Christmas at Rosie Hopkins' Sweetshop by Jenny Colgan

steering and was a vehicle of last resort, but at the moment she had no choice. She packed Mr. Dog into the front seat, wrapped up in a blanket, then remembered that hospitals weren’t too hot on the whole dog thing, and if she left him outside in the car, he’d probably freeze to death, so she decided to drop him off at Tina’s house, with a huge bag of jellies for Kent and Emily.
    â€œHello!” said Tina. The children were romping around, still in their pajamas, playing bears with Jake, Kent keeping his cast well up in the air.
    â€œOh, look at you guys,” said Rosie, genuinely pleased. “You’re like a Christmas advert in here.”
    Tina took her to one side.
    â€œIt’s all fake,” she said quickly to Rosie. “I keep wanting to throw up. I’ve never felt so terrified in my whole life.”
    â€œI know,” said Rosie, giving her a quick hug. “I know.”
    â€œWhen I stood outside that school and every other kid came out except mine . . .”
    â€œYou can’t think like that,” said Rosie. “I know. You just have to think that it didn’t happen. It didn’t.”
    â€œI can’t sleep a wink,” said Tina.
    â€œMe neither.”
    Rosie nodded into the sitting room. “It looks like someone’s being helpful.”
    Tina lost her anxious look for just a second.
    â€œYes,” she said, “he’s been amazing. And the children, they’ve kind of forgotten all about it, except for Kent being this massive hero. He’s happy as Larry. Jake’s just carrying on being sweet. I’m the only one who’s become a complete basket case.”
    â€œI know I don’t have first hand experience apart from Mr. Dog,” said Rosie. “But I think that might just be motherhood.”
    She thought briefly of Lady Lipton.
    â€œWell, most motherhood.”
    Tina nodded.
    â€œYou’re medical and know this stuff. Will it stop?”
    Rosie heard the squeals of delight as Mr. Dog plucked up the courage to leave her side and join the revels next door.
    â€œIf it doesn’t, you go see Moray and he’ll recommend someone for you to talk to,” she said. “But between you and me, yes, it will. It might take a while, but for most ­people, they pick up again. Okay? You’re being totally normal.”
    Tina smiled.
    â€œTotally normal.”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œCrying in the bath?”
    â€œCheck.”
    â€œNot letting them out of my sight.”
    â€œCheck.’
    Tina shook her head.
    â€œFine.”
    Rosie peered back into the happy scene.
    â€œIt seems to me someone is very happy to help you with everything you’re going through.”
    Tina colored prettily.
    â€œI know,” she said. “I’m very lucky. I’m so . . . so . . . Oh, I’m going again.”
    The tears started down her face.
    â€œLet it out,” said Rosie, giving her a cuddle. “I’ll pick up Mr. Dog later, okay? Thanks.”
    â€œNot at all,” said Tina. “Look at them. They’ve forgotten all about it.”
    â€œChildren are very resilient,” said Rosie. “And so are you. I promise.”
    R OSIE DROVE AS slowly as she dared along the snowy winding roads. Would it ever stop? She was nervous now too; nervous of a huge lorry, out of control, looming out of nowhere, smashing everything in its path with a terrible devastation. She inched her way to Carningford, and to the hospital.
    She’d made a special effort tonight, after yesterday. Her hair was washed, she’d reapplied lipstick in the car and she was carrying an enormous bag of mixed bonbons, and some grapes for vitamin C.
    Stephen had been moved to a side room and she had to scrub up to avoid giving him an infection. The hospital was quiet, so he had the room to himself. She knocked, feeling suddenly nervous, then feeling that was utterly ridiculous. They’d