Stoney Beck

by Jean Houghton-Beatty

  “One in a thousand?”

  “That’s right. A thousand to one. I’ve been reading up on this. God doesn’t make very many of you because you’re sort of special and there never are enough to go round. Whenever one turns up, there’re a whole lot of people waiting to adopt the baby.”

  Sarah shook her head. “Someone’s been telling you the biggest whoppers. There’s gobs of people like me in a home near Carlisle. I saw it on the telly. The doctors told the mothers their babies would be better off in a home.”

  “I know all about that,” Jenny said. “It was the same in America. Things are changing though. Those people who gave their babies away will never know what they missed.”

  Sarah gave a hint of a smile. “Daddy used to say things like that. He said people like me have got an extra chromosome. It’s a teeny-weeny little tadpole thing.” She screwed up her eyes as she held up her hand and stared at the tip of her index finger. “Even if it was on the tip of this finger, we couldn’t see it.”

  “I wish I could have known your parents,” Jenny said. “They sound so special.”

  Sarah fiddled with the buttons on her blouse cuffs. “They were the most specialist people God ever made. They sent me to school and I learned to read and play the piano. I love Elvis and Elton John and look how I knew the hardest answer last night. You couldn’t have won without me.”

  “I know. I’ll never forget last night. Let’s take the certificate to Malone’s and get it framed. There’re brass and wood frames on that shelf at the back by the fishing rods.”

  Sarah ran her hand back and forth along the arm of the chair, “I can’t go out of the house, Jenny. Biddy might grab me.” She picked at the flaky skin on her face.

  “Not as long as I’m with you she won’t. You don’t have to worry about her anymore.”

  Sarah poked Jenny in the chest. “You’re not going to let anything happen to your little pumpkin are you.”

  “No ma’am. And just to prove it, I’m going with you to the hospital. They can take some of my blood. Being twins, we’re bound to be a match. You’ll have to hold my hand though “cause I’m nowhere near as brave as you.”

  Jenny bit her lip till it hurt. There, she’d said it. There was no going back now.

  “You don’t think you’ve caught what I’ve got do you?”

  “No, it’s not catching. It’ll be just in case you need a kidney.” She spread her arms wide and laughed, making light of it. “If you do, you can have one of mine.”

  “Have you got an extra one?”

  “Just two, same as everybody else. I’ve got this friend back home who— Well, anyway, we can both get by on one.”

  Sarah put an arm round Jenny. “I’m glad you told me about Beverly and I’m glad she had you as well as me. Will you take me to see your house in America when you go?”

  “Let’s get you well first,” Jenny said, “then we’ll go.”

  When Sarah went to her bedroom to get her sweater, Jenny watched her go then turned to Dr. Thorne. “The pills aren’t working are they? Her face is puffy and a funny color, almost yellow. And she’s tired all the time.”

  Dr. Thorne said dialysis wasn’t just a probability any more, more a question of when it would start. They’d know more after she had her tests at Manchester Royal.

  “I acted badly the other day when you told me about us,” Jenny said, “and I’m sorry. I guess it was the shock. But I’m over that now. Sarah’s sick, Dr. Thorne, and if she doesn’t get a kidney soon, we could lose her.” Jenny twisted her fingers around the strap of her shoulder bag. “I guess what I’m trying to say is I want to give her one of my kidneys.”

  Dr. Thorne put a hand on her shoulder. “That’s very admirable, Jenny, especially since you’ve known Sarah such a short time. But how do you know you’re compatible?”

  “What do you mean? We’re twins aren’t we?”

  “Yes, but that doesn’t mean you’re automatically a match. If you’d been identical twins, a match would have been almost a certainty. But you and Sarah are fraternal. Do you know your blood type?”

  “O-positive.”

  “Sarah’s A-negative. You couldn’t be further apart.”

  The possibility their blood wouldn’t match had never occurred to Jenny. “But, I want to do this for her.”

  “I know but there you have it. Still, it’s early days. Soon as we get Biddy out of the house, it can be rigged for home dialysis.”

  Jenny cleared her throat. “If Sarah were well, I’d take her to Charlotte for a visit, but with her sick like this, there’s no way. No health insurance company in America would come within a hundred miles of her. Will she be put on the list for a transplant?”

  “Soon as she has the tests. Still, she may have to wait a long time, perhaps years. Maybe she’ll never get one. You must try not to worry too much. Even though a transplant is the best solution, people on dialysis these days can lead fairly normal lives.”

  Jenny went to the window and stared across the common. “Nigel from the Bookworm helped me find a book on kidneys. There was a chapter on long-term dialysis. It takes its toll, especially on people like Sarah.” She turned back to Dr. Thorne. “I wish Biddy was already out of that house. I mean what does it take?”

  “The Social Services are handling this,” he said. “I don’t know about America, but here things like this crawl along at a snail’s pace. We’ll get Biddy out though. I give her two weeks max.”

  “The woman scares me, Dr. Thorne. I can’t help feeling if something isn’t done soon, something awful is going to happen.”

  The doctor’s bushy brows came together. “There’s no need to be so apprehensive. Sarah won’t be going near the place till we’ve got Biddy out.”

  After Jenny left Dr. Thorne’s, she pulled into Andy’s to fill up.

  “You look worried,” he said, resting his arms on the open window. “What’s Uncle Angus been telling you.”

  She ran a hand across her brow, looking at him while an idea formed in her mind. “It’s not him. It’s— Do you think you can get away for an hour so we can drive somewhere?”

  Andy looked over his shoulder into the garage then back at her. “Give me a minute while I tell Alf.”

  She watched him walk toward the office, a confident, easy stride, swinging from the waist down. He said a few words to Alf, who turned and looked at her. Andy laughed as Alf made some remark she couldn’t hear, while Pete, listening in, wagged his tail. When Andy turned and headed for the car, Pete padded along behind him obviously ready to go.

  “Not this time, Pete,” Andy said raising his hand. “Just Jenny and me.”

  “Ah, let him come. He looks so sad.”

  “That’s his hangdog look. He’s a master of it.” Still, Andy opened the back door and clicked his fingers. Pete, Frisbee in his mouth, bounded into the back seat. “I’ll drive,” he said, smiling down at Jenny. “Move over.”

  A few miles out of town, he pulled the car into a lay-by. “There’s a footpath beyond that stile. Let’s walk a bit.”

  He held her hand as they strolled. “You’re worried sick, I can tell. What is it?”

  “It’s just that all of a sudden I don’t know where to turn.” She kicked at last year’s dead leaves strewn along the footpath.

  He stopped in mid-stride. “What is it?”

  “It’s Sarah. Well, Sarah and me. It’s hard to explain but in the pub last night, when Sarah went to the front to get the prize, something came over me. I mean something happened. It’s hard to explain. I was suddenly so proud of her. And now I can’t get her out of my mind. I’m worried about her too. I can’t give her a kidney. Our blood doesn’t match. But I want to take care of her. She’s my sister and my responsibility. Your uncle was real kind to take her in, but he’s old and his wife’s still away. I’ve thought about her coming to stay at the cottage, but need a place where I can cook the things she’s supposed to have. I can’t trust the pub food. I guess what I mean is, as much as I
hate to ask, can we stay with you? Sarah and me in your house? I mean do you have any room? Would we be a bother?”

  He put a hand under her chin and raised her face. His eyes bore into hers. “You ask me do I have any room? Would you be a bother? Jenny, are you kidding?”

  “I know it’s an imposition,” she went on, her voice beginning to break, “but soon as Biddy’s gone, we can move into Glen Ellen. Maybe by then, the kidney specialists will have told us something. You know, how we ought to be looking at things. What to do next.”

  Andy pulled her to him and put his arms around her. He closed his eyes as he buried his face in her hair, drinking in the fresh clean smell of her, pulling her ever closer, feeling the outline of her body against his. “Of course you can stay. If you hadn’t asked me, I was going to ask you.”

  He brushed his lips across hers. “God knows, the last thing in the world I want is for Sarah to be sick like this, but at least it’s stopping you from leaving. I want to help, Jenny. I’ll do anything.”

  “Ah, you say that now, but there’s still a lot about me you don’t know.”

  “What? That your father’s a priest. Is that it?”

  She looked out across the fields, listened to the bleats from the sheep in the meadow beyond. “Guess it’s all over the village by now. I’m no prude, Andy, but my mother and father, right here in this town, in the very cottage I’m in now. That’s where Sarah and I were conceived. Can’t you just hear the local gossip when we move in with you? Just like her mother that one. Jump into bed with anything in pants.”

  They walked on, arms around each other, while she told him about Biddy stealing her snapshot. “Can you believe the old bitch actually did me a favor,” she said, and then explained about her letter to the priest and its outcome. “I still can’t believe how thrilled he is. He really wants us. He’s taken his lap top with him to the retreat. He said he’s already had some e-mails from his parish, and most are positive. Oh, he’d tell me that anyway, just so I wouldn’t worry. But I can’t help it. I mean what if someone tells the pope?”

  Andy loosened his hold, a hint of a smile on his lips. “As serious as all this is to you, I honestly don’t think it’ll be important enough to tell the Pope.”

  “Well, I don’t know. I’m not Catholic. I know he’s planning to tell his bishop. This man could fire him or send him to God knows where. And there’re bound to be some people in his church who’ll want to humiliate him.”

  “Ah, it’s probably nowhere near as bad as you think. He wasn’t even a priest when all this happened.”

  “No, but just as good as. He had already applied to the seminary. His trip to the Lake District was a sort of last holiday.”

  Andy picked up the Frisbee Pete had dropped at his feet and flung it across the grass.

  “I’ve got two bedrooms upstairs with a bathroom in between. They’re all fixed up except for sheets and things and they’re in the closet. You can move in tonight if you like.” He clicked his fingers. “I just remembered. I’m supposed to be in Penrith tomorrow. There’s an estate sale and they need an appraisal on some clocks. I can cancel if you want.”

  “Don’t you dare. We can move some stuff tonight. It’ll probably suit Sarah to settle in with just her and me. You know, girl talk and stuff.”

  Andy climbed the steps over the stile and reached for her hand to steady her. Suddenly very aware of him and the way he was looking at her, she lowered her gaze, pretending to concentrate on the steps, then let go of his hand and jumped to the ground.

  “I’m glad you’re coming,” he said, his voice growing softer, full of meaning. “You can stay forever if you want to.”

  Her heart banged against her ribs. “It’s just that I’ve got a lot on me, finding out things I knew nothing about.”

  With arms around each other, they looked up and watched the lengthening jet contrail, a widening white scratch in an otherwise cloudless sky. The plane was heading west, probably for America, maybe even Charlotte. They retraced their steps back to the car, then drove for miles, Pete in the back seat with his head stuck out the window. They stopped at a tea shop and ate their meal at one of the outside tables, both of them giving Pete half of their sandwich.

  That night, Jenny told Walter Pudsley she’d be checking out of the cottage the following morning, and that she and Sarah planned to stay at Andy’s until Biddy was gone from Glen Ellen. Jenny half expected, and at the same dreaded, a knowing look from Walter, perhaps a wink of some sort.

  “Andy’s a good man” Walter said instead. “One of the best. He’ll take care of you and do his best for Sarah.’

  Chapter Twenty-two

  The next day, an hour after Andy left for Penrith, Jenny and Sarah moved in with their things, and then went together to Malone’s. Ada helped them pick out their groceries. They bought olive oil and mayonnaise for the vegetables, as well as pasta, bread, rice, a couple of chicken breasts to be used sparingly. For treats, they picked marshmallows, a jar of honey, one of strawberry jam, a bag of apples, and two custard tarts which Sarah loved. All labels were checked for no-sodium.

  At Andy’s house, Sarah sat on her bed and pulled a notebook from her canvas bag and held it open for Jenny to see. “Dr. Hall gave me this. It’s special for people like me. On this side I write how much I drink, and on this side, how much I go to the loo. I can’t eat ice creams or jellies “cause they turn to water. I don’t mind as long as it’ll make me better, but I’ll miss my glass of milk at night and especially chocolate. I love chocolate.” She brought out a large plastic container and pointed to the notches on the side. “This is to measure my water. I write it down and except for a little bit, swill most of it down the loo.” She took off her glasses and rubbed her eyes. “I have to put dates and times and check for blood too. It’s very hard.”

  “I’ll help you keep tabs,” Jenny said, putting an arm across Sarah’s sagging shoulders. “Thursday we go to the big hospital in Manchester. Not long now.”

  That same afternoon, Jenny asked Dr. Thorne if Sarah was well enough to get her ears pierced, then visit Lottie Mellville, the woman she had made friends with in the hospital.

  “You mean she’s still there?” Dr. Thorne said. “What’s she got?”

  “A broken leg. Fell down some steps. She went home then had to go back. Some small thing. She told Sarah on the phone that she’s going home tomorrow.”

  “Well we can’t keep Sarah in a cocoon, and Craighead hospital’s not far. If she gets tired, come on home.” He gave a half-teasing smile. “But what about you? Seems I heard a rumor you don’t like hospitals all that much.”

  “It’s true. I hang on by a thread,” Jenny said, looking down at her arms. “Just thinking about it gives me goose bumps. Back home, I was seeing a therapist. He said to face it head on. That’s why I asked Sarah if she wanted to go see her friend. It’s more for me, really. I’ll probably do OK, Sarah being with me and all.”

  They found a jewelry shop near the hospital, the sign in the window saying they pierced ears. Sarah dangled her earrings in front of the store clerk. “After you’ve made the holes, will you put these in, please?”

  The woman looked at them as if they were contaminated, then produced a pair of tiny gold studs fastened to a card. “She’ll have to wear these for three weeks,” she said, ignoring Sarah and speaking directly to Jenny. “And it’s always better to wear gold. You don’t want her to get an infection do you?”

  Something inside Jenny rattled, but the unconcerned look on Sarah’s face told her this had happened before. “My sister isn’t hard of hearing, and understands perfectly. Perhaps if you spoke directly to her.”

  The woman’s face reddened and she pouted her bright red lips. “Well, my goodness. I certainly didn’t mean to insinuate anything.”

  Jenny turned to Sarah. “What do you think? We can get little gold posts made for yours like Ada did with hers.”

  “OK.”

  The woman dabbed some solution on Sarah’s ea
rs, gave two quick clicks, and the little gold studs were in place.

  Sarah laughed. “That was easy.”

  “Come and take a look,” Jenny said, standing by the oval mirror on the counter. Sarah looked first at one ear, and then the other, and then backed off to see both ears. She straightened her yellow hairclip and made sure her chiffon scarf was still tossed over her left shoulder the way Jenny had fixed it.

  As they crossed the hospital parking lot, Jenny kept her gaze lowered so she wouldn’t see the gargoyles. When she faltered at the entrance, feeling as if she were about to enter the bowels of hell, Sarah pulled her sister’s arm through hers and almost dragged her across the parquet floor of the lobby.

  “You hold on tight to me, love,” Sarah said, her tone almost motherly. “And whistle if you can. Do you know “Roll out the Barrel”?”

  While Jenny puckered her lips, struggling but making no sound, Sarah stopped at a painting on the wall, the first of about ten spaced at intervals on both sides. “All the pictures on these walls were painted by someone very special,” she said. “And they’re all of the Lake District. See, look, this one’s Windermere. There’s the ferry.”

  Jenny held on to Sarah, eyes focused on the painting. “I’ve been there,” she said. “It’s real nice.”

  “Now look down in the corner and see the name.”

  “Why, it says Fred Fitzgerald. You don’t mean— Oh, wow, Sarah. I knew your daddy was an artist but didn’t know he was this good.”

  Sarah brushed her fingers along the signature, then waved a hand to encompass the hall. “He painted all these.” She pulled Jenny to the next one. “See this one. It’s Ullswater.”

  Jenny loosened her tight grip. “Oh, Sarah. You must be very proud.”

  “I am,” Sarah said thickly. “Now, the next one’s extra special, so close your eyes and don’t open them till you’ve guessed what’s on it.”

  Jenny screwed her eyes tight and let Sarah lead her a few yards further. “Wordsworth’s house,” she guessed. “Dove Cottage?”