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

time, been a grand house built by a newly rich cotton trader from Derby. Then it was a First World War hospital, then a school, and over the years it had been scraped out so often that it was amazing they had managed to make it as homely as they did. The matron, Cathryn Thompson, greeted Rosie warmly. Regular visiting was practically an order here; you had to sign something promising that you would.
    â€œNothing kills as fast as loneliness,” Miss Thompson had said, to which Moray would add sotto voce, “Just typhus, pneumonia, cardiac arrest, septicemia and being shot,” at which she had given him a look and said, “Do you remember your first visit here, straight out of medical school?” which had shut Moray up faster than anything Rosie could have possibly imagined.
    â€œShe’s in the games room, playing canasta with Mrs. Carr. I’m glad you’re here, actually, they’re on the verge of actual violence.”
    Sure enough, an icy silence had descended in the games room. A ring of gray hair surrounded the table where two ­people were facing each other, locked in mortal combat, like a scene from Casino Royale .
    â€œMay I go out?” Ida Delia was grimacing.
    â€œYes!” said Lilian decisively.
    Ida Delia laid down seven cards, and there was an intake of breath at the table. Everyone’s face turned to Lilian expectantly. She didn’t lose her cool for an instant.
    â€œWell, I suppose so,” she said, laying out a trail of kings and sevens on the table. It didn’t make any sense to Rosie at all, but the rest of the table gasped and burst into applause.
    â€œThank you,” said Lilian calmly as Ida Delia swore loudly and appeared on the brink of angry tears. Lilian carefully scooped up the large pile of chocolate caramels that had been accumulating in the center of the table. She peeled off a large corner and donated them to an old chap who’d been dealing, as a tip. He thanked her.
    â€œAunt Lil,” said Rosie softly. Lilian’s face lit up as she saw her favorite relative. She got up slowly and, although normally not in the least bit demonstrative, put her arms around her. All of this was done very much for Ida Delia’s benefit, Rosie could see. Ida had had one child, the sullen offspring of her short-­lived marriage to Henry Carr, the love of Lilian’s life, and they had had no further children. Although it was not at all an appealing habit, Rosie knew Lilian took great pride in rubbing her closeness to her grandniece in Ida Delia’s face.
    â€œRosie!” said Lilian loudly. “Now you must tell me all about your gorgeous young bloke, Stephen Lakeman, son of LADY LIPTON UP AT LIPTON HALL.”
    Rosie gave her the look, but Lilian returned it with one of complete innocence.
    â€œLet’s go talk by the coffee bar,” said Rosie. The reception rooms downstairs—­without television; residents had those in their rooms if they wished to watch, but the communal areas were for reading, playing cards and making conversation—­were divided into themed areas, to make ­people feel they had more places to go than they actually did. It worked rather well.
    Lilian looked a little disappointed. She would have liked to carry on a discussion of her grandniece’s virtues and triumphs at high volume in front of everyone, but she acquiesced—­not, however, before saying,“Oh, and it’s Moray, our HANDSOME LOCAL GP. Here to see JUST ME, SOCIALLY, and there’s NOT EVEN ANYTHING WRONG WITH ME.”
    Medical diagnoses were a hot game of one-­upmanship in the home. Moray already saw more of the place than he would generally have chosen to without his hefty salary, so this was a prize indeed. Lilian tilted up her cheek to be kissed, which Moray did with a twinkle. He was fond of the old stick.
    â€œSo,” said Lilian, as they all sat down with very acceptable cappuccinos. This was not that