Families and Friendships (26 page)

Shirley was reading a magazine. She put it down, looking a little uneasily at Vera and Stanley. ‘Er … no. I'm sorry, I don't know where she is.'

Vera thought, though, that she did know something, but it wasn't her place to push her any further. Shirley's father, however, looked at her shrewdly. ‘Are you quite sure you don't know anything, Shirley?'

The girl looked down at her feet. ‘No, well … not really.'

‘Now come along love,' said her mother. ‘You won't get into trouble. Has Debbie said anything to you? Look, her mum and dad are worried. Just think how worried we would be if it was you.'

‘I might know something …' Shirley looked nervously at Vera, seeming close to tears. ‘I don't know whether she really meant to do it but …'

‘Go on,' said her mother gently. ‘You must tell us, love.'

She started then on a tale of Debbie's adoption and wanting to find out about her birth mother. Vera listened in a stunned silence. Claire Wagstaff was mentioned, although Shirley didn't know her, and a boy called Ryan, who was Shirley's boyfriend. His mother had been in Burnside House with a girl called Fiona, and the crux of the matter was that Debbie had found out. She had pestered Ryan until he had told her that his mother, Ginny, was still friendly with Fiona, and when Ryan showed her a photograph, this Ginny had said that there could be no doubt about it: Debbie bore a striking resemblance to her friend.

Vera could scarcely take it in. Stanley put an arm round her. ‘Don't fret, love. If that's where she's gone, then she'll be safe … Where does she live then, this … Fiona?' he asked.

‘In Aberthwaite, north Yorkshire,' answered Shirley, a trifle unwillingly. ‘Ryan'll get into awful trouble, though. He wasn't supposed to say anything.'

‘I don't think he will,' said her mother. ‘Anyway, it's too late now to be worrying about that. We'd all better go round to Ryan's house and sort it out. Is that OK with you, Bill?' she asked her husband.

‘Yes, we'll go right away,' he answered, ‘I'll get the car.'

‘Oh, no, we can't put you to all that trouble,' said Vera. ‘Where do they live?'

‘In South Shields,' said Shirley, in a timid voice.

‘But that's miles away!'

‘Not all that far,' said Madge. ‘We'll soon get there. It seems that these kids have really set the cat among the pigeons. So we'll go and see what we can find out.'

The car was a large Hillman with plenty of room for the Crompton family plus Vera and Stanley. Shirley's parents had not met Ryan's mother and father, so there was a lot of explaining to do when they arrived.

‘I'm sorry,' said Ryan. He kept saying it, again and again. ‘I'm sorry, Mum … I'm sorry, Mrs Hargreaves …'

Vera felt confused, amazed beyond words at the turn or events. She recalled how curious Debbie had been at one time, about the circumstances of her birth, but she hadn't mentioned it recently.

‘She just wanted to know,' said Shirley. ‘She wasn't unhappy at home, or anything like that. She said it was just niggling away at her. But I really didn't think she'd do anything about it.'

‘That's our Debbie alright,' said Vera. ‘She won't let anything rest till she's got to the bottom of it. But we don't know for certain where she is, do we?'

‘I'm going to find out right away,' said Ginny. ‘I'll ring Fiona …'

She went out into the hall, and they all waited in silence, able to hear only a muffled one side of the conversation.

Ginny returned, smiling brightly. ‘Yes … she's there. And … Vera, Debbie wants to speak to you …'

When Fiona left her Debbie had a quick wash and cleaned her teeth. She hadn't brought any make-up as she had packed in such a rush – well, not really packed, just shoved some things into a bag – but it didn't matter about lipstick and powder. She had remembered a comb, though, and she quickly combed her hair and pushed it into place.

Rather diffidently she went downstairs, heading for the back of the house where she guessed the kitchen might be. There was an appetizing smell, and she realized that she felt hungry. She had only had her lunch sandwiches and a biscuit and a banana.

‘Hello,' she said shyly, pushing open the kitchen door. ‘Can I come in?'

‘Of course,' said Fiona, smiling pleasantly. ‘Come on in, dear. I'm just mashing some potatoes for us to have with the chicken casserole. Do you like chicken?'

‘I like anything,' replied Debbie. ‘Well, nearly everything. Chicken's one of my favourites.'

‘I expect your mother's a good cook, isn't she?' asked Fiona.

‘Yes, she is. She says she's just a plain cook, nothing fancy, you know. That's because my dad's a bit set in his ways; he doesn't like trying anything new. I've only just got them to try mushrooms.'

Fiona laughed. ‘Well, there's some in the casserole, so you should enjoy it.'

‘It sounds good … smells good, too,' said Debbie. ‘And I'm hungry. Er … can I do anything to help?'

‘Yes, why not? You can set the table, please, Debbie. Simon and I find it easier to dine in here when there's just the two of us. We use the dining room on a Sunday – though I don't really know why! – and if we have visitors. But you're family, aren't you, dear?' That made Debbie feel very happy.

‘Yes … I hope so,' she replied.

There was a large pine table in the centre of the kitchen. It was a cheerful room with yellow working surfaces and cupboards, and yellow and blue flowered curtains at the window. Fiona opened a drawer and took out a blue checked tablecloth. ‘There you are,' she said. ‘Knives and forks in that drawer, and table mats in the cupboard below. So I'll leave you to it. Simon's gone up with Stella, to get her ready for bed. We like to have our meal in peace,' she said, laughing, ‘but she's a good little girl, not much trouble at all.'

‘When is your baby due,' asked Debbie, ‘if you don't mind me asking?'

‘No, why should I?' smiled Fiona. ‘It's getting rather obvious, isn't it? I seem to be much bigger with this one. It's due at the beginning of December. Stella was born in December, on the eleventh, so I don't know whether it's good planning or not, to have them both with birthdays in the same month.'

‘Just one birthday party instead of two?' suggested Debbie. She was finding it very easy to talk to Fiona.

‘Maybe, it just depends, doesn't it? Children have their own ideas.' Fiona put the dish of mashed potato in the oven and turned to look at Debbie. ‘We must try to contact your parents very soon, dear. I can well imagine how worried they will be … It was really rather naughty of you, wasn't it?'

‘Yes, I know it was,' Debbie admitted. ‘But I think they might have found out where I am; well, Mum might at any rate. You see, my friend, Shirley, and Ryan – I told you about Ryan – they might guess where I've gone. And I know that the first person Mum would ask would be Shirley, and she'd have to tell them, wouldn't she? Oh dear! Shirley and Ryan'll get into awful trouble, and it's all my fault.'

‘It's a bit late to worry about that now,' said Fiona. ‘Anyway, I doubt that they'll be in serious trouble. All's well that ends well, as they say … Ah, here's Simon. I was just saying, darling, that we must contact Debbie's parents as soon as possible. Maybe after we've had our meal … I'll just go and tuck Stella in, then I'll serve it out. Debbie's set the table for me …'

‘I think we should try straight away,' said Simon. ‘I wanted to get Stella to bed first. Your parents will be very worried about you. Didn't you think about that?' He looked rather stern, and Debbie suddenly felt like crying again. Her face crumpled. ‘Yes … I'm sorry, really I am,' she said.

‘Come on, now, don't get upset … I understand.' He patted her shoulder. ‘It'll be OK. And Fiona and I have decided that after you've stayed the night with us, we'll take you home tomorrow. In the car, I mean.'

‘Oh, thank you, that's really good of you,' said Debbie. ‘I'm sorry to be such a nuisance.'

‘You're not, not at all. Now, I'm going to ring the operator and get your friend's number. What did you say her name is?'

Debbie gave him the name and address of the Crompton family. He was just about to go into the hall to use the phone when Fiona came back. ‘I'm going to ring now,' he said. ‘No time like the present.'

But the phone started ringing before he had the chance to dial. It was Fiona who went to answer it.

‘Hello, St Peter's rectory, Mrs Norwood speaking. How can I help you?'

Her face registered shock. ‘Ginny …? Well, how amazing! … Yes she is … She's here … Oh, about an hour ago … Yes, of course I will … . You go and tell her …'

Fiona returned to the kitchen. ‘That was my friend, Ginny,' she said. ‘Your parents are there, at her house. Come along, Debbie, love.' She handed her the receiver. ‘Come and speak to your mum.'

Simon and Fiona stayed in the kitchen whilst Debbie went to speak to her mother. She felt her hand shaking a little as she took hold of the receiver.

‘Mum …' she said, in a small voice. ‘Mum, I'm sorry, really I am, but I just had to find out, you see. I didn't mean to worry you …' There was a sob in her voice, and her mother answered quickly.

‘Now, don't start upsetting yourself, darling. Of course we were worried, your daddy and me. But now we know where you are, and that you're safe with … Fiona, isn't it?'

‘Yes, Fiona and Simon,' said Debbie, ‘and their little girl, Stella. She's lovely, Mum, the little girl, I mean, and they're all nice and friendly. But I'm coming home, you know. I wasn't running away or anything like that. I just … had to find out.'

‘I understand,' said Vera, quietly. ‘At least, I'm trying to. But why didn't you tell me how you were feeling, pet? I would have tried to understand. I suppose I knew that you would want to know more when you got older.' Debbie could hear a sort of laughter in her voice. ‘You're such a little nosy parker, aren't you?'

‘Yes, I suppose I am,' she replied. ‘Shirley and Ryan, they didn't get into awful trouble, did they? It was my fault, Mum. I made Ryan tell me.'

‘No, his mother wasn't cross with him, and we were all so relieved to know where you were. Ryan's a nice lad, and his parents as well. Ginny told us about how she met … Fiona. It's strange how it's all worked out. The main thing is … you're all right?'

‘Yes, I'm OK, Mum. I'm staying here tonight, then they're going to bring me home tomorrow, Simon and … Fiona.'

‘That's kind of them.'

‘Yes; it's lovely here, Mum; the countryside, and everything. But I'll be glad to be home … You're not terribly cross with me, are you?'

‘No, of course not.'

‘And … Dad?'

‘He was upset, but I think he understands.'

‘Good; tell him I'm sorry.' Then Debbie said something she hadn't said for ages, not since she was a tiny girl. ‘I love you, Mum,' she said.

‘I love you too,' said Vera, with a catch in her voice.

‘Bye then. See you tomorrow …'

Debbie was about to put the phone down when her mother said, ‘I'd better have a word with Fiona, hadn't I? Would you go and tell her, pet?'

Debbie went back to the kitchen. ‘My mum would like to speak to you … Fiona,' she said. It was the first time she called her by her name.

‘Very good,' said Fiona brightly. She went out, closing the door behind her. Debbie gave a sigh.

‘It was all right,' she told Simon. ‘I tried to explain to Mum why I had to come, and I think she understood … I'm sorry for causing so much trouble,' she said again.

‘Now stop that, Debbie; you haven't,' he said, quite positively. ‘In a way, I'm glad it's happened like this. I know that Fiona has wondered about you from time to time. Then Stella arrived, and I was glad she'd had another little girl.' He smiled at her. ‘And now we've got another family member. We must keep in touch now you've found us, if your parents agree, Debbie?'

‘I think they will,' she replied. She knew she would like to visit Aberthwaite again, but quite openly next time.

Fiona didn't divulge all that she and Vera had said to one another. She just said, ‘That's settled then. We'll start out early tomorrow, Debbie, and take you home. Your mum has very kindly offered to make us a meal, then we'll have to set off back again. Simon's his own boss, aren't you, darling? But he can't be away for too long … Now, you must be starving, Debbie. Sit yourselves down, and I'll serve the meal.'

The chicken casserole was delicious, and Debbie forgot all the worry and tension of the day as she tucked into it. Simon opened a bottle of wine, a sweet German one that he said was a favourite of theirs. She guessed he was quite a ‘go-ahead' sort of vicar. He poured her a small glass.

‘A little celebration,' he said. ‘It isn't every day that we find another member of the family.' He smiled. ‘I'll tell you sometime, Debbie, how I met my long-lost son.'

‘A story for later,' said Fiona. ‘We've a lot of catching up to do.'

After they had eaten the plum tart that followed, Simon offered to do the washing up.

‘Off you go, you two girls,' he said, ‘and when I've finished this lot I'll make us all some coffee.'

Fiona took Debbie into the lounge, a more elegant room than the homely living room, with a three-piece suite in moss green, with toning velvet curtains and bright scatter cushions in a floral design of green, orange and brown.

‘Simon's a good husband, isn't he?' said Debbie, to open the conversation. ‘Does he help you a lot?' She knew that most husbands did not do so. Her own father, for instance, very rarely helped to wash up, and her mother never seemed to mind waiting on him hand and foot.