Old Friends, New Friends

by Margaret Thornton

  ‘And to go to the toilet,’ added Stella, nodding wisely.

  ‘Yes, that as well,’ said Debbie, laughing. She stroked the little girl’s blonde hair. ‘You’re a little treasure, aren’t you? Your mummy and daddy must be so proud of you.’ Whatever Fiona’s problem was, Debbie was sure that Stella must bring her a lot of comfort and happiness.

  They talked during the meal mainly about family and parish matters and, of course, Fiona and Simon were eager to hear how Debbie was getting on at college.

  ‘It’s great!’ she told them. ‘Really interesting. All sorts of lectures about … well, everything to do with gardening. Recognition of flowers and plants, and all their Latin names; and planting and pest control and hedge growing and topiary. There’s practical work as well. We’re designing a garden and doing a lot of the building and construction work; rockeries and water features and all that sort of thing.’

  ‘Isn’t it rather strenuous for the girls?’ asked Fiona.

  ‘Well, they’re mostly men in the group, but we girls have to pull our weight. The fact that you’re a woman isn’t supposed to make any difference. And we’re learning about the famous gardeners in history; I really enjoy those lectures. All about Lancelot Capability Brown.’

  ‘I’ve heard of him,’ said Fiona. ‘He designed the garden at Chatsworth House, didn’t he? I went there once, on a coach trip, when I lived in Leeds.’

  ‘Yes, so he did,’ replied Debbie, ‘and Blenheim as well. They’re talking about arranging a trip to see some of the famous gardens, next year, in the spring. So I’ll be looking forward to that.’

  Debbie told them that her parents were well and sent their love, and that she had seen Graham a couple of times. Fiona and Simon told her about the new curate, and the fund raising, and the scheme that was still going strong; providing ‘high tea’ for groups of visitors from other churches who came on coach trips. She noticed that Fiona’s new helper was not mentioned at all.

  ‘Now, I’m going to wash up tonight, all by myself,’ said Simon, when they had finished the meal and had all helped to clear the pots from the table. ‘And, what is more, I shall make coffee, and leave you girls to have a good old natter.’

  ‘Thank you, Simon,’ said Fiona, although she didn’t sound overenthusiastic about his offer. ‘It’s Stella’s bedtime first, though. Just a quick wash tonight, love. We won’t bother with a bath till tomorrow.’

  ‘And then, can Debbie read me a story?’ asked the little girl. ‘Will you, please, Debbie?’

  ‘Of course I will,’ she replied. ‘Is it Milly Molly Mandy?’

  ‘No; we’ve been reading Teddy Robinson, haven’t we, Mummy? He belongs to a little girl called Deborah – like you – and he does all sorts of funny things.’

  ‘I shall look forward to meeting him,’ said Debbie.

  It was always one of the highlights of Debbie’s visits to the rectory, to spend some time alone with the little girl with whom she had bonded so well on their first acquaintance, her little half-sister, and now there were two more little half-brothers and a half-sister. As Debbie’s mother, Vera, had remarked, it was a very complicated state of affairs, especially when you included Greg, Simon’s first born son. Nevertheless, it was a situation that had given a great deal of pleasure, rather than confusion, to the people concerned.

  Debbie had decided she would broach the subject of Fiona’s new helper, Glenda, when they were alone together. If Fiona wanted to tell her about it, all well and good; but if she didn’t want to talk, then Debbie knew she must not pry.

  She waited until they were settled with their cups of coffee, and had chatted a little about Stella and how she was growing and developing into a sensible and helpful little girl.

  ‘Is it easier for you now you’ve got this new lady to help?’ asked Debbie. ‘I’m sure she must have made a difference?’

  ‘She’s done that all right!’ said Fiona, meaningfully. She paused, looking annoyed for a moment, before going on in a more normal voice. ‘Yes, she’s very helpful, of course. She does take a lot of the weight off my shoulders. I thought it would be marvellous to have some help again, but I’m afraid that it’s not really working out all that well. You see –’ she stopped, looking intently at Debbie, her lovely blue eyes troubled and her lip trembling a little – ‘I think she’s got designs on Simon.’

  Debbie was shocked. She didn’t know whether to laugh or to take it seriously. Fiona certainly seemed to be serious about it. ‘Oh … I see,’ she began. ‘Well, it’s only to be expected, I suppose. Your Simon is a very charismatic man,’ she went on, trying to make light of it. ‘I’m sure a lot of the women in the church must have taken a fancy to him.’

  ‘But I mean it,’ said Fiona. ‘I’m not joking. It’s no laughing matter, believe me. I think she really wants him.’

  ‘Well, she can’t have him!’ replied Debbie. ‘And he won’t want her. How could he? He’s got you, and all his lovely children. And you’re so happy together, you and Simon. Everybody knows that. Does he … do you think he knows?’

  ‘He must do,’ said Fiona. ‘She makes it so obvious. And I’ve seen them talking and laughing together. He doesn’t ignore her or brush her off. They seem … so friendly.’

  ‘I’m sure he’s not interested, though,’ said Debbie, staunchly. ‘He’s just being polite to her, surely? Simon’s such a friendly man; he wouldn’t want to hurt anyone. If she doesn’t get any encouragement she’ll back off … won’t she?’

  ‘I certainly hope so, but there’s no sign of it at the moment. It’s as though she’s trying to impress him, show him how helpful she is. Not only with the triplets – that’s what she was employed for, to look after them – but she does little jobs that I usually do. Like making him a cup of coffee in the middle of the morning and … oh, I don’t know! Just generally making a fuss of him.’

  ‘Yes, I see,’ said Debbie, although she didn’t really understand how it could be happening with someone like Simon. ‘How long has she been here?’ she asked. ‘Simon said she was the new curate’s sister-in-law. Did she move here with them when he started his … curacy? Is that what they call it?’

  Fiona smiled. ‘I think so … No, she came here a couple of weeks later. Gilbert and Norma Henderson are great people. He’s just the sort of helper that Simon needed. He’s new to the ministry. He’d been a lay preacher before that, then he decided to go to college when he was turned forty, to take that final step, as he said. He’s not – what shall I say? – as unconventional as the last curate we had. You remember Josh, of course?’

  ‘Yes; he was a real character, wasn’t he?’

  ‘He raised a few eyebrows at first, but he proved his worth; and most people grew to like him. Anyway, he’s moved on; he’s gone to a parish in Oldham, on the other side of the Pennines. Gilbert’s a good deal older, of course, and far more conventional. He’s a good preacher, as he’s had years of practice as a lay reader. And Norma’s very willing to help with work in the parish. Their children are away at university, and she has no job outside of the home. So she takes a Sunday School class – something I had to give up – and she helps with the Mothers’ Union. That was never exactly my forte; that was why I started the Young Wives group. I still do that; the women in the group have become real friends. They’re a great solace to me. Clergymen’s wives can sometimes feel quite lonely, you know. Sometimes people are a bit wary of us.’

  ‘And Glenda?’ Debbie prompted her. ‘How did she come into the picture?’

  ‘They’re from South Yorkshire, near Sheffield. Glenda worked as a nursery assistant – she’s fully qualified – but the nursery closed down and, as it happened, she was looking out for another post. Norma knew how I was fixed with the triplets, so she said she’d ask her sister and see if she was interested in coming here to look after the babies. Of course, I jumped at the idea. I thought she’d be ideal if she was anything like her sister.’

  ‘But she isn’t …?’

  ‘No,
not at all. They look rather alike; small and dark and quite attractive. There’s only a couple of years between them. Norma’s in her mid-forties, like her husband, and I think Glenda’s two years older.’

  ‘Is she married, or single? No; I don’t suppose she can be married, can she, from what you’ve told me?’

  ‘She has been,’ Fiona remarked drily. ‘She’s divorced, not that I’m holding that against her. Norma said that her husband left her and went off with a younger woman; there were no children. Glenda was still living in the house – the matrimonial home, as they call it – and he doesn’t seem bothered about that. So, she came up here a fortnight later; that’s about a month ago. For a trial period, supposedly, to see how it works out for her, and for me.’

  ‘So, if it’s just a trial period, can’t you tell her that you don’t think it’s working? That you’d prefer somebody … younger, maybe?’

  ‘It’s not as easy as that. It would be regarded as ageist to say that. Besides, she’s very good at her job. The children like her. She’s very nice and gentle with them, but she doesn’t stand for any nonsense with Matthew. It’s just this personal thing, with Simon.’

  ‘Maybe he thinks she’s just being nice and helpful,’ said Debbie. ‘And perhaps she is. Could you have mistaken her intentions? And maybe Simon’s rather naive about it all.’

  Fiona gave a bitter laugh. ‘Whatever else Simon may be, he’s not naive! I know he’s a ‘man of the cloth’ as they say, but he hasn’t always been a vicar. He’s lived in the world, and there were others before he met me. Well, Greg’s evidence of that, isn’t he? I believe his time in the RAF taught him a thing or two.’

  ‘But he’s got you now,’ insisted Debbie. ‘And I’m sure – quite certain – that he won’t want anyone else.’

  Fiona was quiet for a moment before she answered. ‘I haven’t told anyone else about this, Debbie,’ she began, ‘but I feel I can tell you. Since you came into my life, I’ve felt that I’ve got a close friend. I know you’re really my daughter, and there are some things that a mother would never confide to her daughter. But it’s different with you and me. You see, this thing with Glenda, it seems to be affecting … the more intimate side of our marriage.’

  Debbie felt a shade embarrassed. She knew very little about such matters, but she knew to what she was referring.

  ‘You mean … making love and all that?’

  Fiona nodded. ‘It was always a very great joy to both of us. But now, it hasn’t happened for several weeks. Hardly ever … since Glenda appeared on the scene. And that’s why I’m worried.’

  Debbie shook her head emphatically. ‘No, he wouldn’t! I know he wouldn’t, not Simon. You’re wrong, Fiona. He’s … well, he’s a clergyman!’

  Fiona actually laughed. ‘He’s a man, though, isn’t he? And aren’t they all alike, deep down? Susceptible to a bit of flattery. I hope I’m wrong. I keep telling myself that I am, but there’s still this doubt, niggling away at me.’

  ‘Have you told anyone else about this?’ asked Debbie. ‘Not about … what you’ve just told me; about this woman fancying Simon?’

  ‘I’ve told my friend Joan,’ said Fiona. ‘She says she’s aware that Glenda fusses around him, but she tells me I’ve nothing to worry about, as you said. Anyway, you’ll see her for yourself tomorrow. She comes at nine o’clock, and we get the children ready for the day; breakfast and washes and toilet and all that. Mark’s still in nappies, I’m afraid. That’s another worry for me; Mark’s progress, or lack of it.’

  ‘He’s not quite two yet,’ said Debbie. ‘Isn’t it rather soon to worry about it?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Fiona. ‘Maybe it is, but it’s the way I am at the moment. Things get on my mind, and possibly seem worse than they are. Anyway, with regard to Glenda; her hours are flexible, depending on what I want her to do. So she can have most of tomorrow off, and we’ll manage the kiddies between us. What do you think about that, Debbie?’

  ‘I think it’s a great idea,’ said Debbie. ‘I’m dying to see them all again.’

  Simon joined them in a little while and they watched the ten o’ clock news together. Debbie felt very conscious of what Fiona had told her, but she didn’t notice any difference in the way the two of them behaved towards one another. She retired to bed first, with a drink of hot chocolate to take up, which Simon had insisted on making for her. She couldn’t help believing what she had always thought; that Simon was a wonderful husband who thought the world of his wife.

  Debbie breakfasted early the next morning with Fiona and Simon. Stella was up and dressed, but the triplets were left in their cots, to be washed, dressed and fed when Glenda arrived. Debbie was eager to see what the woman was like. She arrived promptly at nine o’clock, just as Fiona and Debbie were washing up, and Simon had disappeared into his study. Was he keeping out of the way? she wondered. Glenda fitted Fiona’s description: small, dark, and quite attractive, but ‘nothing to write home about’, as Debbie’s mother, Vera, might say.

  ‘Hello, Fiona,’ she said cheerily. They were obviously on first name terms. ‘Hello, Stella.’ The little girl looked up and smiled briefly. ‘Hello, Aunty Glenda.’

  ‘The little uns still in bed, are they?’ asked Glenda. She looked around as if she might also be looking for Simon, but she didn’t ask where he was.

  ‘Yes, that’s right,’ said Fiona. ‘We like to have five minutes’ peace in a morning, don’t we, Stella?’

  Glenda was looking curiously at Debbie. It seemed to Debbie as though Fiona was playing some sort of game, not willing to divulge who the stranger in the midst might be. Then she spoke up.

  ‘This is Debbie … She’s here for the weekend, and for the birthday party, of course. She’s a godmother to the three of them, most especially to Michelle.’

  Fiona didn’t elucidate any further. Debbie guessed that Glenda’s curiosity would soon be satisfied. Most of the folk in the congregation knew who Debbie was by now and had accepted her into their midst on her occasional visits. If Glenda wanted to know anything further there would be plenty of people to put her in the picture.

  ‘How do you do?’ said Glenda politely, holding out her hand, and Debbie returned the greeting.

  ‘I arrived last night after the children were in bed,’ she said, ‘so I haven’t seen them yet. I expect they’ll have grown a lot since the last time I saw them.’

  ‘Which was … when?’ asked Glenda., rather inquisitively, Debbie thought.

  ‘Oh, it was just before I started at college, wasn’t it, Fiona? I’m at an agricultural college near Leeds,’ she explained. ‘It’s our half-term break, so I’m here till Monday.’

  ‘Yes; Debbie’s going to help me this weekend,’ said Fiona. ‘She wants to spend some time with the kiddies, of course; so … you can take the rest of the day off, Glenda, when we’ve seen to the washing and feeding and everything. OK with you?’ It sounded as though Fiona would brook no argument.

  ‘Fine,’ replied Glenda, a little curtly. ‘I’ve all sorts of jobs to catch up with. You’ll want me tomorrow, though, I take it?’

  ‘Yes, for a little while in the morning, if that’s all right? And you’ll be coming to the party, of course, with Norma and Gilbert.’

  ‘Of course,’ said Glenda. ‘Would you like me to come early to help to prepare the buffet, or whatever you’re planning?’

  ‘No … thank you,’ said Fiona. ‘Debbie will be here to help me … and Simon,’ she added, rather pointedly. ‘You’re a guest tomorrow, Glenda.’ Fiona smiled sweetly at the woman as though butter wouldn’t melt. ‘Come on now; let’s go and see to the terrible triplets, shall we?’

  The three of them were in their individual cots. Matthew was standing up, clinging to the bars and shouting at the top of his voice when he saw the three adults and Stella.

  ‘Deb! Deb!’ he cried. He was the most advanced of the three and was always the first to recognize her.

  ‘Hello, big boy,’ she said, ruffling his
hair. ‘My goodness! You’ve grown, haven’t you?’

  ‘Yes! Big boy; two on Tuesday,’ he shouted, jumping up and down in delight.

  The other two were less demonstrative, but they looked keenly at Debbie, and she felt that Michelle’s happy smile showed that the child had remembered her. Mark, as usual, took a little longer to realize who she was.

  Between them, the three women washed and dressed the children. They were still wearing nappies at night, just as a precaution. Glenda saw to Mark’s daytime one when the other two were out of the way, which Debbie thought was tactful and considerate of her. Matthew had been known to taunt his brother, according to Fiona, calling him a baby because he still needed a daytime nappy. Glenda clearly did have her good points. It was obvious that the children liked her; she was good with them, kind but firm.

  They breakfasted on porridge, followed by scrambled egg and bread and butter. Mark needed more help than the other two. He seemed happy for Debbie to assist him, opening his mouth like a baby bird for the next mouthful.

  ‘He’ll never learn, so long as there’s somebody to wait on him,’ Fiona observed, a little anxiously. ‘But we’ll let him off today, while Debbie’s here.’

  ‘He’s still only a baby really,’ countered Glenda. ‘He’ll learn to do it in his own time. It doesn’t do to force the issue.’

  Fiona didn’t answer, no doubt seeing it as a mild rebuke. Debbie sensed the slight animosity between the two of them, unless it was because she was looking out for it. They were polite to one another, but didn’t have any sort of conversation apart from what centred around the children.

  Fiona had arranged for Stella to attend nursery school a little later that day. She had explained that they had a visitor whom she didn’t see very often. ‘I think that’s all for today,’ she said, when the washing up was done. ‘You go and have some time to yourself, Glenda. Perhaps you could drop Stella off at the nursery school, though, if you don’t mind? It’s on your way home, isn’t it?’