Stoney Beck Read online

  The man looked up from his TV as she headed for the door. “Couldn’t find anything?”

  She shook her head. “Just browsing, really.”

  She gave the shop one last look from the outside, and then went next door to Malone’s Corner Shop. There were fresh vegetables in wooden crates out front under the windows. A woman tore a couple of small paper bags from a nail hammered into the wall and filled them with Brussels sprouts and tomatoes. She put them into her basket and went into the shop.

  The inside of Malone’s was almost the English equivalent of the American General Store. It was larger than it looked from the outside, about thirty feet wide but twice that distance in length. Shelves stretched from floor to ceiling, stacked with everything from a screwdriver to a box of After Eight chocolates. Jenny savored the mixed smells of cured bacon and aged cheeses, mingled with fresh crusty bread and pastries, as well as furniture polish, leather, scented soaps, candies. She walked over to the stand of picture postcards and turned it slowly, studying the different scenes. She picked out one of Lake Windermere and another of Buttermere, as well as a winter scene of the mountains covered with snow. She chose a few cards of Stoney Beck: a couple of Market Street and one of the Hare and Hounds. She smiled to herself. She’d send one of these to Uncle Tim with a big cross over the cottage, barely visible through the trees.

  “Is Sarah Fitzgerald here?” she asked the woman behind the counter as she paid for the cards. “She said she’d try to come to work today.”

  The woman inclined her head toward the back of the store. “She’s lying down in the living room. She came in this morning but should have stayed at home. She just isn’t well enough.”

  “I sure am sorry,” Jenny said. “She was real excited about coming back.”

  The woman smiled as she handed Jenny her change. “I’m Ada Malone and you must be Jenny, Sarah’s beautiful American lady. She’s done nothing but talk about you all morning. At least she did until she ate a sandwich and couldn’t keep it down.” The woman hesitated. “Would you like to see her?”

  “If it’s not a problem.”

  Mrs. Malone looked at the four or five people wandering through the store. “I need to keep an eye on the shop. The tourist buses are coming in. We’re a summer place and have to make hay while the sun shines.” She pushed the graying hair away from her harried face. “You go on through. The living room’s through that door at the back.”

  Jenny stopped in the doorway of the comfortably shabby room. Sarah sat on the sofa opposite and stared bleakly into the empty fireplace, absently picking at the flaking skin on her face. When Jenny rapped her knuckles gently on the door, Sarah looked up and half got to her feet, a smile hovering around her mouth. However, the effort was too great. She put her hand over her mouth and ran through the kitchen beyond and out the back door.

  Jenny followed her as far as the kitchen, then stood listening to Sarah’s retching. Steeling herself, she pulled a couple of feet of paper towel from the rack, wet it under the tap, and went outside. Sarah eventually raised her head from the grid which covered the outside drain, and leaned against the wall, breathing hard, her face covered in perspiration. She took off her glasses and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. Jenny felt a stab of pity so strong it overcame her distaste of the smell of vomit. She took Sarah’s glasses, then gently wiped her face with the wet paper towel, and patted it dry with a tissue.

  “You feel real bad don’t you?” Jenny said as she took Sarah by the hand and led her inside. She rinsed the glasses under the tap and after she’d wiped them, replaced them on Sarah’s nose. “How long have you been like this?”

  “Donkey’s years,” Sarah said breathlessly as she leaned against the kitchen wall.

  “You’re too sick to be at work, Sarah. Why don’t you left me run you home?”

  Sarah’s grabbed hold of Jenny’s wrist. “I can’t go home. Biddy’ll kill me.”

  Jenny stared into the round frightened eyes. “What do you mean she’ll kill you?”

  “I’ve just wet my knickers. I never do that, never, but I couldn’t help it this time. She’ll murder me.”

  “No, no, it’s all right.” Jenny put an arm across Sarah’s shoulders. “You couldn’t help it. Anybody can have an accident when they’re sick, anybody.” She handed her a plastic bag from a stack in the corner. “If you take them off and put them in here, you’ll feel more comfortable.”

  Sarah slipped out of her panties and stuffed them in the bag. “Biddy said she’d take me to the doctor but I know she’s fibbing. She’s turned mean and funny and doesn’t like me any more.”

  “You’re only saying that because you don’t feel good,” Jenny said as she led Sarah to the sofa.

  “No, honest, she hates me. She said if I’m naughty these men in white coats will come after me and carry me off in their paddy wagon. It’s special made for people like me.”

  Jenny wanted to tell her that was pure bullshit. “She’s teasing you, Sarah,” she said instead. “There is no such thing as men in white coats pulling a paddy wagon.”

  “Oh yes there are. If I’m bad, they’ll nab me. Their place is miles away and it’s got bars on the windows. And once they get me, I’ll never get out.” A sob sent a shudder through her as she grabbed Jenny’s arm. “Don’t tell Biddy I told you. She’ll tear me to pieces.”

  “I won’t breathe a word, honest. You can trust me.”

  “Spit on your hand, cross your heart and say hope to die.”

  Jenny did as she was told; then put her hands on Sarah’s shoulders and studied the pale, frightened face. “I don’t know why Biddy’s telling you these things, but they’re not true. Don’t listen to her.”

  Ada stuck her head inside the room. “How’s it going, Sarah? Are you feeling better now Jenny’s here?”

  “A little bit.”

  Ada crossed the room and put a hand on Sarah’s forehead. “You’re hot and clammy. You rest here a minute while I have a word with Jenny. We won’t be long.” She motioned for Jenny to follow her into the shop.

  “Dr. Hall’s outside talking to Andy. I think we should call him in.” She took cans of beans out of a box and banged them onto the shelf as she talked. “Someone ought to horsewhip that Biddy for not doing something about this.”

  “How long has Sarah been like this?” Jenny asked.

  “At least a month, maybe longer. It started out with a sore throat, something like the flu, but she should be over that by now.”

  The bell over the door jangled and two women entered.

  “I’ll go get the doctor,” Jenny said. “You’re needed here in the shop.”

  Dr. Hall looked about the same age as Andy so plainly was not the village doctor who had delivered Jenny twenty-three years ago. After Andy introduced them, she told the doctor about Sarah, then watched as he opened his car door and lifted out the familiar emblem of doctors the world over, the black leather bag. It was as though she’d drifted back in time to an old black and white movie. In Charlotte and other big cities in America, the huge sterile clinics had years ago replaced the family doctor who made house calls. Apparently though the practice was still very much alive here in England.

  “I’ll wait here,” Andy said.

  At Dr. Hall’s request, Jenny sat on a chair in the corner of the room while he held a stethoscope against Sarah’s chest and then her back, shone a light in her eyes, pressed her stomach. All the while he talked to her, asked questions, and reassured her at least twice that wetting your knickers when you vomited was nothing to be ashamed of. Yes, he’d be sure to let Biddy know this and would Sarah please stop worrying about it. Every now and then he turned to Jenny, making the odd comment in an effort to include her in the conversation.

  “Am I going to die?” Sarah asked in a shaky voice.

  He put his stethoscope away. “Of course not. I do think you should get on home, though. I’ll ring Biddy and ask her to bring you into the surgery for a checkup.”

 
Sarah’s already swollen eyes looked ready to spill over again. “What’ll Ada do without me? She said I’m the best worker she’s ever had”

  “Nobody’s putting you out to grass, Sarah,” Dr. Hall said, with a comforting hand on her shoulder. “We all get a little under the weather every now and then. Ada will manage somehow. You’re right though, she’s bound to miss you.”

  Sarah turned to Jenny. “Will you fill in for me, Jenny? You’d do almost as good a job as me, I just know you would.”

  Jenny looked from Sarah to Dr. Hall who gave an almost imperceptible nod on Sarah’s behalf. “We’ll see. I’ll have a word with Mrs. Malone, then drive you home.”

  When Jenny went into the shop, Mrs. Malone was weighing a string of sausages on old-fashioned scales. She added one more sausage to make up two pounds, then wrapped them in wax proof paper and placed them on the counter.

  “That’ll be two pounds, ten pence, Betty,” she said to the old woman facing her.

  Betty took them and placed them in her string bag. “That’s five pence more than they cost me last week.”

  “And it’s four pence more than they cost me.” Mrs. Malone said. “I’m still only making the same profit.”

  Jenny waited until the woman had waddled out of the shop, and then she told Mrs. Malone the doctor said Sarah should go home.

  “You’re busy here in the shop. I’ll be glad to take her.”

  “I’d be ever so grateful if you would. To tell you the truth, I can’t stand that Biddy. Still, I’m sorry about Sarah. She should be on the mend by now. I hate to say it but I think she’s got something serious.”

  “She’s worried about leaving you to handle the shop by yourself, said you’ll miss her.”

  “Well, she’s right about that. I will miss her. Especially this week. One of my girls is gallivanting all over Paris with some boy she hardly knows, and the other is home in bed with the cramps.” Mrs. Malone replaced the remaining sausages in the refrigerated glass case. “Anyway, Jenny, it’s not your problem. I’ll muddle through somehow.”

  Jenny ran her fingers along the counter. “Sarah asked me if I’d fill in for her until she’s well. If you want me, I’ll be glad to help out. I worked in a gourmet food store in our local mall when I was in college, so it isn’t as though I don’t know anything about the business.” She didn’t say that after only three weeks on the job she’d been forced to quit. Every evening she’d sprinted the ten blocks from Queens College to her home to relieve her mother, worn out and haggard from long days tending her sick, almost helpless husband.

  Mrs. Malone wiped the already spotless glass. “For goodness sake. I can’t let you do that. You, an American tourist, over here on holiday, having to stop all your fun to help me in this little shop. I—well, it’s just unheard of.”

  “I don’t mind, honest. Your girl with the cramps is bound to be back in a couple of days. And anyway, Sarah’s convinced you’ll go bankrupt if you don’t let me help.”

  “Well, perhaps just for a few days. And anyway, I’m not sure you can work in this country without a permit. It might be against the law.”

  “Ah, let her do it, Ada.”

  Andy Ferguson came from behind the magazine rack, a copy of Popular Mechanics in his hand. “It’ll be something to tell the folks when she gets back home. You can dance around the working-without-a-permit thing. Pay her in cash. All the countries do it on a small scale.”

  Jenny grinned, suddenly looking forward to the challenge. “Andy’s right,” she said to Ada. “My friend worked in Switzerland for a few months and they paid her in cash. If you’ll take a chance, so will I. Give me half an hour to run Sarah home, and I’ll come right back.”

  Andy stood beside his friend as they watched the Ford turn right at the post office. “What do you think Sarah’s got?”

  Jonathon Hall stroked the day old stubble on his chin. “Don’t know right off. Judging from the color of her skin it could be any one of a number of things. I’ll know more after I’ve examined her. Might need to check her into hospital for tests.”

  He gave Andy a sly smile. “You fancy that Jenny, don’t you? I saw the way you looked at her.”

  Andy shrugged, knowing from experience he could never hide his feelings from his friend. Moreover, it was true. He did fancy her. “You don’t miss much, do you Jon,” he said. “But she’s an American. I’m not about to get tangled up with somebody who lives three thousand miles away.”

  He stuck his hands deep in the pockets of his coveralls, remembering the strange conversation between Jenny and Biddy Biggerstaff. “There’s something about her I can’t fathom, mysterious one minute as if she’s working for Interpol or the CIA, then suddenly she’s all dewy-eyed like some American prom queen. But if you catch her off guard, she’d got this other look, strange and sad. Something’s on her mind. I can tell.”

  Jonathon Hall gave him a quizzical look. “What the bloody hell are you rambling on about?”

  “She’s no ordinary tourist, Jon. I’d bet the garage on it.” Andy looked the length of Market Street. “Now what secrets do you suppose a little out-of-the-way place like this could hold for a girl from Charlotte, North Carolina who’s never set foot in England before in her life?”

  Jonathon smiled and clapped his friend on the back. “The trouble with you is you read too many mysteries. Come on, I’m famished. Tell Alf you’re knocking off for lunch. We’ll get a beer and sandwich at the Hare.”

  After Andy had a quick word with Alf, he got into the car beside his friend. He had acted casual enough in the shop, flipping through the pages of that magazine as if it didn’t matter at all that Jenny would be in the shop just across the common from his garage, working behind the counter of Malone’s. It was almost as though she lived in the town. He grinned at Jonathon. “Lunch is on me today.”

  Chapter Seven

  On the way home, Sarah held on to the plastic bag containing her knickers. She sneaked a look at Jenny. Her dark blonde hair was thick and shiny, with the prettiest way of turning under at the ends as it rested on her shoulders. She had little gold rings in her pierced ears and a thin gold chain around her neck. Sarah raised a pudgy hand to her own short, straight hair and wondered how it felt to be beautiful and normal like Jenny. She had come all the way from America on her own. She didn’t know a soul in Stoney Beck and was staying in the Hare and Hounds cottage all by herself and driving one of Andy’s cars all over the place. She could drive a car and do things Sarah only dreamed of. She felt a little puff of pride. Jenny was like a real fairy princess. And just look at the two of them, driving along together like they were very best friends. Sarah wished the other girls from the shop had been there when she asked Jenny to take her place in the shop and Jenny had said yes. Oh, the girls weren’t nasty or anything. Still, they giggled and talked to each other all day long and didn’t say much to Sarah unless it was to do with the shop. Even Ada did that sometimes but she was nicer than most and Sarah could tell Ada really liked her. Even so, none of them would have been as kind to her as Jenny when Sarah had wet her knickers. They would have nudged each other, sniggered, and rolled their eyes like they did lots of times when Sarah got things wrong. If Jenny had not come home with Sarah, she would have been terrified to tell Biddy she had wet herself. Now she didn’t have to because Jenny had promised to explain. And hadn’t Dr. Hall promised to tell Biddy she must bring Sarah to his surgery for a checkup.

  Every now and then, Jenny turned to Sarah and smiled. She had lovely white even teeth, not little dingy ones like Sarah’s. Best of all, when Jenny pulled up outside Glen Ellen, she took hold of Sarah’s hand and gave it a little encouraging squeeze, just like Mummy used to do.

  When Biddy looked through the window and saw the blue Ford coming up the drive, she scuttled to the downstairs bathroom and put her teeth in, then opened the door. She stood with arms folded, feet apart as Sarah and the girl came up the steps holding hands, and went into the kitchen.

  “Didn’t I w
arn you this would happen?” she said to Sarah. “But as usual you wouldn’t listen. You can be so stubborn if you don’t get your own way.”

  Out of the corner of her eye, Biddy saw the half-empty bottle of gin on the counter. She grabbed it and shoved it in the cupboard under the sink, then pressed her hand against her lower back as she straightened up. “It’s for the arthritics, strictly medicinal,” she said. Then turned away from the American girl’s knowing eyes.

  “Go up to your room and lie down,” she said to Sarah. “I’ll bring up a glass of ginger ale later.”

  Jenny took the plastic bag from Sarah, then more to irritate the woman than anything else, she put her arms round Sarah and gave her a hug. “It’s all right, honey,” she said softly, “I’ll explain everything.”

  She waited while Sarah mounted the stairs, then placed the bag on the table. “Sarah vomited and strained so hard, she wet herself. Dr. Hall told her it was nothing to be ashamed of. It could have happened to anybody.”

  Biddy’s owl-like eyes narrowed into slits. “Are you telling me you took it upon yourself to take her to the doctor?”

  Jenny shook her head. “He was outside the shop. It was Ada’s idea to call him in. Sarah asked me to explain about her panties.”

  “Why couldn’t she tell me herself. That’s so typical of her, trying to give the impression I’m a witch. The arthritics are creeping into every joint I’ve got, but still I cook and keep this house clean, big as it is. It’s a thankless job, I can tell you.”

  Jenny bit her lip, holding back the questions. What about scaring Sarah half to death with stories of paddy wagon men in white coats coming to cart her off to a home. “I’m filling in for Sarah at the shop for a few days and need to get back,” she said instead. “Ada’s there by herself and it’s a busy day. Oh yes, one more thing. Dr. Hall asked me to tell you he’ll be calling you after lunch. He wants Sarah in for a checkup.”