Stoney Beck

by Jean Houghton-Beatty

  Sarah giggled. “No. You can look now.”

  It was the same view of Stoney Beck that Jenny had seen from Andy’s terrace. But this was a Christmas scene, with snow covering the town and the hills beyond. There were skaters on the frozen lake and Christmas trees sparkled in some of the cottage windows, the little houses seemingly huddled even closer together for warmth. The Salvation Army was in a circle on Hallveck Common and a border collie with a Frisbee between his teeth sat watching them. At the other end of Market Street, was the Hare and Hounds, its lights from inside shining golden on the snow. The painting was for all the world a Dickens Christmas card.

  “Oh,” Jenny said. “It’s beautiful. And see, it’s even got Pete in it.”

  Sarah blinked and two big tears rolled down her cheeks. She was so thrilled Jenny liked the painting, she hardly felt the ache in her legs any more. “That’s how daddy made his money, painting pictures.” She ran her hand gently along the frame. “This was his very last one.”

  They went from painting to painting, Sarah having something to say about each one, until they reached the last one at the end of the corridor. Before they turned that last corner, Jenny looked back. She’d made that long, long trek with hardly a qualm. Thank God for Sarah and her daddy’s paintings. Just a few more yards and they were inside the ward.

  The woman who had turned away from Sarah so unkindly was still there, in the same place, sitting by her made-up bed. When she saw Sarah, her tight-lipped mouth broke into a smile. She got to her feet and stretched out her arms. Sarah, suddenly stronger, tramped across the floor and held the woman in one of her gentler hugs.

  “I’ve come at last, Lottie,” she said, handing her the box of chocolates they’d bought in Malone’s. She pointed to her ears. “Just got them done. I can’t put yours in for three weeks.” She fingered her hair clip and flipped her scarf. “Jenny tied it.” She reached for Jenny’s hand and pulled her forward. “You remember her don’t you?”

  “Lottie turned to Jenny. “When Sarah came in, I was feeling so low. The way I acted. It was inexcusable.”

  “Ah, that’s OK,” Jenny said. “I understand.”

  Lottie cleared her throat. “That first night, when she heard me sniffling, feeling sorry for myself as usual, she got out of bed, pulled her chair over and sat with me. She talked a lot about you, said you’d come all the way from America by yourself.”

  Sarah nudged Jenny. “Tell Lottie about us being twins.”

  Lottie’s eyes widened as she looked at Jenny. “But you’re an American. How—”

  Jenny gave a little nervous laugh wishing she’d cautioned Sarah not to mention the twin thing. “It’s a long story.”

  “She’s prettier than me because we were in different eggs,” Sarah said. “That’s why she couldn’t give me a kidney, but she did try.”

  Lottie looked from Sarah to Jenny and back again, some intuition obviously warning her not to pursue the subject.

  Sarah prodded Jenny’s arm. “Will you talk to Lottie while I go and say hello to the nurses.”

  They watched as Sarah stopped to pat the hand of the old lady in the bed nearest the door, then disappeared into the nurses’ room.

  “What’s the latest on Biddy?” Lottie asked. The way she said it, her mouth tight, hardly moving, and the sudden flash in her eyes, told Jenny that Lottie knew all about the paddy wagon men, Biddy making Sarah stand half-naked in the corner, and maybe other things Jenny herself didn’t even know. Reluctant to discuss Biddy, yet feeling some explanation was needed, Jenny said she and Sarah were staying with a friend in the village until Biddy found another place to live.

  “Sarah said you live alone,” Jenny said. “Is it near here?”

  “Bowness. I rent the flat over the shop that my husband and I used to own. When we divorced, we had to sell it. He’s remarried and moved away. I still work in the shop.”

  “That must be hard,” Jenny said.

  “Yes, but it’s OK. They’re nice and I needed the money.”

  “Do you have any other family?”

  “There’s a daughter in Australia who comes home about every five years.”

  “It’s good you have her,” Jenny said, seeing Sarah in the doorway. “There’s nothing like real family.”

  Because Sarah and Lottie asked her to, Jenny talked about Charlotte and the rest of North Carolina. While she was in the middle of telling them all about the hot summers and how she loved to go to Uncle Tim’s place on the lake, she glanced at her watch. It was five o’clock and a cart stacked with trays was being maneuvered into the ward. It was time for the evening meal.

  “We’ll keep in touch,” Jenny said, picking up her purse and waiting while Sarah gave Lottie another hug.

  Lottie kissed Sarah’s cheek. “Don’t you forget about me. I’ve got a car and can visit you when this leg of mine mends.”

  Back in Stoney Beck, they went into Malone’s. As Sarah made for the greeting card section, Jenny found Ada halfway down the middle aisle arranging a pyramid of homemade black-currant jams.

  “Walter’s just left,” Ada said. “He’s been here most of the afternoon and talked a lot about you. He said if you hadn’t come to Stoney Beck, the two of us might never have got together.”

  Jenny smiled. “He said that to me but I told him I had nothing to do with it.”

  “Where are the girls?” Sarah whispered loudly, hand cupped around her mouth, as she walked toward them.

  “They’re in the back having a cuppa.”

  “Well, they’ve mixed up all the cards. Weddings were in with the happy birthdays and a couple of sympathies and get wells were stuck in with the new born babies.” She glanced again over her shoulder. “But don’t let on I said. I’ve sorted them so you don’t have to worry.”

  Ada folded her arms and gave Jenny an I-told-you-so look. “There now. Doesn’t that just tell you how much I miss this child. You never got them mixed up did you?”

  Sarah shook her head. “Please don’t give my job away, Ada. I’m nearly well.”

  “Yes, love.” Ada’s voice was suddenly hoarse. “I’ll wait for you. You’re the best help I’ve ever had.”

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Jenny sat across the table from Sarah, and watched her push a piece of broiled fish around on her plate. “You feeling OK?” she asked.”

  Sarah shrugged. “Just a bit tired.”

  “Maybe we did too much today. We’ll take it easy tomorrow.”

  “I have to get back to Malone’s, Jenny. If Ada gives my job away, I don’t know what I’ll do.”

  “But you’ll have to wait until you’re well.”

  Sarah slapped the flat of her hand on the table so hard it rattled the dishes. “I am well,” she rasped. “I know I am. I know I am.”

  Pete stuck his head round the door and gave a little woof.

  “OK, OK. I didn’t mean anything.” Jenny was anxious because hadn’t Dr. Hall warned her mood swings might be a sign of high blood pressure. Sarah’s face was flushed and Jenny had never seen her this mad.

  Sarah slapped the table again. “I don’t want to take it easy. You said yourself God gives us two kidneys in case anyone needs a spare. Well, he’ll find a spare for me. Just you watch him.”

  “Sarah, will you please calm down,” Jenny said, looking from her to the dog. “Why don’t we leave the dishes and take Pete to the lake. We’ll go in the car and just stay ten minutes.”

  As if he understood every word, the dog raced from the room to his box of toys. In a couple of seconds he was back, Frisbee clamped between his jaws, tail wagging like a black and white fringed fan. Jenny and Sarah burst out laughing.

  Later that evening, when Sarah had gone to bed, Jenny flipped through a magazine and wondered why Andy had not returned from Penrith. He had said he’d be around nine, and when the phone rang at ten, she knew it was he.

  “Remember when I told you about the mists up here?” he said, “Well, there’s one hanging over this town
like a veil. Looks as if I’ll have to wait it out. Can you live without me for one night?”

  “Oh, I guess so, but it’s gonna be tough.”

  “Is there any mist in Stoney Beck?”

  She looked out the window. “No. It’s clear. I can see lights way up in the fells.”

  “Is Pete being any trouble?”

  “He’s an angel.” She reached down and ran her hand along the dog’s back as he stretched out in front of her, his chin on her feet.

  “But I think he’s missing you. I catch him staring off some, then looking at the door, as if he’s expecting you to come through it.”

  There was a pause, then, “How about you, Jenny? Are you staring off some, waiting for me to come through the door?”

  Her hand tightened on the receiver.

  “Jenny? You OK?”

  “Yes, I’m OK and really do appreciate you letting us stay here. I know Sarah’s safe, tucked up in bed and fast asleep. It’s just that—”

  “You’re worried about her aren’t you?”

  “I sure am. Think they’ll put her on dialysis soon. I’m not superstitious, Andy, and not very religious. Sometimes, though, I get this feeling my coming over here is all some kind of wild destiny, and that I got here just in time.” She gave a little laugh. “Bet you think I’m crazy talking like this.”

  “No, and I don’t know much about destiny. I’m just so damn glad you came. I want you and Sarah to stay with me, even after they get Biddy out of Glen Ellen. You’ll need some help with this dialysis. You can’t do it by yourself, especially in that barn of a place.”

  “You say that now, but it’d mean a huge commitment. There’s probably a lot more to dialysis than either of us realize.”

  “We can’t discuss this over the phone,” Andy said. “Let’s save it till I get back.”

  ***

  Jenny flicked through magazines, at the same time thinking of a thousand and one things that had nothing at all to do with her just a few short months ago. She fixed a cup of cocoa and after checking on the sleeping Sarah, and with Andy’s terry cloth robe draped around her shoulders, she headed for the terrace, Pete trailing behind. The night was chilly but she couldn’t resist just ten minutes looking out across the little town. Pete sat erect at her feet while she settled herself on the bench up close to the railing. The sky teemed with stars, a sight not seen these days in Charlotte or any big city full of lights. Up in the fells, lights blinked here and there, and far off a night bird called. At this late hour, few cars were on the street, but goose bumps popped out on Jenny’s arms as she recognized the green Toyota creeping up Market Street. Biddy’s car inched its way up the brow and stopped directly opposite the house. She watched as Biddy rolled down the window, leaned her arms on the door and stared up at her. Jenny stared back. Nothing could harm her, safe as she was up here with the dog. And yet, there was something frightening about the woman. Her hair hung loose, wild and uncombed, while a crazy grin played around her toothless mouth.

  Jenny’s heart thumped while she tried to get to her feet but the chair held her, wouldn’t let her go. “Here, boy,” she whispered to Pete through her teeth. “Here boy.” The dog gave a worried little whine, leaped onto the bench, and licked the side of her face. Her heart slowed and the shaking eased as she rubbed the dog’s head and felt his body bristle as he too stared at the woman in the car. A low deep growl rumbled from the back of his throat.

  At the sight of Pete, the grin on Biddy’s face disappeared and within a few seconds, she had rolled up her window and driven away. Jenny saw the car turn right on Vallhellyn Lane and disappear.

  “Good dog, Pete. You scared her off.” Jenny sprang to her feet and headed for the French doors, the dog at her heels. Safe inside, she stood at the window and listened while the village hall clock tolled out the hour, its mellow Westminster chime coincided almost note for note with the golden tones of Andy’s grandfather’s clock in the hall. Midnight. A shiver ran the length of her body. Sarah had said Biddy never went out after five, but here the woman was in Stoney Beck in the middle of the night. Who could say what was going on in Biddy’s deranged mind. Jenny knelt beside Pete, her arm across his back, while he drank from his bowl. She’d never owned a pet, never understood the closeness that could exist between a dog and his owner. Not until now. “Good dog,” she said. “You can sleep on my bed tonight?”

  ***

  Biddy Biggerstaff had rung the Hare and Hounds earlier in the evening and asked to speak to Jenny Robinson, only to be told the young lady had checked out yesterday. Hardly daring to hope the bitch had gone at last, Biddy rang Angus Thorne. If anybody knew, he would. But all he did was to tell Biddy yet again she could no longer stay at Glenn Ellen. She need not worry, he said in some sort of wheedling tone, because arrangements were being made for alternative accommodation where she would be safe and perhaps receive some counseling. Biddy slammed down the phone, cutting him off. As a last resort, she rang Andy Ferguson’s garage. The mechanic told her Andy wouldn’t be back until tomorrow morning. Ah, but yes he knew where Jenny Robinson was. She and Sarah were staying with Andy for a few days and who was calling please? Biddy said it didn’t matter and hung up. Afraid as she was of the tree, she hated to leave the house after dark, but this time she had to take a chance. Sarah and Jenny Robinson were in the Ferguson house alone. Biddy still had this last chance to coax Sarah into coming back to Glen Ellen where she belonged.

  Biddy couldn’t believe her luck as she approached the house and saw the girl sitting on the terrace. She parked the car across the street, rolled down the window and stared up at the girl. This was all it took. Even from this distance, it was obvious the girl was frightened. But Biddy hadn’t counted on the dog. Suddenly he appeared on the bench beside the girl and returned Biddy’s stare, his eyes red like two hot coals, with blood drooling from his bared fangs. He was a devil dog poised to leap over the railings and onto the car. With lifeless fingers, Biddy rolled up the window. She fumbled with the key until at last it turned and she scratched away from the curb. She’d seen that dog umpteen times before but never knew its power until now.

  Even at this late hour a few people wandered about, but Biddy recognized no one. Probably tourists, taking one last stroll before turning in. The street lamps on the brow caught her eye. A haze swirled around them and even as she stared, they began to move, to sway and bend as though to music only they could hear. Their lighted heads took on hideous leering faces, with huge almond shaped golden eyes, and every one of them gawking at her. Perhaps if she rolled down her window and screamed at them, they would stop their crazy dance or maybe even disappear the way those worms had. But it was too iffy. If they stuck their heads inside her car, they’d strangle her for sure. She watched a young couple stroll along the pavement, laughing and unaware, even mad enough to kiss under one of the lamps, without noticing it wrap itself around them. Biddy tried to stop the shaking in her leg as she stepped on the accelerator, and headed out of Stoney Beck toward Glen Ellen.

  ***

  Next morning, after spending the night clinging to Pete’s collar, even sleeping cheek to jowl, Jenny came downstairs to the smell of burnt toast. Sarah was in the kitchen singing Blue Suede Shoes along with Elvis while she scraped the toast. She kissed Jenny’s cheek and placed a glass of orange juice next to a bowl of cornflakes and fresh strawberries. Sun streamed through the bay window onto the kitchen table.

  Jenny looked across the living room. The French windows leading to the terrace were flung wide with the smell of new mown hay and good fresh Lake District air filling the room. Biddy and last night were far away.

  “I’m planning our day today,” Sarah said, as she poured herself two ounces of apple juice and another two ounces of milk for her cornflakes. “Let’s go for a drive later and see if we can find your digging friends.”

  Jenny poured milk on her serial. “Sounds like a winner to me.”

  “It’s going to be a lovely day, Jenny. I’m so glad we’
re sisters.”

  “So am I, pumpkin. And we’re going to make up for lost time. How about you taking Pete onto the terrace while I straighten up here. Just have these few dishes.” She waved a hand. “No, Sarah. You fixed it. I’ll clean up.”

  Sarah leaned against the terrace railing. She could see over the rooftops and up beyond the houses into the fells. She couldn’t see Glenn Ellen but knew it was up there somewhere. Biddy was in there smoking and drinking. When Mummy and Daddy were alive, Sarah had loved Glen Ellen, but now she didn’t want to go near it. Even the tree had died as if its very heart was broken.

  The weariness came suddenly from out of nowhere, dropping over her like a heavy blanket. Even as she watched, the scene in front of her blurred. The chimneys lifted off from the rooftops and did a sort of bunny hop across the lake. As if from far away, she heard Pete whimper, felt him paw at her dress. She tried to raise an arm to pat his head, to tell him everything was all right, but it was just too hard. The whimper turned into a funny sounding bark, as if Pete was in a tunnel. At last Sarah managed to grab his collar and held on as he struggled toward the French door. It was as if they were on one of those things she’d seen on the telly, the sort where you walk on it but don’t get anywhere. She saw Jenny come to the doorway and call to her, but her voice sounded worse than Pete’s, far away and tinny. Through a dark haze filled with big black spots, Sarah saw five or six Jennies with arms outstretched run toward her, but she crumpled to the floor before any of them could reach her.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Jenny sat in the cafeteria of Manchester Royal Infirmary while she waited for Sarah to finish her first dialysis treatment. She pulled Andy’s cell phone out of her bag to call the priest, then shoved it back. Wouldn’t it be wiser to wait for the doctor’s report. Two hours ago, she had forced herself to watch as the plastic tube they had stuck in Sarah’s neck, of all places, gushed with blood. A smell of formaldehyde hung in the air, reminding Jenny of death. When she felt the bile rise in her own throat she had run gagging from the room, only to crash into a nurse, knocking the tray of medicines out of her hands. Jenny gaped as the tiny paper containers and pills flew all over the place, then with a hand pressed over her mouth she had zipped into the toilet across the hall.