Families and Friendships (25 page)

‘Yes, one and a bit, please.'

‘Now, drink it while it's hot; it'll make you feel better. You must be worn out after that journey. And you'd better have something to eat with us, too. Then we must let your parents know where you are. They'll be frantic, Debbie, when they find out you're missing. Didn't you think about that, dear?'

‘Yes … yes, I did, sort of,' said Debbie, looking a bit shamefaced. ‘But like I told you, I wanted to know … about you. And I knew that if I didn't do it now, I never would.'

Simon pulled up a chair and sat next to her. ‘What is it, Debbie?' he asked kindly. ‘Have you had a bit of an upset at home? Is that why you're here?'

‘No … not really,' she began.

‘No, she says not,' added Fiona. ‘She's just been telling me how she found out … about me.' She turned to smile at Debbie. ‘So Claire wouldn't tell you what you wanted to know?'

‘No; she said she didn't know where you lived, and even if she did she couldn't tell me. But she mentioned somebody called Ginny, a friend of yours. She is, isn't she?'

‘Ginny … yes, she was with me in the home. And we saw her – she and her husband came here – not long ago. Do you know Ginny? Did she tell you?'

‘No, I don't know her,' said Debbie, ‘but I know her son, Ryan. He's in my form at school, and he's the boyfriend of my friend Shirley.'

Fiona shook her head in bewilderment. This was getting very complicated. ‘Ryan … yes, I remember Ryan. He was only a little boy when I last saw him. So it was Ryan, was it, who let the cat out of the bag?'

‘Yes, but only because I made him. He didn't want to. He said his mum would kill him if she found out. Well, she wouldn't really have done; we always say that, don't we? She'd have been mad at him, though, 'cause she'd told him not to say anything. He showed his mum a photo, you see, of our form, and she said that I looked just like you, except for the colour of my hair.'

‘Yes, of course …' Fiona leaned back on her chair, sighing deeply. ‘It's just beginning to sink in. You are … my daughter! It's like a miracle, after all this time.'

Simon chuckled. ‘The second miracle, eh, darling? Who said that lightning doesn't strike twice!'

‘That's another story,' said Fiona, in answer to Debbie's questioning look. ‘For another time. I'm so pleased you've come, my dear. It must have taken some courage. I can see that you're quite a determined young lady, aren't you?'

‘Yes, and inquisitive, too,' said Debbie, ‘I always want to find out. My mum says I'm too nosy for my own good.'

‘Yes, and we must let your parents know you're here,' said Simon, a little sternly. ‘We'd better ring up and tell them. I hope you won't get into too much trouble?'

‘I don't think I will,' said Debbie. ‘I know I shouldn't have done it, really, but I just … had to. We're not on the phone, though,' she added.

‘Then perhaps there's a neighbour who could take a message?' suggested Simon.

‘There's my friend, Shirley Crompton. They live nearby, but I don't know the number.'

‘That's easily found out. But first things first.' Simon rubbed his hands together. ‘A meal, then you'll be staying the night with us, won't you?'

‘Oh … I don't know.' Debbie looked confused. ‘I hadn't thought about it.'

‘You didn't think we'd turn you out, did you?' laughed Simon. ‘We've got a spare room, and Fiona can find you a nightdress.'

‘Yes, come along, my dear.' Fiona put an arm round Debbie as she stood up. Let's get you sorted out. I dare say you'll want the bathroom as well, won't you?'

‘Yes, I do actually,' Debbie said with a grin.

She seems a nice sort of girl, thought Fiona, obviously well brought up. Rather wilful, though, and she was probably something of a handful. But not lacking in courage, nor in character. Whatever she was like, though, she was here. It was almost too much to comprehend just now; but Fiona was glad, so very glad, that she had found her baby girl at last.

When Debbie came out of the bathroom Fiona showed her into a bedroom at the back of the house, overlooking the garden. ‘I'm sure you'll be comfortable in here, Debbie,' she said. ‘It's where Ginny and Arthur slept when they came to see us …' She hesitated. ‘I wonder if Ginny knew about it then?' she said, almost as if talking to herself. ‘I've a feeling she might have done, but maybe she thought things were better left as they were. I'm really pleased about it, though, Debbie, love. It's strange isn't it … but come here and give me a hug.'

Debbie felt herself enveloped in loving arms, and as she returned the embrace, a little diffidently, she breathed in the scent of a flowery perfume; gardenia, perhaps? Her mum liked Coty's L'aimant, but it wasn't that. It was a lighter, younger fragrance. Fiona kissed her cheek, then stood back, looking at her.

‘You must call me Fiona,' she said. ‘Let's get that settled straight away. Because you've got a mum, haven't you, who loves you very much? And I can tell by the way you talk about her that you think a lot of her, don't you?'

‘Yes, I do,' said Debbie. ‘And my dad as well. We hadn't had a row – like I said, that's not why I came – but I sometimes get annoyed with them.'

Fiona smiled. ‘All girls get annoyed with their parents sometimes; I know I did.'

‘They're a bit old-fashioned, you see,' Debbie went on. ‘Of course they're older aren't they, older than you? They're turned fifty, both of them. They wanted a baby; they'd been married for ages and nothing happened. So they adopted me.'

‘And it's all turned out very well, hasn't it?' said Fiona. ‘Look, Debbie; I'm going to leave you to sort yourself out. I'll get you a nightie, and a towel and flannel. You won't have brought a toothbrush, will you?'

Debbie shook her head. ‘No, I just shoved in some … underwear, that's all. And something to eat, and the little bear … to show I wasn't making it up. Would you like it back? You said it was special.'

‘No, you keep it,' Fiona looked sad for a moment, ‘but I'll tell you the story about it … later.'

She left the room and came back a few minutes later with a pretty blue nylon nightdress, a towel and flannel, and a toothbrush and toothpaste. ‘There you are, dear. Come down when you're ready. I must go and see to our meal. We're having a chicken casserole, so there's plenty to go round. See you in a little while …'

Debbie looked out of the window at the garden. Her keen eye told her that Simon and Fiona were probably not expert gardeners, as her father was and as she hoped to be, one day. The lawn needed cutting, and the flowerbeds surrounding it held summer bedding plants – begonias, marigolds, asters – nearing the end of their flowering, and a few rose bushes. There was a stunning view, though, of trees and a stream and distant hills, and nearby was the church where Simon was the rector. She noticed the sand pit and the swing at the end of the garden …

Stella was a lovely little girl. Debbie had taken to her at once, although she had never had much to do with children. She was her … half sister, wasn't she?

One of the first things that Debbie had noticed about Fiona was that she was pregnant; a few months so, she guessed. Debbie already liked her very much. She was young looking and very pretty, with golden hair in an elfin style. Debbie could see the resemblance to herself, but Fiona's features were more delicate than her own rather stronger ones. She thought that Fiona looked tired. It couldn't be easy, being the wife of a rector … but Simon seemed very nice as well; kind and helpful, but strong, too, she guessed, and determined.

It had all gone very well so far, after the stressful journey. It was then that she remembered her parents. Would they have found out by now that she was missing? She suddenly felt dreadful; there was a sick feeling in her stomach as she thought of Mum worrying about her. It came to her then, like a flash of lightning, that Vera was her mother. She always had been, ever since she had taken charge of her as a tiny baby, and she always would be. Fiona was … well, she was just Fiona. Debbie would no doubt get to know her better and grow fond of her. But Vera was … Mum. And Debbie realized now that she loved her very much.

Debbie was usually home by six o'clock. The staff who worked at the garden centre stopped work at five thirty although Mr Hill sometimes stayed open later to accommodate people who might want to call on their way home.

When she hadn't arrived home at six fifteen Vera started to feel anxious.

‘Now don't start worrying,' Stanley told her. ‘She's not all that late. Perhaps she's got held up with a last-minute customer, or maybe she's chatting to Kevin.'

‘Or she might have had a puncture,' said Vera. ‘Oh dear! I do worry, Stanley, when she's out on her bike. I don't think she's any idea how to mend a puncture …' Or she could have had an accident, Vera thought to herself, but didn't say. The country lanes were pretty quiet, but the cars sometimes went too fast round the bends. There had been a report in the paper recently about such an occurrence: a cyclist knocked off her bicycle and badly injured.

‘Our meal's ready now,' said Vera, ‘but I don't want to start without her.'

‘What are we having?' asked Stanley.

‘Braised steak with carrots and onions, and there's mashed potato.'

‘Put our Debbie's on a plate, then, and leave it in the oven. She won't be long, and I'm starving!'

They started their meal, in fact they finished the first course and started eating their rhubarb crumble, and still she hadn't arrived. Vera pushed her dish to one side. ‘I can't eat any more, Stanley; I'm that worried. Wherever can she be?'

‘For heaven's sake, Vera, calm down!' said Stanley. ‘Don't start thinking the worst. I'll just finish my pud, then I'll nip along to the phone box and ring Mr Hill at the garden centre. She might be working late.'

‘Then she should have let us know …'

‘How could she?' said Stanley. ‘I keep telling you that we ought to get a phone put in. We can well afford it now.'

‘But we hardly ever use the phone.' Vera had never seen the need to go to the unnecessary expense.

‘Well, we need it now, don't we?'

‘I'll go,' said Vera, feeling she couldn't wait any longer. She was all churned up inside, and she had to do something – anything – to stop her thoughts running out of control. ‘You finish your pudding.'

‘Have you got the number?'

‘Yes; it's in my diary. Debbie gave it me, but I've never used it.' She grabbed her bag and ran to the phone box at the end of the road. She put in the money and dialled the number, all fingers and thumbs as she hardly ever used a phone. She could tell by his voice that it was Kevin who answered.

‘Hello, Sunnyhill garden centre. How can I help you?'

‘Oh, hello, Kevin.' she said. ‘It's Mrs Hargreaves here, Debbie's mum. We're rather worried because she hasn't got home yet. Did she leave at the usual time?'

There was a pause before Kevin answered. ‘Er … Debbie hasn't been to work today, Mrs Hargreaves. We were wondering why she hadn't let us know.'

‘Oh dear! Oh no … where is she then? She didn't say anything to you, did she, Kevin, about any plans or … anything?'

‘No, I'm afraid not. Actually, I'm not seeing Debbie any more. I see her at work, but that's all. We decided … well … to call it a day. With her going back to school and … everything.'

‘Oh, I see. She didn't tell me. I'm sorry about that.' Despite her early misgivings Vera did feel sorry as she knew now that Kevin was a decent sort of lad. ‘Are you feeling better?' she asked. ‘Debbie said you had a bad cold and that was why she … wasn't seeing you …'

‘I'm fine, thanks. Actually … I haven't been ill at all.'

So Debbie had lied about it. Breaking up with Kevin must have upset her quite a lot. Had that got something to do with her being missing now? she wondered.

‘I'm sorry I can't help you, Mrs Hargreaves,' said Kevin, sounding concerned. ‘Perhaps you could go and see Shirley Crompton? I know they're very friendly. She might know something … although I'm sure there's nothing to worry about,' he added.

‘Yes … yes, I will. Thank you, Kevin. Bye for now.'

She ran all the way home and was breathless when she arrived. She collapsed, panting, in the chair. ‘She's not there, Stanley,' she gasped. ‘She's not been at work all day. Oh, dear God! Wherever can she be?'

‘At least she's not had an accident on the way home. That's what you were thinking, wasn't it? I could tell you were.'

‘Kevin said Shirley might know something. They're thick as thieves, you know, and girls don't tell their parents what they get up to, not by a long chalk.'

‘Right; we'll nip along to the Cromptons' place then. Buck up, love. We'll find her. I feel sure we will. Happen she's gone off somewhere with Shirley.'

‘Then why didn't she tell us? Oh, Stanley, I'm scared, I really am.'

‘Come on, then, let's get moving.'

The Cromptons' house was at the far end of the avenue. Madge Crompton, who was a friend of Vera, mainly because of their daughters' friendship, opened the door.

‘Hello there, Vera, Stanley. This is a surprise. Do come in.'

‘Is our Debbie here?' asked Vera, without preamble. ‘She hasn't come home from work.'

‘No, she isn't.' Madge looked puzzled. ‘I haven't seen her since … sometime last week. She came round to see Shirley. Let's see if she knows anything.'

‘Debbie hasn't been to work today, and we don't know where she is,' said Vera. ‘Have you any idea, Shirley, pet, where she might be?'