Free Christmas at Rosie Hopkins' Sweetshop by Jenny Colgan Page A

at him to stop being an idiot and leave it for the firemen, it could go up any second, and he looked at her confused, then realized the sense in what she was saying and jumped down.
    They could hear the sirens in the far distance, but they weren’t here yet. And Mrs. Baptiste was doing a wonderful job, but Rosie was now scanning the lines of children, who were being shepherded farther and farther away up the hill, and she didn’t see them.
    She couldn’t see Stephen, and she couldn’t see Edison.
    She glanced at Moray, both of them looking at the smoking, ruined wreck of the Portakabin.
    â€œWe have to go in,” she said. Mrs. Baptiste was already running down the hill.
    â€œNo, you’re right,” said Moray. “We should wait for the fire brigade, it’s not safe. Mrs. Baptiste, get away from there! Get away at once!”
    The usually brusque gray-­haired teacher looked up at him.
    â€œBut they’re not all out,” she said, her voice quavering.
    â€œYou’ve done what you can,” said Moray. “Get away, please.”
    Mrs. Baptiste shook her head and glanced toward the awful sight of the Portakabin. No more figures were emerging.
    â€œNow,” said Moray, in a voice that brooked no argument.
    He turned around.
    â€œEVERYONE GET BACK!” he shouted. “BACK as far as Malik’s! We don’t know whether the truck is going to explode! Get back!!”
    As he said these words, a helicopter appeared over the side of the hill. A man with a loudspeaker leaned out. He too was shouting, “GET BACK! GET BACK! GET BACK!” He clearly meant Moray and Rosie too, but they ignored him, glanced at each other, and quickly dived into the cabin.
    Inside, it was like a vision of hell. Light came through the great rip in the wall, but it only showed a great big cloud of gray dust and shredded paper that made it nearly impossible to see. Rosie heard a whimper, but she couldn’t make out where it was coming from. She tore off her apron and tied it around her mouth so she could breathe; she saw Moray do the same with his handkerchief.
    â€œWho’s there?” she said. Kneeling down she saw Kent, Tina’s boy, cowering behind the piano, one eye shut and colored black and purple, blood and scratches all over his hands.
    â€œOh darling,” she said. “Can you move?”
    Kent looked up at her with his one open eye.
    â€œIt hurts,” he said, terrified. “It hurts.”
    â€œI know, my love,” said Rosie. “I’m coming for you.”
    She clambered over fallen chairs. Sheet music floated through the air.
    â€œCome on,” she said. He was a big boy, but she could still lift him. He winced in pain as she touched his arm and she nodded.
    â€œI know it’s sore,” she said. “And the ambulance is going to be here soon and sort this out. But just for now I really, really have to get you out of here.”
    Kent swallowed and nodded bravely.
    â€œI’ll try not to touch it, okay?”
    â€œOkay.”
    She took him in a fireman’s hold around the waist, and as she did so, she started in surprise, for underneath, crouching and rolled up in a ball like a tiny hedgehog, was his twin sister, Emily, with barely a scratch on her.
    â€œDid you cover up your sister?” she asked Kent in shock.
    Kent didn’t say anything, his bottom lip quivering with the pain.
    â€œOkay, okay, let’s get you out of here,” she said. “Emily, darling, can you walk?”
    Emily’s eyes were huge and white.
    â€œMummy!” she said, in a wobbly voice.
    â€œMummy’s outside,” said Rosie, taking a quick glance through the rip in the wall, where the tanker was still smoking.“Mummy’s outside, darling, but we really have to go and get to her quickly, okay? Quickly. Like, now. We’re going to Mummy, okay?”
    The magic word “Mummy” had its effect on the little