Sarah felt a pang of alarm. What would medical students feel about sharing a house with a shop assistant? She didn’t mind the nurses so much – theirs was a more ordinary sort of job – but sharing with a trainee doctor was a different matter. That was much more professional and educated. Then, she told herself not to be so silly. Lodgers from all kinds of background shared houses. One of the teachers at her school back in Tullamore had lodged with people who owned a shop. She would make sure there was no problem sharing with whoever else was in the house. She was as respectable as anyone else and she would be quiet and tidy around the place which was all anyone could ask.
The house was in a small cul-de-sac, just off the main road, in a row of around ten large houses on either side of the street. The Austin pulled up outside the second house from the top. Whatever fears Sarah had concealed on her journey over from Ireland, she felt them rise to the surface as she walked up the path, then climbed the half a dozen steps to the front door of the tall, grey-stone building. From what she could see, there were three floors plus a basement with windows under the stairs.
Lucy Harrison lifted the heavy brass knocker and tapped it three times. They waited a minute or so and then she knocked again – louder this time. The door was opened and a young woman with short brown hair and dark-rimmed spectacles stood looking at them.
“I’ve brought your new lodger,” Lucy said, indicating Sarah.
The girl’s eyes widened as she took in the heavy suitcase. “We weren’t told anything about a new person . . .”
“Mr Spencer organised it. He said there was a spare room?”
The little knot of anxiety in Sarah’s stomach suddenly grew, making her feel she was either going to be sick or need to use the toilet very soon.
“I was away yesterday,” the girl said. “Maybe he told one of the others. Why don’t you come in and wait while I check?”
As she went off down the corridor, Lucy motioned to Sarah to come into the hallway with her.
As they waited, Sarah looked to her left at the dark wooden staircase, which she could see went up two more floors. Her gaze then went directly in front to the hallway which had two wide, painted doorways leading off into rooms and another staircase at the bottom, which she deduced led down into the basement.
The short-haired girl came out of the room at the bottom of the corridor. She smiled and held her hands up as she came towards them. “Sorry about that. Apparently Mr Spencer was out at the house yesterday with a helper and they’ve sorted one of the rooms upstairs. I was working and didn’t know anything about it.” She stretched her hand out to Sarah. “I’m Elizabeth Appleby, pleased to meet you.”
Just as Sarah was shaking hands with her, another girl appeared behind her with blonde curly hair.
“And this is Jane – Jane Phillips. We’re both nurses in the Infirmary.”
“And I’m Sarah Love.” A flush rose from her neck to her face as she introduced herself, knowing that the questions about why she had moved to Newcastle would inevitably follow.
After Lucy Harrison left, the girls showed Sarah up to her room. Although she was tired and anxious about everything, she felt a real sense of relief when they opened the door. It was a much bigger bedroom than she had expected and well furnished, with a double bed, dressing-table and stool, wardrobe and tallboy. There was also a bedside cabinet with a small lamp, and a deep-buttoned, blue velvet armchair by the bay window.
“This is lovely.” She put her case down in a corner.
It was much better than anything she had hoped for. She cast her eye over it again, and quickly reckoned it was at least three times the size of her bedroom back home. On a second look, she could see the furniture was slightly scuffed and scratched in places, and the velvet chair and the cream and blue curtains were faded. But they had been good quality in their day and had been reasonably well looked after. The bay windows were tall and wide, and Sarah liked the way the light came through the coloured stained-glass panels at the top.
She followed the girls back downstairs, and they showed her the bathroom. Sarah looked at the white bath with the curved legs and the big white porcelain sink, and the toilet with the chain and handle for flushing. She said nothing about the toilet facilities she was used to back home – the makeshift dry toilet they used in the wooden structure out the back of the kitchen, and the big tin bath she carried into her bedroom twice a week.
“We buy our own soap and shampoo,” Jane said, “and each of us has our own towels. We have a big double sink and spinner in the kitchen for doing our washing, and there are two lines outside to hang it out to dry.”
The nurses then took her into the big kitchen which also served as a dining-room and sitting room.
Sarah pointed to a polished wooden cabinet. “Is that a radiogram?”
“Yes, aren’t we terribly posh?” Elizabeth laughed. “Mr Spencer brought it round last Christmas when he heard that two of us were working over the holidays. They were buying a new one and said we could have this for the house, as long as we looked after it. It’s the one thing in the house that gets a daily polish.”
Sarah suddenly felt the tension starting to drain out of her. The girls were obviously nice and friendly, and making her as welcome as they could. She quickly got the explanations about leaving Ireland out of the way. The conversation turned out easier than she had imagined, as both girls had moved up to Newcastle from Liverpool and Durham, and accepted the fact that she’d moved for work easily.
Jane made a pot of tea and Sarah was impressed with the handiness of the teabags which she had never used before.
“Quicker and easier than tealeaves,” Jane told her, demonstrating how you could put a bag in a mug and pour the boiling water on top. “In the mornings we never have time to make real tea here. We’re always running.” She went over to a cupboard. “There’s bread and biscuits there, and there’s ham and cheese in the fridge. I’m going to make us both a sandwich now if you fancy one.”
Sarah realised she hadn’t eaten since early that morning in Liverpool. “I’d love a sandwich, please.” She thought for a moment. “I’ll have to go out and get some shopping. I never even gave it a thought . . . Does everyone buy and cook their own food?”
Elizabeth nodded. “It’s the best way. We share things like toilet rolls, sugar and washing powder. We tried buying the food communally, but it didn’t work out. We often work different shifts from each other, and so do the medical students, Vivienne and Anna, and sometimes we eat in the canteen at work. But there’s no problem about taking a few slices from a loaf or a drop of milk. We’re all glad to borrow from time to time.”
“I’ll get some shopping during my lunch hour tomorrow,” Sarah told her. “I’m going to have to sleep for a few hours, so toast or something light will do me later.”
“I’m doing a chicken later, so you can have some of that if you fancy when you get up. If we don’t fancy cooking we’re never stuck – there’s a great chip shop around the corner and we often use it.”
“A chip shop?” Sarah’s eyebrows lifted. “We don’t have anything like that back home. You have to go to Dublin or one of the bigger places. I’ve been a few times and I really enjoyed it.”
“We have everything we need in Newcastle,” Elizabeth said, “apart from the right man. Have you left a boyfriend back in Ireland?”
Sarah shook her head. If she’d been asked that question a week ago it would have been a different answer.
“Well, you won’t have any trouble finding another with that lovely long blonde hair you have.” She laughed and held up crossed fingers. “Hopefully we’ll all meet the right man. It won’t be for the want of trying!”
Sarah looked down at her cup. The last thing she wanted was the right man – or any man. She took a sip of the tea. It was strange-tasting, but she drank it.
Like everything else in her new life, she would get used to it.
Chapter 9
Sarah opened her eyes, for a few mom
ents unsure where she was. Then her gaze fixed on the bear-shaped stain on the ceiling and she suddenly remembered that she was in a different room in a different country.
A pang of anxiety struck her chest.
Before the dark memories of why she was here could take over, an ambulance siren, which had started during the last few moments of her sleep, gathered momentum. When the screeching noise had reached its peak, the vehicle came to a halt disturbingly close. Sarah sat bolt upright.
Ambulance sirens meant bad news.
She threw the bedcovers back and rushed over the cold wooden floor to the corner of the bay window, to look down on the street below. The ambulance had pulled up on the opposite side of the road, beside a house with a green door. Sarah watched as the driver and his mate jumped out and then went to the back of the vehicle to open the double doors. A few seconds later they appeared carrying a stretcher.
She felt her heart begin to pound. She had never experienced anything as dramatic at such close quarters. By the time the ambulance men got to the door of the house it was open, and a slim, fair-haired woman in a dressing-gown let them in.
Sarah stood, her gaze fixed on the open door of the house.
Several people passed up and down on both sides of the street, and then there was movement again at the house opposite. The ambulance men came out carrying a figure on a stretcher. They were followed by the woman, a fair-haired boy of around fourteen and, surprisingly, a tall, dark-skinned girl with long black ringlets who looked a bit older. They were all dressed in nightwear. The girl came forward to put her arm through the woman’s and Sarah instinctively knew from the way they were with each other that they were mother and daughter. Sarah could see the woman’s shoulders shaking as the stretcher was manoeuvred into the ambulance. The girl huddled into her side and then the boy came over to stand close beside them. After a while, he placed a comforting arm around his mother’s shoulder, as though he was trying to behave like a grown man.
Sarah stood watching as the ambulance doors clanged shut and then the siren started up again, leaving the three figures frozen on the doorstep as it hurtled down the street.
Sarah suddenly realised that not one person who had passed by had stopped to offer a word of concern. And none of the neighbours had come out of their houses to check what was happening.
A dark feeling washed over her. What kind of a place have I come to? she wondered. Do people not care about what happens to their neighbours?
She went slowly back across the room and got back into bed. She pulled the covers up to her chin and lay there trying to block out all the fears whirling around her. The thoughts of the frightening future she had walked herself into, and the humiliating thoughts of the past that had driven her towards it.
She had been chased to a precipice with no way forwards or back.
The worst bit was having no one familiar to turn to. She turned on her side and caught sight of her anxious face in the mottled wardrobe mirror. She stared at herself, then thought, What did I do to deserve all this?
She turned again, towards the blank wall.
Shortly afterwards there were noises around the house – the nurses had an eight o’clock start. She would let them get up and out before going down. The front door banged, and then a short while later she shifted herself, the heavy feeling still gripping her chest.
She put her dressing-gown and slippers on and went out into the hallway and downstairs to the bathroom. Although it was a big house, Sarah noticed that it felt warmer than the cottage would first thing in the morning.
When she had finished washing, she went into the kitchen. She went over to the cooker and felt the side of the kettle. It was cold; the girls must have gone out without any tea or breakfast. She wondered about the medical students she hadn’t yet met. The nurses hadn’t said where they were last night. They could have come back late for all she knew, as the walls in the house were thick and you couldn’t hear every sound. She fiddled with the gas knobs on the cooker, and after a few false starts and several matches, finally got it lit. She put the kettle on to boil and then turned the grill on. She felt a small surge of success when it lit first time. She took two slices of bread from Elizabeth’s loaf and put them on to toast. She used the girl’s butter and marmalade, and put a teabag in the mug of boiling water as she had been shown last night.
After eating, she went back upstairs and over to the window to check the weather. The sky was a non-committal grey, but it was dry. She was just turning away when she noticed a middle-aged woman go out of the gate from the house next door and cross the road. She went over to the house where the ambulance had been and knocked on the door. Sarah stood and watched. The door was opened and the mother of the children came out to stand and talk on the doorstep. At one point, the other woman put her arms around her, comforting her. Then, an elderly man wearing a soft cap came down the street on a bike, and he slowed up when he saw them. The woman from the house next door said something to him, and he dismounted the bike and went over to the door.
The two children came out and the man ruffled both their hairs, and said something that made them laugh. As she watched the little group, Sarah felt her heart start to lift. There were obviously people about who did care. Maybe they hadn’t heard the siren earlier, she thought. Maybe the other neighbours hadn’t realised the ambulance had stopped outside the house. It didn’t matter now. She felt much better that someone had stopped to show their concern. She felt there were good people around like the ones back home.
She decided on a navy skirt and matching half-belted jacket she had made the previous summer, with a navy and white short-sleeved sweater underneath.
Since she had time to kill, she pondered over her hair and make-up. Lucy Harrison had been tidy but plain, her thick, curly black hair restrained with two clasps above either ear. Sarah decided on a half pony-tail, which swept her blonde hair up at the sides, and left the rest flowing neatly down her back.
She killed another ten minutes making her bed and tidying her room.
She left the house carrying her bag and umbrella, and a scrap of paper in her pocket with directions to her new place of employment. At the bottom of the hill she halted to examine the paper which Lucy Harrison had given her when she left her at the house in Victoria Street.
“You’ll find it easy enough,” she had said, scribbling the address down. “Just make your way down to the railway station and then up to Pilgrims Lane. It has ‘Harrison’s’ above the door. If you get lost, just ask anyone to direct you from the station.”
There was little or no traffic apart from a few parked vans and cars. Sarah picked her steps down the cobbles, checking the shop names on either side as she went along. Pilgrims Lane was longer and wider than any lanes she knew back in Ireland. She stopped and sighed. She had to keep reminding herself that she was in a big city now and not a small town. She passed a jeweller’s and next door to it a pawnshop, then a butcher’s and a cobbler’s. As she passed the doorway hung with dead pigs and rabbits, the smell of fresh bread alerted her to a baker’s shop further along.
She knew from the walk down to the station that this was only a small part on the edge of the city, and Sarah found it surprising that there were all these shops. Her eye caught a sign for Thomson’s Bookshop and just as she got near to it, a dark-haired young man of medium height in a pinstriped suit came out. He stopped to check something in the window, and then he suddenly walked backwards and bumped straight into her.
“Blidey hell, man!” he said, finding himself knocked off balance. He turned to look at her – then stopped and just stared in a mesmerised fashion. “I’m awful sorry,” he finally said. “I was so busy concentrating on the window . . . I wasn’t looking where I was going. Are you all right, pet?”
“I’m grand.” She felt a blush starting. He was still standing, staring at her. “You don’t happen to know where Harrison’s shop is?”
He raised his eyebrows, then he started to laugh. “Are you havin�
�� me on?”
Sarah looked at him, confused.
He pointed to the shop opposite. “You’re right in front of it. Although, I don’t blame you for not noticing, the name plaque could do with a good clean!”
Sarah turned to face a double-fronted, drab, old-fashioned shop. The locked and padlocked double doors looked as though they hadn’t had a wash or a lick of paint in years. The window to the left of the door was empty apart from a couple of bare shelves and a half a dozen balls of wool. The right-hand window had a variety of faded knitting patterns and sewing patterns thrown on top of sheets of dusty brown paper. A basket with plastic daffodils sat sadly in the middle of it.
“Miss Harrison is a nice lady.” His voice was low and confidential. “But the shop’s a bit of a tip inside and out. She’s not what you would call an astute businesswoman.”
Sarah felt her stomach clench at the disclosure.
He tapped a finger on the glass of his watch. “Half-nine and she’s not even here yet. Tut – tut – tut!” His dark-brown eyes met Sarah’s again and she could see the amusement in them. “Have you other shopping to do until it opens? She’ll probably be here in a few minutes.”
“I’m not actually shopping,” Sarah told him. “I’m here to start work in the shop.”
His eyes widened. “I’ve just put my foot in it, haven’t I?” He started to laugh again. “Don’t tell her I said anything about the shop – she might come across and stab me in the heart with a knitting needle!”
Before she could help herself, Sarah started laughing too. Something she hadn’t done for days – since the night Con Tierney had shattered their wedding plans. “Oh, don’t!” she said, biting her lip to stop herself. She looked over her shoulder. “If she comes and catches me standing here laughing I’ll be in trouble.”
Sarah Love Page 7