sip of her drink and looked around her. The Ship Inn really was a lovely old pub. The fire was blazing down one end and the seven-foot Christmas tree in the corner was beautifully decorated with old-fashioned baubles that she imagined Sheila recycled, year after year. A holly garland adorned the whole length of the old wooden bar, with yet more twinkly lights.
More people kept arriving, mostly families, some with kids, some not. Several generations celebrating this special time together. Christmas at the children’s homes had been a sad affair really. They got presents and a Christmas dinner, and although Rosa didn’t really know any different, she could sense that she was missing something. More than anything, she craved human touch. She sometimes hugged Ellie her friend so tight that she would have to scream for a staff member to release her. Poor Ellie, she had been lucky enough to be adopted when she was ten, but when Rosa had decided to look her up on Facebook a couple of years ago, she was greeted with a page with RIP messages. The girl had tragically taken her own life.
Rosa started having sex at fourteen. At that age it wasn’t an intimacy thing to her, she just wanted to feel wanted. She remembered the contraception chat. Laughed at being shown how to put a condom on a banana. But luckily, she had listened. There was no way she was going to bring a baby into this world and have them go through what she’d had to endure. She was barely able to look after herself, let alone another human being.
Hot had changed her view on this slightly; she had been able to throw all her love into the smooth-coated little hound, and it felt so good when he demonstrated his love for her, licking her face all over, putting his little head on her lap or sleeping at her feet. She smiled, thinking back to when she had first seen him. Hearing him barking on the pavement outside, she had looked, then pointed out his funny little walk to Karl, who she was working with at Poundworld that day. Her laugh quickly turned to anger as she saw his owner, a thin-faced, tattooed woman of about forty, hitting his bony little spine really hard with the end of his lead. All he was doing was barking his indignation at being tied up.
Hearing him yelp in pain, Rosa’s first reaction was to run out and rescue him, but something inside prevented her from doing that. She knew this must never be allowed to happen to him again. Forcing herself to remain calm, she waited for the woman to come inside the shop and get distracted with her shopping. She then reached for her rucksack which was under the counter, told Karl to man the fort, darted out and scooped up the little hound. Hiding him in her bag, she jumped on the bus then got off near Stepney Green and ran as fast as she could back to Josh’s.
The ever-sensible Josh said that it was a clear case of dog-knap and that she should return him . . . but then on seeing the scars and welts on the miniature dachshund’s back, he swiftly agreed that: one, Rosa had been right, and that: two, yes, the dear little chap was more than welcome to live happily in the house with them.
Seb appeared again at the bar. He had to shout over the music and the ever-growing crowd of revellers.
‘Told you it was the place to be on Christmas Eve, didn’t I? Fancy a tequila?’
The JD had begun to take effect on Rosa. ‘Why not? But let me buy them. I feel I owe you for the lift.’
Three tequila slammers later and they were creating quite a stir at the bar.
Seb laughed. ‘For someone so tiny, you can take your drink well. I need a fag, coming?’
Rosa followed him outside. Although not a smoker as such, after a few drinks she would quite happily have a puff of someone else’s cigarette. The benches outside were taken with other smokers, so Seb led her towards the beach.
Taking a large toke on the roll-up he offered her, she began to cough violently.
‘Oh my God, you didn’t mention there was weed in there.’
‘Don’t tell me you’ve never smoked a joint before?’
‘Of course I have, but bloody hell, that’s strong and you could have warned me.’ She staggered slightly and Seb grabbed her arm to steady her. As he did so he pulled her towards him, put his hand up her dress and started to push his bony fingers into her knickers.
‘Hey – stop that! Get off!’
‘But I thought . . .’
‘You thought what, Seb? “She’s drunk, so I’ll try it on with her on the beach?” We’re not bloody sixteen.’
Rosa ran back towards the pub, shivering and with her teeth chattering. Realising she had forgotten her key to the outside door she edged her way to the bar, where she could get up to her room from inside. A Karaoke set was now in full swing, but even a poor rendition of ‘Last Christmas’ couldn’t get her back into the spirit of things.
‘Not putting your name down for a song then?’ Sheila called over, pointing to the little stage area that had been set up. ‘You could do a duet with my Lucas.’
Rosa glanced at the stage - and then her face fell.
‘That’s Lucas?’
‘Yes, that’s my son.’ Sheila winked.
Rosa shook her head at Sheila in disbelief. Lucas looked over, clocked Rosa and spoke directly into the microphone. ‘Ah, there she is, everybody. The lady in red, also known as the proud new owner of the Corner Shop in Cockleberry Bay!’
With anger burning through every pore, and her head spinning from the mixture of alcohol and weed, Rosa shakily passed a now-smirking Sheila, ran up to her room, packed all her stuff, grabbed Hot and left via the outside staircase.
Scrabbling to get her key in the front door of the shop, she jumped as somebody appeared from around the corner.
‘More haste, less speed.’ The female voice was calm and soothing. ‘Are you OK?’
‘Yes, yes, I’m fine, thank you.’
It was pitch black, but she could see a dark headscarf pulled tightly around the lady’s wrinkled face. Hot was barking wildly.
The old lady gently took the keys from Rosa’s hand. ‘Ah, a starfish,’ she said. ‘That’s good.’ But Rosa was too upset to even respond. ‘You see, the starfish represents the Virgin Mary - also known as Stella Maris, which means Star of the Sea. Stella Maris lovingly creates safe travel over troubled waters and is also seen as an emblem of salvation during trying times.’
Opening the door in one, the old lady then handed Rosa the keys.
‘Don’t question this gift, Rosa. It was left with love.
Before the girl had a chance to reply, the lady had disappeared in to the darkness as quickly as she had come.
CHAPTER 9
Rosa woke to Hot licking her nose. Her head was thumping.
‘Happy Christmas, darling hound. At least you never let me down.’
She eased herself awkwardly up from the sagging sofa and put one hand on her now aching lower back. She groaned, realising she hadn’t put a sheet down to sleep on, so her bare legs had been against the dirty sofa. But that was the least of her problems. It seemed that Sheila Hannafore, the Mamma of the Cockleberry Bay Mafia, wasn’t quite as pleasant as she had assumed.
How bloody dare she set her up like that
- and in such an elaborate way too? Her duplicitous son didn’t even live around here. And worse, how dare he go along with her devious plan? Rosa realised that she had not been open about the shop, but that was her business. Why should everybody know? After all, they would have found out soon enough. Dear, darling Lucas obviously wasn’t that bothered about his girlfriend either. Showing off on the Karaoke - you’d have thought he would have been quiet in reflection of what had happened. She put on a funny voice. ‘Oh hi, I’m Luke the plumber.’ Lying twat!
She threw the double doors open at the end of the lounge and took in the beautiful vista. It was cold, but bright. Gulls were soaring over the headland and she could see the white specks of boats sailing on the horizon. She checked her phone and saw a missed call from Josh. She vaguely remembered calling him before bed and getting no answer.
Still wearing her clothes from the night before, she made her way down to the shop kitchen. Thank goodness she had tea and milk - but that was about all there was, apart from half a sandwich left from the other day and a packet of crisps. She made herself a cup of tea, undid her case and pulled some joggers up under her dress, then put on her coat and went and sat out on the roof terrace, her loyal hound at her side.
Cockleberry Bay was silent, apart from the insistent cry of the gulls. She took a big slug of her tea, blew a massive plume of steam into the cold air and allowed the sound of the sea to soothe her.
Everything had been far too easy up until now, Rosa thought bitterly. What had she been thinking of, leaving the safety of Josh and the London house? But she didn’t have to stay here; she could walk away. Then again, what would she be going back to really? Aside from Josh, what did she have in London? With no qualifications to her name, she would just find another mindless, badly paid job. She didn’t even have any true friends since she’d moved to the East End, and those she had met before hadn’t bothered to keep in touch aside from the occasional Facebook quip. Yes, there was the odd person she had met in her many jobs, but there wasn’t one she could call ‘a 3 a.m. friend’, someone who would drop everything to see her all right at any time of day or night. Maybe even Josh felt a bit sorry for her, she thought and winced - and that was why he had been so kind.
