Fiona had come along, as the babysitter was available again. Debbie sensed, though, that she was a little tired and uncomfortable, despite her insistence that she was fine. Fiona didn’t introduce her to anyone but Debbie felt, from the looks she was receiving – curious but not unfriendly – and the knowing little smiles, that people had realized who she could be. It was the same with Greg, of course, but they had met him before. No doubt they would be wondering who Graham might be!
The room soon filled up, and extra chairs were brought in for the latecomers. Then, on the dot of seven thirty, the members of the band marched down the centre aisle, resplendent in their maroon uniforms, with gold braid and brass buttons. Their brass instruments gleamed brightly, and the smiles of the musicians were bright as well as they were greeted by the anticipatory applause of the audience. Simon made a short speech of welcome to the Abercombe and District Brass Band, then the concert began.
It was a feast of the very best in brass band music from beginning to end. They started with ‘Strike Up the Band’, which was their signature tune, followed by the Radetsky march, then ‘The Carnival of Venice’ with a splendid cornet solo. The young man blushed as he received an extra round of applause.
The majority of the band members were men, both young and not so young, although there were a few women as well, two young and two rather older, playing the clarinet and the French horn. There was music for all tastes; haunting tunes such as ‘Greensleeves’ and ‘Finlandia’ as well as the more traditional marches.
Tea and biscuits were served at the interval, for which everyone queued up at the serving hatch. Debbie offered to bring a cup for Fiona, but she insisted on getting up as she was stiff with sitting for so long. She introduced Debbie to a group of young – well, youngish – women who stopped to speak to her and ask her how she was feeling.
‘These are my friends from the Young Wives group,’ she said. ‘Ruth, Heather, Gillian, Sandra … and you’ve met Joan, of course. Ladies, this is Debbie, my long-lost daughter!’
Debbie smiled and said, ‘Hello …’ a little shyly.
‘It’s alright; they all know the story,’ said Fiona.
‘Yes, we do, and we were so pleased to hear that you had found one another,’ said one.
‘Such a happy ending!’ said another.
‘Yes it is,’ said Debbie, smiling at Fiona. ‘It’s lovely, because I’ve got my mum and dad at home, and now I’ve got Fiona and Simon, and little Stella.’
‘And two more on the way,’ laughed another of the ladies.
‘As if I could forget!’ said Fiona, with a grimace.
There was another lady, too, behind the serving hatch, pouring out the tea. She was much older and plumper and she wore a felt hat. She smiled at Debbie in a questioning sort of way, so Debbie smiled back at her.
‘Oh, Mrs Bayliss …’ said Fiona, and Debbie could hear a touch of amusement in her voice. ‘This is Debbie. She’s my daughter, in case you were wondering. You remember the story, of course? She came to find me. You may have heard about it?’
‘Well, yes, actually I did hear something about it,’ said the woman. ‘How nice to meet you, Debbie. And where do you live, my dear?’
‘In Whitesands Bay, in Northumberland,’ said Debbie, ‘with my mum and dad. I’ve just come for a visit, to see Fiona and everybody.’
‘I see … That’s nice … You’re a pretty girl,’ she added. ‘Just like Fiona. Well, enjoy the rest of the concert, dear.’
‘Thank you; I’m sure I will,’ said Debbie.
The woman turned round, and as Debbie walked away, carrying the cups of tea, she was aware of Fiona smiling to herself.
‘Who was that?’ she asked. ‘Do I sense a sort of … what? Rivalry … disapproval?’
‘Mrs Bayliss is an old adversary of mine. She was rather critical of me when I first married Simon,’ Fiona told Debbie in a quiet voice. ‘She was the big noise in the Mothers’ Union, and she didn’t like the idea of the rector’s wife taking over. Not that I tried to; I started the Young Wives group instead. And she was horrified when she found out about my first pregnancy.’ She smiled at Debbie. ‘But I’m forgiven now – though it’s not completely forgotten – and Ethel and I get along quite well.’
They sat down to drink their tea. ‘You have to try to get on with everyone, I suppose,’ said Debbie, ‘with you being the rector’s wife. It can’t always be easy.’
‘No, it isn’t,’ said Fiona. ‘I didn’t realize, until I married Simon, about all the inner politics of the church, and the arguing and backbiting that can go on beneath the surface. It only takes one or two to upset the apple cart!’
‘I’m sure it’s a happy church, though, isn’t it, with Simon in charge?’ said Debbie. ‘He has all the right qualities. He’s dynamic, and friendly, and understanding … I’m glad that everything has worked out so well for you, Fiona.’
‘Thank you, Debbie,’ said Fiona quietly. ‘Yes; you’ve had splendid parents, and I found a good husband. I’ve come to realize, since I met Simon, that God does have a hand in our worldly affairs. Anyway, no sermonizing, eh? Would you take these cups back, please, there’s a good girl? Then we’ll enjoy the rest of the concert.’
The band started the second half with the ‘Grand March’ from Aida followed by the overture to Iolanthe. There followed music from opera and ballet, a French horn soloist playing ‘The Swan’ by Saint Saens, which was of particular interest to Graham, and even a Beatles’ medley.
After the concert Simon gave a well-deserved vote of thanks, and there was rapturous applause as the members of the band marched out.
‘A huge success,’ he told the helpers, ‘and I’m sure we’ll have made a good amount towards our roofing fund.’
Simon was urged not to stay behind and help with the clearing away – the ever helpful Josh was on hand to do that – but to go home with Fiona who was looking pleased and happy, but very tired. She admitted as much when they arrived back at the rectory. The babysitter, Jennifer, assured them that Stella had been no trouble at all.
‘I’ll go and take a peep at her,’ said Fiona. ‘Then, if no one minds, I’ll go straight to bed.’
‘Yes, off you go, darling,’ said Simon. ‘Would you like me to bring you a drink?’
‘No thanks,’ she said. ‘I’m ready to go straight to sleep.’
Debbie, who was quite at home in the kitchen now, made tea for all of them. Simon retired to bed after a little while, leaving the younger ones to stay up chatting till midnight.
Twenty-Two
Fiona fell asleep almost at once, physically and mentally tired by the events of the day but happy, too, at the thought of her extended family around her. She woke a couple of house later, as was usual, for her trip to the bathroom, one of the more annoying symptoms of pregnancy in the later stages.
She woke up again after a few more hours with a very different sort of sensation in her abdomen. She glanced at the luminous dial on the clock; it was quarter past five. It would not be fair to wake Simon until she was sure, so she lay still and waited. The babies were not due for another month or so, but babies were not aware of the date they were supposed to arrive. She waited … and five minutes later the pain came again, a stronger one this time.
Simon was sleeping peacefully, snoring gently; a sound she had come to accept, knowing that he needed his sleep. It never disturbed her or stopped her from dropping off to sleep again. But not this time. A few minutes later she knew that she was definitely in labour, and that she must waken him.
‘Simon … Simon …’ She nudged him gently, and he stirred at once.
‘What? What is it? Are you all right, darling?’
‘Well, yes … I’m all right, but I think I’ve started. In fact I’m sure I have.’
‘What? Started with the baby … I mean, babies? But you can’t have. They’re not due for another four weeks.’
She laughed. ‘I don’t think they know that! Oh … oh, help!’ A sudden pain
made her cry out. Instantly Simon was wide awake. He leapt out of bed.
‘We’d better get moving; get you to hospital. Have you packed your bag, like they told you to?’
‘Fortunately, yes. They advise you to get ready early, just in case …’
They scurried around, washing and dressing at speed. ‘We’ll have to wake the others,’ said Simon. ‘Our visitors. What a blessing it is that they’re here. Do you think Debbie will be able to cope with Stella?’
‘I’m sure she will,’ said Fiona. ‘And we must let Josh know what’s happening.’
Simon knocked on the lads’ bedroom door, and Fiona knocked and entered Debbie’s room.
‘Debbie, love. I’m sorry to disturb you …’ The girl sleepily opened her eyes. ‘I’ve started … in labour, so Simon’s taking me to hospital. We don’t know how long he’ll stay there. Could you see to Stella’s breakfast please, love?’
Debbie was sitting up now and listening intently.
‘And see to her getting washed and dressed? She’ll show you what to do!’ Fiona laughed before she doubled up with another pain.
‘Fiona!’ Debbie jumped out of bed. ‘Oh dear!’ She put an arm round her. ‘Are you all right?’
‘Of course I am. It’s quite normal, but we’d better get moving. You go back to bed. Stella won’t wake till half past seven or so. Thank you, Debbie love. See you later …’
Simon alerted the young men and told then what was happening. ‘Here’s the curate’s phone number,’ he told Greg. ‘Ring him, about nine o’ clock if I’m not back, and tell him to take charge. He’s preaching today, so that’s one less worry. I must dash now. Fiona’s ready and waiting.’
They drove at speed to the hospital. At six o’clock in the morning there was nothing else on the road. Fiona’s waters had broken as she got into the car so there was no time to lose.
It was all go when they arrived. Fiona was wheeled off to the maternity ward with Simon walking anxiously at the side of her. He was told, very politely, that he could wait in a side room whilst they attended to his wife. He gave her a quick kiss, then watched in a daze as she was wheeled away. It had all happened so quickly, and in a little while – not too long, he hoped – he would be the father of twins. He did not want to go back home. He knew that Debbie and the lads were quite capable of managing, and Stella was not likely to make a fuss because her mummy was not there. Simon wanted to be near his wife. Something, or somebody, was telling him that he must stay.
Fiona was soon in the second stage of labour. She had known what to expect as she has been through it all before. But this time it was happening very quickly. She was given an injection which eased the pain a little, and the gas and air helped.
‘Push, Fiona, push, there’s a good girl,’ she was exhorted. A moment later there was the sensation that she remembered so well, of being torn apart. Then she heard the voice of the midwife.
‘Well done, Fiona. It’s a boy! A tiny one, but he’s all right.’ There was a feeble cry from the infant.
‘Can I see him?’ asked Fiona.
‘Not just now, dear. We’ve not quite finished yet, have we?’
Fiona was exhausted by the first effort but there was no time to relax. A little while later – she could not tell how long; five, ten minutes? – she was told to push again. It seemed just a fraction easier this time as she felt the second baby slip out of her.
‘Another boy!’ said the midwife. ‘Well done, Fiona; you’ve got twin sons. Isn’t that great?’
Fiona smiled weakly. ‘Are they both alright?’
‘Yes … small, as we expected. But their lungs are working well,’ said the doctor who was in attendance, as well as the midwife and an auxiliary nurse. ‘Now, just the afterbirth, Fiona. You’re doing splendidly.’
There was silence in the delivery room as the midwife and nurse looked after the babies. The doctor was staying close to Fiona. She lay still, exhausted but very contented. Twin boys! Simon would be pleased, she knew that. She heard the doctor’s voice. ‘Just a little push, dear, then it will all be over …’ He hesitated, then he said, ‘Here, nurse, if you please … I do believe … Yes, there’s another one! Fiona, another big push, there’s a good girl.’
She tried to do as she was asked, but she was unbelievably tired and felt that she had no strength left. She gave a shout. ‘Oh … oh! What’s happening?’ as she felt another pain. Despite her weariness she had to push down again, and she felt something … slide out of her body.
‘It’s a little girl,’ said the midwife in a hushed voice. ‘Heavens above! Who’d have believed it?’
Fiona lay back, scarcely aware of what was happening. Then she heard the doctor’s voice. ‘Fiona, my dear, you’ve just given birth to a baby girl. You’ve had triplets! We had no idea … Just lie still whilst we see to everything.’
Fiona was feeling too drained and exhausted to think coherently. ‘A little girl as well?’ she whispered. ‘Three babies …’ Her eyes closed and she drifted off into unconsciousness.
‘She’s losing too much blood,’ said the doctor. The afterbirth was released, but the haemorrhaging did not stop, ‘She needs a blood transfusion. Quickly, nurse. Have you got her blood group?’
‘Yes … it’s group B.’
‘Damn! That could prove tricky … We had that emergency yesterday, you know – the road accident – and I know we’re running low. But you must go and tell the husband that he’s got triplets. And … try not to scare him, but tell him his wife needs a blood transfusion … and that we’re looking after her.’
‘Triplets! I don’t believe it!’ exclaimed Simon, ‘Three of them? Two boys and a girl? That’s wonderful! May I see her now?’
‘No, not just yet, Mr Norwood,’ the nurse told him. ‘Your wife lost quite a lot of blood – only to be expected, of course – and she’s having a blood transfusion. Don’t worry, she’ll be fine, but it was necessary.’
‘But Fiona has a rare blood group; well, quite uncommon, I believe. She’s group B … Are you quite sure she’ll be alright?’ Simon knew that the doctors and nurses would do their best and that he should not interfere, but he suddenly felt extremely anxious about Fiona. It was something in the nurse’s facial expression. She was smiling and trying to reassure him, but he had the sense that she might be keeping something back from him.
He knew he had to ask; if she thought he was out of order, then so be it. It was his beloved wife whom he feared might be in danger. ‘Do you have enough … of group B blood?’ he asked.
‘Yes, of course,’ she answered hurriedly, ‘but it is, as you say, Mr Norwood, rather uncommon.’ Then, of her own volition, the midwife asked, ‘Does your wife have any relatives who might have the same blood group? It does run in families. It’s not likely that yours is the same, I suppose?’
‘No, I’m group O,’ he replied, ‘Fiona has no sister or brothers and her parents are dead.’ A thought struck him. Could it be possible? He said a silent prayer that it might be so. He had a feeling that Fiona might need all the help she could get. ‘She has a daughter,’ he said. ‘Debbie … she’s not my daughter. She’s sixteen. She’s staying with us at the moment; but I don’t know her blood group.’
He thought the midwife looked relieved. ‘It’s worth a try, Mr Norwood,’ she said. She was smiling. He knew she was trying to reassure him. ‘We are not worried, you understand, but it might be as well to find out. Could you contact Fiona’s daughter … just in case?’
‘Right away,’ he said. ‘She’s at my home now, waiting for news, with … the rest of my family. I’ll bring her back with me … if it is so … just in case, as you say. Please take care of Fiona, won’t you? She means all the world to me.’
He drove home, not quite as speedily, although time was of the essence now. The two lads and Debbie looked up anxiously as he entered the kitchen. ‘Daddy!’ said Stella, holding out her arms to him. ‘Where’s Mummy?’
‘I’ve told her she’s gone to hospital,�
�� said Debbie. ‘She’s been quite happy, but she doesn’t understand.’
‘Mummy’s in hospital, darling,’ he said, ‘Like we told you, to get the babies.’ He put her down again. ‘Great news!’ he said. The good news first, he decided. ‘You’ll never guess! Fiona’s had … triplets! Two boys and a girl!’
There was an outcry of joy and excitement before they enquired about Fiona.
‘I’ve not seen any of them yet,’ said Simon. ‘I’m afraid Fiona has lost quite a lot of blood. Only to be expected, but she was being given a blood transfusion when I left. Debbie … do you happen to know your blood group?’
‘Of course,’ she replied. ‘I’m group B. I’ve given blood a few times, when there was an appeal. My mum persuaded me that it was something I could do, with it being rare. Why? Do you mean …? Fiona’s not in any danger, is she?’
‘No, I don’t think so. But I got the impression that they weren’t entirely happy. The nurse asked me about Fiona’s relations, and their blood groups. Just in case, she said. But … Debbie, I think you had better come back with me, that is, if you’re willing?’
‘To give blood? For Fiona?’ Simon saw tears forming in her eyes. ‘Of course I will. Come on; let’s go now!’
‘I was just about to phone your curate,’ said Greg. ‘You said nine o’clock, didn’t you?’ It was just about nine now, and the table was strewn with the remnants of a hastily prepared breakfast.
‘Don’t tell him anything yet,’ said Simon, ‘except that Fiona’s in hospital and I want him to hold the fort. Could you take Stella to the crèche, please … and ask Josh to say prayers for Fiona, although I know that he will. We’ll save the news about the triplets for later.’
Simon could tell by the worried look on the nurse’s face when they arrived back at the hospital that they had been waiting anxiously for Debbie.
‘It’s OK, she’s group B,’ said Simon.
‘Well, that’s good news,’ said the nurse. ‘Come along, my dear. If you could oblige us with a little of your blood we’d be most grateful.’
Families and Friendships Page 26