Christmas in Cockleberry Bay - Nicola May Page 0,3

slumber she had fallen into on the window-seat to a tapping on the front bay window. A voice was saying urgently, ‘Rose, Rose! Wake up and let me in.’

The sleepy mum didn’t even need to open her eyes to see who it was. There was only one person she knew who called her Rose.

Hot was barking and scratching at the back door. Little Ned had just started to cry upstairs. Rosa opened the front door, then with eyes half-closed sloped her way up the stairs to return a few minutes later after changing and comforting the baby, to find Titch holding out her arms to her pink-faced baby and pointing to a steaming mug of tea on the kitchen table. Hot had been let in and was now calmly chewing at a toy in his dog bed in front of the log-burner in the other room.

‘I was sparko. I never usually miss him crying,’ Rosa moaned.

‘Hardly. You woke up just as he started. Teething, I guess. Poor little lad.’ Titch cuddled the baby against her neat pregnancy bump, allowing him to push his sweaty head right into her breast, leaving a line of dribble as he did so. ‘He’s going to be a big, tall boy like his daddy, this one, I reckon.’ Titch rocked him gently.

‘And the Worst Mother Award goes to Rosa Smith.’ Rosa splashed a bear-shaped teething toy with boiled water, waited until it was cool, then handed it to her friend to see if Little Ned wanted to gnaw on it. ‘I wish I had a manual that told me exactly what to do and when to do it. And the state of his nappies too, at the moment! Fluorescent green we had this morning. Why does nobody tell you about these things?’

‘I did try,’ Titch said, ‘but until you experience it, you don’t realise how bloody hard being a mum is. Have you got any biscuits?’

Rosa dug out a clean muslin cloth from a kitchen drawer, handed it to Titch for the dribble then fetched a dachshund-shaped biscuit tin from the side.

‘Ah, that reminds me,’ Titch said. ‘Look in my bag, Rose.’

‘Mary’s ginger and raisin cookies? Yum!’ Rosa emptied the Tupperware into the biscuit tin. ‘Good old Mum.’

‘She sends her love.’ Titch immediately reached in and grabbed two. ‘And if there’s a competition running, I will always beat you in the Worst Mother category. Do you remember that night we got drunk in the Ship when Theo was only a couple of months old? My poor mother; she had to have him nearly the whole of the next day, I was in such a bad way. He could have thrown himself out of the cot and I wouldn’t have noticed.’

‘Where are Theo and the dogs today, then?’

‘This is why I’ve dropped by to see you. I come bearing great news.’ Titch grinned. ‘A Cockleberry Crèche, also known as Little Angels, is now officially up and running in a room off the church hall five days a week. It’s so much closer than the one I used to put Theo in and the woman who runs it is so laid-back and flexible. Gladys Moore, her name is, and she’s one of our tribe, Rose. She’s so lovely, very experienced, has all the qualifications, and also has a great sense of humour. I trust her implicitly with my Theo. He’s been twice now. He bloody cries when he has to leave her. The little sod.’

‘That’s surely a good sign, isn’t it?’ Rosa sat down at the kitchen table. ‘Don’t tell me she takes dogs too.’ She lowered her voice. ‘That would be just the best.’

‘Not quite, I’ve left my two with Mum today. Sometimes it just gets a bit too much for all of us, doesn’t it? So don’t keep beating yourself up, Rose.’

‘I hear you, sister! I can’t believe we missed that amazing item on the old Cockleberry grapevine about a new crèche in town.’ Rosa took a drink of tea then admitted, ‘Saying that, I’m in a daze half the time at the moment.’

‘I think it all happened very quickly, but it’s a blessing, I tell you. Having a toddler and running the shop just wasn’t working. At least when they are this age, they sleep for hours.’ Titch was enjoying her cuddle with Little Ned, who had fallen asleep. ‘Ritchie is great but juggling his chip-shop shifts has been challenging as his mum has got some kind of flu bug and he’s had to