‘Actually, my dad’s thinking of buying a car,’ said Debbie. ‘I was quite surprised when he said so. He’s so cautious about spending money as a rule, and he’s always said he didn’t need one.’
‘So … why has he changed his mind?’
‘Well, I think he’s feeling tired, though he doesn’t always admit it. Mum says it takes it out of him cycling to work and back, then the manual work he does all day. I thought he looked tired when I saw him again; older and slower, too, but I didn’t say so.’
‘So he would have to learn to drive?’
‘Oh, he can drive already. He learned when we moved here to Whitesands, when I was a little girl. He drives the work’s van sometimes, but another chap is in charge of it. Anyway, we’ll see.’
‘How is college?’ asked Kevin. ‘Your mam said she doesn’t know what you get up to while you’re away. So … have you anything to tell me, Debbie?’
What was he asking? she wondered. If she had met someone else? She and Kevin had had no sort of understanding when she went away to college. They had fallen out at one stage, and had stopped seeing one another. Then their friendship had resumed, but with no promise that it might lead to anything else.
‘I can tell you that I’m working hard and enjoying the course,’ she said, in answer to his question. ‘I’ve made some good friends. The four of us in the flat are all very different, but we get on really well. And in the downstairs flat there are three lads; well, not really lads – young men who are at the college. As it happens they have all paired off with my three friends.’
‘Oh dear!’ said Kevin, with a wry smile. ‘So where does that leave you?’
‘I’m not complaining. I go out quite a lot and enjoy myself. All work and no play, you know …’ She decided she had better be straight with him. ‘I’ve seen Graham a time or two. He’s a junior architect now, working in Leeds.’
‘Graham? Who’s he?’
‘It’s rather complicated; I’m sure I’ve mentioned him before, though. You know my birth mother, Fiona? Well, her husband, Simon – the rector – he has a son called Greg, and Graham is his brother; well, half-brother. So when he found out I was at college and lodging in Leeds he looked me up. I’ve had a meal at his flat, and he played his French horn for me! It was a laugh, Kevin, honestly! And we’ve been out together a couple of times. That’s all.’ She decided not to tell him about the plan to see Graham at the end of the holiday.
‘I see …’ He nodded, not looking away from the steering wheel.
‘What about you? Don’t tell me you’ve been staying in, night after night?’
‘No … I haven’t.’ He turned to grin at her. ‘But I’m with you now, Debbie, and that suits me just fine.’
They had been driving through a maze of country lanes. Northumberland had its share of rural landscape, green and pleasant, with quaint villages and isolated farms, when you got away from the collieries and mills. There was the beginning of a change now, though, in the north-east. The old industrial scars were disappearing with the challenge of modern industry. There were new housing estates and bright modern factories where once there had been soot and grime.
Kevin pulled off the road when they came to a pub called the Fox and Grapes. He drove round to the back of the squat greystone building to the car park. ‘It should be fairly quiet in here,’ he said. ‘It’s well off the beaten track, and there’s a nice atmosphere to the place.’
It was an olde worlde pub which didn’t need any gimmicks to make it seem so as it was genuinely old; pre-Victorian, Debbie guessed. She hadn’t been there before, nor did she remember ever seeing it from the road. Part of the floor was stone-flagged, but there was a bright patterned carpet in the lounge bar and a log fire at one end in an inglenook fireplace. A decorated Christmas tree stood at the other side of the bar, the scent of the pine needles adding to the welcoming atmosphere. Toby jugs, copper lustre jugs and pewter tankards stood on the delft rack, and pictures of hunting scenes, and portraits of Victorian bewhiskered gentlemen and apple-cheeked old ladies adorned the walls.
They found seats at a small round table in a corner. Debbie took off her cherry red coat as the room was comfortably warm. She had dressed with care, but in her usual casual style: black and white miniskirt with a polo-necked white sweater and shiny black boots with silver heels.
‘What are you drinking?’asked Kevin. She could see him looking at her admiringly but he made no comment.
‘I’d like a sweet Martini with lemonade, please, Kevin,’ she replied.
‘And I’ll have a pint of bitter,’ he said. ‘I’ll always allow myself one and no more when I’m driving.’
‘Very sensible,’ said Debbie.
‘Anything to eat? They do very nice ham sandwiches.’
‘Oh no, thanks. I’ve just had my tea. Mum’s insisting on feeding me up now I’m home.’
‘Packet of crisps, then?’
‘Oh, go on … cheese and onion, please.’
He came back with the drinks and two packets of crisps. ‘It’s great seeing you again, Debbie,’ he said, as he sat beside her on the red plush bench. ‘I’ve missed you, you know.’
‘That’s good to hear.’ She smiled at him. ‘Not too much though, I hope? I’m sure you’ve not been sitting at home all the time, watching the telly?’ She was feeling rather guilty. She had missed Kevin, whenever she had thought of him, but it certainly hadn’t been every day.
‘Not all the time, no.’ He grinned at her. ‘As a matter of fact, I’ve been going to night school classes. I know now that I should have worked harder at school and got more O levels than I did; but I was eager to leave and go into the business with Dad. I decided I could be a great deal more help to him than I am, so I’m taking a class in bookkeeping and finance, and another in horticulture. I thought I knew it all, but it seems that I don’t! I can’t have you showing me up with all your knowledge.’
‘Good for you, Kevin,’ she said, rather surprised at what he had told her.
He had always been a happy-go-lucky sort of lad, taking life easily, just as it came. He had not seemed concerned about his lack of book learning, although he had sometimes made remarks, jokingly, about her being brainier than he was. And had she, maybe, been a teeny bit proud of her scholastic achievements? she pondered now, to her shame. Had she, deep down, thought she was rather too good for him even though she had fancied herself in love with him?
Kevin was certainly much more mature now and had developed a more serious and responsible manner. She felt her previous attraction towards him coming back more strongly than before. When she was fifteen she had been flattered because a lad two years older than herself had taken notice of her. He had been her first boyfriend and she had imagined he was the love of her life. It had been Kevin who had ended their friendship. She knew now that it was because she had been silly and irresponsible, a bit of a pain, to be honest!
‘Your father must be pleased about your studies,’ she said. ‘Have you taken over the office work now?’
‘I will, quite soon,’ he replied. ‘Mum and Dad have been doing it between them, but it’s too much for them really. Dad has enough to do running the practical side of the business, and Mum likes to concentrate on her flower arranging. She’s been especially busy this Christmas … My parents would like to see you again, Debbie. Mum said would you like to come for tea, one day after Christmas? My sister and her husband and children are coming for Christmas, but they’ll be going back after the weekend.’
‘Yes, that would be very nice,’ she answered. ‘I’d love to see them again.’
They decided on the following Tuesday, which was exactly a week away. They chatted easily together for the rest of the evening. The time flew by as they talked reminiscently about friends they remembered and their days at Kelder Bank School – although they had not known one another then – and about Kevin’s plans for the garden centre and Debbie’s college course.
Debbie had another drink, a lemonade
shandy, while Kevin had lemonade on its own because he was driving. ‘I must take special care of you, now I’ve met up with you again,’ he told her.
She felt very contented and at ease with him as they drove home. When he stopped the car outside her house he put his arms around her and kissed her, gently at first, then again, more ardently as he felt her responding to him. He let go of her reluctantly.
‘Goodnight, Debbie,’ he said. ‘It’s been a lovely evening. I’ll look forward to seeing you next week. I’ll come and pick you up, but I’ll ring you before then. Have a happy Christmas with your parents … and open this on Christmas morning.’ He reached under the dashboard and gave her a small parcel wrapped in silver paper.
‘Oh … thank you,’ she said, rather taken aback. ‘I’m afraid I haven’t—’
He grinned. ‘You didn’t get anything for me? No, why should you? Our friendship had lapsed somewhat, hadn’t it? But who knows what next year will bring?’
He went round to open the passenger door for her. ‘Bye, Debbie,’ he said fondly as he kissed her cheek.
She was pleased that her parents had gone to bed, partly because they no longer insisted on waiting up for her, and partly because she was filled with a quiet happiness that she didn’t want to share with anyone just at that moment.
It was a very happy Christmas for Debbie, Vera and Stanley; just the three of them on their own for a good deal of the time, but Debbie didn’t mind that.
She was delighted when she opened her present from Kevin. It was a pair of dainty earrings in a silver filigree design. She had had her ears pierced when she was sixteen, which had cause a heated argument with her mother at the time. But now that was a thing of the past, and Vera said how pretty they were.
‘Oh … so you and Kevin are seeing one another again, are you?’ she asked.
‘Well, yes; I’m seeing him, Mum, obviously,’ she said with a smile, ‘I’ll be seeing him on Tuesday when I go for tea, but as for “seeing him” in the sense that you mean … let’s just wait and see, shall we?’
It was good to see Mr and Mrs Hill again; Debbie had enjoyed working for them, and it had given her the incentive to pursue a career in horticulture, particularly in planning and design. She had worked with Mrs Hill on the floral arrangements she had sold in the shop, and this had furthered her interest in garden design. This would be on a much larger scale, of course, but she was finding as she pursued her college course that she had an eye for what looked right and would work in a particular setting.
‘I reckon you’ll go a long way with yer gardening career,’ Mr Hill told her. ‘You were right to go and learn more about it. An’ I’m pleased our Kevin has decided to do a bit more studying an’ all. I’ve learnt it all as I’ve gone along, but I can see there’s a lot more to it these days. I often get asked about ideas for gardening – designs an’ layouts an’ all that sort o’ thing. We’ve got some Californian bricks in stock now – they seem to be all the rage at the moment – and urns and trellis and garden ornaments. None of yer hideous gnomes, though! There seem to be a lot of “do it yerself” enthusiasts around. We’re thinking we might expand and do a bit more in that line. Anyroad, that’s something to be thinking about for the future …’
She saw Kevin a few more times during the holiday. He visited their house for Sunday tea, as Vera thought she ought to return the hospitality. He chatted easily with her parents, as he had always done.
They went to the pictures twice, to see reruns of Midnight Cowboy and the musical, Oliver; it would be a while before the more up-to-the-minute films would be shown in Whitesands Bay.
The night before she was due to go back they walked along the promenade, hand in hand, stopping now and again to look over the railings at the dark grey sea. Kevin kissed her tenderly and lingeringly, as he had done many times that week.
‘I shall miss you,’ he whispered, ‘much more this time. I know you can’t make any promises about … well, about the future. But you’ll write to me, won’t you?’
‘Yes, I will,’ she promised, ‘more regularly than I did before.’
‘And ring me if you can. If you give me the number of that phone next door, I’ll ring you. When will you be home again?’
‘I’m not sure. It’s a long way to come for the half-term break, but I’ll see. Otherwise it will be Easter.’
‘That’s more than three months,’ he said, a little gloomily.
‘Never mind. It’ll soon pass,’ said Debbie, trying to sound light-hearted. ‘I’ll be busy, and so will you. Come on; I’d better get home now. I’m off tomorrow, so I don’t want to be late.’
They didn’t linger long over their goodbyes at Debbie’s gate. They had said all that there was to say, and they were both feeling a little down in the dumps.
‘It’s been lovely seeing you again, Debbie,’ Kevin said, as he had said so many times. ‘Like you say, it might not seem so long if we are both busy. Write to me … and enjoy your weekend.’ One last kiss and then he was gone.
Debbie felt dreadful because she had had to lie to Kevin about the weekend. She had told him that she was going to stay with Fiona and her family before she returned to college. How could she possibly tell him the truth, that she would be spending the weekend with another young man and his family, after the happy times she and Kevin had shared over the past few weeks? On the other hand, how could she contact Graham and tell him that she had changed her mind and would not be coming? That would be very impolite when his mother had, no doubt, made all the arrangements. She would have to go along with it, but make it clear to Graham that she was there just as a friend. Not that he had made any definite moves towards her being anything else, and that was fine with her. And as far as Kevin was concerned … As he had said, who could tell what the next year might bring?
They were already into 1971. Debbie had spent New Year’s Eve with her parents, which she felt was only right. They had gone to the Midnight Service at the church they attended; then they had had a glass of sherry at home to welcome in the New Year.
Vera had not been upset or annoyed that Debbie was going back early to spend the weekend with Graham: rather surprised, that was all. She had looked a little mystified.
‘But you’ve been seeing Kevin all this holiday, haven’t you, pet? Does he know about Graham?’
‘No, not really … Well, not that I’m going to stay there,’ Debbie prevaricated. ‘Look, Mum; they’re just friends, both of them. Like you’re always telling me, I’m still young, aren’t I?’
‘Very well, pet, if you say so,’ her mother answered with a knowing smile. ‘Just make up your mind, though, before it gets too complicated. That would be best …’
Eighteen
Graham was waiting for her at the station barrier when she arrived in Manchester on Saturday afternoon. She could see him looking anxiously at the crowd streaming along the platform as she hurried towards him with her heavy suitcase. He smiled and waved when he caught sight of her; he looked genuinely pleased to see her. Debbie smiled back, determined to enjoy the two days as much as she could and put thoughts of Kevin to one side. Not entirely, though; she had rediscovered the special place that had been there for him in her heart and mind, but it was better not to think of that too much now.
Graham hugged her and kissed her cheek. ‘You’re looking well. Had a good Christmas?’
‘Yes, very nice,’ she answered. ‘It was good to see Mum and Dad again. How about you?’
‘Yes, we’ve had a good time together, all the family, and Greg’s fiancée, Marcia, was with us as well. They’re getting married in the spring.’
‘Oh, that’s nice. Will they be here this weekend?’
‘No, they’re both back at work, and so am I, of course. I’ve come this weekend so that you could meet everyone. My sister, Wendy, is there as well; she wanted to meet you. Anyway, let’s get going.’ He picked up her suitcase. ‘I’ve borrowed Charles’s car; it’s in the car park.’
It was a fair
ly new blue Triumph car that Graham handled very well. He told her he was hoping to have a car of his own very soon, although it was not really necessary in Leeds where the transport was good, but the parking facilities were not.
‘What have you been doing these last few weeks?’ he asked her as they drove along.
She told him she had spent a good deal of time with her parents, which was true; and that she had had a girls’ night out with her former best friend, Shirley, who was home from training college, and two other girls they had known in the sixth form.
‘And I went for tea with my former boss and his family,’ she said. ‘You know, Mr and Mrs Hill at the garden centre, Sunnyhill, where I used to work.’ True again, but with a slight omission; she did not mention their son.
They pulled up outside a semi-detached house in a wide tree-lined avenue in Didsbury. Debbie had heard that this was one of the more affluent suburbs of Manchester. although it was a semi the house had an imposing frontage, with a gabled roof, large bay windows, a well tended lawn with a hedge of copper beech, and a wide path leading to a double garage.
Debbie knew at once that it was Yvonne who opened the door to greet them. She was very much as Debbie had imagined her: pretty and plumpish with dark curly hair and smiling blue eyes. She was older than Fiona, roughly the same age as Simon, in her early fifties.
‘How do you do?’ she said, shaking Debbie’s hand. She kissed her cheek. ‘I’m so pleased to meet you at last.’
‘Yes, so am I,’ agreed Debbie. ‘Thank you for inviting me.’
‘It’s a pleasure,’ said Yvonne. ‘We’ve heard a lot about you, haven’t we, Charles?’ the remark was addressed to the man who had joined them in the hallway. ‘This is my husband, Charles.’
He was a tall distinguished-looking man with a moustache and greying hair, a good few years older than Yvonne, Debbie guessed. He was Yvonne’s second husband, not the father of Wendy and Graham. They had married only a couple of years ago.
He smiled pleasantly as he shook her hand. ‘Delighted to meet you, my dear.’
Old Friends, New Friends Page 21
