Families and Friendships (28 page)

‘And you must be Fiona. How d'you do, pet? Pleased to meet you, though I must say it's all been a bit of a shock. Thanks to Miss Nosy Parker here!' He turned to look sternly at Debbie. Then he chuckled. ‘She's always been the same, never happy till she knows the whys and wherefores of everything. So I reckon we shouldn't have been all that surprised.'

‘I've said I'm sorry, Dad,' Debbie repeated, a little edgily this time. ‘I keep saying it.'

‘Aye, and that's the end of it now, pet,' he said. ‘We won't mention it again.'

‘And we've made some new friends, too,' said Vera. We met Ginny and Arthur; such a nice couple. And now … Simon and Fiona.' She beamed with pleasure. ‘And little Stella … and another one on the way. Am I right?'

‘You are indeed,' smiled Fiona. ‘Early December, not all that long now.'

‘I'm not going to ask you whether you want a boy or a girl,' said Vera, ‘because I know it won't matter, with loving parents like the two of you … Now, I reckon it's time we had our dinner. It's all ready in the oven. I'll just go and see to things. Won't be long.'

‘I'll come with you, if I may?' said Fiona, following her into the kitchen. ‘This is a strange situation, Vera,' she began. ‘It could have been awkward, but you've taken it all so well.'

‘I can't pretend I wasn't upset at first, when I found out what she'd done,' replied Vera, ‘and worried to death when she didn't come home. But I suppose I should've known what she'd do, some day. We'd made no secret of it, you see, her being adopted. And she was such a pretty little girl, she still is … And now I know why. You're a bonny lass, Fiona.'

She smiled. ‘We're the way God made us, I suppose. It's more important to be nice on the inside, though, isn't it? Debbie's turned out to be a grand girl, and it's thanks to the upbringing she's had … A bit of a handful, though, at times, I should imagine?' she added.

‘You can say that again!' replied Vera with feeling. ‘No, she wasn't always an easy child, but it's been worth it. And we love her as though she was our own, Stanley and me.'

‘Yes, I can see that you do,' said Fiona. ‘Thank you … for everything.'

‘Well, I'd best get this lot served out,' said Vera. ‘I've already set the table for five of us, and Stanley found the highchair we had when Debbie was small. He won't throw anything away.'

They sat round the table in the living room, a smallish room, as was the kitchen; but the drop-leaf table would allow more room when the meal was finished. The shepherd's pie with the crusty potato topping was declared delicious, as was the rice pudding, nicely browned with nutmeg on the top.

Fiona noticed that Debbie was quiet and seemed preoccupied during the meal. She guessed the girl was overwhelmed by it all, but no doubt relieved that her reckless behaviour – although it had taken some courage – had turned out all right in the end. More than all right. Fiona was satisfied now that the child she had given up so reluctantly had had the very best of homes. And she, Fiona, need worry and wonder no longer.

Debbie showed an interest, though, when Vera said to her, ‘Guess what, Debbie? Your daddy has said that we must have a phone put in. Isn't that splendid?'

Debbie nodded. ‘Yes, it's a smashing idea, Mum.'

‘Just in case you decide to go walkabout again,' said Stanley, laughing. ‘No, I don't mean it, pet. It's about time we moved into the twentieth century. It'll be useful for us. And we'll be able to keep in touch with our new friends.'

There was time to spare afterwards for the inevitable cup of tea, which followed every northern meal. Then Stanley proudly showed them around his garden; the vegetable plot, the herb-aceous border, and the greenhouse where he grew tomatoes and cucumbers and, this year, even courgettes and aubergines. ‘Not that I'm right keen on them meself,' he said, ‘but apparently they're popular now, according to our Debbie; they grow 'em at the garden centre, so I thought I'd give 'em a try.'

‘It's a splendid show,' said Simon. ‘I'm very impressed. And it looks as though Debbie's going to follow in your footsteps.'

‘Aye, she's not doing so badly,' said Stanley, smiling at her fondly. ‘We're proud of her, you know. She's worked hard at school, but she was always a clever lass.'

‘Give over, Dad!' said Debbie, looking a little embarrassed.

Fiona put an arm round her shoulders. ‘We're all very pleased with you, Debbie love. And you must come and see us … quite soon, if that's OK with your parents? And I know one little girl who'll be delighted to see you again.' Stella was quiet, and had her thumb in her mouth, indicating that she was ready for a nap.

‘We'd better be on our way,' said Fiona. ‘Thank you, Vera, for a lovely meal … and both of you for making us so welcome.'

She didn't make too much fuss of Debbie as they all said goodbye, just a quick hug and a kiss on her cheek; and Simon shook her hand and winked at her in a matey sort of way. Fiona kissed Vera's cheek, too, as they shook hands, just saying, ‘Goodbye … and thanks for everything.' She felt that they had reached a very good understanding of one another.

Fiona sat in the back of the car this time with Stella on her knee. The little girl was soon asleep. ‘That went off very well,' she remarked to Simon. ‘They're lovely people. I couldn't have wished for anyone better.'

‘I'm glad you're happy, darling,' he replied. ‘It must have been a tremendous shock for you.'

‘No more than it was for you with Greg,' she answered. ‘In fact, that must have been much worse, because you had no idea.'

Simon laughed. ‘Another revelation for the folk at church, eh? All in good time, of course. But I don't think anything we do can surprise them any more!'

Fiona had a phone call that evening. She recognized Joan Tweedale's voice straight away.

‘Hello there, Fiona,' said Joan. ‘I rang before, but …'

‘Yes; we've been out all day,' said Fiona.

‘Please forgive me for being nosy,' said Joan, ‘but I've been wondering … how did you get on with your little visitor?'

Fiona laughed. ‘Oh, it was you, was it? I rather thought from Debbie's description that it might have been you. Thank you for coming to her rescue. I dare say you might have guessed who she is?'

‘She told me you were her aunty,' said Joan. ‘Then I looked at her more closely and I thought it could be …?'

‘Yes, she is … my daughter. She's called Debbie, Deborah Hargreaves. And she lives in Whitesands Bay, up in Northumberland.'

‘I guessed from the way she spoke that she was from somewhere up there. She said she'd missed the bus. Poor little lass! She looked so sad and sorry for herself, sitting there on the bench. I take it you weren't expecting her?'

‘Good heavens, no! I had the shock of my life when I opened the door. I guessed who she was almost at once.'

‘And how was it? Did you find that you were able to bond with her? I should imagine she's quite a lively lass normally. She was really down in the dumps, though, when I found her.'

‘Thank heavens you did,' said Fiona. ‘Yes, we all got on well together after the initial shock. We both agree that she's a grand girl, though she's probably been a bit of a handful to bring up. Her … mother says so. That's where we've been today, taking her back to Whitesands Bay. Her parents are a lovely couple – Vera and Stanley, they're called – very homely and down-to-earth. She couldn't have had better parents … Anyway, I'll pop into the shop and see you, Joan, maybe tomorrow. Then I can tell you more. Thanks so much for looking after her. What were you doing up in Northallerton, anyway?'

‘I had a sudden phone call. My aunt Phyllis has had to go into a residential home. She can't look after herself any longer, and I'm her closest relative. So I closed the shop for the day and went to see her.'

‘And how did you find her? Is she happy enough there?'

‘Yes, she's a sensible person and she realizes it's the best thing to do. She has quite a few friends from the church, so she won't be short of visitors. And Harold and I will go up when we can.'

‘Very fortuitous as it happened, that you should be there,' said Fiona. ‘And now my mind's at rest knowing that Debbie's got a good home, and that I'll be able to keep in touch with her. She was quite a hit with our little Stella; they took to one another right away.'

‘Another shock in store for the congregation,' said Joan, laughing.

‘Quite so, but I think we'll leave it a little while. We've enough on our plate at the moment. Cheerio for now, Joan. Thanks again, and see you soon …'

The fundraising for the rebuilding of the church roof was progressing satisfactorily. Notices in the church newspapers advertising ‘High teas served in pleasant surroundings' had resulted in three bookings so far from other churches within comfortable travelling distances.

The catering committee consisted of the usual coterie of women, and it was decided that Mrs Bayliss should be the one in overall charge. Florence Catchpole, the newcomer, had agreed graciously with this – in fact it had been her suggestion – so what could have been rivalry between the two women had developed into a wary sort of friendship.

The first visit was from a church in Malton. They were to spend some time in York first of all, where there was much to see and do, and then travel on to Aberthwaite for high tea. This took place in mid-September and turned out to be a great success. Mrs Bayliss had purchased succulent home-baked hand and tongue – at a discount for a large amount – from a local butcher. Served with salad and new potatoes, and home-produced pickles, beetroot and chutney, it was a sumptuous spread. It was followed, inevitably, by the trifles for which Ethel Bayliss and Blanche Fowler were renowned.

Both Simon and the curate were there to welcome the group, and to wish them God speed and a safe journey home.

‘Well done, ladies,' said Simon. ‘An excellent start to our catering idea. I must admit I had my doubts at first, but you have proved me wrong. When is the next booking?'

‘In a fortnight's time,' Ethel told him, with a touch of pride. A church from the Bradford area. Then there's another one from up north, somewhere near Durham, a couple of weeks later. And we think that will be the last, for this year at any rate.'

‘Probably so,' agreed Simon. ‘It's doubtful that folks will want to travel in the late autumn and winter; Aberthwaite's a summer sort of place. But there's always next spring and summer to look forward to. So keep up the good work, ladies.'

‘Yes, hear, hear! And may I say that it was a really scrumptious meal,' added Joshua Bellamy, the curate. ‘That trifle …' He licked his lips. ‘It was quite something!'

‘We're glad you enjoyed it,' replied Ethel, a little frostily. She still had not taken to the new curate, as most people seemed to have done. He had appeared again in his clown outfit that he had worn at the garden party for the next children's address.

There had been a good deal of talk about what he might appear as next. The children in particular looked forward to his entertaining talks, and most people had to admit that they were relevant and meaningful, with a message for both the young and the older folk. They were not disappointed at the next family service when he appeared as a spaceman. There was a good deal of speculation as to when – or if ever – a man would land on the moon. A lot of nonsense, according to Ethel Bayliss; and his latest ‘Walter Mitty' appearance did nothing to change her opinion of the Reverend Joshua Bellamy.

The next church tea, for the party from Bradford, was to take place on the last Saturday in September.

Fiona had an appointment at the antenatal clinic a few days previous to this; a routine check that she had every month. It was no secret now in the parish that the rector's wife was expecting their second child, and everyone, bar none, was delighted about it. It had become obvious, though, even before she broke the news officially; one needed only to look at her normally slim figure to know that it was so.

Fiona herself was becoming quite concerned about her size. ‘Two and a half months to go yet,' she exclaimed to Simon. ‘At this rate I'll be as big as an elephant by December. I've tried to be careful, as they told me to be. I've cut down on salt, and I don't overeat; “eat for two”, as they say. I'm far bigger than I was with Stella.'

‘Perhaps it's a boy,' suggested Simon. ‘Would that make any difference?'

‘I doubt it,' said Fiona, ‘Stella weighed seven pounds, and that was quite enough to part with! Anyway, we'll see what the doctor says when I go to the clinic.'

‘I'll come with you,' said Simon. He usually drove her to the hospital and picked her up again later, but this time he decided to wait, and Fiona, somehow, felt that she needed him to be there.

She was in the consulting room rather longer than usual, and when she came out she was accompanied by a doctor. Simon could see by the startled look on her face that there was something unusual, but she smiled at him so he didn't think there was anything wrong.

‘We have some news for you, Mr Norwood,' said the doctor. ‘Your wife is expecting twins!'

‘Oh! Oh, my goodness!' exclaimed Simon. He hurried over to Fiona and put an arm round her. ‘Are you alright, darling?'

‘She's fine,' the doctor answered for her. ‘We detected two heartbeats, so there's no doubt about it. It's twins! Everything seems to be progressing normally and there shouldn't be any complications. Just take extra care Mrs Norwood. Keep an eye on your blood pressure – you can do that with your family GP – and try not to put on too much weight. Congratulations to you both! We'll see you in another month's time.'