The weather changed suddenly. It had been cold but sunny; now black clouds were appearing and it started to rain quite hard. ‘Home time, I think,’ said Tracey, ‘or we’re going to get very wet.’
They were, indeed, drenched when they arrived back at the rectory. Tracey took charge of the children, changing them into the dry clothes that Fiona found and drying their hair. Then she took charge of them whilst Debbie helped Fiona in the kitchen.
‘Just a quick lunch today,’ she said. ‘Soup and sandwiches. I’ll cook a meal tonight for the four of us; well, perhaps five. I expect Stella will want to stay up while you’re here.’
‘Tracey’s a grand girl, isn’t she?’ said Debbie. ‘I’m very impressed with the way she deals with the children. And she’s a sensible girl … a great improvement on your last helper,’ she added with a smile.
‘I’ll say,’ agreed Fiona. ‘I don’t think she’ll have designs on my husband! Although I can tell she admires him, like a father figure, you know. Anyway, let’s hope we have a peaceful time from now on, as peaceful as it can be with four children.’
The weather showed no signs of improving after lunch; in fact the rain was now pouring down in torrents. Tracey agreed to keep all the children busy playing games, reading stories or watching the TV whilst Fiona and Debbie spent some time together and Simon put the finishing touches to his sermon for the following day.
Debbie was telling Fiona about her complicated love life – if that was what it was – whilst they prepared the vegetables for the roast dinner that Fiona was planning. One or the other of them popped into the lounge now and again to see that all was well.
‘All’s well in there,’ said Fiona. ‘Tracey’s going to read a story to them. Now, what were you telling me about Kevin? It seems to me that things are going well there …’
A few moments later Stella came rushing into the kitchen. ‘Mummy, Mummy, come quick! The boys have been fighting again, and Matthew pushed Mark and he pushed him back, and now he’s lying on the floor and he won’t get up.’
‘Oh goodness, not again!’ muttered Fiona. ‘Matthew’s done this before, and Mark pretends it’s worse than it really is.’
They followed Stella into the room. ‘Come on now, boys; what’s going on?’ Fiona began, before she stopped and gave a gasp of shocked surprise. It was not Mark who was lying on the floor, but Matthew. Mark was whimpering and looked scared as he stared at his brother lying motionless on the hearth with Tracey kneeling at his side. His eyes were closed and it was clear that he wasn’t bluffing.
‘I’m sorry,’ said Tracey in a whisper, her face white with shock. ‘They had a fight; they both wanted to sit next to me – it was something and nothing really. I got them apart and I thought it was alright, then Mark flew at Matthew and knocked him down, and he banged his head on the edge of the fireplace …’
Fiona knelt down at Matthew’s side. ‘Come on, Matty,’ she whispered. ‘Wake up; come along, love.’ But he didn’t stir.
‘I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,’ Tracey was muttering. ‘It all happened so quickly. I’ve never seen Mark in such a temper; he really flew at him.’
‘I know it’s not your fault,’ said Fiona, ‘but we’ll have to get some help. Go and tell Simon; he’s in his study.’
Everything happened quickly after that. Simon rang for an ambulance which came in less than ten minutes, although it seemed ages to the anxious group of people who were waiting.
There was a huge lump the size of an egg on Matthew’s forehead. Fiona was trying to believe it was a good sign if the bruise was coming out. She had heard people say that, but none of them really knew. Tracey had learnt a certain amount of first aid on her course, but as Matthew was unconscious they knew they mustn’t move him.
Simon and Fiona both went in the ambulance with Matthew, leaving the two girls to look after the children. ‘I don’t know how long we’ll be,’ said Fiona. ‘We’ll ring and let you know what’s happening.’ She hugged Tracey. ‘Now, none of this is your fault; you mustn’t worry about that. We must just hope and pray that Matthew isn’t badly hurt. I’m sure he’ll be OK. He’s a strong, sturdy lad.’ But she spoke with more conviction than she was feeling.
All the children were subdued. ‘Matty hurt, Matty hurt,’ Mark kept saying, almost to himself.
Both the girls knew that they must not be cross or blame the little boy in any way. Tracey turned the television on – it had its uses at times – and the children settled down, though much more quietly than usual, to watch the antics of Tom and Jerry.
‘Let’s make a cup of tea,’ said Debbie, and the two of them went into the kitchen.
‘I’m really scared,’ Tracey confessed. ‘Matthew went down with such a bang. There was a real loud crack when he knocked his head on the hearth. I daren’t tell Fiona that. He was taken unawares, you see, by Mark lungeing at him, and he wasn’t ready to retaliate. Oh Debbie …’ She burst into tears. ‘He will be alright, won’t he?’
Debbie put her arms round the girl. ‘I should think so,’ she answered, not wanting to say that she was sure he would come round with no ill effects. She, too was scared, but didn’t want to admit it. ‘The same thing happened to my friend, Lisa,’ she said, wanting to offer some degree of comfort. ‘She fell in the kitchen and banged her head. She was inhaling gas as well because she didn’t realize she’d left a gas tap on. She was on her own, you see, because we’d all gone out, and it was ages before we found her. But she was OK; she came round in hospital after a few hours, and she’s been fine ever since. So try not to worry too much about Matthew. Let’s just wait and see, eh?’
The best thing to do, for the two of them and for the children’s sake, was to keep busy. They decided to make tea for everyone. When he was asked what he wanted to eat, Mark replied promptly that he would like ‘sojers’.
‘Soldiers,’ interpreted Tracey. ‘He likes fingers of toast dipped in a boiled egg. They all like them.’
Debbie smiled. ‘Don’t we all? That’s what my mum used to call them.’
They made what the children thought was a lovely tea with the boiled eggs and buttered soldiers, a red jelly they found in the fridge to which they added a tin of fruit cocktail, and iced buns that Fiona had made the day before. Debbie and Tracey dined with them, guessing that the roast dinner planned for the evening would have to be put off until another day. They put the half prepared vegetables in the fridge with the leg of lamb that, fortunately, Fiona had not started to cook.
They were waiting anxiously for the phone to ring although neither of them mentioned it. They were just starting to get Mark and Michelle ready for their nightly bath when Simon returned. They could tell from his face that the news was not good – he looked serious and there was none of the usual warmth in his eyes – but at least it was not all that bad.
‘There’s no change,’ he said. ‘Matthew’s still unconscious, but as far as they can tell there should be no lasting damage. He’s suffering from concussion, poor little lad, and they obviously don’t know how long it will last. He’s having oxygen to help his breathing and he appears to be breathing normally, but how can I tell?’ He hastily wiped away a stray tear from the corner of his eye.
‘Fiona insisted I should come home and she’ll let me know if there’s any change. She’s staying overnight at the hospital. They are so good there; I know they’ll do all they possibly can …’ He gave as bright a smile as he was able. ‘Now, what can I do? Bath time is it?’
‘We’ll see to them, Simon,’ said Debbie. ‘I’m sure you must be ready for something to eat. We’ve had our tea with the children; and we’ve put the lamb back in the fridge. It’ll keep for a day or two.’
‘That’s the least of our worries,’ said Simon. ‘You carry on with the little ’uns, and Stella can come and talk to me while I rustle up something to eat. OK, Stella?’
The little girl had been listening intently to all that was said. She nodded gravely. ‘I’ll come and help, Daddy. I’ve h
ad a lovely tea, though. There’s some jelly and fruit left, and some of Mummy’s special buns.’
‘Splendid!’ he enthused. ‘And I think there’s some cold chicken, so I’ll make some sandwiches.’
They were all trying to act as normally as they could. Simon went up to read a bedtime story to Mark and Michelle, then Debbie read to Stella about The Folk of the Faraway Tree.
‘She’s just discovered Enid Blyton,’ Tracey told her, ‘and it’s her nightly treat. But she told me that Debbie would read to her tonight. You two get along famously, don’t you?’
Debbie agreed that they did. The bond between her and her little half-sister grew stronger every time they met. Simon came in after the story to say goodnight to Stella. Debbie left them alone; she was sure they would be saying a little prayer for Matthew to get well again.
Simon joined the two girls in a short while. There was the usual variety show on the television, but when Simon looked at it with a slight frown Debbie got up and turned it off.
‘I don’t think we’re watching this, are we Tracey?’ she asked.
Tracey shook her head. None of them felt like settling down to a normal evening watching TV.
‘I’ve been having a little chat with Stella,’ Simon told them. ‘She really is a most sensible child. Fiona and I have been so blessed with her; and with all our children, of course, but the triplets have given us more cause for worry. Stella said that we hadn’t to be cross with Mark because she’s sure he didn’t mean to hurt his brother.’ He smiled. ‘I suppose you could say that Matthew had it coming to him. He’s teased his brother once too often, but no one could foresee this happening. Of course little Marky didn’t mean it.’
He turned to speak just to Debbie. ‘We were looking forward so much to you coming this weekend. But it’s turning out to be a miserable time for you, isn’t it? I’m really sorry, Debbie. The children kept talking about you coming; well Stella did, and she kept telling the little ones that Debbie was coming soon.’
‘It’s OK, Simon,’ replied Debbie. ‘I’m glad I’m here. I’m shocked about Matthew’s accident, but it’s a good job I’m here to keep Tracey company. I think I’ve managed to convince her that she wasn’t to blame.’
‘Nobody is,’ said Simon. ‘It was just an unfortunate accident. You always seem to be here when there’s an emergency, don’t you, Debbie?’
She smiled. ‘It seems like it. I’ve been here for happy times as well, though.’
Simon nodded. ‘If you girls don’t mind I’ll leave you on your own for a while. I must ring Gilbert about tomorrow’s services. I’m supposed to be preaching in the morning and Gilbert in the evening, but I doubt that I’ll feel much like it. I shall have to see how Matthew is and relieve Fiona at the hospital. I dare say Gilbert will have an extra sermon tucked away that he can rehash. I’ll see you later.’
Debbie guessed that he needed some time on his own: a time of quiet prayer and meditation as well as sorting out the plans for the next day. She told Tracey how she had been at the rectory when Fiona had given birth, unexpectedly, to the triplets.
‘They were several weeks early,’ she told her, ‘and until they arrived everyone had thought they would be twins. Not even the doctor knew. Fiona had a bad time at the birth. She lost a lot of blood, but fortunately I was there to help.’
‘What do you mean?’ asked Tracey.
‘Fiona has an unusual blood group, and I have the same one. So I gave some blood …’ She smiled a little embarrassedly. ‘You know I’m Fiona’s daughter, don’t you?’
‘Yes, she told me. She said it isn’t a secret any more, and how pleased she was that you came to find her.’
‘It’s opened up a whole new chapter for all of us,’ said Debbie. ‘I’ve made new friends … that’s how I met Graham, the young man I’m seeing in Leeds. He and Greg were here that weekend as well; that’s how we came to be godparents to the triplets.’
‘Yes, I know about Greg, too,’ smiled Tracey. ‘He came here with his fiancée a few weeks ago. So you’re going out with his brother, are you?’
‘Sort of,’ said Debbie. She told Tracey a little about the quandary she was in with Graham and Kevin. It helped both of them to take their minds off the much greater problem.
‘Lucky you!’ said Tracey. ‘Two boyfriends, and I haven’t even got one!’
‘You’re only seventeen,’ said Debbie, with the wisdom of her nearly nineteen years. ‘I’m sure you’ll meet someone soon.’
Tracey was what one might describe as a hefty girl with a bonny round face and dark curly hair.
‘I need to lose some weight,’ she said ruefully. ‘Who’d look twice at me?’
‘Lots of lads would,’ said Debbie. ‘Don’t be so hard on yourself. You’re very attractive.’
‘The trouble is I went to an all-girls’ school,’ Tracey replied, ‘and then the job I decided to do isn’t for men; it’s only girls who go in for child care. I’m quite happy, though; I’m not fretting about it.’
They chatted for a while about their homes and family life, and found that they got on well together. Simon joined them at about nine thirty. They had heard the telephone ring and wondered if there was any news.
‘There’s no change,’ he told them, ‘but perhaps that’s good in one way. He’s fairly comfortable, as they say, but he’s still unconscious. Fiona’s staying the night.’ He looked sad and weary. Debbie had never seen him like this with the strain showing in his eyes. Even when he had been concerned about Fiona there had still been the vestige of a sparkle there. She made a supper time drink for them all, and they retired to bed early, glad to end the day and hoping that tomorrow would bring better news.
Fiona returned as they were having breakfast the next morning. She was trying to put on a brave face.
‘Matthew’s eyes were fluttering a little bit,’ she told them, ‘and I thought he was going to wake up … but he didn’t. I’m sure he will soon, though. I’m going to stay at home and cook us all a dinner – there’s the lamb to use, isn’t there? – and Simon can take my place at the hospital. There must be one of us there when he comes round.’ She smiled with a false brightness, trying to act as normally as possible for the children’s sake.
Simon didn’t look as wretched now that his wife was there with him. Debbie knew that whatever they had to face they had their love for one another to sustain them. Fiona chose to stay at home whilst Debbie and Tracey attended church, leaving Mark and Michelle in the crèche, whilst Stella attended her Sunday School class.
As the congregation listened to Gilbert’s announcement about Matthew’s accident, Debbie sensed how much they all cared about the family at the rectory. Prayers were said for the little boy, and the girls were overwhelmed by the good wishes and promises of help and of prayers as they left the church.
It was time for Debbie to leave when they had finished the roast dinner, postponed from the previous evening. Fiona had worked hard making a delicious meal, never forgetting for one moment that Matthew was still lying in hospital in what appeared to be a comatose condition; but she knew that keeping busy was far better than sitting around brooding.
She put Simon’s meal to keep warm in the oven while she drove Debbie to the bus station. ‘I’ll go and change places with him at the hospital when I get back,’ she said. ‘I was hoping there might be some good news before you left Debbie …’
The phone rang at that moment and she dashed to answer it. It was Simon, but there was no change in Matthew’s condition. All the doctor could say was that he was stable. Debbie could see Fiona biting her lip in an effort to keep back the tears of disappointment, and she felt exactly the same.
‘Come along now, all of you,’ said Fiona cheerfully, but with a slight wobble to her voice. ‘Let’s all go and see Debbie off, shall we? The washing up can wait till we get back.’
It was not a great distance to the bus station but too far for Debbie to walk with a heavy case. She sat at the front of the car with F
iona whilst the three children piled into the back with Tracey. There were car seats for the little ones, and Stella sat on Tracey’s knee. It was a tight squeeze but it provided a much-needed moment of light relief.
Debbie was glad that the bus was waiting and there was only a short time until her departure. She hugged all the children. Stella looked unusually sombre as she kissed her grown-up half-sister and whispered to her that she must ‘say a little prayer for Matthew’.
‘It’s been great meeting you,’ Debbie told Tracey. ‘Let’s hope all is well when we meet again.’
She hugged Fiona and told her to be brave. ‘But he’ll be OK, I’m sure,’ she added. ‘They don’t come much tougher than little Matthew.’
‘I’ll let you know the minute there’s any news,’ promised Fiona. Debbie hurried on to the bus before they both gave way to tears.
The children waved as the bus drove away, and Debbie tried to settle down for the hour’s journey to Leeds. It had not been a happy weekend, but she was glad to have been there. It had strengthened the ties she already had with the family at the rectory.
Twenty
It was difficult for Debbie to settle down to her college work. The thought of Matthew still lying in his hospital bed was with her all the time. Her flatmates were sympathetic, and every time Rhoda knocked on the door they were hoping it would be a phone call for Debbie, and that it would be good news.
Plans were going ahead for the visit of the landscape gardening group to some of the outstanding gardens in England. Derby had been chosen as the centre where they would stay. Derbyshire was not too far away from Leeds, and there were three houses with gardens that were worthy of a visit, in the vicinity. The largest and the most well known of them was Chatsworth House, the long-time home of the Dukes of Devonshire, with expensive gardens and parkland. There was also Holker Hall, and Kedleston Hall, both smaller but with a good deal to offer.
Old Friends, New Friends Page 23
