A Promise For Tomorrow

by Barnes, Miranda

  Sarah looked at her, surprised.

  Linda laughed. 'Only joking, but I have noticed... Are you two going out together properly now?'

  'Properly? Well… I'm not sure about that. But you're right. I do see quite a lot of him. He's such good company.'

  'Well, there you are, then.'

  'There I am, where?'

  'You're an item, aren't you?'

  Sarah chuckled happily.

  'Good luck! He's a nice guy, and I'm happy for you both. I'm pleased somebody around here is having a romance. 'Cos I'm certainly not!'

  'Oh, Linda! How can you say such a thing? You're out every night of the week nearly. I'm only out once in a while.'

  'If you say so,' Linda said with a grin. 'Anyway, how's the job hunting going?'

  'As badly as ever. I've been thinking about going back to my old place, seeing if they've got anything for me.'

  'In Newcastle? Oh, no! Don't do that.'

  'Well ….' Sarah shrugged. 'I'll have to do something soon. My money's running out. Maybe I could get a job back there and commute.'

  'It's a long way, Sarah.'

  She sighed. 'Well, I've got John hunting for jobs for me now. Maybe he'll find me something.'

  'Especially if you tell him you'll have to leave otherwise!'

  Sarah laughed. 'Oh, I can't do that.'

  But she knew she would have to do something soon. She couldn't go on much longer being unemployed.

  Then there was John and her. Linda's comments had made her realise that was something else she needed to think about. Where were they going?

  Chapter Eleven

  Painting India's shop took more than an afternoon, despite India's optimism. It took two days of intensive effort. But at last it was done. They could roll up the sheets protecting the floor, collect the tins and rollers for disposal, and massage aching backs.

  'You'd think there might have been some help from the male members of the family, wouldn't you?' India said wearily.

  Sarah smiled. 'Not when one of them is job hunting and the other has football on his mind. Men can only do one thing at a time, remember?'

  India grinned. 'Well, we've got it done. And the joiner's coming tomorrow to put up the shelves. 'I'm so glad we've finished the painting. Thank you, Sarah. It wouldn't have got done without you. I underestimated the time it would take.'

  'We make a good team.'

  'Don't we?' India laughed and added, 'If Harry had been here there would have been big arguments by now. We're lucky he couldn't come.'

  *

  On the way home, Sarah wondered what else India had under-estimated, as well as the painting job. Starting a business from scratch had to be a big learning experience. You would only really know what it took when you had done it.

  Oh, well. India was very brave, and resourceful. She would manage. And if she could help her any more, she would. Now, though, she had to think again about what she herself was going to do. Helping India with the painting had been a nice distraction but she still needed to find a job.

  *

  She paused beside a small park and watched a couple of children kicking a ball between themselves and a man with great gusto and excitement. Shrieks of amusement and derision rent the spring evening air. As the man shaped to kick the ball back to one of the children, he slipped and landed on his backside, causing even greater child mirth. Sarah smiled and was about to move on when she paused, realising with surprise that she knew the man. It was Robert.

  She called to him and waved. He turned, shaded his eyes against the sun and waved back. Then he walked over to her.

  'Hello, Sarah! What are you doing here – spying on my training methods?'

  She laughed. 'I didn't recognise you at first,' she admitted.

  'In my athletic mode, you mean?'

  'Well ….'

  'Or was it not until I was flat on my back?'

  She grinned. 'I wasn't going to say that, Robert.'

  He laughed, turned and waved the children over.

  'Oh, don't stop for me! You seemed to be having such fun.'

  'They were. I don't know about me.'

  The children arrived at a gallop.

  'This is Jack, and this is Holly,' Robert told her. 'Kids, this is Sarah.'

  'Hello Holly, and hello Jack!'

  'Hello!' said Holly, all freckle-faced and cheery smile.

  'Did you see him?' Jack, who was a little older, guffawed. 'Did you see our Dad fall flat on his back?'

  'I did, yes. Lucky he wasn't hurt.'

  Jack laughed at that. Perhaps eight-years' old, and not a care in the world.

  Not to be out-done, Holly, probably four or five, said, 'I wish I had a camera.'

  'That's enough of that!' Robert intervened. 'So where are you off to?' he asked, looking at Sarah.

  'Home. I've been helping India paint her new shop. We've finally got it finished, after two days.'

  'Good for you. We're off for an ice-cream now. I'm exhausted.'

  'Huh!' Jack snorted. 'It wasn't even a real game.'

  'It was real enough for me, young man,' Robert said with a wink at Sarah.

  'Can you come with us, Sarah?' Holly asked.

  'Me?' Sarah was taken aback. 'Oh, no thank you. I have to get home. Besides, you three deserve some reward for all your effort.'

  'Please!' Holly insisted.

  'Yes, why don't you?' Robert asked. 'You deserve some reward for all your effort, painting.'

  'Painting's not hard work,' Jack objected. 'We do it all the time at school.'

  'These were big walls,' Sarah told him. 'Very big.'

  'Come on,' Robert urged. 'Join us.'

  'If you really ….'

  'We do!' Holly intervened, taking Sarah's hand.

  *

  'Where are we going?' Sarah asked.

  'Not far,' Robert told her.

  'We're going to a new ice-cream shop,' Holly said.

  Sarah glanced down at her and laughed. 'We are, are we?'

  Holly smiled happily. She was a lovely little girl. Jack was a nice looking boy, too. She was blonde, and he was dark. Quite a contrast.

  'It is new,' Robert confirmed. 'It's a boutique ice-cream parlour.'

  'Really? What's one of them?'

  'I'm not altogether sure. Jack spotted it, and wanted to give it a try.'

  'One of the boys in my school has been,' Jack said. 'He says it's great.'

  'Oh, well,' Sarah said solemnly. 'With a recommendation like that, you have to give it a try.'

  'They make the ice-cream there,' Holly said, not to be out-done again. 'And you can watch them doing it.'

  'Oh?'

  Sarah caught Robert's eye, and smiled. 'We're in good hands,' she said. 'They seem to know all about it.'

  'Oh, yes. They do.'

  They arrived outside the ice-cream parlour. Through the window, Sarah could see it was very retro, very like places she had seen in old films and photos. With its cane chairs and tables, the latter with glass tops, it looked a real period piece.

  'This place used to be an antiques shop,' Robert said, 'not so very long ago.'

  'In its way, perhaps it is still?' she suggested.

  'Yes!' He laughed. 'Come on. Let's give it a go.'

  *

  Everything inside was of a piece : the furniture, the waitresses with little lace caps, Billie Holliday singing softly in the background – and, most of all, the ice-cream. It came in an astonishing range of colours and tastes. The children spent ten minutes poring over the menus, interspersed with flying visits to a glass wall, on the other side of which ice-cream was being made. Even while we watch! Jack intoned with breathless excitement.

  'Boutique ice-cream,' Sarah read off the menu. 'That's a new one on me.'

  'Me, too,' Robert agreed. 'But it seems to work.'

  'It does, doesn't it?'

  While the children were away from the table, watching ice-cream being made, she said, 'Thank you for inviting me, Robert. This is a lovely ide
a. Such fun!'

  He seemed pleased. 'Thank you for coming. Holly, especially, is really pleased. I do my best, but ….' He fell silent.

  'How long is it since your wife passed away?'

  'Three years, going on four. It was a car accident. A lorry crossed the white line and hit her head-on. There was nothing that could be done.'

  'I'm so sorry.' She winced and added, 'It must have been very difficult for you, Robert, but you've done very well. The children are lovely.'

  'Thank you.' He smiled. 'I don't know what I would have done without them. We've helped each other.'

  She nodded.

  'How old are they?'

  'Eight and nearly five.'

  So she'd been right. And Holly had been just a baby. Oh, dear!

  'Does it hurt to talk about it? Your wife, I mean.'

  'Not now, no. In fact, I should do more of it. We don't want to forget her. On the other hand, we have all had to move on, haven't we? Lives to live. Especially the children.'

  'Of course. I understand.'

  She smiled at him. Then her eyes caught the returning Holly, who was full of hard-to-suppress news about something.

  'Sarah!' the little girl said breathlessly. 'The strawberry ice-cream has all plopped on the floor! The lady ….'

  Then it was too much for her to contemplate, still less articulate. She turned abruptly and dashed back to rejoin her brother.

  'I'd better go and see,' Sarah said, pushing back her chair.

  'Oh, yes!' Robert agreed. 'Indeed. A catastrophe like that?'

  Walking home, later on, Sarah was still chuckling to herself about ice-cream all over the floor, and staff wading through it as they attempted to deal with the flood caused by a very big machine mal-functioning. The children had been agog! As for herself, she couldn't remember the last time she had been so amused, especially when one of the waitresses whispered that it was all right to laugh because this happened quite often and was part of the entertainment.

  As she was passing a garage, a little hand-written notice caught her eye. It was stuck to the inside of a window. Temporary office help wanted, she read. She studied it for a moment and moved on. What she knew about cars and garages you could write on the back of a postage stamp. About all she did know was how to drive.

  Still, she would mention it to India. Perhaps Harry might be interested. He must be getting desperate to find a job. Anything would probably do by now, at least for a time. Somehow it was hard to see India's craft shop being the answer to all their prayers.

  Chapter Twelve

  The bus to Newcastle took an hour. Sarah didn't mind. It made a nice change, both to be going somewhere and to be doing it without driving. She hadn't been back to the city since her move to Alnwick. She was looking forward to it. Coffee in Bainbridge's – sorry! John Lewis's now, wasn't it? And it had been for years. She would never get used to that. For her, and no doubt for many like her, it would remain Bainbridge's, just as it had been for a century or more. Anyway, it hadn't really changed. And it was still the department store she liked best.

  So, coffee in Bainbridge's. How she wished India could have come with her. That would have been fun. But India was too busy. So that was that.

  After coffee, a quick look round to see what had changed in Northumberland Street. Everything, probably.

  But nothing would have changed in Grey Street, of course. It hardly ever did there. Grey Street was perfect already. After that, she could call into the old place. See how they were all getting on without her. Meet some familiar faces. She gave a little shiver of delight at the prospect.

  Or should she wait, leave it a bit and go in after lunch? That might be better. The mornings were always the busier part of the day. She might not be so welcome then. Clive had always said "anytime", come in anytime you're in Newcastle, but still ….

  She would do that, she decided. She would have lunch in the Café Royal, perhaps, or Fenwick's, and then go in to see them at Jacksons. That would be best. No point causing a disturbance. Besides, in the afternoon it would be easier to do some personal fishing, to see if there just might be some sort of job for her. Clive would be surprised. But she was becoming desperate, and needs must. The travelling would be a problem, but it could be managed. Anyway, she wouldn't even think about that for now.

  *

  She had forgotten how busy it could be in Northumberland Street, the main shopping street in the city. It was absolutely heaving with people. Crowds were pouring in and out of Marks & Spencer's, and Fenwick's. And even bigger crowds were moving in waves up and down the street itself. How ever did they all get here? And how would they get home again? If it came to that, why weren't they all at work? It didn't look as if she was the only one with no job to go to.

  The morning passed in a dream. She wandered happily through the crowded streets, ventured into the new shops and her old favourites. Had another coffee in a smart little Italian place. Bought herself a pretty scarf. It was wonderful. Oh, how she missed the city!

  After lunch she made her way to Jacksons, the last of the old, family-owned furniture stores. It was in one of the quieter streets off Grey Street, an elegant little lane that hadn't changed much since it was built about the time Victoria became Queen.

  She paused at the corner of Grey Street and turned to look down the long slope curving away towards the Quayside and the Tyne. How many times had she seen this view? The beautiful stone buildings either side fit so well. They were just perfect. She smiled and turned to make her way towards the steps and up into the Jacksons building, Coquet House.

  The atmosphere inside was as nice as ever. She had always loved the elegance of the entrance hall, with its mahogany walls and ceramic floor. It was so beautiful, and so tranquil.

  On into the store. She peered around with pleasure. It was quiet, of course, just as it always had been, and spacious. People moved around calmly and easily. There wasn't the crush here you always got in the department stores, or in Eldon Square and Northumberland Street.

  It looked just the same, too. Well… Perhaps not quite, not exactly the same. Things had been moved. There was a different arrangements of beds, for example, and a display of rugs she hadn't seen before. The picture gallery seemed to have been moved, as well. And a sign indicated that there was now a coffee shop in the basement. Goodness! But that was a very welcome innovation. Good for Clive.

  'Sarah!'

  She spun round. A familiar face was hurrying towards her, dodging between the porcelain cabinets.

  'Hello, Louise!'

  'You've come to see us at last. How lovely!'

  They met and hugged, and admired each other. Sarah laughed with delight. She was so pleased to see her old friend and colleague.

  'And how's country life suiting you?'

  'Fine, thank you. It's wonderful.'

  'You look as if it is. You must be very happy.'

  'I am, Louise. I really am. And how are you?'

  'Oh, there's nothing much wrong with me – nothing that a holiday in the Caribbean on a big yacht wouldn't fix.'

  Sarah laughed again. 'Still waiting for your millionaire to turn up?'

  'Definitely. One day I will be appreciated by the right sort of man, one with a lovely town house, a grand house in the country – and not long to live.'

  'Oh, Louise! You don't mean that. You really are terrible.'

  'Always have been, I'm afraid. Anyway, to what do we owe the pleasure? Anything in particular?'

  'No. It's just one of my rare visits to the city, and I thought I'd pop in and see how you all were. There's been a few changes, I see,' she added, waving around.

  Louise grimaced. 'Just a few – so far.'

  'Opening a café was a good idea.'

  'Yes.' Louise seemed less than excited. 'We'll get used to it, I suppose.'

  'And is everyone still here?'

  'Most of us. Peg's gone, I'm afraid. And Ellie and Mary, and a few others. Tom Hudson, too.'

  'Oh?'

 
; Sarah was surprised. None of the people mentioned had seemed to be of retirement age. She supposed they must have gone on to better jobs, or perhaps they had just fancied a change.

  'Cathy's here, though. Are you going to see her? And Wilma, in Accounts.'

  'I will, Louise. I'll look in on them. But first I'd better see if Clive's in. He'll go mad otherwise.'

  'Yes, he's in. I just saw him half an hour ago. We could have a cup of tea afterwards, on my break?'

  'Of course. I'll look forward to that.'

  She made her way over to the staircase. She was so happy to see Louise again. But it had been a bit of a shock to hear that some of the others she had expected to see where no longer here. Still, things changed, didn't they? Times moved on, and so did people.

  *

  Clive's secretary, a new girl, smiled and ushered her into the inner sanctum. Clive himself wasn't looking as well as she remembered. In fact, he was almost gaunt. And was his well-groomed hair a lot greyer now than it had been a few months' ago?

  But his smile and affectionate welcome were as she remembered, and had hoped for.

  'Sarah! How wonderful. Come in, come in!'

  'Hello, Clive. I'm so glad I've found you here.'

  'Oh, I'm always here. You know me. Where else would I be? But you should have let me know you were coming. We could have organised a lunch for you.'

  'Oh, no!' Sarah laughed. 'I wouldn't have wanted you to go to any trouble. But it's good to see you. I don't often come into the city, and I just thought I would call and see how you all were.'

  'Well, I'm glad you did. Sit down, Sarah – please! Kirsty, would you mind bringing a pot of tea for us? It's not often we have such a distinguished visitor.'

  'Not at all, Mr. Jackson.'

  'He's exaggerating, Kirsty. Distinguished visitor indeed! I'm just Sarah. I used to work here.'

  'I gathered that,' the girl said with a smile.

  'So how is life in the far north?' Clive asked.

  'Wonderful, thank you. Louise has just asked me the same question.'

  Clive laughed.

  'And you, Clive? How are you?'

  'As you see.' He waved a hand in a self-deprecating way. 'A little older. None the wiser, though.'