Families and Friendships

by Margaret Thornton

  ‘She knows jolly well I want to leave and start working full time,’ she went on. ‘What’s the point of sixth form and college and all that, when there’s a job waiting for me?’

  ‘But you could still carry on working there,’ said Shirley, just as Debbie’s mother had said. ‘Don’t you realize how lucky you are? You’re dead brainy; you know very well you’ll get good grades in everything. Not like me. I’ll be lucky if I can scrape through with half a dozen passes. But I’m still going on to the sixth form, that’s if I do alright. And not just because my parents want me to. I’m looking forward to it.’

  ‘You can’t be! Haven’t you had enough of school? Oh, I see … I expect Ryan’s going into the sixth, isn’t he? That’s why, isn’t it?’

  ‘No, it’s not that at all,’ retorted Shirley. ‘He hasn’t decided yet. Anyway what about you and Kevin. He’s the big attraction at the garden centre, isn’t he? Not the job.’

  ‘No he isn’t!’ It was Debbie’s turn now to be indignant, although she knew that what her friend had said was true in part. ‘I love working there, and Mr Hill has asked me if I’d like to work there permanently.’

  ‘You’re so clever, though,’ said Shirley, a trifle enviously. ‘Everybody says so. You’d get into uni as easy as anything. I do wish you’d change your mind, Debbie. It’ll be a lot more fun in the sixth form. You can just study the subjects you really want and drop the rest. Just think – no more maths or Latin! I know you’d probably do the science things, and I’d do the arts, but we’d still be together a lot of the time.’

  Debbie might have been slightly tempted, but she wasn’t going to admit it. ‘I was telling Kevin last night,’ she said now, ‘about me being adopted. He didn’t know, but then he wouldn’t, would he?’ She admitted then to Shirley, as she had to Kevin, ‘I’ve started thinking about my real mother lately; my birth mother, I mean. It’s weird, Shirl. I keep wondering what she’s like, and where she lives and everything. I never used to bother, but I suppose it’s because Mum’s been getting on my nerves lately.’

  Shirley looked shocked. ‘You don’t mean … you wouldn’t try to find her, would you?’

  Debbie wasn’t sure that she meant what she said next, but she was fed up of people telling her what she should or should not do. ‘I might,’ she said. ‘Yes … I think I might. I already know where I was born. I asked my mum and she had to tell me. It was in that place near here, Burnside House, where unmarried girls go. And I know the woman who had a lot to do with it, Claire Wagstaff. So it might be quite easy.’

  ‘No; I don’t think it would,’ said Shirley. She shook her head emphatically. ‘She probably lives miles and miles away. She might not even be in this country any more. Anyway, I don’t think you should, Debbie. It might all go wrong, and your mum and dad would be ever so upset. They’re so nice, your mum and dad.’

  ‘What’s up with you?’ said Debbie. ‘I haven’t said I will; I just said I might. So keep your hair on … I might even think about going into the sixth form, who knows?’ She gave her friend a playful push. ‘Come on, don’t get all stroppy with me.’ In the distance they could hear a bell ringing. ‘Gosh, it’s half past one! Time we weren’t here. Come on, Shirl …’ They hurried along the path to the back door of the school.

  Shirley was quiet and thoughtful. She had a lot on her mind, because she knew something that Debbie didn’t know. But she had been sworn to secrecy.

  It had been few weeks previously that Ginny Gregson had told her son, Ryan, that they were going away for the weekend. ‘Just your dad and me,’ she said. ‘So we were wondering if you would look after Carl and Sharon for us? You’re quite old enough to be left now, and I know you’re sensible. I’ll leave some food in the fridge and there are lots of tins in the cupboard, so you won’t have much to do. Cook some sausages and beef burgers, and there’s beans and spaghetti. And don’t let them stay up till all hours; you know what they’re like …’

  ‘OK, Mum, OK,’ Ryan answered, laughing. ‘Don’t fuss. ‘Course I’ll look after them. It’ll be great, the house to ourselves and nobody nagging at us.’

  ‘Less of your cheek!’ said Ginny. She knew he was only joking with her. She got on with him remarkably well compared with the trouble that some mothers experienced with teenage sons, and daughters, of course. He was a sensible lad – quite grown up, in some ways, for sixteen – and his time in the Scouts had made him well able to cook simple meals and look after himself. And Carl and Sharon, aged twelve and ten, were good kids, not much trouble.

  ‘You could ask Shirley to come round, if you like,’ Ginny told him, ‘if her mother will let her.’ She guessed Ryan would ask her anyway, so it was as well to show him that she didn’t mind. ‘For Saturday tea, perhaps, so long as you make sure she catches the bus back alright. I know I can trust you, can’t I, Ryan?’

  ‘Of course you can, Mum,’ smiled Ryan. ‘We’re only friends, Shirley and me. There’s no need to worry.’

  Ginny liked Shirley Crompton. She was a quiet, friendly sort of girl, and she was from a very nice family, according to Ryan. She could see why Ryan liked her too. She was pretty with short blonde hair, blue eyes and a trim figure. She had no doubt that she could trust Ryan, or else she would not dream of leaving him on his own.

  ‘Where are you going anyway?’ he asked.

  ‘Oh … sorry; I should have said. We’re going to see my friend, Fiona. She’s married to a vicar, and they live in Aberthwaite in north Yorkshire. They’ve got a little girl, Stella; she’s about sixteen months old, and we still haven’t seen her. We keep saying we’ll go, but we’ve only just got round to it. Don’t you remember? We went to their wedding, about three years ago. You all stayed with your gran and grandad.’

  ‘Yes … I think I remember,’ said Ryan. ‘How did you meet her, Mum? I mean, with her living in Yorkshire?’

  ‘Oh, I’ve known Fiona for ages,’ replied Ginny. ‘Even before you were born. In fact we were expecting our babies at the same time …’ She stopped suddenly, aware of what she had just said. She had a habit of doing that, wittering on without really thinking about what she was saying.

  Ryan noticed, of course. ‘I thought you said she got married three years ago, and her baby girl’s not two yet. Was she married before then?’

  ‘No … no, she wasn’t,’ said Ginny. ‘Girls aren’t always married when they have babies. I assume you know that?’ she added with a smile. ‘I suppose I might as well tell you. Fiona and me, we were in Burnside House at the same time, waiting for our babies to be born. Yes, I know it’s a home for unmarried mothers, but I wasn’t married at first, you see, when I was expecting you.’

  Ryan grinned. ‘Yes, I think I already knew that, Mum,’ he said. ‘I knew the dates didn’t tally. But it’s no big deal, is it? You had to get married; so what?’

  ‘No …’ Ginny sighed. ‘It’s no big deal, as you say. But when I found out I was expecting a baby – you, of course – my parents weren’t too happy about it. I know attitudes are changing now; not all that much, but it’s not as bad as it was. Back then, though, it was looked on as something dreadful if a girl was pregnant and not married. I was the oldest of five, as you know, and my mam and dad were relying on my wages to help out with the bills and money for food and all that.’

  ‘Didn’t Grandad have a good job?’ asked Ryan. Ginny’s father had been a coal miner and had retired a few years earlier. ‘It doesn’t seem very fair to me that they were relying on you. What do you mean? Did they want you to give me up … to be adopted?’

  ‘Well, I suppose they did at first,’ Ginny admitted. ‘I remember we always seemed to be hard up. And they didn’t want me to marry Arthur – your dad – because we weren’t really courting. He was just the lad next door, and we were good friends rather than anything else. I know it sounds awful, but we went to the pub one night and had too much to drink and … well, you know what happened!’

  ‘But you did get married, Mum. And you and Dad, you seem to
get on really well together. I know you might argue now and again, but everybody does. Gran and Grandad changed their minds then?’

  ‘Oh, your dad can be very persuasive,’ said Ginny. ‘He begged me to marry him – I didn’t need much coaxing – and then he went to work on my parents. And my gran put in her two pennorth; you don’t remember her, but she was a real tough old girl, and she thought what they were doing was wrong. So it all worked out OK in the end.’

  ‘Yes, I’m real glad it did, Mum,’ said Ryan, sounding rather perplexed. ‘I might have been brought up by somebody else. That’s a dreadful thought.’

  ‘So it is,’ Ginny agreed. ‘It wasn’t what I wanted at all, but I couldn’t do anything about it. I was only seventeen, and I knew how annoyed my parents were. Arthur was twenty, though, and he managed to convince them that he loved me, and that he had a good job and could look after me. And so he has, Ryan. I think your gran and grandad felt guilty afterwards when they saw how happy we were together. And they doted on you, and our Carl and Sharon. They never mention it, of course, how close we came to losing you.

  Ryan nodded thoughtfully. ‘Yes, there’s no doubt who my parents are, is there, Mum? I’ve got your red hair and blue eyes.’

  ‘And your dad’s build …’ Ryan was almost six foot now, like his father, with a sturdy muscular body. ‘… and his roguish grin.’ Ginny smiled reminiscently. ‘I couldn’t resist it, could I? And his common sense, too, I hope,’ she went on, ‘and his perseverance. Your dad could have gone a lot further if he hadn’t had to leave school at fifteen, like we all did if we didn’t get to the grammar school.’

  ‘He’s done well though, hasn’t he, working at the docks?’ said Ryan. Arthur had started as a docker, and was now a foreman in charge of one of the warehouses.

  ‘Yes, so he has; but we want more that that for you. That’s why we were so pleased when you passed to go to the grammar school. And Carl will be going there soon. Your gran and grandad were so proud of you; the first one in the family to go there. And your nan and grandpa Gregson, too, of course.’

  ‘So … all’s well that ends well, as they say,’ Ryan commented. ‘And it could all have been so very different. Actually … there’s a girl in my form who was adopted,’ he continued. ‘She’s Shirley’s friend. Shirley was telling me about it not long ago. Debbie’s always known though, and she told Shirley that she was born in Burnside House. That’s quite a coincidence, isn’t it, Mum? Perhaps she was there at the same time as you; Debbie’s mother, I mean.’

  Ginny was instantly alert. ‘She must have been, mustn’t she, if the girl’s in your form? You say she’s called Debbie? How old is she? When’s her birthday?’

  ‘Don’t know,’ Ryan replied. ‘I’m not all that bothered about her. I don’t like her all that much, to be honest. No, hang on … her birthday’s in May, not long off, because I remember Shirley seeing a card she liked, and she bought it for her.’

  ‘What does she look like?’ asked Ginny, her curiosity growing by the minute. She must have known this girl’s mother. It might even be … Goodness! Supposing it was …?’

  ‘She’s got dark hair. She’s quite pretty, I suppose. Why …? Oh crikey! You don’t think she might be the daughter of this Fiona, do you?’

  ‘She could be,’ said Ginny. ‘In fact, who else could she be? Fiona’s baby was born in May, a month after I left, so I never saw her. But I know she had dark hair. Fiona told me.’

  ‘Hey, wait a minute,’ said Ryan. ‘I’ve got that form photo we had taken in September. I’ll go and get it.’ He went upstairs, returning a few moments later with the said photograph. They had had individual ones taken at the same time, and the one of Ryan was displayed on the sideboard; the other one was in his bedroom.

  ‘That’s Debbie,’ he said, ‘on the front row next to Shirley. She’s had her hair cut now, and she looks a bit different, but it’s a good likeness.’

  Ginny looked at the photo and gave a gasp. ‘Yes … oh my God!’ She didn’t often swear or blaspheme, and she pulled herself up at once. ‘I mean … good gracious me, yes! She’s the image of Fiona. She had blonde hair, though, like Shirley has. Fiona was a real pretty girl. And this girl’s just like her. The same smile, and the way she’s holding her head on one side, just like her … mother. Oh goodness; what am I going to do?’

  ‘I think you’ll have to keep mum about it … Mum!’ replied Ryan. ‘Best to say nothing at all, eh? Your friend, Fiona, she’s married to a vicar?’

  ‘Yes, and they’re very happy, from what she says, she and Simon. I was really glad about it. Fiona deserves to be happy after all she went through.’

  ‘Then it would be best not to put the cat among the pigeons, wouldn’t it? She may not even have told her husband about the first baby.’

  ‘Oh, I’m sure she would, knowing Fiona. She was a very honest and straightforward girl. She wouldn’t be likely to keep any secrets from him. Anyway, there was a skeleton in his own cupboard that only came to light quite recently. Simon had a son that he didn’t know anything about until he arrived on their doorstep last year.’

  ‘Wow! I bet that was a shock. And him a vicar too. I wonder what the folk at his church think about it?’

  ‘He’s a called a rector, actually; it’s a country parish,’ said Ginny. ‘Apparently they know all about it and don’t think any the worse about Simon. He’s very popular there. It happened during the war, when he was part of a bomber crew, and he met this girl who was a WAAF. It’s rather a long story … It’s Fiona that I’m concerned about now. I shall have to try to act normally when I see her and not even hint at what I know. I’m sure she’s put it all behind her now, and she won’t want any more complications in her life. I know she was very upset at the time, when she had to give up the baby. I’d left by then, but she wrote and told me how awful it was.’

  ‘Her boyfriend couldn’t marry her then, like you and Dad?’

  ‘No … he was a lad in the sixth form, like she was. He didn’t even know about it. Her parents were far worse than mine. They practically disowned her, they were so ashamed, and they sent her up to Northumberland, as far away as possible, to an aunt and uncle. Fiona was such a clever girl. Some of the other girls thought she was a bit snooty because she’d been to a grammar school and the rest of us hadn’t. But she wasn’t stuck up at all; she was really nice, and so kind and thoughtful. We’ve kept in touch ever since. You say you’re not very keen on this Debbie? It sounds as though she’s not got her mother’s nice nature.’

  ‘Oh, she’s alright, I suppose. A bit of a show-off, but Shirley seems to get on well enough with her.’

  Ginny nodded thoughtfully. ‘I suppose it would be asking too much of you to make you promise not to tell Shirley about this?’

  ‘I won’t if you don’t want me to, Mum …’

  ‘No, I expect you’ll tell her anyway. But I certainly don’t want it to get to Debbie’s ears that we know who her real mother is. At least we’re assuming we do, but it seems pretty certain to me. Now I come to think about it, Claire Wagstaff was rather cagey when I asked her if she had any idea where Fiona’s baby might have gone.’

  ‘Who’s Claire Wagstaff?’

  ‘She was one of the helpers at Burnside House. I see her from time to time when I’m out shopping. She was quite friendly with Fiona and me, although they weren’t really supposed to get too friendly with the inmates.’

  Ryan laughed. ‘You make it sound like being in prison, Mum.’

  ‘It wasn’t too bad,’ Ginny smiled. ‘It was better for me, of course, when I knew I would be able to keep you. But I like to think I made it a bit more bearable for Fiona, and I knew that Claire did her best to cheer us up. It’s unusual, you know, for babies to be placed with adoptive parents who live so near. Does Debbie live in Whitesands Bay, same as Shirley?’

  ‘Yes, quite near to where Shirley lives. Debbie’s father works for the council there; he’s a gardener.’

  ‘I wouldn’t be surprised
if Claire had something to do with that adoption.’ Ginny said thoughtfully. ‘Like I said, she seemed a little bit ill at ease when we were talking about it. I thought at the time that she knew more than she was letting on. Oh dear, Ryan! You’ve certainly given me a shock! We must be very careful not to open a whole can of worms …’

  Eight

  Ginny and Arthur were looking forward to their weekend in Aberthwaite. They set off early on the Saturday morning in their ten-year-old Hillman. It was all that Arthur could afford at the moment, but he kept it in good repair and spent many hours washing and polishing it until it gleamed. It had proved invaluable with three children to be ferried around to various events; but it was good now to have the car, and two whole days, to themselves.

  Their home was in South Shields. After their marriage they had lived with Arthur’s parents for a while in a street of terraced houses near to the docks. Following that they had rented a house in the same district, then, when Arthur was promoted they had managed to scrape enough money together to secure a mortgage on a house some distance away from the quays and warehouses of the industrial part of the town. They were only five minutes’ walk away from the promenade and the – somewhat limited – holiday attractions that the town had to offer; and Ginny, never afraid of hard work, had taken a job as a barmaid in a local pub a few nights a week, to make ends meet. It was sometimes a struggle with three children, although they managed a week’s holiday each year to Scarborough, Whitby or Filey.

  It was heaven, though, to have these two days on their own, and Ginny felt an air of excitement as soon as they set off. The area from the River Tees to the Tyne estuary was an almost continual built-up stretch of houses and factories which had expanded from the time of the Industrial Revolution. At the heart of the region was the city of Durham. As they bypassed it they had a superb view of the castle and the majestic cathedral on a hill overlooking the steep banks of the River Wear. Very soon they were heading through the northern Yorkshire dales where the limestone hills were criss-crossed with drystone walls. Sheep grazed on the upper slopes, and in the villages and hamlets, greystone houses clustered around a village green or beside a rippling stream.