Old Friends, New Friends

by Margaret Thornton

  ‘It’s an educational visit,’ she told him, ‘not a jolly holiday.’

  ‘Oh, I expect you’ll enjoy it all the same,’ he said. ‘See you sometime, then …’ He waved cheerfully as he drove away.

  Debbie’s parents were overjoyed to have her at home again. Her father was eager to show off his new possession, his Ford Anglia with the odd-shaped back window, which he polished till the paintwork gleamed, every weekend.

  ‘We’ve had some grand little trips out, haven’t we, Vera?’ he said. ‘I thought we might make a day of it, the three of us, next Saturday. You can decide where we go, Debbie. Happen we could take a picnic if the weather’s fine. And you could invite Kevin to come along with us if you like, Debbie. You’ve not seen him much since you got home, have you?’

  ‘He’s busy at work, Dad,’ she replied. ‘It’s Easter, and people are planning their summer gardens. He’ll certainly be working on Saturday.’

  It was true that she hadn’t seen much of Kevin. He had phoned her, not straight away but a couple of days after she returned home. He had called for her that same evening and they drove into town, then had a walk along the promenade. Dusk was falling as they stood by the railings, looking out across the dark sea. The day had been fine and there was a colourful sunset, the clouds edged with gold in a sky shading from orange to crimson, to a deep purply-red.

  They had chatted together pleasantly, mainly about the garden centre and Kevin’s and his father’s ideas for the coming year. Debbie told him about her course and how much she had learnt over the past months. But there was a constraint between them.

  ‘How did you enjoy your day out?’ he asked her. ‘You were going to see a garden, temple … something or other?’

  ‘Oh yes … Temple Newsam … Yes, we enjoyed it very much.’

  ‘What’s up, Debbie?’ he asked. They were well attuned to one another by now. Debbie was aware that Kevin knew when she was being evasive or keeping something from him.

  She had been brought up to be truthful. She had been a troublesome teenager at times, but she had always hated telling lies; even the memory of little fibs had lingered in her mind. And so it was now. She had lied to Kevin about her day out with Graham, and although it might cause trouble between them she knew she had to admit to what she had done.

  ‘I’ve got something to tell you, Kevin,’ she began. ‘I did go to Temple Newsam, but it was a couple of weeks before. That day, when you wanted to come to Leeds I’d already said I’d go out for the day … with Graham.’

  She heard Kevin’s sharp intake of breath. His face was serious, but more distressed than angry. He looked steadily at her. ‘Graham? The fellow who plays the bugle, or something? You’re still seeing him?’

  ‘The French horn, actually. Yes, I do see him, but only now and again. Because he lives in Leeds … and it’s somebody to go out with. There’s nothing … like that … between us.’ She didn’t explain like what; he would know what she meant. ‘We’re only friends.’ Which was true because Graham hadn’t taken things any further. ‘It’s nothing serious, Kevin. I don’t want to get serious yet … with anybody. I’m still at college, and I don’t know what I’m going to do or where I’ll be when I finish.’

  ‘That’s beside the point,’ he replied. ‘I’m talking about now, and about you and me. You must know how I feel about you, Debbie. I know we haven’t made any promises … but there’s nobody else for me. I’m not seeing anyone else while you’re away, and I thought it was the same for you. I feel let down, Debbie. I really thought—’

  ‘Oh, Kevin … don’t get so upset. I won’t see Graham again if you don’t want me to. But, like I said, we’re just friends.’

  ‘But you lied to me, didn’t you?’

  ‘Only because I’d said I’d go out with him, and I didn’t know what do.’

  ‘Because you didn’t want to tell him about me. That’s the truth, isn’t it?’

  ‘I suppose so. But when we got back together again, you and me, I thought we were just going to see how things worked out for us. We’d fallen out once before—’

  ‘We were only kids then, Debbie. I’ve grown up now, and I thought you had, too. But maybe you haven’t, not enough to know your own mind. I know what I want …’ He took hold of her hand, looking unsmilingly into her eyes. ‘I want you, Debbie, just you. But unless you feel the same it’s no use, is it?’ She didn’t answer. ‘Come along,’ he said, ‘let’s go and have a coffee somewhere, then I’ll take you home.’

  Debbie was confused. Kevin hadn’t said he loved her, but she thought that was what he meant. Did she love him? Ages ago, when she was a silly schoolgirl, she had thought she did. But now … she wasn’t sure. She enjoyed his company, and their more intimate moments, too; although he had not asked too much of her. But she enjoyed being with Graham as well. She wanted to enjoy the rest of her time at college without making any promises she might not be able to keep.

  She saw Kevin a few more times before she returned to Leeds. He did not put any pressure on her, but she knew he was waiting for her to make up her mind.

  She spent a good deal of her time with her parents. Stanley took a few days off work and they went further afield in the car: to Hadrian’s Wall; to the market town of Alnwick and its castle; and to the Holy Island of Lindisfarne. Looking back on it she felt pleased that she had accompanied them on their outings. She knew they had been delighted that they were together as a family. And Debbie realized afresh just how much they meant to her.

  Twenty-One

  Debbie made up her mind that she was going to enjoy the visit to Derbyshire, looking upon it as a little holiday, although it was, in truth, an educational visit as part of the course. She tried to put all thoughts of Kevin and of Graham to the back of her mind as she got on the minibus on Tuesday morning with the other members of the group.

  She sat with Janet, another of the landscape students. There were only four women in the group. Fran, of course, was sitting with Alistair, although Debbie had an idea that their relationship was going through a rocky patch. The other girl of the four, Stephanie, was sitting with Alan, the young man with who she had become friendly. The rest of the group, it appeared, were fancy-free. It was inevitable that relationships would be formed in a co-ed college; inevitable, too, that some would founder whilst others would last throughout the course and continue afterwards. As would seem to be the case with Lisa and Neil.

  They had been provided with a packed lunch which they ate when they stopped at the spa town of Buxton. The weather was fine and they enjoyed a short break in the pleasant gardens near the pavilion.

  It was not far, then, to Derby; they arrived there by mid-afternoon. The sports college was an ideal venue for their three-day visit. Each of them had their own room, small but adequate – students could not expect five-star treatment – with shower, wash basin and toilet, single bed and functional furniture consisting of a wardrobe and a dressing table-cum-desk.

  All the facilities were available to them as well; swimming pool, tennis courts, gymnasium. There was also a billiards room, a bar, and a common room with comfortable chairs and a television. Debbie had never been a sporty sort of girl, but she could swim reasonably well and had brought her costume along in case she felt inclined to have a dip. The evening meal was served at six thirty, and they queued at the serving hatch to make their choice. During term time, with more than a hundred students to cater for, there would be a wider variety. Tonight, as there were only two small groups staying there, the choice was more limited; soup or melon as a starter, followed by battered fish or steak pie with chips, then a choice of apple pie or cheese and biscuits.

  Coffee and tea were available from the machine in the common room, then the twelve students were free to do as they wished. It was rumoured that the two lecturers who were in charge of the group, Mr Hartley and Mrs Bell, were friendlier than maybe they ought to be. They certainly left their charges to their own devices.

  The other visiting group c
onsisted of middle-aged ladies – their badges indicated that they were members of the Townswomen’s Guild – who were on a cultural visit to the pottery factories and museums that abounded in the area. Debbie and Janet chatted to two ladies who were of a similar age to their own mothers. They were very interested to hear about the landscape gardening course, and said that they, too, would be visiting Chatsworth House later in the week.

  It was, however, the gardens, rather than the house itself that the students were bound for the following morning. They had already learned that this had been the home of the Dukes of Devonshire since the seventeenth century. The gardens and grounds, which were of more interest to them than the architecture and treasures of the house, had been designed at a later date during the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries.

  The grounds covered a vast area, and it was planned that they would stay there for most of the day. They listened, first of all, to a talk by their own lecturer, Mr Hartley; he outlined the planning of the designers, who had worked along with the dukes of the time to create the ideas they had in mind. They were then free to explore the grounds themselves, following a detailed map. They would, of course, be obliged to take notes and report back to the group as a whole when they returned to the college in the late afternoon. There was so much to see that it would serve no purpose to be shepherded around together like a group of schoolchildren. They were to meet near the terrace at the front of the house for lunch, in a couple of hours’ time.

  Debbie and Janet paired up with two of the men students, Andy and Bob. They went, first of all to view the work of Lancelot Capability Brown, one designer they had all heard of before starting on the course. It was Brown who had created a more informal aspect to the scene. The formal gardens had been swept away as he embarked upon his extensive tree planting, He had even altered the course of the River Derwent to accommodate his plans.

  As they surveyed the vista stretching out all around them, the curve of the river and the strategically placed groups of trees, they marvelled at how he had visualized, in his mind’s eye, what the scene would look like a century or more later. The planners had created parklands that would be enjoyed by future generations rather than their own. They identified the trees that had been introduced by Brown, including American species that had been imported from Philadelphia.

  Fortunately the weather stayed fine, although there was a chilly breeze. They were glad of the hot tea and coffee provided by the catering staff of the house, to drink with their sandwiches and pork pies.

  As they continued their exploration of the grounds they met other little groups belonging to their party and exchanged points of view and directions as to where to go next. There was so much to see, and a great deal of walking and scrambling was involved, but by the end of the day when they met together in the common room, they had all managed to tick off everything on the list.

  Although the name of Capability Brown immediately sprang to mind when speaking of Chatsworth, they had also viewed much of the planning that had been done at a later date by Sir Joseph Paxton. He had worked closely with the sixth duke during the nineteenth century to design the parterre gardens and the flower gardens adjoining the house. Particularly appealing to the students was his water feature named The Strid, after a natural feature of the same name in Wensleydale. The Strid at Chatsworth was a picturesque rocky stream, fringed by trees and crossed by a rustic bridge.

  They had talked eagerly about the arboretum and the pine grove where the oldest species of Douglas fir were to be found. And the dell and ravine, the rugged part of the garden with steep paths and a stream running through a valley. Azaleas and rhododendrons were flowering there; visitors later in the year would miss the full beauty of the colourful blooms.

  Some, however, had failed to be impressed by the exhibitionism, the showing off of extreme wealth and influence. Namely, the extravagant cascade and the fountain. The Emperor Fountain had been built for the intended visit of Tsar Nicholas of Russia in 1843. it was planned to be the world’s highest fountain with the water rising to a height of 296 feet. However, the tsar had died and the visit did not take place. Neither had the desired height been achieved. The present fountain could reach only a much lower height, due to a limited supply of water and lack of pressure.

  Their minds were overbrimming with facts and figures, and full of ideas, though on a far less grand scale, that they could adapt for gardens they might create themselves in the future. After another satisfying meal – with a choice of roast beef or pork – there was a good deal to talk about. They were all enthusiastic about what they had seen that day. Little groups formed and re-formed as they spent a leisurely evening.

  Janet, it seemed, had struck up a friendship with Bob who had been part of their splinter group all day. At around nine o’clock Debbie found herself sitting on her own. She didn’t mind; they all knew one another quite well by now, and she could easily go and join one or another of the little gatherings.

  ‘Penny for them,’ said a voice at her side. It was Alistair, smiling at her in that enigmatic way of his. ‘You were miles away, Debbie … and all on your own. That won’t do, will it?’

  ‘I’m quite happy, Alistair,’ she answered. ‘I’m on my own – at the moment – but not lonely, if you know what I mean. You can’t be lonely in a jolly crowd like ours. We’re having a great time, aren’t we?’

  ‘Yes, I agree. So we are. Mind if I join you?’ He didn’t wait for an answer, sitting down in the armchair opposite her. ‘You were impressed, then, by all that we’ve seen today?’

  ‘Very much so,’ she replied. ‘Not quite everything, though. I thought some of the features were way, way out. That fountain, and the cascade … well, honestly! A case of one-upmanship, isn’t it? Moderation in all things, that’s what I believe in.’

  ‘Yes …’ Alistair gave another of his slow thoughtful smiles. ‘That’s by way of being your raison d’être, isn’t it, Debbie?’

  She gave him a quizzical look, feeling somewhat annoyed. She had often felt cross at the comments he made, although she knew he didn’t do it just with her. ‘I don’t know what you mean,’ she replied, dismissively.

  ‘Sorry … sorry,’ he added. ‘I didn’t mean to offend you. Actually, it was meant as a compliment. And I agree with you about the ostentation. Not that we will ever be called upon to create such fantasies for our clients. Have you a job to go to, by the way, when you finish the course?’

  ‘No, there’s nothing in the pipeline, so far. What about you? Oh yes, I remember,’ she added. ‘You’ll be going back to work for your father, won’t you?’ Fran had told them that his father owned a landscape gardening business in north Cheshire, not far from Knutsford.

  ‘Working with my father, not for him,’ he corrected her. ‘I have shares in the firm, and he’s promised to make me a partner – which I shall hold him to. I’ve come on this course to learn all I can and to bring the business into the twentieth century. Sometimes I feel that I’d like to move right away from Cheshire, but it’s a good place to live, by and large. Some very wealthy folk in Cheshire who don’t mind parting with their brass.’

  ‘Where’s Fran?’ she asked now. She had also remembered that her friend had mentioned, casually, that there was a possibility that she might go and work with Alistair’s firm.

  ‘She’s not with me, that’s for sure,’ he replied. ‘She’s over there.’ He pointed a thumb in the direction of the small bar where Fran was standing with Stephanie, ordering drinks.

  ‘You’ve had a row?’ Debbie asked, carefully,

  ‘Yes; makes a change, doesn’t it?’ He sounded more than a little sarcastic.

  ‘Never mind; you’ll soon make it up,’ Debbie told him. She knew that the spats between them happened quite frequently.

  ‘Not this time we won’t,’ he said. ‘No; I think we’ve come to the parting of the ways. The fair Francesca only took up with me on the rebound, you know, when she broke up with her fiancé; Ralph, wasn’t it?’
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  Debbie nodded. ‘Yes, that’s right … I don’t think Fran really knows what she wants. She’s a good friend, though. I thought she was a bit stuck-up at first, but she has a really kind and caring side, when you get to know her.’

  ‘Then maybe I don’t know her very well.’ said Alistair. ‘As you so rightly say, she doesn’t know what she wants …’ He paused. ‘But I do.’ He leaned forward in his chair, looking at her intently. ‘Tell me, Debbie; how are things with you? Are you still seeing the fellow in the band; French horn player, isn’t he?’

  ‘Oh, you’ve heard about that, have you? Fran’s been telling you stories?’

  ‘She mentioned it, that’s all. You’d been out with him that night when Lisa had her accident, hadn’t you?’

  ‘Oh yes, I’d forgotten that you’d met him.’ She hadn’t heard from Graham since her return to Leeds. She had only been back a couple of days before coming to Derby, but she had expected him to ring her. ‘I still see him … on and off,’ she said, not sure why she was wanting to tell Alistair. ‘He seems more interested in his band than he is in me.’

  ‘Maybe he isn’t sure what he wants, either?’

  ‘No … maybe not. I seem to be getting myself in a fair old muddle at the moment. there’s Kevin at home, you see: I used to work with him at the garden centre. I write to him and I see him when I go home. He found out about Graham, and he wasn’t best pleased, but Graham doesn’t know about Kevin. So I don’t know whether I have two boyfriends or none at all.’

  Alistair laughed. ‘Oh, what a tangled web we weave …’

  ‘I didn’t mean to deceive either of them,’ said Debbie. ‘It’s just – oh, I don’t know!’

  ‘I do,’ said Alistair. ‘Do you know, Debbie, I’ve wanted to get to know you better ever since we first met. But I knew you had a boyfriend at home; you mentioned him, though you may not remember. Then you seemed to be going steady with the chap in the band, at least that was what I thought. I’ve had some fun with Fran, even though we’re always rowing; maybe we’re too much alike, I don’t know. But I do know that she’s not the girl for me.’