by Nicola May
Shivering, she went back inside and shut the doors. Christmas Day, with no food to mention and not even a television on which to watch a rerun of The Snowman. If she had had the capacity to cry, she would have thrown herself down and sobbed her heart out.
As she sat mute on the baggy sofa, her nose buried in Hot’s comforting coat, memories of the night before started coming back to her. She cringed, thinking of Seb trying to touch her up on the beach. What on earth was he thinking? Had she led him on? No!
Oh lord, how could she ever hold her head up on the streets of Cockleberry Bay again?
She looked at the floor. Her handbag lay upturned where she’d dumped it last night and its contents were strewn everywhere. The starfish on the key ring lay propped up against the skirting board. Picking it up, she noticed a smudge of dirt on it from dropping it on the pavement last night. As she began rubbing it clean with her fingers, a bright shard of sunlight lit up the whole room, Hot came alert and barked.
Gently shushing him, Rosa stood up with a defiant look on her face.
‘Fuck them - fuck the whole pack of them. If a few small-minded people think they are going to knock Rosa Larkin down, they’ve got another think coming.’
She started to run a bath. Hot got up and joined her, settling down onto the old green rug which was currently doubling as a bath mat. Rosa loved a long bubble bath but for now she would have to make do with just water; she didn’t even have any shower gel since in her haste to get out of the Ship last night, she had left most of her toiletries in her room. But at least the water was hot here and the old bath, deep.
Lying back, she closed her eyes. She had got through worse than this, she told herself, and this was her chance to turn her life around and take control. She swirled the calming water around her body. This was her place - her own place - and whoever had left it to her, well, they must have had faith that she could make it work. How sad that they hadn’t been able to tell her that in the ‘real world’ though.
She was brought back to reality by one of the bulbs in her showbiz-style mirror popping and going out. Only five out of the twelve were working now; she really must go and get some more of those too.
Drying herself with her scratchy cream towel, she thought back again to last night. She couldn’t even remember what, if anything, she had said to Sheila. In fact, she couldn’t even remember the walk back up the hill. One of her social workers had always said to her, ‘When the drink’s in, the wit’s out.’ Rosa had obviously berated her for saying it, but the woman had been so right. She thought back to the many times she’d got into arguments, slept with someone unsuitable or just made ridiculous decisions, all of which she had done when she had been too drunk to think sensibly. But she liked drinking, Rosa sighed. It was an escape. Helped her sleep. Helped her forget.
Once dressed, she walked downstairs, took the half-eaten sandwich out of the shop kitchen fridge, fed Hot with some of the chicken out of it and downed a pint of tap-water. She noticed how lovely and cold and fresh-tasting the water was, and she knew from watching the many survival programmes she loved, that even if she couldn’t find food in this godforsaken place for the next two days, with fresh water she wouldn’t die. She would just have to make sure she could find some scraps for Hot.
Just as she was about to leave, Josh phoned.
‘Happy Christmas to my two favourite dogs.’
‘Ha ha. Very funny. Now tell me what’s happy about it.’
‘Uh oh. I suspect a tequila hangover.’
‘Stop pretending you know me so well, but yes, slammers and JD and a toke of weed and the plumber not being who he said he was.’
‘You what?’
Minus the bony finger incident, Rosa relayed the whole sorry story.
‘I really don’t understand why on earth they would go to so much trouble to find out what’s going on?’
‘Nor me. But I’ve got to ride the storm. I will just keep myself to myself from now on. There are many more people in this town than those few who have already wanted to make trouble for me. And I don’t have any reason to go in that pub again. There’s another one up the very top of the hill called the Lobster Pot, and Hot and I are on a mission to check it out - in a minute, in fact. On our search for food.’
‘Oh Rosa, don’t tell me you haven’t got any supplies in?’
‘Nada. Well, a packet of crisps. It’s Hot I’m more worried about, but you know me. When you’ve lived on the streets before, this isn’t even an obstacle and I’ve got water.’
Josh’s face was pained at the other end of the phone.
‘I could try and come down tomorrow, but Mum’s invited Great-Auntie Deirdre and tells me it may be the last time I might ever see her.’
Rosa laughed. ‘Ho ho ho. What Christmas cheer in the Smith household.’
‘Exactly! Wish I was in the peace and quiet with you. The nieces and nephews have been up since five. Mum’s already demented with worry that the turkey won’t be cooked before the Queen’s speech. I should have gone with Dad. He’s been out with the dog for two hours, and I’m sure I saw him sneak a hip-flask into his pocket before he left.’
‘Suddenly I feel a whole lot better.’
‘Good. Now do you want me to Google and see what’s open near you?’
‘I may be away from the big city, Josh, but I do have 3G. In fact, you’ve made me think. I need to sort broadband and a phone for the shop too.’ Rosa sighed. ‘More bloody expense.’
‘Welcome to the real world, girl.’
‘On that note, shit off now, please. Me and Hot need to get noses down on our search for food and redemption.’
‘Ha! The food bit of that should be easier than the other. Anyway, try and make the best of it and I’ll see you in a couple of days. Let me know if you need anything.’
‘Thanks a lot, and no cracker-pulling in front of Auntie Deirdre.’ Rosa put a lead on a now-whining Hot, saying, ‘I know you’re a hungry boy, but we are going to sort this.’
She was relieved that aside from another couple of dog walkers, the streets were quiet. She replied with a polite ‘Happy Christmas’ as they headed the opposite way down to the beach.
Rosa wasn’t surprised to find that the Co-op was closed but pleased to see it was open again on Boxing Day for a few hours in the morning. She jerked Hot’s lead to try and stop him from licking up the various unsavoury things he could find on the ground. Heading further up the hill, she could see that the Lobster Pot was another picturesque old white building, with lovely hanging baskets full of winter pansies along the whole front of it. A Christmas tree with coloured lights stood amidst the benches outside. It was a lot classier-looking than the rough and ready Ship, she thought. An OPEN FOR CHRISTMAS DRINKS 12 till 2 sign was perched in one of the windows, plus a NO VACANCIES sign.
It was eleven o’clock, an hour until it opened. She had to find Hot some food before then. She vaguely remembered on her journey from the station, a garage at the very top of the hill as you turned down into the bay - probably around a mile away from where they were now. Quite a walk for the pampered Hot. She went to look for it on the internet but couldn’t get a signal. Rather than let Josh know that she should have taken up his offer, she kept walking. With her hangover still causing her grief, she stopped for a second to give Hot a rest and to catch her own breath. It was a bloody steep hill, and despite having a great little figure and youth on her side so that she could eat whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted, Rosa was aware that she could do with toning up in some areas and all this walking would certainly help that.
It was then she noticed the pretty little cottages either side of the narrow street. One caught her eye as there were two beautiful coloured crystals outside on the windowsill. The sign on the whitewashed wall said Seaspray Cottage and she remembered Mary saying it was where she and her gran lived. It amazed her that people could leave things out like that and they didn’t get stolen. They’d be gone in second
s anywhere else.
She carried on walking up the hill, wondering where dear Lucas’s girlfriend had been clobbered. It could have been anywhere as the road was so narrow and there was no lighting to mention.
With her mouth now feeling like a badger’s fanny, the sight of two cars filling up with petrol in the forecourt of a garage was the most marvellous mirage Rosa had ever seen. But it wasn’t a mirage, it turned out to be real, and the SPAR sign above confirmed that not only was the garage open, it also sold food.
She tied Hot up outside, said Happy Christmas to the young yawning lad behind the counter and began to hunt for supplies. But hunt was the operative word. Obviously, this was the only place around here open on Christmas morning and everyone had had the usual last-minute panics. She arrived at the checkout with a wire basket containing dog food, milk, fruit juice and toilet roll. There was no bread, so in addition she picked up a dozen eggs, two packets of bacon, a quiche with a sell-by date of today, a large tin of baked beans and a big bar of chocolate.
‘You wouldn’t have a bowl I could borrow, by any chance?’
Looking out at Hot, the young lad shook his head. ‘Sorry, love, but there’s a water tap around the back he can slurp from.’
Rosa walked around to where he had pointed and squeezed a sachet of dog food out onto the ground. Just as Hot was wolfing the last bit down, a car pulled up by their side. A middle-aged woman opened the passenger window and handed her three-pound coins, saying, ‘Here, my dear. Happy Christmas and may God bless you both.’
The car had moved away before Rosa had a chance to react. With her mad, unwashed hair and seeing her having to feed a dog on the ground, she might look like a poor homeless waif, but how far from the truth was that. No, she was Rosa Larkin, proud owner of the Corner Shop of Cockleberry Bay - and after last night’s fiasco she was more determined than ever to make it a success.
CHAPTER 10
A family of five were walking into the Lobster Pot as Rosa walked past. Adorned in new Christmas hats and scarves, they were also no doubt wearing their best dresses or Christmas jumpers underneath. As the door opened, she could see another impressively decorated tree and could hear the chitter-chatter of people enjoying themselves.
Or were they?
Rosa had read a tweet by J.K. Rowling once that had made her nod in acknowledgement. At this time of year, we’re bombarded with images of perfect lives, which bear as little relation to reality as tinsel does to gold.
She was interested to see what it was like in there, but couldn’t be bothered to talk to anyone and was now also very hungry for her bacon and eggs and a massive glug of orange juice. Since it was easier by far to hurry downhill than it was to climb up, girl and dog were back at the Corner Shop in no time.
Thankful to be in what she now considered to be home, Rosa went straight upstairs to the flat’s kitchen, then swore. Yes, all the cupboards were now immaculate - but empty. Josh had insisted that she took a couple of mugs, glasses, plates and some cutlery with her, but she hadn’t even noticed or thought to check about cooking utensils. The oven didn’t even have a grill pan.
She opened the quiche and cut herself a big slice; thankfully, the baked beans didn’t need a tin opener. She portioned two large spoonfuls onto the plate and went to the lounge to eat.
Texting a picture of the food to Josh with the words No pans or microwave! he responded with a ‘head in hands’ emoji. She raised her glass of orange juice, saying, ‘Happy Christmas, Hot,’ as she did so.
She imagined that the quiche was pizza and the beans chips, two of her favourite foods after a big night out. She didn’t know if it was because she had a hangover attack of the munchies or had discovered that she was partial to cold beans, that she enjoyed her little feast so much. Remembering that she still had a packet of ready salted crisps in the downstairs kitchen also caused great excitement, added to the knowledge that she could have hot coffee and the bar of chocolate as dessert. Little things!
Hot was also happy, as not only had she bought his favourite sachets of food, she also had luckily managed to find two packets of doggie treats in the bottom of her case.
It was weird not having a TV, but in a way she was pleased; it would have only reminded her of what day it was, and despite her not really liking Christmas and all that it represented, nobody wanted to be alone. As if Hot knew what she was thinking, he came up to her and licked her hand. He then proceeded to emit a wonderful warm leathery smell – the essence of dog - and snuggled himself down on the sofa next to her, lying in ecstasy on his back, with his tummy in the air.
Thankful that the flat was warm and cosy, Rosa lay back on the duvet, still crumpled on the sofa from earlier. Then, reaching for her bag, she began to count the money she had left once again. Goodness knows how much she had spent last night, flashing her cash to buy creepy Seb tequila slammers. Two thousand pounds had seemed like a fortune to her at first, but now that she was living in the real world and not handing Josh rent for everything, she began to realise that the sum was just a drop in the ocean. She had paid up until Boxing Day at the Ship, which slightly annoyed her as that meant she was £120 out of pocket for that. Money had been easy come, easy go for her before; counting and budgeting it was alien to her. If she had enough for the rent and phone, which wasn’t always the case, and a few drinks, she could make do somehow with everything else.
She opened her phone thinking she would watch some catch-up on TV or listen to some music, but nothing sat right with her. She went to the kitchen again. Opening Notes on her iPhone she began to make a list. Dessert bowls, frying pan, saucepans, wooden spoon, microwave, dog bowls . . . and so it went on.
Her next list was food. Pepper, salt, ketchup, butter, bread . . . she began to realise just how lucky she had been, living at Josh’s. Had totally taken for granted that free squirt of ketchup or sprinkle of salt.
By the time she had added towels, sofa, mattress and paint and a guesstimate for the regular bills, she was already skint. This was not even considering the mention in the first envelope of business rates, whatever they were, plus insurances. Josh would need to help her with those tomorrow. She also must change the address for her mobile phone bill and open a bank account as soon as the Christmas break was over.
She would just have to sleep on the sofa and manage without a mattress until she started making some money from the shop, but goodness knows when that would be. If she brought a cheap microwave, she could manage with one saucepan. Paint and brushes were a priority, but it was imperative she saved something for stock, which she would need to quickly turn around or she would be in trouble. The last thing she wanted was to have to take a job locally to make ends meet. Imagine the gossip-mongering then! She usually didn’t care what people thought of her, but after what had happened on Christmas Eve, it was extra-important for her to make the shop a success. Then they could all eat their words. She would show them.
After a hot mug of coffee and devouring half of the family-sized chocolate bar, she began to feel sleepy. Just as she was dozing off, Hot started barking. He ran towards the door of the lounge and back, barking loudly. It was then she heard a knock at the door.
Getting up slowly, Rosa rubbed her eyes and ran her hands through her hair. She glanced at her phone - four o’clock on Christmas Day, a strange time to call.
She ran downstairs and hid behind the CLOSED sign, calling, ‘Who is it?’
‘It’s me - Mary from the Co-op.’
Rosa unlocked the door.
‘I don’t want to come in or anything, it’s just, well . . . my gran saw you walking back with bags from the garage and we sort of heard about last night.’
Rosa immediately felt her heckles rising. Christmas Day, and the Cockleberry Bay gossip train was still in action. But she softened when Mary handed her a tinfoil-covered plate.
‘A Christmas dinner for you. We’re not the best cooks, me and my old gran, but I guess it will taste better than what you h
ad in your bags earlier.’ Mary awkwardly stood there, shuffling from foot to foot. She looked younger than when Rosa had first seen her in the shop. Her long black hair was tied up in a bun and her piercing green eyes were accentuated by the floor-length patchy green velvet coat she was wearing.
‘I’m glad you’re here,’ she told Rosa. ‘I used to love this shop. And Gran and I both want to wish you well.’
Rosa took the plate from her; it was warm. She was quite touched by this show of human kindness, but still dubious in case it was a ruse to get more information out of her. But no more questions came from Mary’s mouth.
‘Thanks so much, and please do thank your gran too.’
‘Pleasure. Happy Christmas, Rosa, and . . .’ She pointed down to Hot who, smelling the turkey, was whining, pawing at Rosa’s legs and trying to jump up towards the plate.
‘Hot - that’s Hot.’
Mary looked even younger when she laughed.
‘Happy Christmas, Hot. We’ve got a cat. He’s called Merlin. Well, he’s actually called Merlinite, after the crystal, but that’s a bit of a mouthful when he goes walkabouts.’
‘Ah.’ Rosa realised she knew nothing about crystals and their names. ‘I saw crystals outside your house earlier. Pretty.’
‘One’s a stone, actually. Lavender Jade, stone of the angels. I don’t recall what the other one is. Gran changes them around, you see. Depending on what we need.’ Mary coughed.
The plate of food was going cold and Rosa was starving. She decided she’d had enough of crystal talk.
‘Interesting stuff,’ she said briskly. ‘I shall have to meet your gran and she can tell me all about it.’
‘Queenie.’
‘What?’ Hot’s incessant jumping was now becoming annoying.
‘My gran’s name is Queenie. Well, that’s not her real name, but everyone calls her Queenie.’
