Previously…

‘I’ll see yer again when yer feel a bit better. I’d better go and see if Sarah’s teeth have rotted with all that muck she’s drinkin’. I want yer out of here soon and cracking on with me paintin’; the way things are goin’, I’ll be six feet under before I get it!’

‘Thanks for coming.’ I said reaching for her hand. She patted it, smiled and then turned away. As she reached the door, hand on handle, she turned back. She had strange look on her face and tears seemed to glisten in her eyes, although it might have been the light.

‘I might not be yer biological mother, but I don’t mind bein’ a surrogate. I rather like bein’ called Mother, or Mummy, if yer have to. Think about it. I’m a sentimental old fool, but I don’t think that you can have enough children, even if I have never had a baby of my own…as I say, think about it.’

‘I thought you had a son?’

‘Yes, nice boy, don’t see him much now. Got a life of his own, adopted him when he was six. Anyway, must dash. Have a think about what I said…’

‘I have no need to, come back soon–Mummy.’

‘Right–good–must be orf. Somethin’ in me eye, makin it water like this. Can’t leave Sarah for five minutes, that girl–’

Then she was gone, leaving me feeling a lot better–but that didn’t stop me from crying my eyes out as I knew now that I not only had a lover and a daughter; I had, it appeared, managed to acquire a mother too!

Who said I wasn’t lucky?

And now the story continues…

I was so happy when the day came for my leaving the hospital. Beside me, holding Heather was Abby. I was still a bit sore so we decided that she should carry her today.

It was a beautiful day, warm and only a few clouds dotting the sky. All too soon winter would be upon us and we would all have to batten down the hatches against the wild winter weather for which this area is renowned–if that is the right word.

I said goodbye and thanks to the matron, sister and a few of the nurses that had looked after me so carefully from the time I came in three weeks ago, broken and bent out of shape. I knew that I had a way to go yet and it still hurt to laugh or breathe in too deeply. Most of the cuts and bruises had faded a lot by now but I was still a bit fragile and had nasty dreams about that monster who tried to kill me.

That was in the back of my mind now as I grinned at the sight before me. My new Mummy–Dotty to you–was standing there with Sarah, in front of her gleaming Roller. It appeared that we were going home in some style!

Jenkins was standing by the open rear door, resplendent in a chauffeur’s uniform, complete with a peaked cap with a cockade.

‘Hello, you young things. Thought that yer might need a lift, since Samantha trashed your car, Abby, and hers is still with that idiot Potts.’

Sarah giggled as she normally did on a regular basis. I had learned that she had a brand new friend in the shape and form of Bethany. They were evidently as thick as thieves and I wondered how Penmarris would be able to cope with the two tearaways.

‘No Fifi, Mummy?’ I asked innocently.

‘I do wish you would call me Mother or somethin’ less, damn sentimental, young Sam. No, Fifi has disgraced herself on the carpet of the drawing room, so she’s confined to quarters. Well are yer goin’ ter stand there all day, or are we goin’ ter get yer home?’

We all somehow piled into the car apart from Sarah, who was going to get up to mischief somewhere else with Bethany. Heather had to go into a rearward-facing baby seat that was already fitted, so Abby and I sat either side of her while Her Imperious Presence went in the front passenger seat. Jenkins, after making sure that everyone was secure, started the car and with a wave to the hospital staff and Sarah, we were orf!

We proceeded down the hill, past the gate that led up to Dotty’s old pile, around and along a few lanes catching glimpses of the sea down below through breaks in the walls and hedges as we went and then, finally we arrived home. It was decided that baby should have a cat-free environment for the moment, as we didn’t want any of the little darlings parking themselves on Heather’s face, so we drew up, with whisper quietness outside my little cottage. Heather, bless her, was fast asleep blowing bubbles with her mouth, so she wasn’t aware that she was coming home–at last.

As usual, there were a gaggle of women chatting across the road and a number of curtains seemed to twitch in unison. It was somewhat quiet as most of the bird population that lived and parked themselves on the roofs and walls hereabout seemed to be strangely absent, I’m sure that it had absolutely nothing to do with Dotty.

Being a bit stiff and sore, Jenkins helped me out of the car while Abby unplugged Heather from her seat. My new mummy stood by glaring at the rubber-neckers across the road until they sort of evaporated away leaving us relatively alone in the lane, apart from a cat who was far more intent on washing his or her bottom than looking at the comings and goings of those strange beings on two legs.

I climbed the steps and opened the door. It was nice to be home and Mrs Pearson was there, ready in the kitchen with a cup of tea from the huge teapot she had brought from home. Legend had it that the pot had not been cleaned since it was bought around the time of the Spanish Armada, but as it was Abby who told me this, I didn’t give it much credence.

‘Adds to the flav’r m’dear,’ said Mrs Pearson when asked about it.

Jenkins stayed with the car, to repel all boarders as the rest of us made our way to the sitting room. Mummy Dotty, of course, immediately plonked herself down in the big old armchair and made herself comfortable, while the rest of us played musical chairs until we were all seated.

Heather was in her carrycot, still oblivious to her change of address. I hoped, when she was a bit more active, she would appreciate the quaint little place that I loved so much. Being a baby though, I doubted it.

Then Mrs Pearson came in and placed three cakes on the table, two of them were sponge cakes and the third was a lovely cream cake. To say I lusted after it was an understatement as I had been incarcerated for three weeks, but I felt a bit awkward about just taking it and I could see that Abby was having some sort of crisis too.

‘Ooh,’ said Mummy, ‘I adore cream cakes, don’tcher know,’ and grabbed it quicker than a cabinet minister telling terminological inexactitudes about how well the country was doing under his government.

Abby glanced at me ruefully as she picked up one of the two remaining cakes and I had the other. There was a brief silence as we ate our cakes and washed it down with Mrs Pearson’s tea, which wasn’t Darjeeling, but not bad considering the pot that it had come from.

‘Well, Samantha, Abby, glad to bring young sprog home?’

‘Yes,’ said Abby,’ I’ve been waiting for this for absolutely ages.’

‘Mmm,’ I added, ‘it’s nice to be home again,’ just as Heather decided to wake up and demonstrate her considerable lung capacity.

‘I think she’s hungry,’ I shouted.

‘I’ll go and do a bottle,’ Abby replied loudly as she picked her up and placed her on my lap.

Heather quietened down slightly as the decibel level reduced dramatically. Mummy Dotty was watching me carefully. ‘What?’ I enquired.

‘You’re a natural, gel. Look at the way she’s gazin’ at yer?’

Looking down at the little face, I could see that she was happy again as she gurgled at me in baby-speak. She grabbed hold of my little finger with her hand and her grip was surprisingly strong.

‘Likkle didums likes mummy’s handy pandy?’ I cooed.

Heather giggled.

‘What are yer talkin’ like that fer? She won’t understand a damn thing yer sayin’ to her. In my day we were taught to speak the King’s English, none of this namby-pamby stuff!’

I looked up and smiled.

‘She will probably start speaking broad Devonian , living down here.’

‘Not if I have anythin’ to do with it. Have yer put her down for Roedean yet?’

‘No, we want her to have a local education.’

‘No decent public schools around here,’ she said dismissively.

‘We think that she will do very well at the local infants–St Winifred’s.’

‘Mmm, might have to get some elocution lessons then. She could always come up ter me, I’ll teach the young sprog how ter speak properly.’

‘Thanks for the offer. We’ll see how we go shall we?’ I tried to keep a straight face, but it was difficult, however I was saved from embarrassing myself by Abby’s return with the warmed milk and a thin towel to sop up any wet burps.

As I fed Heather, I wished that I had my own milk “on tap” for her, as I had been told that it had lots of stuff in it that you just didn’t get with powdered milk. She took her bottle making little satisfied sounds and when she had finished and been burped, we all cooed over her for a while before Mummy Dotty announced that she had to go.

‘Have to go and sort out the vicar again. Noticed that he was leanin’ too heavily on the New Testament again on Sunday. I heard a rumour that he was thinkin’ of askin’ one of the villagers to accompany one of the hymns on the ukelele. Whatever next, for heaven’s sake? George Formby? A pop group? I’m going to tell him he’d be better orf with a barrel-organ man with a monkey up a stick.’

She said this as if it was some sort of undesirable disease that should be avoided at all costs and once again, I had to have iron control over my sniggering muscles.

‘Goodbye then. Bring Heather over tomorrow and we’ll have tea, four o’clock for four thirty.’

‘Bye, Mummy-Dotty,’ Abby and I replied in unison.

‘Hrumph,’ said Dotty as she kissed the gurgling Heather on the forehead and breezed out.

After the door closed Abby and I grinned at each other. Having Dotty around was going to make life interesting to say the least!

That night, I lay in bed with Abby beside me. She was fast asleep–as was Heather, who I could hear breathing quietly in her cot next to our bed. It was so nice having my family around me, I sort of felt whole again. I yawned and turned over, spooning into the satin clad back of Abby and gently hugging her and holding her warm full breast in my hand as I fell gently to sleep.

We were woken twice during the night by Heather: she was fed once and changed both times. I did the first shift and Abby, the second. It wasn’t too bad, but I wondered how many broken nights we would suffer before Heather reached the age of 21.

The next morning, Heather decided to take on the important job of The Alarm.

Dead on the dot of seven o’clock, she started to do a very good impression of a baby in extreme distress. The fact was, as soon as we put the light on and brought her into bed with us, she laughed, gurgled and promptly fell asleep again. She lay between us, her mouth moving as if she was suckling on a bottle or–better still in her case–a breast and her little legs were kicking slightly as she no doubt dreamed the dreams of the innocent.

Abby and I–being wide-awake by now–just lay there with her and watched the marvel of life in the shape of our baby. Then we fell asleep again and didn’t wake up until nine o’clock.

After a belated breakfast, Abby took Heather to the pottery as she was looking after her for the day. I had had express instructions from everyone from Ernie the milkman downwards that I should take it easy and get better; otherwise I might land back in hospital again.

I decided to spend the morning pottering around and then go down to see Abby and Heather at lunchtime. Mind you, I was missing them both already by the time the church clock chimed ten o’clock. Then I had a stream of visitors and who kept me busy for a while. Jocasta, David and the girls called first and I had a happy hour chatting and drinking tea before the girls had to go riding and arguing, so they all went off promising to see me the next day. Then Marcia dropped in, gave me the once over, told me to not climb any mountains or go bungee jumping for a while and then left.

Shortly after, my ’phone rang: it was Dawn; ‘Hi, sis?’

‘Hi, yourself. How’re your aches and pains?’

‘Still a bit sore, but with tender loving care and sufficient Cornish pasties and Devon cream teas, I have been told that I should pull through, eventually.’

‘I thought that Cornish Pasties were banned in Devon.’

‘I know a man–’

‘Ah, I see, ’nuff said. Right, good news, we are moving to Penmarris in ten days time!’

‘Whoopiiie!’

‘Yes, I agree with that sentiment with bells on. How’s Heather?’

‘Loud.’

‘Trying to see if she can break any windows, eh? Just wait until she’s 13, or if you’re lucky 14, and has discovered that boys are more interesting than Sindy or, God forbid, Barbie dolls and she wants to go clubbing, wearing a dress only slightly longer than a blouse and makeup that a Soho prostitute would be proud of.’

‘I seem to remember you were a bit like that.’

‘Nah, not me, your honor, it wus the goyl next door.’

‘Stop it, Dawn, it hurts when I laugh!’

After I put the phone down, still smiling, I had about ten minutes to myself before the bell rang again. It would be lovely to have Dawn, Adrian, Hayley and Timothy living right here in the Cove!

I opened the door and Katie was there holding a paper bag.

‘Come in love,’ I said as I smiled and waved at the three members of the local coven across the lane. I wasn’t too worried as the full moon wasn’t until the weekend and eye of newt, and toe of frog were out of season at the moment.

I followed Katie into the kitchen and made some coffee.

‘How are you?’ She asked.

‘Not bad. I have to avoid cross country skiing or free fall diving for a few weeks but other than that, I think that I should live to see my next birthday.’

‘Good, I think. Look, I have prezzie for you.’ She put her hand in the bag and pulled something out and showed me.

‘Is this a pasty which I see before me, the crust toward my hand?’

‘What drugs are you on?’

‘Sorry, I have a touch of the Shakes at the moment.’

‘Mmm, I think I might have a quiet word with Marcia, whatever she’s giving you is not enough or maybe too much. So where’s the baby?’

‘Abby has her. She said I needed to rest and recuperate, but I miss them already,’ I said as I cut the pasty in half, gave Katie some and started devouring the rest.

‘Mmm,’ said Katie, spraying crumbs, ‘If we cracked the pasty problem here in Devon, we could shut down Cornwall.’

‘Nah, then all those strange Cornish folk would come and live here; we have enough crackpots here as it is.’

We giggled at that and continued with our midmorning feast.

We had a bit of a chat about the businesses that I had inherited and the money that was rolling in without my having to lift a pink-varnished fingernail. It seemed almost obscene that despite a recession, I was still making money, but as I had plans and Good Deeds in mind, at least I could spread a little happiness around.

After Katie went off to a business meeting, I was all on my lonesome ownsome once more. I went up to my studio and crossed to the window. The view from here always made me catch my breath. The day was still pleasantly warm and there were a few people on the beaches, mainly adults, as the kids were back at school. The quay had a few more people on it and I could see the pottery and my new studio over to the side. I would be able to open the doors of the gallery next week, if I felt well enough. Some of my friends would help, which was nice and I really looked forward to starting my new venture.

I glanced at my watch and on a whim; I decided to go for a walk. I was a bit stiff and I wanted to untie a few knots in my underused muscles.

I picked up my bag and yellow banana anorak and headed for them thar hills, in the shape of the coastal path.

I was a bit breathless when I reached the path and stopped for a minute or two before carrying on. There was no one about and I had the path to myself. It was so nice up there, with the autumn turning the leaves on the trees, all shades of the rainbow. The sea was calm, blue and clear and from my high vantage point, I could see a few sailing boats out past the harbour where the winds were a bit fresher. I was still anxious to learn how to sail and wondered if Abby would too. I would have to ask her.

I continued along the path; some leaves in the slight breeze were lazily falling off the trees and I thought that that sounded a bit like a rhyming couplet, no hang on it’s called a triplet, isn’t it?

I just shrugged and carried on walking. Soon I reached Rachel’s Seat and sat down taking a deep breath and just enjoying the peace and quiet.

I loved it up here and this was one of my favourite spots overlooking the entire cove with the harbour, the quay and the two beaches down below.

Sitting there reminded me of Olivia and her tragically short life. If I could, I would try to find a nice spot up somewhere along the path and have a seat dedicated to her. We could bring Heather up here and let her sit on it. I wanted to tell Heather all about her birth mother and try to convey something of her spirit and sense of fun. Although I fell out of love for Olivia, there was still a place in my heart that I would always have that would be hers.

I had found my home here in Penmarris–a place that I would never dream existed when I shut my eyes and pointed my finger on the map after leaving my house in such a terrible state. I had found a home and a family and some friends who loved me for who I am. I was such a lucky girl!

There were lots of things that I still needed to do. Dotty’s painting had to be finished and the gallery had to be stocked–I already had several artists who wanted to show their works, so I didn’t think that I would have many problems filling the walls. I wanted to make sure that my businesses were running smoothly and I didn’t have to keep running around the country sorting out problems. I had some ideas as to how I could use the profits to benefit the locals and I sort of had a kernel of an idea about running some sort of holiday home for underprivileged children so that they could have a free seaside holiday. Then I wanted to grab hold of that old crony and give her a piece of my mind for telling me such nonsense, but maybe she was just an old eccentric, so I might just give her a cup of tea and a sticky bun.

Other things started coming to me as I sat there with a couple of rabbits playing just a few feet away from me, completely oblivious to my presence.

Abby and I had to decide if and when I had the big op and whether we would we try to use the frozen sperm or produce some more so that young Heather could have a brother or sister–important things to consider. Also, should we have matching wedding dresses at our wedding, whenever that would be, and if we did, would it be bad luck–knowing what each other was going to wear?

Heady stuff!

Another idea just occurred to me and it was a ripper…

Then my mobile chirped at me.

I pulled the ’phone out of my bag. I had a message, it was from Abby.

‘Hi Honey, where are you? Heather wants to see Mummy!’

I smiled, replied ‘I’m on my way home,’ put the ’phone away, stood up, smoothed down my skirt and then walked back down the path to see my lover and my baby.

Please leave comments…thanks! ~Sue

My thanks go to the brilliant and lovely Gabi for editing, help with the plot-lines and pulling the story into shape.