Families and Friendships (7 page)

The two of them had gone out together a few times since then. Kevin had called at their house to pick her up and bring her home, and they found him to be a very courteous and pleasant sort of lad. Debbie had moaned a bit when Vera had said she must concentrate on her school work, with her O levels coming up very soon, and must always be in by half past ten.

But now the O levels were over, and they were all anxiously awaiting the results. School would finish in a week's time for the summer holiday. Debbie was getting more obstreperous with every day that passed, being more insolent than ever and defying the ten thirty deadline now that the exams had ended. Moreover she was adamant about this business of leaving school, and Vera and Stanley were wondering if it was all because of Kevin Hill. He seemed a nice enough lad, but was he, in fact, encouraging Debbie in her bid for freedom?

Debbie had been happy at Kelder Bank for the first four years, at least as happy as you could ever be at school. It was common practice to pretend that you disliked school, even though you might consider it to be really not too bad. She was able to cope quite easily with the work in most subjects. She did not find it hard to study or to do her homework. She did well in the end of term exams, although she was not ‘top dog' as she had been at the junior school.

It was during her time in the fifth form, when they were studying like mad for their O levels that Debbie began to feel restless. She had started working at the weekends at Sunnyhill the two days in the week to which she looked forward immensely. Her school work had started to take second place, which worried her parents very much, especially her mother. Mum seemed to be continually on her back these days.

‘Have you finished your homework, Debbie? You have? Well, you've been very quick about it, I must say!'

Or, ‘When are you going to tidy your bedroom, Debbie? It's a disgrace! And you used to be so tidy. I could write my name in the dust on your mirror. And please remember to put your dirty clothes in the linen basket. Don't leave them all over the floor …'

Or, ‘Half past ten, and not a minute later. You've got school tomorrow, and you know what you're like at getting up in a morning …'

That was after she had started going out with Kevin Hill. Seeing Kevin at weekends was, of course, one of the main reasons that she looked forward so much to Saturdays and Sundays. She had liked Kevin as soon as she met him, and dared to believe that he liked her as well. When he had first asked her to go to the pictures with him she had been over the moon with excitement. Nor had it been just an isolated occasion.

After their first visit to the cinema to see
Georgie Girl
they went on to see rather more daring films such as
Alfie
and
The Graduate
. Films that Debbie was not sure her mother would approve of; Mum was getting very stuffy and critical these days.

At least her parents seemed to like Kevin. The fact that he was the son of the boss was a point in his favour. Kevin called for her and took her home again when they had been out for the evening, kissing her goodnight at the gate. Discreetly at first, but then, as they grew friendlier, they lingered a little while longer in a secluded shop doorway or alleyway.

Whitesands Bay was not exactly a swinging sort of town, compared with many in what was being called the ‘Swinging Sixties'. Liverpool seemed to be the place to be now. How Debbie would have loved to visit the Cavern where the famous Beatles had played. But it was out of the question up there in the wilds of Northumberland. There were not only the Beatles, but Cilla Black, the Searchers, and Gerry and the Pacemakers. Elsewhere there were the Rolling Stones, the Who, the Kinks, and the very amusing Herman's Hermits.

Debbie and her friends had to be content with listening to their records. She had a Dansette record player and saved up for the records of her favourite bands, the Beatles being the one she liked best of all.

No, Whitesands Bay could not compare with Liverpool or London, but a few discos had sprung up in the town, where records were played by disc jockeys, as opposed to the music of live bands. Debbie would have loved to dance the night away, like many of the local teenagers were able to do, those who did not have to get up for school the next morning. For work, maybe, where they would, no doubt, turn up bleary-eyed, which would be frowned on at school.

Kevin was a sensible lad, conscious that Debbie was two years younger than he was; and so he steered her away from pubs, or from the pills that could be bought – within the law – for not very much money at some discos and clubs.

Sometimes, during the summer, they just walked on the promenade or along the pier, stopping for a coffee or a milk shake at a coffee bar. Kevin also lived in Whitesands Bay, and he made sure that she stuck to her parents' deadline of ten thirty. When she told him that it had been extended to eleven thirty he believed her, not knowing anything about the rumpus it had caused at home. However, once her exams had finished Vera and Stanley, somewhat reluctantly, gave in to her demands. They liked Kevin and trusted him with their daughter.

He had not yet been invited to their home for ‘Sunday tea' or some such occasion, which was a sign that the lad was the accepted boyfriend. Kevin, however, was quite content with the status quo. He liked Debbie as much as any girl he had known so far and was happy for things to carry on just as they were.

As for Debbie, she believed she was in love with Kevin. She knew he was her first boyfriend and all that, as her mother kept reminding her. ‘You're only sixteen, Debbie, too young to be getting serious with a boy, especially while you're still at school …' and so on and so on. She didn't really know how seriously Kevin felt about her. He had not said he loved her or anything like that, but she had her hopes and dreams.

He was so different from the lads she knew at school. Older, of course, and more knowledgeable about all sorts of things. He, too, had attended Kelder Bank School, although Debbie had not known him then with him being a couple of years ahead of her. He had left when he was sixteen to work with his father and, as he was the only son, the business would no doubt be his one day. But that was a long time ahead, of course.

He had more money to splash around than the lads at school. He didn't own a car of his own, not yet, but he was saving up for one. On occasions he borrowed his father's Morris Oxford. On rare occasions that was; Mr Hill guarded his car like the crown jewels, but Debbie felt like a princess when they drove along the promenade of Whitesands Bay.

He was good looking, in a funny sort of way with blondish hair that always looked untidy no matter what he did to it. He had strong features, with a rather longish nose, and a merry smile that showed a little gap in his front teeth. Debbie couldn't help boasting about him at school, because he was older and took her to places that the lads at school couldn't afford.

Some of the girls had boyfriends, mainly lads in the same form at Kelder Bank. Her best friend, Shirley Crompton, had been ‘going out' with Ryan Gregson, a lad in their form, for a few months. At least that was what Shirley called it, although Debbie guessed that they didn't often go out anywhere. They just hung about together at school, at break times and dinner time. One problem was that he didn't live in Whitesands Bay as Shirley did, but in South Shields, several miles away, so they didn't meet all that often away from school. Shirley sometimes went to watch him play football on a Saturday. He was the goalie in the school team, being a tall, well-built lad, far more muscular than many of his peer group, and he had bright ginger hair.

Debbie had the feeling that he didn't like her very much, and so she decided that she wasn't too keen on him either.

‘Your friend Debbie, she's a real little bossy boots, isn't she?' he had remarked to Shirley. ‘And always showing off about something or other. I can't understand why you're so friendly with her. I must say, you hold your own with her though, don't you? She needs taking down a peg or two.'

‘She's alright,' Shirley would reply. ‘I like her. I've been friends with her ever since we were in the infant school, and we went to Brownies and Sunday school together as well. And our mums are friends. Yes, I know she shows off a bit. I must admit I'm sick of hearing about this marvellous Kevin. I've met him and he's quite nice and friendly; but I think she's doing most of the running, to be honest. I hope she doesn't get hurt.'

‘Serve her right,' muttered Ryan.

‘Oh, don't be like that, Ryan,' said Shirley. ‘I feel a bit sorry for her, actually. She was forever boasting when she was in the junior school that she was special. She was adopted, you see, and her mother had told her she was a very special little girl.'

‘Oh, I didn't realize that,' said Ryan.

‘Well, no; she doesn't talk about it now, although I think it's pretty common knowledge round about where we live. Her parents are rather older; I should imagine they're turned fifty now. They're both very nice. I know Debbie gets cross because she thinks her mum's always on at her, but I don't suppose she's any worse than mine. I sometimes wonder, though, how she really feels about being adopted. I wonder how I would feel, if it were me …'

It was when Debbie started at Kelder Bank School at the age of eleven that she began to think more about the fact that she was adopted. Near to the school, not much more than a mile away, there was a big house called Burnside House. She had discovered it was the place where girls went to stay if they were expecting a baby and were not married. Her mother had not told her very much about the ‘facts of life', except about periods, and how it was nature's way of making sure you were ready for the time when you might have a baby. She had known, of course, that babies grew inside your tummy, but she had been somewhat confused about how it got there in the first place. And Mum didn't tell her about that; neither did she ask. The knowledge came to her gradually though, through confidential chats with her girl friends, and by keeping her eyes and her ears open.

When she was twelve she asked her mother, ‘Mum, you know that big house near to our school? Burnside House, it's called. Well, was that where I was born? You used to tell me that you went to a big house in the country because you wanted a baby girl. So … was that where you went?'

‘Yes, that's right, Debbie,' her mother had replied. ‘Burnside House, that's where we went, your daddy and me. I haven't set eyes on the place from that day to this. It's sort of ‘off the beaten track', as they say, and so we've never needed to go past it. Why did you ask, Debbie, after all this time?'

‘Oh, some girls at school were talking about that place. Linda knows somebody who's gone to stay there. And I said to Shirley, I bet that's where I was born.'

Her mother nodded, looking a little anxious, Debbie thought. ‘Don't worry your head about it, pet,' she said.

‘I'm not,' said Debbie. ‘I just wondered, that's all.'

Then, a year or so later, she asked again. ‘Mum, Mrs Wagstaff works at Burnside House, doesn't she?' Claire Wagstaff was a friend of her parents. Not a very close friend; not close enough, for instance, for Debbie to call her Aunty Claire, a courtesy title she had always used for some of her mother's closest friends. But she called at their house every now and again. Debbie found her very nice and friendly, and she had always shown an interest in her, Debbie, asking her about how she was going on at school and all that sort of thing. But it was only recently that the penny had dropped, so to speak, and she had discovered Claire's place of work.

‘Yes, she does work there,' her mother replied, in answer to her question. Then, as she had said before, ‘Why do you want to know, Debbie?'

‘Because I've only just realized, that's why? Has she worked there for a long time?'

‘Er … yes; for quite a few years.'

‘So was she there when I was a baby?' Debbie persisted. ‘When I was born, I mean. Is that how you got to know her?'

‘Oh for goodness' sake! Questions, questions!' said her mother. ‘Listen – I'll tell you about it, then perhaps you'll let it drop, will you? We knew Claire long before you were born. She was a neighbour of ours when we lived in the village, before we moved here to Whitesands Bay. I told you how your daddy and I wanted a baby, and it didn't happen, so we decided to adopt a little girl. We knew that Claire worked at Burnside House, and we'd kept in touch with her after we moved, and so we asked her if she could perhaps help us, just a little bit. She put in a good word for us with the adoption society; it was very kind of her. And so … we adopted you, didn't we? Now, are you satisfied, Miss Nosy Parker?'

‘Yes …' Debbie nodded thoughtfully. ‘So Claire knew the lady; the lady whose baby I was?'

‘Well, of course she did,' said her mother. ‘That's obvious, isn't it? But I told you, didn't I, that she couldn't keep you? I know she loved you, but she had to let you go.'

‘She was an unmarried mother then, wasn't she?' said Debbie. ‘That's why girls go there, isn't it? Because they're having babies and they're not married?'

Her mother looked startled; no doubt, thought Debbie, because she had found out so much about having babies without it being talked about at home. She answered a bit sharply.

‘Yes, she was having a baby and she wasn't married. That's what happens to girls, Deborah, when they don't think about what they're doing. Now, we're not going to say any more about it, alright?'

Debbie nodded. Mum never called her Deborah unless she was cross or upset about something. She hadn't meant to vex her mother. She was just curious about … well, everything.

‘It's all right, love,' her mother said then, a little more gently. ‘I don't mind you asking questions, and I suppose you're bound to think about it sometimes. Your daddy and I decided to be honest with you – about you being adopted – right from the start. You're still happy about it, aren't you, Debbie? You know how much we love you.'