Christmas at Rosie Hopkins' Sweetshop Read Online Free PDF Page A

fact, she thought, it was probably Lilian now. Rosie had gotten her a mobile phone with enormous buttons that didn’t do anything except make phone calls. The shop was speed dial 1, and the price plan she was on allowed free local calls. This meant, in practice, that quite often Lilian would just call and leave her phone plugged in on speaker, occasionally chipping in with remarks on the business of the shop. Newcomers to the village found the disembodied voice rather alarming, particularly when it was recommending which licorice to buy or telling Rosie off for over-­ordering watermelon-­flavored candy that nobody liked. But everyone else was used to it; it was just Lilian, and most ­people had a friendly word for her as they came in and out.
    â€œHey,” said Rosie, casually. There was static on the line and somebody was yelling. Somebody yelling down the phone was not at all uncommon; it meant that her mother, Angie, was phoning from Australia, where she lived and looked after Rosie’s brother Pip’s three unruly children, who, as far as Rosie could ascertain, used any instance of Angie’s being distracted to attempt to slaughter each other with kitchen knives.
    â€œG’day,” said Angie, who had adopted an unaccountable Australian accent despite only having lived there for two years.
    â€œHi, Mum,” said Rosie, glancing at her watch. “Isn’t it, like, ten P . M . there?’
    â€œYup.”
    â€œWhy are the children still up? You never let me and Pip stay up.”
    â€œOh, you know . . .”
    â€œHave they been locking you in the linen cupboard again? Mum, you HAVE to get tough with them.”
    â€œIt’s three against one,” said her mother. “And Desleigh thinks they’re just fine.”
    Rosie didn’t know her sister-­in-­law very well, just that she worked long hours and when she wasn’t working, she liked a lot of what she called “me-­time,” which seemed to involve Angie’s being left with the children on weekends while Desleigh had spa treatments.
    â€œSo,” said her mother. “I was thinking. About Christmas?”
    â€œWe can’t, Mum,” said Rosie sadly. She would love to go to Sydney to see her family, but they were limited to Stephen’s holidays, and the shop couldn’t run itself and they couldn’t really afford the tickets and . . .”
    â€œWe’re coming!”
    Rosie swallowed hard.
    â€œYou’re what?”
    â€œWe’re coming. We’re all coming to have Christmas in Lipton. And to see you and Lilian!”
    â€œALL of you?”
    â€œYes!!”
    Rosie paused a mere millisecond as the huge and complex implications of doing this suddenly raced across her brain. Not a single sensible response presented itself, but all the myriad problems were completely overshadowed by her desperate desire to see her family.
    â€œThat is a BRILLIANT idea,” she said.
    R OSIE SPENT THE rest of the morning serving customers in a daze and got the red and black kola cubes mixed up twice. She was desperate to see her mother; she had felt so abandoned when Angie had left the country. On the other hand, what where they going to do with Shane, Kelly and Meridian in Lipton? They were used to swimming pools and beach parties and amazing fish caught fresh from the sea . . . It was entirely possible that it would rain for three weeks solid like it had last Christmas and, when she thought about it, unless you liked wet-­weather hiking, or going to see the new Waitrose in Derby, there really wasn’t a massive amount going on. By which, she realized, she meant nothing going on. This was the country, it was quiet; her mother was always going on about all the amazing things Sydney had to offer, and the fabulous weather and . . .
    Rosie realized she was working herself up into a bit of a state when the door tinged and Lady Lipton walked