Families and Friendships (29 page)

When the doctor had gone Fiona had to sit down for a moment. ‘I'm amazed!' she said. ‘I can't quite take it in. Perhaps I should have realized with me getting so big, but I never thought about twins.'

‘Are you pleased, though?' asked Simon.

‘Yes … I think I am,' she answered. ‘Very pleased.' She smiled. ‘What about you?'

‘I'm delighted!' he said. ‘Come on, let's get back and pick up Stella.' The little girl was being looked after by a member of the Young Wives group who had a daughter the same age.

They hadn't told Stella, yet, as some parents liked to do, that she would soon be having a baby brother or sister. ‘Soon' didn't mean much to a child of her age, so they had decided to wait until the birth was a little nearer. Then, what could they tell her to look forward to? Simon and Fiona talked about it, inevitably, and wondered. What would they be? Two boys? Two girls? Or one of each? Identical … or not? It was useless to speculate, and they agreed that it didn't matter at all. The only thing that concerned them was that the babies should arrive safely, and that Fiona would come through it with the least possible trouble.

The first person that Fiona told was her friend, Joan. She went to visit the shop the next morning, with Stella in her pushchair. She sat down on the chair provided for customers whilst Joan dealt with a lady buying knitting wool. She was finding that she needed to sit down now when she had walked a fair distance, something that rather annoyed her. She had always been so active, hardly ever feeling tired, even during the last stages of her two previous pregnancies. Of course she knew the reason for her lassitude now – two babies for the price of one! – so she must try not to worry about it but to think that it would be worth it in the end.

‘Hello there, Fiona, and hello to you, Stella,' said Joan when the customer had gone.

‘Hello, Aunty Joan,' said the little girl.

Fiona didn't stand up immediately, causing Joan to say, ‘Feeling a bit jaded today, are you, love? Social visit is it, or do you want to buy something?'

‘Just a bit jaded,' smiled Fiona, getting to her feet. ‘What do I want? Well, double the amount of knitting wool might not be a bad idea!'

Joan looked puzzled for a moment, then her eyes opened wide. ‘What do you mean? You're not having twins, are you?'

‘Yes, I am.' Fiona laughed. ‘What a fool I was not to realize. Yes, I found out at the clinic yesterday.'

‘Well, that's wonderful news,' said Joan. ‘At least it is … if you think so?'

‘Yes, we do,' replied Fiona. ‘We're very pleased. Simon's thrilled to bits, more so than I am, I think. But men don't have to give birth, do they?'

‘No, that's true,' agreed Joan. ‘You've not had much trouble before, though, have you?'

‘No, they were quite normal births … both of them. It might be different this time, though. I'm not unduly worried, except about the amount of weight I've put on. I'm really trying to be careful about what I eat, and everything else.'

‘Yes, you must take care, and rest when you can,' said Joan. ‘There are plenty of other folk to cope with the parish duties. You're not part of this new catering committee, are you?'

‘No … Simon advised me not to get involved this time. Mrs Bayliss is in her element, being in charge, and Mrs Catchpole's a great asset to the group. They did a splendid job with the first tea party, and no doubt the one on Saturday will go off just as well. I shall pop in and see how they're going on.'

Yes, make an appearance as the rector's wife, and chat to the visitors,' said Joan. ‘They'll like that. But keep out of the kitchen! There's enough of them to cope with it all. I wouldn't bother doing any knitting this time, if I were you. When this news breaks all the women will be getting busy. You'll have matinee coats and bootees by the dozen!'

‘Everyone was so kind when Stella was born,' said Fiona. ‘The garments were mostly blue or yellow, or white, hardly any pink.'

‘Yes, people choose what they call safe colours, that'll do for either sex. Doubly difficult this time, isn't it?' She laughed. ‘Quite a few permutations, aren't there?'

‘That's what Simon and I were saying. We haven't said anything to Stella yet.'

‘Very wise, or you'd be pestered to death! “When's the baby coming, Mummy?” Bless her!' Joan smiled lovingly at Stella, who had nodded off for a catnap as she tended to do after a ride in her pushchair; she was always up with the lark, raring to start the day.

‘I'll take your advice and not make any more baby clothes,' said Fiona, ‘but I thought I'd try my hand at a cot blanket. In thick wool, so that it'll grow faster,' she laughed. ‘I'm not the most patient person when I'm knitting. I like to see quick results. What do you suggest?'

‘Bright colours for a start,' said Joan, ‘as a change from the baby pastel shades. What about this?' She showed Fiona some chunky wool in variegated colours, changing from bright blue, to mauve, to yellow, to green as you knitted, and a lacy pattern that was quite easy to follow.

Stella woke up as they were ready to go. ‘Hello, Aunty Joan,' she said sleepily.

‘It's goodbye now, darling,' said Joan, kissing her cheek. Then she hugged Fiona. ‘Take care, love. I'm so thrilled at your news.'

The tea party for the church group from Bradford on the following Saturday was just as successful as the previous one had been. Fiona took Stella round to the church hall towards the end of the proceedings. She didn't want to partake of the tea as she and Simon would be dining later, but she liked to be there for part of the time, as the rector's wife, to chat with the ladies – they were mostly ladies, with just a few men – from the visiting church and make them feel welcome.

They were coming to the end of their meal. Once again it had been a salad meal, with cold chicken this time, and potato salad, followed by luscious cream cakes from the local bakery instead of trifle. In the centre of each table there was a small arrangement of autumn flowers – miniature chrysanthemums, dahlias, late flowering roses and Michaelmas daisies – which added a festive touch.

Fiona popped into the kitchen to say hello to the band of willing helpers there. Possibly rather too many? she wondered, milling about and getting into one another's way; but presumably they knew what they were doing. Josh, the curate, was there too. For some reason he liked to help out in the kitchen, especially when it was time to clear away and wash up. At the moment they seemed to be making extra tea for those who wanted a second cup.

She went back to join Stella, who was in Simon's charge, and being fussed over by ladies she hadn't met before. ‘What a delightful child, Mrs Norwood,' said one of the women. ‘My goodness, you'll have your hands full soon, though, won't you?' Simon hadn't been able to keep their news to himself for even a day.

Fiona didn't have time to answer. There was a shout and a shriek from the kitchen, and she dashed back there as quickly as she could. Mrs Bayliss was doubled up, clearly in some pain, and at the side of her was an upturned metal jug in which there must have been boiling water.

It was Josh who took control of everything. He ran out and grabbed a chair from the hall and, between them, he and Fiona helped Mrs Bayliss to sit down. Simon appeared in the kitchen, but Fiona told him that everything was under control, so he must keep the party going in the hall, and look after Stella.

‘Now, Mrs Bayliss,' said Josh, putting a comforting arm round her shoulders, ‘first of all you'd better get your stocking off before it starts to stick to your leg. It's all right,' he smiled, at her look of horror. ‘I won't watch. Fiona will help you, but I do know a bit about first aid. I used to be a scout; “Be Prepared” and all that.'

‘Where's the first aid box?' asked one of the ladies. ‘Oh dear! We don't often need it, do we? I think it's in this cupboard.'

‘What about some vaseline, or some TCP?' said another person. ‘And there's some bandages in the box.'

‘No, nothing like that.' Josh shook his head. ‘We need to pour lukewarm water over the scald, no ointment. Obviously you can't hold your leg under the tap, can you, Mrs Bayliss?' He smiled a little mischievously at her.

‘No, I doubt it, young man,' she said with a touch of her usual asperity. ‘I'm not quite as agile as I used to be.'

‘So we'll get a bowl of water and bathe it. Come along, ladies; a washing up bowl, please, and a jug and a clean cloth.'

Mrs Fowler filled a bowl and Josh tested it with his hand. ‘Yes; that seems OK. Now, Mrs Bayliss, you pop your foot in there.'

‘And take these aspirin tablets, Ethel,' said Blanche Fowler, handing her two tablets and a glass of water. ‘They'll help take the pain away, and I'll make you a nice cup of tea.'

Ethel looked very shaken and embarrassed, too, with her skirt held high above her plump knee and calf. The skin was red and blistering, and she was obviously in pain. She took hold of Fiona's hand. ‘Thank you, dear,' she said, ‘and you too … Mr Bellamy. You're very kind.'

Josh started to pour the water on the affected area, over and over again. ‘Is that easing it?' he asked gently. ‘Feeling a bit better now, Mrs Bayliss?'

‘I think so,' she said. ‘But it's smarting and tingling. Oh dear! I'm a silly fool, aren't I? I don't know what happened. I just filled the jug up from the boiler, then perhaps I turned round too quickly and slipped … I don't know.'

‘Accidents just happen, don't they?' said Josh, carrying on with the bathing, ‘in a split second. You'll be fine, Mrs Bayliss, I'm sure, but it might be as well to let a doctor take a look at you. I'm only a novice … But maybe I'm capable of doing a bit more than clowning around, do you think?' He grinned at her roguishly.

Ethel smiled back, a shade diffidently. ‘Oh, I think so … Joshua,' she replied. ‘I'm getting older, you know; rather more set in my ways. Although I've never taken readily to change … But I reckon you'll do very well.'

‘Thank you for that,' said the curate, humbly. ‘It means a lot to me.' He sounded as though he really meant it. ‘Not so much of the getting old, though,' he whispered. ‘You're just a spring chicken compared with some of 'em, isn't she, Fiona?'

‘Yes, I'll second that,' agreed Fiona. ‘You have far more energy than I have at the moment, Mrs Bayliss.'

‘But then I'm not expecting twins, am I?' smiled the lady. ‘Arthur and I were so pleased to hear about it.'

‘News travels fast, doesn't it?' said Fiona. She turned to Josh. ‘What do you think we should do next, for Mrs Bayliss?'

‘No bandaging,' said Josh. ‘What about some polythene bags wrapped loosely round the area? Would you see if you can find some, please, Fiona?'

‘I'll be trussed up like a turkey,' said Ethel. ‘I tell you what, Fiona. It's a good job I don't wear these newfangled tights that all you lasses are wearing. It must be quite a pantomime getting them on and off.'

‘You get used to them,' smiled Fiona, ‘and they're very comfortable. This is women's talk,' she said, at an enquiring look from Josh. ‘Not for your ears, Joshua!'

‘Now, what have you been doing to yerself, lass?' said a familiar voice. Arthur Bayliss appeared in the kitchen, hurrying over to his wife. ‘My goodness! That looks a bit of a mess, doesn't it?'

‘It would have been worse if these kind people hadn't taken care of me,' said Ethel. ‘They've been wonderful. What are you doing here anyway, Arthur?'

‘Simon rang me up, and I came straight away,' he said. ‘Now, I reckon we'd best let a doctor have a look at you. Come on, lass, we'll get up to the hospital. I've got the car outside. See, I've brought your slippers, both of 'em. I didn't know which leg it was.'

Ethel managed to slip her foot into the slipper. ‘Now, can you manage to walk? Hold on to my arm.'

With her husband and Josh on either side of her she managed to hobble out of the kitchen and through the hall. She was greeted by calls from the visitors.

‘Good luck, Mrs Bayliss …'

‘Hope you go on all right …'

‘Thank you ever so much for a lovely tea …'

‘Take care now, dear …'

Fiona and Simon, with Stella holding on to his hand, walked with them to Arthur's car and settled her in the front seat. Ethel seemed very touched by the good wishes from the folk from Bradford.

‘What a nice lot of people,' she said. ‘They seem a jolly crowd. And everybody's been very kind. Thanks again … Joshua, and all of you, of course.' Fiona thought she could see an incipient tear in the corner of one eye, something she had never thought would be possible.

‘Come on then, let's be having you,' said Arthur. He started up the engine. ‘Thanks from me an' all. I'll let you know how Ethel goes on.'

‘Poor old Ethel!' said Simon, although he would never dream of using her Christian name to her face. ‘She seems … almost subdued, doesn't she? And that's something I never thought we'd see.'

‘And she's made a new friend as well,' said Fiona, smiling mischievously at the curate. ‘Hasn't she, Josh?'

‘Wonders never cease!' said Simon. ‘Thank you, Josh, for performing a miracle.'

The curate laughed. ‘Let's hope she's OK. It was rather a nasty scald. She won't be able to dash around quite as much. She'll be forced to take a back seat for a while, I shouldn't wonder.'

Fiona laughed. ‘Then let's be thankful for small mercies! No … I don't suppose I really mean that. Joking apart, the ladies will feel lost without Ethel at the helm.'

There was one more church visit booked by a group from the Durham area for mid-October. Mrs Bayliss hoped, by then, to be fit enough to take some part in the event. It had been a pretty bad scald, but the good lady was always quick to say that it might have been much worse if Joshua – she usually gave him his full name – had not given her first aid treatment so speedily. The use of his Christian name did, indeed, show that he was now regarded much more favourably. She had formerly referred to him as ‘that curate'.