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 had 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.’
‘Ah, OK. Right, I must go before he tears the plate out of my hand.’
‘She does readings if you’re interested. Crystals, Tarot, whatever you want really.’ Rosa felt that Mary was a bit of a loner and that the company of just Queenie
probably wasn’t enough for her, especially today.
‘Er . . .OK. I shall bear that in mind. Well, thanks again, Mary, and enjoy the rest of your Christmas.’
But still Mary hesitated. She was staring at Rosa’s cheek. ‘Your scar,’ she whispered. Rosa put her hand to it, suddenly feeling self-conscious as Mary added hastily: ‘It really suits you.’
‘Well, thanks.’ Nobody had ever said that about her little lightning-flash defect.
‘Goodbye, Rosa. And pop by with the plate anytime, you’d be very welcome.’
‘I’ll do that. Bye.’ But Mary had disappeared into the evening.
Rosa exhaled deeply as she managed to shut the door at last. So kind, but so intense at the same time.
Black cat, crystals, fortune-telling. She certainly hadn’t come across much of that in the Whitechapel Road, and although sceptical about it, she couldn’t help but like Mary. She was another one of life’s misfits, a person of layers - and Rosa could relate to that.