Stoney Beck

by Jean Houghton-Beatty

  On her way back to the cottage, she saw Andy’s car pull into the inn’s parking lot. She watched as he and Prissy Smith stepped out, laughing at some secret joke, then strolled, arms around each other toward the inn. Jenny had almost made it back to the cottage without being seen, when Andy looked up and spotted her. He waved and took a step toward her but when Prissy grabbed his arm, he shrugged as if for Jenny’s benefit and allowed himself to be pulled along. Prissy saw her too and waved, then laughed and leaned her head on Andy’s shoulder as they walked into the inn. Jenny stopped and stared after them, legs suddenly heavy, tired. She took her key out and looked at her watch. Seven o’clock, which would make it two o’clock in North Carolina. Only a slim chance Uncle Tim would be home in the middle of an afternoon, but she was suddenly desperate to hear his voice, even if just on the answering machine. She remembered what he’d said that last day at the airport. All they had in this whole wide world was each other. Well, got that right.

  The telephone was ringing even as she stuck the key in the lock and opened the door. She ran to get it and collapsed in the armchair as she picked up the receiver.

  “Hello.”

  “Jenny? Hi. How’s it going, honey?”

  “Uncle Tim.” Her voice was too loud, too excited. “Oh wow, are you psychic or what. Gosh, it’s good to hear your voice. I was just about to pick up the phone and call you.”

  There was a pause, then. “Jenny? You OK? You sound, kinda, well kinda—”

  “Kinda like I was missing you? I am Uncle Tim. I really am.”

  A chuckle from the other end. “Ah, I could have told you. You ready to come home?”

  “Almost. Won’t be long now. But there is something I have to tell you.”

  “Uh oh. Don’t tell me you’ve lost your ATM card. You haven’t lost your passport have you?”

  “No, nothing like that.”

  “What then?”

  “It’s about Charles Woodleigh.”

  “You mean your—”

  “Yeah, my real father.”

  There was another pause, longer this time. “What about him?”

  “Are you sitting down?”

  “Yeah. Is it that bad?”

  “Let’s see what you think. He’s a priest, Uncle Tim.”

  A sharp brittle laugh came down the phone. “Can you speak up. I could have sworn you said the man was a priest.”

  “I did. He has a church and everything.”

  “Are you telling me your father’s an honest to God practicing Roman Catholic priest?”

  She nodded into the phone. “I went to Mass at his church. Stayed back with some other folks for refreshments. We even talked some, and well, he’s real nice. I like him. You would too.” She twisted a strand of hair around her finger at the insipid words. She’d just told her uncle she’d found her true father and all she could think to say was he was real nice. No trumpets blared, no cymbals crashed, just silence on the other end of the line.

  “Uncle Tim? You still there?”

  “Yeah. Just trying to take it in. Why haven’t you mentioned this before?”

  “Didn’t know how you’d take it.”

  “Son of a bitch,” Uncle Tim finally said. “Son of a bitch.”

  “See. This is why I didn’t tell you. Knew you’d get mad.”

  Uncle Tim coughed. “I’m not mad, Jenny. Honest. Just surprised as hell.”

  “I know. I don’t know whether he was a priest when he had that affair with Mom. There’s never been a real chance to find out. I need your advice though. If you were a priest, what would you do if you suddenly found out you had a—had a twenty-three-year-old daughter?”

  “Oh, God, Jenny, how would I know. I’m about as far from the priesthood as anyone can get.”

  “Uncle Tim, you’ve got to help me. There’s no one else I can ask.” She took a deep breath and searched for the right words. “He’s got a good life here. If I tell him, it might ruin him. I saw this movie once where a priest had an affair and his bishop banished him to some rundown church in the middle of nowhere. Still, if I don’t tell him, maybe someday I’ll wish I had, someday when it’s too late. Please, Uncle Tim. What do I do?”

  Her palms felt sweaty on the receiver while she waited for her uncle’s answer, and then,

  “Tell him, Jenny. Show him the picture of him with your mom. See how he reacts. If he wasn’t already a priest, it won’t be so bad. And if he was a priest, well, you’ve put the ball in his court. Let him decide. You can’t take responsibility for something that wasn’t your fault.”

  “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” She tapped the phone lightly with her index finger. How to explain to her uncle some malicious old bat had stolen the picture and was blackmailing her.

  “It must have crossed his mind more than once that there could’ve been a baby,” her Uncle said. “And as far as I’m concerned, he’s damn lucky to have a daughter like you. Damn lucky.”

  Tears pricked her eyes. “Thanks, Uncle Tim,” she said thickly. “I really needed that.”

  “You want me to come over? I got my passport renewed just in case. One word from you and I can be on the next plane “

  “Not yet. Let me see how things go. There’s no need in your spending all that money, not yet anyway.”

  “It isn’t so much the money. It’s just that right now I’m in the middle of one of the biggest deals of the century.”

  Even in the midst of all her problems, she couldn’t help but smile. As far back as she could remember, Uncle Tim had been in the middle of one of the biggest deals of the

  century. She held on tight to the phone. He made it all sound so simple, so right. What good would Biddy’s blackmailing be if the priest already knew.

  “Have you had any luck finding out anything else?” her uncle asked.

  Jenny clutched the receiver. He meant her Mother’s note. “No but I’m working on it.” She told him about Dr. Thorne, said he was probably the doctor her Mom had talked about, who at this very moment was on his way home from France.”

  “Ah. Well, you be sure to call and let me know how it goes,” he said. “Just remembered something I read once. It might help. The truth will set you free.”

  “You bet and, well, thanks for getting the passport just in case. Thanks for everything. Love you, Uncle Tim.”

  “I love you too, honey.”

  After she’d hung up, she put the kettle on for a cup of tea then fixed a cheese sandwich. Thank God for her Uncle. She didn’t have a clue why Biddy wanted her out of the village, but it had to be something crucial and she’d be damned if she’d let the woman get away with it. Come to think of it, she may even be doing Jenny a favor.

  Tomorrow she’d go see Dr. Thorne. Here was where she had an edge over Biddy who wasn’t expecting him back for at least another month. When Andy told her his uncle was coming in on the ten o’clock, he’d just been on the phone to him in Paris. The only other people who knew were herself and Ada.

  She took a slow leisurely bath then put on her terry-cloth robe. She gazed out the bedroom window that overlooked the parking lot. Andy’s car was still out there. The soft sounds of the inn’s grand piano, one of those old romantic tunes she couldn’t quite recall, something from the fifties or sixties, wafted through the window. The inn door suddenly opened and Andy and Prissy came out. They were laughing as they dashed through the rain, a newspaper over their heads. Prissy grabbed his hand and pulled him close, clinging to him like a tentacle. Jenny looked at her watch. Nine thirty. Time for Andy to head for the station to pick up his uncle. Well, let him go. She had more important things on her mind. Still, she slammed the window shut and yanked the drapes closed before stomping into the kitchen to straighten up. After an hour of television she went to bed.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The next morning, when Jenny entered the shop, Ada stood with a mug of tea in her hand, talking to a man who looked to be in his middle seventies. Except for his outlandish clothes, he was an older ver
sion of Anthony Hopkins, one of Jenny’s favorite movie stars. The man wore tweeds, with a royal blue vest and cloth cap to match, all topped off with a blue and white striped bow tie. He leaned his back against the counter, a folded newspaper in one hand and a mug of tea in the other.

  Ada beckoned Jenny over. “Come and meet Dr. Thorne. I’ve been telling him about you.”

  “Nothing bad, I hope. Can’t believe you’re still speaking to me after yesterday. Boy, was I a klutz.”

  Dr. Thorne gave a bellow of a laugh as he placed his mug on the counter and stretched out a giant paw. “Not only is she speaking to you, she’s been singing your praises to high heaven. Said you deserve a medal.”

  Jenny’s gaze was riveted on the man. Even his voice sounded like Anthony Hopkins. She finally let go of his hand. Was she at long last standing face to face with the man who had brought her into the world?

  Ada reached for another mug then picked up the teapot. “What do you say to someone like her, Angus?” she asked as she poured the tea and handed the mug to Jenny. “Over here on holiday from America, and just because Sarah asks her to stay and help me out, she says yes without thinking twice.”

  Jenny took a sip of the tea, then set the mug on the counter. “I like being in the shop,” she said, surprised at her normal voice. “I’ve made friends and it’ll be something to tell the folks when I get home.”

  The doctor tilted his head to one side and gave her a quizzical look. “Have you been to the Lakes before? I have this strange feeling I know you from somewhere. “

  Jenny shook her head as she leaned against the counter. A solid thump had started deep in her chest.

  “You put me in mind of someone,” he said, “and I’m dashed if I can think who it is. It’ll come to me later. At my age, sometimes I’m lucky if I remember my own name.”

  “Good grief, Angus,” Ada said. “You talk as if you’re a hundred. Seventy-five isn’t old these days.”

  He looked at his watch then at Ada. “I’m going up to Glen Ellen later. Jonathon’s told me the same thing he told you. Sarah’s been diagnosed with nephritis. It could go either way. She’s on medication as well as a special diet. If the pills work, she should be able to come back to work in a fortnight.”

  He pulled a scrap of paper out of his pocket. “Here’s a list of things I’ll need till Gladys comes home. If you’ll load them into a box, then give Andy a ring, he’ll pick them up.”

  Ada scanned the list. “I’ll have these ready by lunch time. The pies should be here by then. Do you want me to stick one in with your order?”

  “A steak and kidney would be just the ticket, and perhaps a Cornish pasty.” He looked at Jenny again as he tipped his cap. “Nice to meet you, young lady.” It seemed for a moment he was about to say something else, then changed his mind. “I’ll be getting on home. There’re a million things to do. Need to get reacquainted with Indigo. That cat’s spent so much time at Andy’s, she probably thinks I’ve died.”

  Jenny watched through the window as the doctor made his way across Hallveck Common then stumped up the brow to Andy’s place. “I’m sorry about Sarah,” she said as Ada joined her at the window. “What’s nephritis and what did he mean, it could go either way?”

  “It’s something to do with the kidneys. I suppose he means she’ll either get better or else—”

  “Or else what? You don’t mean she could die?”

  “A Jonah’s the last thing I want to be, Jenny, but, God help her, she could end up on dialysis waiting for a transplant. Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. The queue for kidney transplants is probably twice the length of Market Street, and where someone like Sarah would stand on the list is anybody’s guess.

  “I’m so sorry,” Jenny said as she put the tea things on the tray. “Poor Sarah. I knew she was sick but had no idea it was that serious.”

  Ada put an arm across Jenny’s shoulder. “You’ve been awfully good to her, Jenny, especially since you hardly know her. And look how you’ve helped me. There must have been places you wanted to go. Well, today you can start planning. I’ve had a couple of replies to my adverts.”

  “Oh?”

  Ada told Jenny that the two women had telephoned early that very morning. One was a university student looking for a summer job, and the other a writer waiting for her big break. Both were coming in later for an interview. “It never rains but it pours,” Ada said as she waved to a couple of women wandering the aisles. “For weeks there’s been just you and me and now someone’s opened the gates.”

  Jenny straightened the morning papers on the rack. “Guess this is my last day then.” She cursed the quiver in her voice as she looked around the shop. It was as if she’d worked here for years. She forced a smile, suddenly aching to confide. Perhaps she’d tell Ada some of it after she’d talked to Dr. Thorne.

  Since Uncle Tim’s phone call, and his wise words, Jenny had made up her mind. The truth will set you free. No way would she submit to Biddy Biggerstaff’s blackmail. The woman was unpredictable, and would probably show the picture to the priest anyway. Jenny would go to Mass again tomorrow again. On her way out of church, she would hand him a letter. At least he would know he had a daughter. What he did with the knowledge was up to him.

  Ada took Jenny’s hands in hers. “I’ll be sorry to see you go, love. I honestly don’t know how to thank you. You’ve turned into a good friend, and I feel as if I’ve known you for ages.”

  “Same here,” Jenny said. “Still I can’t stay forever.”

  Ada went to the back of the shop to wait on a couple of women, while Jenny checked out customers at the cash register. She hurried to the door to hold it open for Spud Murphy who balanced a tray of pies on his head, held steady with his right hand. The mouth-watering smells wafted in with him, all mingled together. There were pork pies, meat and potato, steak and onion, steak and kidney, Cornish pasties. Jenny had tasted them all and never could decide which she liked best.

  A couple of hours later, Jenny was stacking tourist guides on a shelf by the cards when Ada walked over. “I’m sorry things didn’t work out with you and Andy. I know you think he’s got something going with that Prissy Smith, but—”

  “It doesn’t matter, Ada. I’ll never see him again after I leave here.” She picked up Dr. Thorne’s grocery list. “Why don’t you let me get this together. I’ll be glad to take it up to his house.”

  Ada shook her head. “It’ll be too heavy for you. Let Andy take it in his car.”

  “No, it isn’t that. You see, I—”

  Ada leaned forward. “Yes?”

  “It’s just that I’m fascinated with the houses up here in the Lakes. They’re different from those back home. Yours and Glen Ellen are the only ones I’ve been in. I’d like to go in a few more before I leave.”

  This seemed to satisfy Ada. “Well, if you think you can carry the box, get it together while I put the kettle on.”

  Ada watched through the shop window as Jenny pulled her car up to the curb outside Angus’s house. She lugged the huge box out of the boot and balanced it on the garden wall, while she struggled with the gate latch.

  “Be with you in a minute, Bertha,” Ada shouted over her shoulder. What had got into that girl. Jenny had been all of a twitter ever since Prissy Smith had tromped into the shop and fallen all over Andy. Still, it didn’t take a Sigmund Freud to see something else was on Jenny’s mind, losing things, breaking jars of sweets. Andy was right. There was something mysterious about her, always biting her lip, staring into space, at times tense as a coiled spring. Why was a pretty American girl hanging round an English village when she could be gallivanting all over Europe? She obviously wasn’t short of a bob or two. You only had to look at her clothes to see that. Was it really out of the goodness of her heart that she had offered to fill in for Sarah, or was there more to it? This morning, for instance, when Jenny was introduced to Angus, it looked as if she was never going to let go of his hand. And what about him saying she looked fam
iliar. It was as if he knew her from somewhere. After he’d gone, Jenny was at the window staring up at his house every chance she got. Ada leaned forward to get a better look as she watched Jenny struggled to press the front door bell.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Jenny grappled with the heavy box, pressing it between her chest and the wall while she stretched out her hand and pressed the bell. She smiled up at Dr. Thorne when he opened the door. “Quick, can you grab one end of this.”

  The doctor stepped outside. “Good God, child. I told Ada that Andy would pick it up.”

  “Ah, don’t be mad at her,” Jenny said as they maneuvered up the steps into the vestibule. “I wanted to bring it.”

  “Come on then. The kitchen’s through here.”

  After they’d heaved the box onto the counter, Jenny dusted off her denim jacket and jeans. “Everything’s in there,” she said. “Ada said the raspberry creams are on her, sort of a welcome home.”

  He glanced inside the box then turned to Jenny. “Do you have time to stop for a cuppa? I’ve already got the kettle on.”

  “That’d be great.” Her voice was at least half an octave higher than usual.

  He led her into the large front room or lounge as he called it. “Make yourself at home. I’ll put a few things on the trolley and be back in a jiffy. There’s the kettle whistling now.”

  The lounge was a startling mishmash of old and new. Danish modern and antique furniture stood side by side on what appeared to be an authentic oriental rug. A cubist Picasso-like painting hung over an ancient upright piano on the inside wall. The coffee table was a slab of slate resting on two stacks of white brick. Built-in bookcases on either side of the fireplace were crammed from floor to ceiling. A couple of Barbara Cartlands were wedged between The Brothers Karamazov and Robinson Crusoe. War and Peace stood next to Carl Sagan’s The Cosmos. There were poetry books, cookbooks and books on travel, as well as how-to books on almost everything. The bottom shelves were crammed with weighty tomes on medicine, while still more were stacked on the floor. The sofa and three chairs were flowered chintz, all different prints, while a wild bizarre wallpaper, some sort of jungle scene, covered the walls. White and pink carnations, freshly picked, lay on a newspaper on the windowsill ready to go into a crystal vase already filled with water. There was a basket near the hearth for Indigo but the huge midnight blue cat was stretched across the back of one of the chairs gazing at Jenny out of half-open somnambulant eyes. She sat on the sofa in front of the coffee table and flicked through an old National Geographic until Dr. Thorne wheeled the squeaky trolley into the room.