Families and Friendships (33 page)

Debbie was thrilled to be dining out as it was something that she and her parents – and most of their acquaintances – did very rarely. She was wearing for the occasion a new dress that she had bought from Marks and Spencer in Newcastle. A mini dress – but not so mini as to ‘show yer next week's washing!' as her father put it – in woollen rayon with horizontal stripes of red and black running across the bodice, and vertical stripes below the dropped waistline. Her black patent leather boots and her shoulder bag went very well with it, and the finishing touch was her pair of large black earrings – Woolworth's best – in the shape of a daisy.

Debbie and the two young men walked to the restaurant as it was only a short distance away, whilst Simon and Fiona drove there in the car. Fiona had told Debbie that she was very self-conscious about her size. ‘Only another month to go now, and I can't wait, believe me!'

‘You look fine,' Debbie had assured her, and it was true. She looked radiant and happy, despite her obvious discomfort. Her blue eyes were as bright as ever and her hair shone like a feathery golden halo. She wore a loose pinafore dress in her favourite blue, with a floral blouse beneath it. She could not disguise her pregnancy, nor did she want to, but she managed to look elegant.

Tessa, in a black dress and a red frilly apron handed them the giant-sized menus.

‘Remember, it's my treat,' said Greg. ‘Choose whatever you like.'

The choice was vast, ranging from pizzas and pasta dishes to fish, pork, beef steak; even sausage and mash or ham and eggs for the less adventurous diners. They all decided to forgo the starters, apart from a large platter of garlic bread with a cheesy topping which they ate whilst they waited for the main course.

They all decided to ‘go Italian', the younger ones choosing giant-sized pizzas, and Simon and Fiona opting for lasagne and the chef's speciality, spaghetti bolognese. Simon insisted that he must pay for the wine, a rich red Cabernet Sauvignon which, he was assured, would be the perfect accompaniment to the meals. And what could they finish with but ice cream in a myriad of flavours, made as only the Italians could do.

Debbie looked round at the stylish surroundings; an Italian setting, inevitably, but not overdone. Wrought iron candle holders and wall brackets, colourful jugs and plates in the chunky Majolica style, lamps fashioned from Chianti bottles, and sepia photos of old Milan, Rome and Verona on the walls. She felt as though she was in another world, a dream from which she would soon awake. But it was all real enough. She sat between the two brothers, wishing that her friends from school could see her now. She gave a contented smile, one that Simon noticed.

‘Enjoying yourself, are you, Debbie?' he asked, grinning at her in a friendly way.

‘Ooh yes! Ever so much,' she replied. ‘It's been a lovely evening. Thank you, Greg, and Simon … and everybody.' She knew that the wine had affected her just a little bit, making her feel even happier than she was already. But Fiona had made sure that she drank only one glass. Debbie knew why; she remembered how Fiona had told her about what happened to her at Battersea Park. Fiona, too, had drunk very little that night, no doubt because of the babies.

‘Well, unwilling as I am to break up the party, we'd better get back to our babysitter,' said Simon. He helped Fiona and Debbie with their coats whilst Greg paid the bill.

‘Ciao!' Greg said to Maria. ‘We've had a great time. You can be sure we'll come again.'

Maria, and Giovanni, too, portly in his black suit, and with a well-groomed moustache, both stood at the door to say goodbye, as they all stepped out into the cold evening air. The three young ones linked arms, Debbie in the middle, as they strode along the High Street and then up the lane that led to the rectory. She felt at ease with both of them; she hoped she would see them again … sometime.

Debbie insisted on helping Fiona as much as she could the next day. Simon and the two lads had gone hiking, taking sandwiches for their lunch.

‘We'll have a sandwich lunch, too,' said Fiona, ‘then this afternoon we'll go to the market.'

It was good helping Fiona in the kitchen, preparing the vegetables and potatoes for the casserole she would be making for their early evening meal, then keeping Stella amused, playing with her building bricks and her large family of dolls and animals. She felt that Fiona was like a friend or a big sister, and she didn't feel awkward now at using her first name.

Debbie loved the market, as Fiona had said she would. They had only a market hall at home, not an outdoor country market. It seemed so much more exciting out of doors. She loved the smell of the fruit and vegetable stalls, and the stalls with farmers' produce – cheese, eggs, butter, and home-made jams and pickles. And on the other side of the market cross, the stall with knitting wool and material, the ironmongery, and the china and crockery. Fiona did some shopping, storing it in the bag attached to Stella's pushchair, and Debbie bought a box of assorted fudge for her parents.

‘Now, there's someone I want you to meet,' said Fiona when they had seen all that the market had to offer.

They walked a little way along the High Street to a shop with a colourful window display. Knitting wool, material, ribbons, lace … everything that one might need for sewing and handicrafts.

The door bell pinged as Fiona entered, followed by Debbie who was now pushing the pram. There were no customers in the shop, only a ginger-haired lady with a pleasant face and a friendly smile behind the counter. Debbie thought she looked familiar, then she gave a little gasp of surprise. It was the kind lady who had given her a lift when she missed the bus.

‘I think you two have met before,' said Fiona. ‘Debbie, this is my good friend, Joan.'

The woman stepped from behind the counter and gave her a quick hug. ‘Good to see you again, Debbie,' she said. ‘I've heard a lot about you.'

‘Oh …' Debbie was taken aback for a moment. ‘Hello … yes, nice to see you again … I'm sorry I told you a fib; Fiona's not my aunty. But thank you for rescuing me.'

‘No, I guessed that at the time,' said Joan, with a twinkle in her eye. ‘I already knew Fiona's story. And I'm really pleased it's turned out so well for all of you. You've come to listen to the band, have you?'

‘Yes, but I was coming anyway to see Fiona and Simon, and Stella of course. The concert's an extra treat, and meeting Greg and Graham as well.'

‘Goodness! You're having a busy weekend, Fiona,' said Joan. ‘Mind you don't overdo it.'

‘Debbie is being a great help, and the lads as well,' replied Fiona. ‘So don't worry about me, I'm fine.'

They chatted for a while whilst Stella had a nap as she usually did after a ride in her pushchair. ‘Cheerio for now,' said Joan as they departed. ‘See you tonight. We shall go nice and early; we're expecting a good crowd.'

The church hall was already more than half full when Simon and his family arrived at just turned seven o'clock. Simon had left the organization and the catering to the team of helpers. He would be in charge of the proceedings, as the rector, but apart from that he had little to do but socialize and make everyone welcome.

Fiona had come along, as the babysitter was available again. Debbie sensed, though, that she was a little tired and uncomfortable, despite her insistence that she was fine. Fiona didn't introduce her to anyone but Debbie felt, from the looks she was receiving – curious but not unfriendly – and the knowing little smiles, that people had realized who she could be. It was the same with Greg, of course, but they had met him before. No doubt they would be wondering who Graham might be!

The room soon filled up, and extra chairs were brought in for the latecomers. Then, on the dot of seven thirty, the members of the band marched down the centre aisle, resplendent in their maroon uniforms, with gold braid and brass buttons. Their brass instruments gleamed brightly, and the smiles of the musicians were bright as well as they were greeted by the anticipatory applause of the audience. Simon made a short speech of welcome to the Abercombe and District Brass Band, then the concert began.

It was a feast of the very best in brass band music from beginning to end. They started with ‘Strike Up the Band', which was their signature tune, followed by the Radetsky march, then ‘The Carnival of Venice' with a splendid cornet solo. The young man blushed as he received an extra round of applause.

The majority of the band members were men, both young and not so young, although there were a few women as well, two young and two rather older, playing the clarinet and the French horn. There was music for all tastes; haunting tunes such as ‘Greensleeves' and ‘Finlandia' as well as the more traditional marches.

Tea and biscuits were served at the interval, for which everyone queued up at the serving hatch. Debbie offered to bring a cup for Fiona, but she insisted on getting up as she was stiff with sitting for so long. She introduced Debbie to a group of young – well, youngish – women who stopped to speak to her and ask her how she was feeling.

‘These are my friends from the Young Wives group,' she said. ‘Ruth, Heather, Gillian, Sandra … and you've met Joan, of course. Ladies, this is Debbie, my long-lost daughter!'

Debbie smiled and said, ‘Hello …' a little shyly.

‘It's alright; they all know the story,' said Fiona.

‘Yes, we do, and we were so pleased to hear that you had found one another,' said one.

‘Such a happy ending!' said another.

‘Yes it is,' said Debbie, smiling at Fiona. ‘It's lovely, because I've got my mum and dad at home, and now I've got Fiona and Simon, and little Stella.'

‘And two more on the way,' laughed another of the ladies.

‘As if I could forget!' said Fiona, with a grimace.

There was another lady, too, behind the serving hatch, pouring out the tea. She was much older and plumper and she wore a felt hat. She smiled at Debbie in a questioning sort of way, so Debbie smiled back at her.

‘Oh, Mrs Bayliss …' said Fiona, and Debbie could hear a touch of amusement in her voice. ‘This is Debbie. She's my daughter, in case you were wondering. You remember the story, of course? She came to find me. You may have heard about it?'

‘Well, yes, actually I did hear something about it,' said the woman. ‘How nice to meet you, Debbie. And where do you live, my dear?'

‘In Whitesands Bay, in Northumberland,' said Debbie, ‘with my mum and dad. I've just come for a visit, to see Fiona and everybody.'

‘I see … That's nice … You're a pretty girl,' she added. ‘Just like Fiona. Well, enjoy the rest of the concert, dear.'

‘Thank you; I'm sure I will,' said Debbie.

The woman turned round, and as Debbie walked away, carrying the cups of tea, she was aware of Fiona smiling to herself.

‘Who was that?' she asked. ‘Do I sense a sort of … what? Rivalry … disapproval?'

‘Mrs Bayliss is an old adversary of mine. She was rather critical of me when I first married Simon,' Fiona told Debbie in a quiet voice. ‘She was the big noise in the Mothers' Union, and she didn't like the idea of the rector's wife taking over. Not that I tried to; I started the Young Wives group instead. And she was horrified when she found out about my first pregnancy.' She smiled at Debbie. ‘But I'm forgiven now – though it's not completely forgotten – and Ethel and I get along quite well.'

They sat down to drink their tea. ‘You have to try to get on with everyone, I suppose,' said Debbie, ‘with you being the rector's wife. It can't always be easy.'

‘No, it isn't,' said Fiona. ‘I didn't realize, until I married Simon, about all the inner politics of the church, and the arguing and backbiting that can go on beneath the surface. It only takes one or two to upset the apple cart!'

‘I'm sure it's a happy church, though, isn't it, with Simon in charge?' said Debbie. ‘He has all the right qualities. He's dynamic, and friendly, and understanding … I'm glad that everything has worked out so well for you, Fiona.'

‘Thank you, Debbie,' said Fiona quietly. ‘Yes; you've had splendid parents, and I found a good husband. I've come to realize, since I met Simon, that God does have a hand in our worldly affairs. Anyway, no sermonizing, eh? Would you take these cups back, please, there's a good girl? Then we'll enjoy the rest of the concert.'

The band started the second half with the ‘Grand March' from
Aida
followed by the overture to
Iolanthe
. There followed music from opera and ballet, a French horn soloist playing ‘The Swan' by Saint Saens, which was of particular interest to Graham, and even a Beatles' medley.

After the concert Simon gave a well-deserved vote of thanks, and there was rapturous applause as the members of the band marched out.

‘A huge success,' he told the helpers, ‘and I'm sure we'll have made a good amount towards our roofing fund.'

Simon was urged not to stay behind and help with the clearing away – the ever helpful Josh was on hand to do that – but to go home with Fiona who was looking pleased and happy, but very tired. She admitted as much when they arrived back at the rectory. The babysitter, Jennifer, assured them that Stella had been no trouble at all.

‘I'll go and take a peep at her,' said Fiona. ‘Then, if no one minds, I'll go straight to bed.'

‘Yes, off you go, darling,' said Simon. ‘Would you like me to bring you a drink?'

‘No thanks,' she said. ‘I'm ready to go straight to sleep.'

Debbie, who was quite at home in the kitchen now, made tea for all of them. Simon retired to bed after a little while, leaving the younger ones to stay up chatting till midnight.

Fiona fell asleep almost at once, physically and mentally tired by the events of the day but happy, too, at the thought of her extended family around her. She woke a couple of house later, as was usual, for her trip to the bathroom, one of the more annoying symptoms of pregnancy in the later stages.