‘Certainly,’ agreed Glenda, with more enthusiasm than was required. ‘You’ll collect her, though?’
‘Of course,’ said Fiona. ‘Goodbye, sweetheart; see you in a little while.’
‘Bye, Mummy; bye, Debbie.’ said the little girl, trotting off happily with Glenda.
‘So that’s her gone,’ said Fiona, seeming to breathe a heartfelt sigh. Debbie knew she was referring to Glenda and not to Stella. She decided to make no comment; and Fiona did not ask her what she thought about the woman.
‘I thought I’d do some baking today,’ said Fiona, ‘ready for the party. Just iced buns and flapjack; things that the children like. And I can prepare the trifle; that’s for the grown-ups. The children prefer jelly and ice-cream, red jelly, of course! Would you like to look after the three terrors? There’s a programme on the TV they like to watch at eleven o’clock. Then we’ll go and meet Stella at twelve, and we’ll all have a sandwich lunch. And this afternoon we’ll walk into town. It’s not market day but I’ve some shopping to do for tomorrow. Then we could let the kiddies have some time in the playground. I’m always wary of swings and slides if I’m on my own. It can be quite a dangerous place; you have to have eyes in the back of your head. It’s far better if there’s two of us …’
And that was more or less how the rest of the day worked out. Debbie enjoyed looking after the triplets, although she could see how wearing they might be, day in, day out. It was little wonder that Fiona needed help. For her, Debbie, it was just a novelty. They were as good as gold watching the antics of the teddy bears and dolls on the TV, and they smiled at the lady announcer with the oh-so-friendly – but somewhat patronizing – voice as though she really was a friend. Television certainly had its benefits; a boon for busy mothers, but Debbie couldn’t help but think it might also be a cop-out for lazy ones.
Simon joined them for a sandwich lunch. ‘Is Glenda not with us today?’ he asked in a casual – almost disinterested – voice. Or was that an act? Debbie knew she was being extra alert about her hosts’ chance remarks. Stop it! she told herself. She knew she could not, deep down, believe that Simon would do anything to jeopardize his marriage.
‘No,’ Fiona answered briefly. Then after a few seconds, she added, ‘I told her I didn’t need her for the rest of the day while Debbie’s here. She doesn’t always stay for lunch anyway. It depends on what I want her to do.’ He nodded and the moment of tension passed.
Debbie understood what Fiona meant about the children’s playground. Matthew raced around like a mad thing, whooping with delight as he whizzed down the slide. It was only a short one, for young children, but the other two were far more cautious. Stella, their grown-up big sister, helped them up the steps and slid down with Mark in front of her to keep him safe. It was the same with the swings; they were closed-in ones for toddlers so that they couldn’t fall off.
‘Push, push, higher!’ Matthew cried to Debbie, whilst the other two liked a gentler ride. Stella didn’t do much sliding or swinging on her own, preferring to stay close to her mum and Debbie, keeping a careful eye on her little brothers and sister.
The Magic Roundabout was another treat before the little ones went to bed. Debbie, too, was enthralled by Zebedee and Brian, the snail, and it was so much better in colour! Simon and Fiona had succumbed to pressure from Stella, but Debbie knew that the two of them loved to spend a relaxing evening together in front of the box when Simon was not out on other commitments.
The birthday party on the Saturday was a happy occasion. Debbie was interested to see who had been invited. There was only one other child, a little girl, who was about the same age as the triplets. Her mother was a new member of the Young Wives group, and Fiona had invited them in order to get to know them better. Dawn, the mother, was a shy young woman who didn’t mix easily. Debbie noticed how quickly Fiona made her feel at ease. Stella’s special friend, Susan, had been invited along with her mother, another of the Young Wives. The husbands, sensibly, had stopped at home.
There were just a few grown-ups; Joan Tweedale, a good friend of Fiona who had supported her when she had first married Simon, and her husband, Henry, who was the church organist; and the new curate, Gilbert Henderson, his wife, Norma and, of course, Glenda.
Debbie took to Norma at once; she was a friendly outgoing person who, she was sure, was an admirable clergy wife. Gilbert was not so chatty as his wife – Simon had said that his talents lay in his preaching and organizational skills – but they seemed a well suited couple. Glenda spent most of the time with her three charges. She was clearly very fond of them whether or not to she had an ulterior motive. Debbie was inclined to give her the benefit of the doubt until, at a quiet moment during the meal, she saw Glenda level at Fiona across the tea table a glance of extreme dislike, almost hatred. The moment passed and Debbie believed that no one else had noticed. But it had given her a nasty jolt, and she felt a strange premonition of trouble to come.
Debbie knew that Fiona had spoken to Joan about her fears, but there was no chance during the party for Debbie to have a word with her. The following day, however, Debbie sat next to Joan in the church pew. Stella was with the Sunday School children at the front, the triplets were being looked after in the crèche, and Debbie was pleased to see that Fiona had returned to her former place in the choir stalls. She had told Debbie that the music had helped to soothe her and, for a short time at least, to calm her fears. To see her joyful face as she sang the anthem and hymns with the rest of the choir it seemed as though she hadn’t a care in the world.
In a quiet moment before the service started Debbie whispered to Joan, ‘I’m rather worried about Fiona; I know she’s told you, hasn’t she, about Glenda and her fears that she’s getting too friendly with Simon?’
Joan nodded. ‘Try not to worry, Debbie, love. I’m keeping my eye on the situation. I’ve noticed myself that she makes a fuss of him, but you know as well as I do how much Simon cares for Fiona. I’ve never known a happier couple. Glenda is pushy and flirtatious, but if it’s any consolation, she’s acts like that with some of the other men as well. And you know that Fiona hasn’t been at all well for quite a while. She may have let her worries get out of proportion.’
‘She’s been happy, though, this weekend,’ said Debbie. ‘She enjoyed the party, and all the company.’
‘And especially having you there, Debbie.’ Joan smiled at her. ‘She thinks a great deal of you.’
‘And I do of her,’ replied Debbie. ‘It’s worked out so well, Joan, for all of us.’
‘Then try not to worry, dear,’ said Joan. ‘I’ve always felt a responsibility for Fiona. There are not many people she feels she can confide in, and I’m glad that I’m one of them.’
It wasn’t until the Monday morning when Debbie was leaving the rectory that she had a chance to speak to Fiona again about the matter of Glenda. Fiona had asked her to come later that day as the family would be busy saying goodbye to Debbie. There was a flurry of hugs and kisses, and a few tears as well, as she took her leave of Stella and the triplets, and Simon and Fiona.
Simon was busy getting the car out, and she took the opportunity to have a quiet word with Fiona. ‘I’m sure you’ve nothing to worry about,’ she whispered as she gave her a last hug. ‘It’ll be all right; you’ll see …’
‘I hope so; that’s what I keep trying to tell myself,’ answered Fiona; she did seem to be a little calmer now. ‘Take care, Debbie. It’s been lovely seeing you again.’ She waved cheerily as Simon drove Debbie away to catch her bus back to Leeds.
Eight
Simon had made no further reference to Fiona and her state of mind as they drove to the bus station; so Debbie tried not to dwell on the matter as she made the journey back to Leeds.
It would be the second half-term of her course; and how much happier and secure she felt about everything now; the flat and her companions there, and her studies at the college – the various lectures and the projects in which she was involved.
; The four of them had worked out a routine – albeit an haphazard one – for the care of the flat: the cleaning and cooking and shopping. As far as the cooking was concerned, they found it easier to have a substantial midday meal each day at the college cafeteria. There was a wide selection of dishes with chips as an accompaniment, also hotpots and casseroles, lasagne and pizzas, beans or eggs on toast, as well as various kinds of sandwiches. Not everything was on offer each day but there was always a good selection to choose from. Tarts and puddings and fruit, too, if they felt like afters.
They worked in pairs to do the cooking at the flat, change and change about. Sometimes Debbie would be paired with Fran, sometimes Karen, sometimes Lisa. Karen, who came from a large family, was the one who was the most competent. Fran, who had lived on her own for a while, liked to try something a little more out of the ordinary, and Lisa, like Debbie, had not really done very much at home. Both of them, as only children, had been rather indulged.
They all coped, though, as they had decided on quick and easily prepared dishes for their evening meal. Spaghetti, baked beans, soups, sardines – there was always a wide variety of tins in their cupboard – and eggs were a good standby. On Sundays, depending on who was in the flat and not out elsewhere, they sometimes tried a typical roast dinner.
They had worked out a rota for the shopping, too, to be done in pairs, if possible. They decided each morning if there was anything they needed – bread, tea bags, milk: things that they ran out of more quickly – and two of them would do the shopping at Tesco’s when they got off the bus. There was a convenient bus service to the college. Firstly, a bus from the stop on the main road, not far from their flat, to City Square. Then another bus, which involved a longer journey, to Stanborough College, which was midway between Leeds and the city of York. The ten-mile journey took about half an hour as there were various stops on the way. They had to make sure they were out of the house by eight o’clock each morning to catch the bus to town. There was an understanding that they shouldn’t wait for anyone; if one of the four had ‘slept in’, maybe suffering from the effects of the night before, then it would be her hard luck. Fortunately this had not happened, so far. They didn’t always catch the same bus home as it depended on what time the various lectures ended. But they were usually all home by six o’clock; and after their meal the rest of the evening was their own to do as they wished.
The cleaning got done if and when they felt inclined! They had a good dust and tidy round if a guest was expected; but they had all agreed that the bathroom and toilet had to be kept clean at all times. The bath must be rinsed out after every use, and the toilet kept spotless with Domestos. They were all very fastidious young women.
Rhoda had told them that the washing was their responsibility. Their ‘smalls’ were done in the sink, so there was always an array of knickers, bras and tights festooned on radiators and on a clothes maiden they had found tucked away in a corner, quickly removed if a visitor should call. They paired up every fortnight or so to wash the sheets and towels at the launderette.
Debbie realized she was looking forward to returning to college. She had thought that she knew a good deal about gardening when she started on the course, but each day she was learning something new. She didn’t know, yet, where she would find a position when the course came to an end, but she was confident there would be a place for her somewhere.
She was surprised to feel that she was also looking forward to the return to the flat and to her friends. Only two months ago it had been a step into the unknown. But now, as she turned her key in the lock and went inside it felt almost like coming home. Comfortably warm, too, on what was quite a chilly autumn day. Alf Perkins saw to the central heating, and he didn’t stint on it either. All the girls knew that this was a bonus for a student flat.
The living room had a much more cheerful aspect than when they had first moved in. Fran, who had been home several times, had brought back some bright scatter cushions in a bold design of yellow and black to liven up the rather dilapidated settee and armchair. Their selection of books with brightly coloured dust jackets filled the bookshelves, giving a lived-in look to the place, as books always did. It was Fran, too, who had supplied the posters of paintings by Degas and Monet that adorned the empty walls. There was the small television in one corner, and Debbie’s cassette recorder and tape deck.
Debbie was the first of the four to arrive back, and she felt glad to have the place to herself for a while. When she had visited the bathroom and unpacked her few belongings she made herself a spot of lunch; it was still only early afternoon. She had told Fiona that she didn’t need any sandwiches, but she had insisted on her taking some bread, cut from a farmhouse loaf, and a small bottle of milk, ‘just in case’. ‘You won’t have time to shop,’ she had said, ‘and you’ll be ready for a cup of tea.’ Ever thoughtful Fiona, always concerned about the welfare of others. Debbie felt sure that some of her flatmates would bring back a few provisions.
She made a mug of tea, toasted some of the bread and opened a small tin of beans. There was still some fruit loaf in the cake tin that Debbie’s mother had sent the previous week, so she finished off her solitary meal with a slice of that, lavishly buttered.
She was just clearing away the pots when the door opened. She turned round from the kitchen alcove and saw that it was Karen.
‘Hi, there,’ called Debbie. ‘Good to see you again.’ So it was, although it had been only four days. ‘Have you had a nice weekend?’
She had not noticed at first that Karen looked far from happy. The girl flung her travel bag on the floor, then collapsed on to the settee with her head in her hands and burst into tears.
Debbie hurried across and sat down, putting an arm round her. ‘Karen, what is it? What’s wrong?’
‘Charlie … that’s what’s wrong,’ Karen managed to say between her sobs. ‘Charlie … He’s dumped me!’
‘Oh … oh dear!’ A futile remark, but Debbie couldn’t think of anything else to say. ‘Do you want to tell me what’s happened?’ Charlie, Karen’s boss, on whom she had centred such high hopes; Debbie had wondered if it was all too good to be true.
‘I’ll make you a mug of tea,’ she said. ‘A lot of sugar in it, then perhaps you’ll feel a little calmer.’
By the time Debbie had returned with the tea Karen had taken off her coat and appeared a little more in control of herself. She seemed to want to talk, and as the story poured out of her Debbie realized that Karen had been living in a fool’s paradise, as she, Debbie, had suspected. It wasn’t so much that she had been dumped, as that Charlie had never been hers in the first place.
‘I’ve been no end of a bloody fool,’ she wailed. ‘He was never interested in me, not in that way. However could I have misread the signals? Because they were there; I was sure they were.’
‘That’s men for you,’ said Debbie, trying to sound philosophical, although she hadn’t had much experience herself. ‘You did tell me, though, didn’t you, that he had kissed you? I know you said that there had been nothing else, but you’re not to be blamed for thinking he was interested, are you?’
‘I must have read too much into it,’ said Karen, ‘because it was what I wanted to believe. Perhaps he was just grateful to me for looking after Alfie. It was awful, Debbie, the way he told me, as though I’d be pleased for him. I don’t know how I managed to keep myself together.
‘I called to see him at the garden centre, and he was as cheerful as anything. He actually kissed me – only a peck on the cheek – but he seemed really pleased to see me. Then he said, ‘I’ve got a surprise for you, Karen. I’m getting married!’
‘Oh, how dreadful!’ said Debbie. ‘Whatever did you say?’
‘I just stared at him. I thought for one moment that he meant him and me. Then I realized … “No, you bloody fool!” I says to meself “It’s not you; he’s been having you on.” Then I managed to say, “Congratulations! Who is it?” I’d no idea there was anyone else. I’m sure I
must have gone dead white; I thought I was going to pass out … Anyway, she’s called Stephanie, and he said he’d known her for ages, even before he married Daphne.’
Apparently the young woman had moved away to another part of Yorkshire, but Charlie had got in touch with her and had started seeing her again. ‘And so it’s Bob’s yer flippin’ uncle!’ said Karen. ‘He’s been bloomin’ secretive about it.’
‘So how does it affect you with your job and everything?’ asked Debbie. ‘Do you still want to go back and work there? He’s promised you a promotion, hasn’t he?’
Karen nodded. ‘So he has, and he’s coughed up for this course an’ all. So it looks as though I’ve no choice. I reckon I’ll just have to grin and bear it.’ She stared moodily into space.
‘He was too old for you, though, wasn’t he?’ Debbie was trying to find something consoling to say. ‘And there was his little boy; Alfie, isn’t it? I thought you’d be taking a lot on with the child as well.’
‘Alfie’s a little love,’ said Karen, ‘and I enjoyed looking after him. I must admit, though, that Charlie made use of me when it suited him. Anyway, they’re getting married next spring. No doubt he’ll expect me to be there in me best frock and a fancy hat. Happen I’ll have got over it by then.’
‘Of course you will,’ said Debbie, giving her a hug. ‘You’re sounding more cheerful already. There are better fish in the sea than ever came out of it. That’s one of my mother’s sayings. There’ll be somebody else for you, quite soon I should think.’ Karen was not beautiful, but she was very attractive. Her fresh complexion with a light scattering of freckles needed very little make-up. Her ginger hair had a natural curl, and her wide beaming smile lit up her face.
She smiled now, though her brown eyes still looked a little troubled. ‘I shall be wary in future, I can tell you. I must admit, though, I’ve hardly looked at the fellers at college. I was so sure that Charlie was the one. Well, you live and learn …’
Old Friends, New Friends Page 10
