He had been a priest for seven years when he returned home to attend his mother’s funeral. He found the newspaper clipping, yellowed with age, while he was going through her things. Would Charles from London please contact Beverly in the Lakes? How his mother, who never bothered with the personal column had come across the item was something Charles would never know. She was not yet in her grave, but the awful hurt at her deception almost destroyed him. She had let her lofty ecclesiastic ambitions for her son take precedence over everything, indeed his very happiness. Even though many years had passed, he had telephoned the Hare and Hounds to see if Beverly had left a forwarding address. By this time the owner had died and a Mr. Pudsley was the landlord. He had apologized because he couldn’t help and who was calling please. The pub was crowded, he said, and maybe someone in the bar would know the young lady. Charles had said it was of no consequence, thanked him, and hung up. He had agonized all over again. Had Beverly had second thoughts? Had she missed him and realized she did love him after all? Or was there another reason, the one he could hardly bear to think about? Had she come back to say she was expecting Charles’s child?
Eventually he had become reconciled to never knowing why Beverly had placed those couple of lines in the paper. He gazed down Market Street to the hills beyond. Even now, after all these years, and mostly when he was tired at the end of the day, he still thought of her, and knew he would as long as he lived.
Chapter Twelve
A few days later, while Jenny stacked the day’s newspapers in the rack, Ada showed her the postcard from the girl who’d flitted off to Paris. She’d fallen in love with the place, she’d written, and could Ada manage without her a while longer. “Looks as if I’ll have to,” Ada said, studying the photograph of the Eiffel tower. She shoved the card in her pocket and continued placing sprigs of parsley between the pork pies. “I wish Sarah was well enough to come back. She may be slow but makes up for it by being so loyal, so determined.” She stuck the last piece of parsley in place and stood back to admire her handiwork. “When you get right down to it, I can rely on Sarah more than I can anybody.”
“Will it help if I stay on a while longer?” Jenny asked.
Ada’s face lit up. “Ooh, if you would, I’d be ever so grateful. Still, I can’t expect you to stay forever. That advert in the window isn’t doing any good, so I’ll ring the paper this morning and put one in there. That’s bound to do the trick, and besides, we can’t afford to take any more chances. A couple of people have asked questions about how you, an American, can work in this country.”
Jenny looked up as she stuck the various newspapers in their slots. “Uh, oh, what did you say?”
Ada retied the strings on her apron. “Just told them the truth, said you haven’t been paid a penny. Don’t you worry though, love, I’ve got it all tallied up. When you leave here, you’ll get your full dibbins.”
She closed the glass door of the refrigerated case, and wiped it with a paper towel. “You’ve been a godsend, Jenny, I wish there was something I could do for you.”
“You’re not beholden to me, Ada. I’ve loved this job and I’ll miss it when I go. Since you ask though, there is something. I bought Sarah one of those paint-by-the-numbers pictures. She said she likes to do them. If you’d give it to her tonight when you go, I sure would appreciate it.”
“Yes, OK, but why don’t you come with me. I’d be glad of the company.”
“No, no, I can’t go in there again.” Jenny said, so fast and loud Ada stared.
Jenny wadded up the damp paper towel, then twisted it round the back of her hand. “What I mean is, I, well, I’m not good at visiting hospitals. I, well—” She shivered and ran a hand over the goose bumps on her arms.
Ada still stared as if she didn’t understand, but patted her shoulder. “Ah, that’s OK. It isn’t as though you know Sarah very well, hardly at all really.”
“Yes, but still—” Jenny gave a little false laugh, not about to tell Ada about her crazy phobia. Had Uncle Tim been right all along? Had she come away too soon? She saw again his worried caring face when he’d given her that big bear hug at the airport, and how his smile seemed glued on when he’d waved that last goodbye.
Ada went to answer the phone. “That was Betty Philmore from the Post Office,” she said when she hung up. “Her mother’s the one who had the gallstones taken out. When Betty visited her last night, she popped in to see Sarah. Guess what. She’s coming home today.”
The next day they fixed a gift basket for Sarah, careful to include only the items Dr. Hall had suggested. “Thanks for taking this,” Ada said as she added a packet of frosted lemon biscuits. “I’d take it myself but I can’t stand that Biddy.”
Jenny picked up the cute little teddy bear Andy had sent over and stuck its feet in a bunch of grapes. “I don’t mind. If it hadn’t been for Sarah, I’d never have gotten to know you. Taking this basket is the least I can do.” She cast a sidelong glance at Ada. What if the woman knew the real reason she wanted to take it was to get one last crack at quizzing Biddy before Dr. Thorne came home.
Ada added a couple of packets of jelly beans and four tubes of fruit pastilles. “Molly Duggan lives on down the lane from Biddy, next door really. Knows everybody’s business. Tells it an’ all. Said the Social Services have been at Glen Ellen again. She recognized the man, said it’s his third visit this month.”
“You reckon that’s because of Sarah?”
“Bound to be. They’ll be weighing Biddy up too. Looking back, she’s always been a bit different. You know, standoffish, kept to herself. But this last year though she’s turned downright spooky. A few weeks before you came, I was here in the shop by myself. At least I thought I was. Didn’t hear the bell jangle. I heard a cough and when I looked up, there stood Biddy over by the shampoos and soap. She had her arms folded and stared at me without saying a word. It fair put the wind up me, it did. It sounds silly talking about it now but I went into the back. Didn’t come back out till I heard voices of a couple of customers. She’d gone by then. No sign of her anywhere.”
Jenny finished tying the big pink bow on the basket’s handle. “Has Sarah ever said anything to you about Biddy abusing her?”
“Nothing except how cranky she is. I don’t think she’d hurt Sarah physically. Surely she’d be afraid Sarah would tell. You know how she tells everything.”
“She’s told me some things. That day she was sick and I took her home? She said Biddy would clobber her because she wet her pants. At first I didn’t pay her any mind, then when I went with her to the hospital, she told me something else.”
Jenny took off her apron and hung it on the nail behind her, while she told Ada about Biddy blindfolding the half-naked Sarah, making her stand in the corner for hours. “Sarah’s no child,” Jenny said, “but not quite a grownup either, not in her ways, I mean. Is this child abuse or what?”
“I don’t know,” Ada said through her teeth. “God only knows what goes on up there. The Social Services need to know about this, but even here we have to be careful. They could decide to leave Biddy where she is and cart Sarah off to some place miles away, where she won’t know a soul. If that happened, it would break her heart.”
“But surely they’d make Biddy leave,” Jenny said. “We know she hasn’t got all her eggs in one basket and no way would Sarah make up those things she told me.”
Ada reached for the Saran wrap and began to cover the basket. “It would have to be proven. Maybe that’s why the Social Services have been up there so much. You know, trying to catch Biddy out. They won’t just throw her into the street, even if she is round the bend. There’s people who’d argue it’s her home too. And even if she was made to leave, Sarah couldn’t handle that big place on her own. Maybe somebody else could be found to live with her or she could manage a little flat. But now, her being sick like this, even that would be dicey. If she just had a couple of relatives to go to bat for her, it would all be a lot more cut and dried.”
Jenny let go of one of the balloon strings, and watched it float toward the ceiling. “I thought you said he wouldn’t be home for weeks.”
Ada reached and grabbed the string. “I did but Andy rang me after we closed last night. Said Angus had changed his mind. He’s on his way.”
As Jenny turned into Glen Ellen’s drive, she saw the empty space where Biddy always parked. She leaned gently on the horn and when Sarah stuck her head out of her bedroom window, Jenny stepped out of the car and held up the basket. “Look what I’ve got. “Is Biddy home?”
“No, and the door’s not locked,” Sarah said. “Come on up. Can you get my medicine out of the fridge. Two bottles, one blue and one red. Biddy forgot.”
While Jenny placed the basket on the table and hooked her shoulder bag over the chair back, she watched a huge roach scuttle across the Welsh dresser. Dirty dishes were on the table and in the sink, and the smell of tobacco hung in the air. After she’d picked up the medicine, washed a glass, and placed the bottles inside, she held the heavy basket with one hand and the glass with the other and climbed the stairs.
Sarah was stretched out on the chaise longue by the window, a half-finished jigsaw puzzle on the card table beside her, along with a couple of books and a Pocahontas video. Her sallow face was puffy, and the whites of her eyes had a jaundiced look. She didn’t look any better than the day Jenny had gone with her to the hospital.
“You didn’t come to see me,” Sarah said. “I thought we were best friends.”
“We are. I planned on coming. It’s just that I—”
“Hospitals give you the heebie-jeebies don’t they?”
“Just a bit. How did you know?”
“Ada told me but don’t tell her I said.”
“I can’t help it, Sarah. I’m nowhere near brave as you.”
She put the basket on the table by the chaise and started to remove the Saran Wrap. “The fruit’s been washed,” she said, as she took out the bear. “Bet you can’t guess who sent this?”
“It’s from Andy,” Sarah said, reaching for it then cradling it in her arms. “He knew I wanted a Paddington bear. See, he’s wearing his little wellies and a mac.”
Jenny untied the balloons and fastened them to the bedpost. “How are you feeling? Everybody that comes into the shop wants to know.”
“I’ve got something bad, Jenny. Biddy said people like me don’t live as long as other people.”
Jenny sat beside her, longing to tell her what she thought of the old bitch. “Don’t listen to her,” she said instead. “She doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”
“I’ll bet she does this time. I’m already beginning to die. I can feel it.”
Jenny ran a hand over the thin straight hair, feeling a strange unexpected warmth at the closeness. “No, no, you’re not. It’s going to take some time. That’s all.”
Sarah clutched her bear. “Are you sure?”
“Sure I’m sure. Everyone who comes in the shop says it’s not the same without you. Ada, well, she misses you real bad. I try but I’m nowhere near as good as you.”
Sarah almost smiled as she poked Jenny in the chest. “Told you.”
Jenny looked out the window at the drive. “By the way, where’s Biddy?”
“Shopping.”
When Biddy pulled into the driveway and saw the blue Ford, her hands trembled so much the car veered onto the grass and she missed the fishpond by inches. She’d warned that girl if she didn’t get out of Stoney Beck, she’d be sorry. Not only was she still here, she’d had the cheek to come to the house, probably using visiting Sarah as an excuse to nose around. Biddy felt as if time was running out and the jig would be up if the girl was still here when Angus Thorne came home in a few weeks. She lugged a couple of plastic bags into the kitchen, and heaved them onto the counter. She looked up at the ceiling and listened. Sarah’s bedroom was directly overhead and Biddy heard the muffled voices.
She opened the freezer and shoved the groceries out of one bag inside. Six frozen chicken pies, four packets of fish fingers, two roast beef dinners, four pizzas and a carton of ice cream. In the fridge itself she put two slices of ham, then milk, cheese, cartons of rice pudding. The hospital had given her booklets stating that food high in phosphorous such as dairy products should be avoided, along with most prepared foods which had a high salt content. Non-dairy creamers and milk substitutes were recommended as well as unsaturated facts and mayonnaise-type salad dressings. There was a list of things Sarah could eat such as sugar and sweets, gum drops, marshmallows, plenty of honey and jam, certain canned or frozen fruits and a specific amount of carbohydrates. A note was attached to the brochure to say a renal dietician planned to visit the house within the next view days and would be in constant touch. Biddy though had no intention of listening to whoever they sent out.
The other bag contained gin and cigarettes. She’d driven all the way to Kendal, not about to let the nosey parkers in Stoney Beck know her business. She stuck one of the bottles in the cupboard under the sink. After hanging her coat on the peg behind the door, she picked up the bag and was headed for the bureau in the lounge when she saw the girl’s shoulder bag slung over the chair back. She’d have known it anywhere. Soft tan leather, not another like it in the village. She looked up at the ceiling again, heard the girl laugh. Biddy flipped open the bag’s flap and peered inside. First thing she grabbed was the leather wallet. Visa card, telephone credit card, driver’s license, library card. There were photographs of Beverly and Jenny, as well as two men. One would be the husband, Jenny’s father. The other man looked a lot like Beverly, probably some relative, her brother perhaps. Several ten pound notes as well as dollars were tucked in the side flap. Biddy stuffed the wallet back inside the bag, pushed aside the small mirror, tube of lipstick, packet of tissues, then pulled out the little hard-backed book and turned the pages. Nothing much in here except a few poems. A four-leaf clover and a forget-me-not were pressed between the pages. She snatched at the note tucked in the center pages and held it away from her eyes to read the small, almost illegible writing.
“My Dearest Jenny,
Even though I’ve freed you from the Robinson curse, I haven’t told you everything about your birth. For years I’ve wanted to tell you the whole story but it was too hard. After you’ve read this letter, I pray you won’t hate me. But you have a right to know and I’d give the world—”
Biddy gripped the table as she lowered herself onto the chair and stared at the note. It was unfinished, the last few words trailing down the page, as if the person who had written it had fallen asleep before finishing, or maybe even—
Intuition told Biddy she’d struck the mother lode, that here in her hand was the very reason the girl had come to the Lake District. The writer of the note was of course Beverly. Biddy had no idea what the Robinson curse was, but it didn’t take a genius to guess what Beverly hadn’t told her daughter. She looked up at the ceiling again and listened. The sound of a window being raised, then the muffled voices of Sarah and Jenny. Her hands shook as she folded the note and shoved it back in the book. A couple of pages further on was a snapshot. She took it over to the small window in the kitchen door and held it against the light. A young couple laughed at her as they stood with their arms around each other in front of the Hare and Hounds.
The girl was the Beverly that Biddy remembered. Even the green suit rang a bell. But it was the boy with his arm around her waist that caused Biddy to gasp and press a hand to her chest. If it had been the Dalai Lama with his arms locked around the Virgin Mary, it would have been less of a shock. The boy was a priest now, that Father Woodleigh from St. Mary’s in Daytonwater. She’d have known him anywhere. He was the one who’d helped her when she’d twisted her ankle getting off the bus. When had that b
een? Twenty years ago? Twenty-five? What did it matter? It was him all right. He’d visited Sarah in hospital a couple of times and even stopped here at the house to tell Biddy that St. Mary’s were remembering Sarah in their prayers. He and Biddy had talked and both recalled that day on the bus all those years ago. He’d also mentioned Jenny Robinson, said she’d been to Mass once, and he’d seen her again in the hospital. He’d even given her a lift back to the village, but from the way he’d talked, it was obvious he had no idea who she was. Just an American tourist passing through. He’d said so himself.
Biddy stuck the snapshot in her pocket and flipped through the book’s remaining pages until she came to the back cover. The inscription read. For Beverly, I’ll love you always, Charles. Biddy had never seen the two of them together, but now, all these years later, she saw it all too clearly, them sneaking into the cottage after dark so they could do it. Beverly had rambled on about her fiancé in America, how he’d lusted after her on her on that last night before she’d left for England, and how she’d finally given in. But what if she’d lied and gone all the way with the priest? He wasn’t a priest then of course. Still, he nearly was, waiting to hear from the seminary. It all carried a lot of weight, especially if he was a father and didn’t know it. She bit her lip to keep from laughing out loud. She had the bitch now.
Footsteps overhead as someone walked across the room, then the sound of the bathroom door closing. Biddy thrust the book back in the shoulder bag, still hanging from the chair back, then carried the plastic bag into the lounge and unlocked the scrolled top of the bureau. The bag containing the five bottles of gin and a carton of cigarettes she placed on the right, before pulling open the little drawer at the left. She took one last look at the snapshot then stuck it underneath the few scattered papers. Her hands shook less now as she yanked down the roll top.
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