A Promise For Tomorrow

by Barnes, Miranda

  Sarah smiled. 'The store looks as wonderful as ever. I was so happy to see it again. Some changes, though, I see?'

  'Yes. Just a few.'

  'And Louise told me some of the old gang have gone. I'm sorry not to see them.'

  'Yes,' Clive said, looking solemn for a moment. 'A sad business.'

  'They'll be lucky to find better jobs than they had here.'

  Clive nodded. 'I hope you're right. But I'm afraid there was no alternative. We had to let them go, I'm sorry to say. The recession has hit us badly, you know.'

  'Oh, dear! Even Jacksons?'

  'I'm afraid so. People simply decided they could do without new furniture, it seems. They're making do with what they have. A wise approach to economic uncertainty, I suppose, but it certainly hasn't helped us. I can't remember a time when we had to let permanent staff go. My father would have shot himself rather than have that happen.

  'And goodness knows what Grandfather would have done. Taken a stick to the Prime Minister, probably.'

  Sarah smiled, but she was shocked. She had never imagined such a scenario. Jacksons was part of the inner fabric of the city. The business had always been good, solid. People never lost their jobs here if they were good workers, as her old friends had certainly all been.

  'But we're still here,' Clive said with a renewed smile. 'There's plenty who can't say that. Ah! Here's our tea. Thank you, Kirsty.'

  Chapter Thirteen

  Oh, well, Sarah thought. That's that, then. There really is no going back. Clive had probably told her more than he had intended, or might really have wanted to tell her. They were teetering on the edge, was what he'd said in so many words. The next few months would determine whether or not the century-old company would survive or bite the dust, like so many others. He was desperate to avert more redundancies, but pessimistic about the prospects.

  It was just as well, Sarah thought with a wry smile, that she'd not got round to asking if there was any chance of her getting her old job back – or any job! That might well have sent poor Clive over the edge. As it was, he had seized on the re-appearance of a familiar face, a sympathetic old-timer who knew so much about the business but was no longer connected, as a godsend. He had needed to talk about his problems with someone without a direct interest, and there really were a lot of problems from the sound of things. He must be worried to death, poor man. No wonder he looked so gaunt and grey.

  Now she was glad to be back on the bus, heading away from it all. Her morning in the city had been very enjoyable, but by the end of the afternoon all she had wanted to do was escape. It hadn't been a mistake, exactly, to return to Jacksons. She had enjoyed seeing the old faces again – those that were left, that is – but enough was enough. She had problems of her own to face, and she had better get back home to do it.

  *

  While she was on the bus she phoned John. 'Meet me,' she said, 'and I'll buy you a pizza for supper.'

  'Oh?'

  'I've had a disappointing day, and I'd love to share it with you. Perhaps you'll make me laugh.'

  'Well, you've made me laugh,' John said. 'So why not?'

  'Can you get away early?'

  'I'm away already – on a site visit.'

  'Good.'

  She switched off and smiled. Something to look forward to, she thought happily. How lucky she was to have a friend like John. He was even better in some ways than India. You always had to be careful with India. You didn't want to set her off on an emotional rage about the injustices in the world – like not being able to find a job! John was much better.

  Feeling more cheerful already, and looking forward to seeing John, she settled down to forget her disappointing day and enjoy thoughts of the enjoyable evening ahead. John, she thought happily. He was such a good man. Always the same. Happy-go-lucky. She had never met anyone more that way. It was too soon to start wondering about where, if anywhere their relationship was going, despite what Linda had said, but sometimes she did wonder, always in a pleasurable way.

  Relationship! She smiled. You couldn't call it that. Not really. Friendship was more like it. Still, she did like him, and he did seem to like her. You could always tell when you kissed what someone really thought of you. On that basis, John liked her a lot!

  She wasn't sure she felt the same, though. She did like him, but …. Well, she didn't feel about him as she had once felt about Marty. Romantically, that is. Early days yet, though. Far too soon to be thinking like that.

  Enough! Enough for now, anyway.

  *

  She wondered if John really would be there, waiting for her, when the bus arrived. And he was. He wrapped his arms round her and hugged her. She giggled and protested.

  'Well, I haven't seen you all day. Why the bus anyway? What's wrong with the car?'

  'Nothing's wrong with it. I just didn't want all the hassle of trying to find somewhere to park.'

  'Makes sense. So …. Tell me about your day.'

  'All in good time. Now, are you hungry?'

  'Always,' he assured her. 'And there's a new restaurant I've spotted, one I haven't seen before.'

  'Let's go there, then.' She hugged him and added, 'John, you really are a genius.'

  'Moi?'

  He fluttered his eyelids, and looked modest.

  'Yes, you!' she said, laughing.

  *

  The next morning she went to see how India was getting on. Very well, was the obvious answer. The shop was set up, and India was ready to go.

  Sarah shook her head with admiration. 'It's beautiful!' she declared. 'You have a rare talent, my girl.'

  'You think so?' India beamed with satisfaction. 'It's coming on, isn't it?'

  'It certainly is! Now what do you want me to do? I've got a couple of hours to spare this morning.'

  'Oh, thank you! I could really do with some help. Would you please check that crate for me? Make sure everything on the invoice is actually there.'

  'And make the coffee?'

  'And make the coffee!'

  They laughed together and then got to work. It had been the pattern for a while. Sarah dropped by most days to help, and there was always something to do, usually something urgent. They got on well together and Sarah knew how welcome her contribution was.

  Over coffee a bit later, India said, 'You've been a wonderful help, Sarah. I'll never be able to thank you enough for what you've done.'

  'Nonsense! Besides, we all need help at some stage in our lives, India. What are friends for?'

  India smiled gratefully.

  The big day was close now. The shop was to open on Friday ; it was now Wednesday. India was becoming tense with expectation and apprehension.

  'It will be fine,' Sarah assured her. 'It will be a wonderful day. You'll see.'

  'I hope you're right.' India frowned. 'What if no-one turns up, though? What if I have no customers?'

  'Then you can have a January sale.'

  'In June?'

  'Why not? The January sales seem to be starting earlier every year.'

  India stared for a moment. Then she began to laugh. She laughed herself to the point where she was desperate for a tissue to blow her nose and wipe her eyes. Sarah just sat and watched, grinning.

  'You should be on the stage!' India said eventually, when speech became possible again. 'Such a straight face that I believed you.'

  'It will be all right on Friday,' Sarah repeated.

  'Yes. Of course it will. How silly I am. Will you come?'

  'I wouldn't miss it for anything.'

  *

  It was strange, and rather touching, Sarah thought later as she walked home. For all her extrovert personality, and her enthusiasm and self-confidence, India was vulnerable underneath. In unfamiliar territory like this, she needed support and reassurance. She needed someone to be her mirror, someone to tell her how good she was. It was surprising, perhaps, in someone seemingly so confident.

  But, then, she thought, was it really so surprising? She recalled how vuln
erable Clive had been, and how he had welcomed the chance to tell her his troubles. Mind you, she admitted, Clive's troubles were a lot bigger than India's. If India's plans didn't work out, the shop would have to be closed and her suppliers would be owed money. Perhaps bankruptcy would beckon. But that was all. She could walk away with her head held high, and get on with her life.

  Poor Clive would think his life was over if Jacksons went to the wall. Umpteen generations of forbears would be pointing their fingers at the man who had taken the family flagship down. He would be as culpable as the captain of the Titanic, and remembered as such. At least, that would be Clive's fear.

  Hopefully, India's shop would do all right, though. Perhaps it wouldn't make much money. Quite possibly it might make a small loss. But it wouldn't be a disaster. At worst, it could only be a small disappointment. India need not be too fearful.

  The pity of it was, of course, that it was only ever going to support India herself. It wasn't going to pay the wages for anyone else. It was too small. Otherwise, she would have been interested in offering her own services. If only India had taken the premises next-door as well!

  Never mind. Not to worry. When Friday was over, she would get back to concentrating on her own employment prospects, which at the moment were not much above zero.

  As she was passing the garage, she saw that the notice advertising temporary work was still on display. She hesitated, uncertain but suddenly curious. It was a garage. On the other hand, the work on offer was office work. She stood still, staring at the notice for a moment. Then she turned and walked onto the garage forecourt.

  Chapter Fourteen

  She crossed the yard, dodging piles of used tyres and a car with the front end up high on a hydraulic jack. In the big, open barn she could see a couple of men manoeuvring the engine they were hoisting out of a truck. Another boiler-suited man, this one wearing a big face mask, was wielding a welding torch as he worked at an oily bench. It was a busy place.

  The office was tiny, little more than a little glass box at the back of the barn. Behind the cash desk a grey-haired woman with a stern, deeply-lined face was putting slips of paper onto a spiked pile.

  'Yes?'

  Sarah smiled tentatively. 'Hello! I was just looking at the job notice in your window, and wondering what it was about.'

  'It's a temporary job. Here. For a month.'

  'Doing what, exactly?'

  'Doing what I'm doing now – doing everything, single-handed!'

  Sarah smiled but the woman didn't seem to be trying to amuse her.

  'General office work?' Sarah enquired.

  The woman snorted. 'If that's what you want to call it. My husband thinks I do nothing all day, but if it wasn't for me …. He just wants to spend his time chatting to folk about engines and what-not. Other people have to do the work.'

  'Have I come at a bad time?' Sarah asked, beginning to regret the curiosity that had brought her in here.

  'It's always a bad time in here.' The woman relented. 'What it is, we're very busy and I have to be away for a month. So we need someone to cover. That's all.

  'Why, are you interested?' she added.

  Sarah was cautious. 'I might be.'

  'Know anything about cars and lorries?'

  'Not really, no. Nothing at all, in fact,' she added, wishing she hadn't bothered making her enquiry. 'But I have worked in an office for a long time.'

  'Where?'

  'Jacksons, in Newcastle. It's a ….'

  'Furniture store.' The woman nodded to herself. 'So you know about cash and invoices, telephones, computers – and making tea?'

  Sarah smiled. 'Just a bit,' she admitted.

  'And you're interested in a temporary job?'

  'Well, I do need a job.'

  'Have you got a criminal record?'

  Sarah was shocked. 'I beg your pardon?'

  'We can't be too careful these days, where there's money involved.'

  'Well, I haven't – and I'm not a drug addict or an alcoholic either! And if you must know, I don't gamble or smoke.'

  The woman smiled at last. 'You're just what we need,' she said.

  'Maybe, but I'm not sure you're what I need!'

  'Don't take offence, pet,' a man's voice said behind her. 'It's just her way. She's a bossy so-and-so.'

  Sarah spun round. An elderly man with strands of white hair poking out from beneath an oily flat cap had appeared. He was very dirty and scruffy, but he had twinkling blue eyes and a cheerful smile.

  'I'm Ted Charlton,' he said. 'And this is the wife, Peg.'

  'So who are you?' Sarah demanded, unappeased.

  'This is "Charlton's Garage", pet.'

  'You mean it's your business?'

  'From top to bottom,' the man said with satisfaction. 'Now, do you want the job?'

  'Well ….'

  'You can start tomorrow,' Peg said. 'Seven-thirty sharp. One day for me to show you the ropes. Then you're on your own.'

  'So soon?' Sarah gasped.

  'I'm off to America for a month. And we need someone here to make sure there's a business left for me to come back to.'

  'It's the son,' the man said gently.

  'Oh?'

  Sarah's head was spinning. She didn't know what to think, or which one of them to look at and listen to either.

  'He's getting wed out there.'

  'The silly …' Peg began.

  'Now then,' Ted said in a mild tone. 'It's his life.'

  Sarah was beginning to feel a bit faint but she tried to rally. 'Where …?'

  'Las Vegas,' Peg said with disgust. 'He's met one of them showgirls, and now he doesn't want anything to do with the garage trade.'

  'Can't say I blame him,' Ted said with a wink at Sarah. 'If I had my time again ….'

  'In your dreams!' Peg said with a snort. 'All you're good for is changing tyres and fixing engines.'

  'Aye, well. Somebody has to do it. He'll come round, Davey will. It might take a while, but he'll be back here soon enough when the money runs out.'

  'I don't think she will be, though,' Peg said with a snort. 'She's bound to have more sense than him.'

  'You've got something there.' Ted turned back to Sarah. 'Well, then. Are you going to come and give us a hand?'

  Sarah found herself saying yes, although afterwards she did wonder what she'd got herself into. But it had been such a dreadful day that she didn't much care what happened next. And she needed to work. She still needed a job.

  *

  Before she completed her journey home, she stopped to have a cup of tea at a little café where they always had the most wonderful cakes. She needed some comfort food, and a cream cake with bits of chocolate in the middle would do nicely. She also needed to sit and think. The past couple of hours had taken their toll. The last hour, in particular, had been almost overwhelming.

  She shook her head and gave a reluctant smile. The Charltons! What terrible people they were.

  No, they weren't, she thought then with a wry chuckle. They were just … different! So it looked like she had an interesting month ahead of her. You never knew. You just couldn't tell. That might be exactly what she needed. And even if it wasn't, the money would come in handy.

  Chapter Fifteen

  While she was fumbling with her key to the door of her flat, the door on the opposite side of the landing opened.

  'Hi, Sarah! I thought I heard you.'

  'Hello, Linda.' She turned with a smile, holding the door open with her foot. 'I'm so tired …. Oh, what beautiful flowers!'

  'They are, aren't they?' Linda held the bouquet at arms' length and examined it critically. 'From Guernsey, apparently.'

  'You must have an admirer.'

  'Perhaps. I don't know. But the flowers are not for me. They're for you.'

  Smiling knowingly, Linda held the bouquet out.

  'For me? Oh, I don't think so. Unless ….'

  She stopped, wondering if it could be another peace offering from Marty. But he didn't know wh
ere she was living. From John, then?

  'Come on, Sarah,' Linda said, still smiling. 'Please take them. My arms are aching. I can't hold them any longer. And they're definitely for you. The man said so.'

  'What man?' Sarah reached out to take the bouquet. She was even more confused than ever. 'John?'

  'I don't know. You'll have to read the note. Anyway, I have to fly. Got a date. See you!'

  Sarah stood for a moment, the bouquet in her arms, listening to Linda clatter down the stairs. Then she shook her head and went inside.

  Linda was right. There was a note. She opened it after laying the flowers down on the table.

  "Dear Sarah,

  Just a small thank-you for joining us the other evening. The children,

  especially Holly, enjoyed your company very much – and so did I!

  Yours,

  Robert"

  She read the note. Then she read it again, with a slightly incredulous smile on her face. After that she searched for something big enough to hold the flowers. She came up with a glass water jug. Until she got round to buying a vase, it would do very nicely.

  After that, she made herself a mug of peppermint tea and sat for a while, staring at the flowers and wondering what it all meant. Something or nothing? It had to mean something, surely? Robert had gone to some trouble to find them, and then to get them here.

  She smiled. Nice man! And a nice family, she thought fondly. Perhaps she would see them again. She hoped so.

  Meanwhile, she must get their phone number or address from India, and thank Robert for the flowers. They were quite unnecessary, of course. There had been no need at all for him to send her flowers.

  Why had he? She could think of no real reason. Unless… Oh, no! She mustn't think like that. It was simply a kindly gesture from a courteous man. That was all. It didn't mean anything else. He was interested in her. Not really. She mustn't read more into it.

  Still! She was thrilled. Charmed. She sat and gazed at the flowers for a while longer, and allowed herself to dream a little.

  Then the door buzzer went. Who could that be? She glanced at the clock as she got up. That time already? Goodness!