Sarah Love

by Geraldine O'Neill

  Elizabeth nodded her head. “I am, too . . .” She looked at Vivienne. “You’re a dreadful bully. You’ve said terrible things to us all. That very day you were so vicious about Sarah, you made a mockery of Anna’s new dress. She was so upset she was going to take it back to the shop.”

  Vivienne stared down at the floor and shook her head. “I am so sorry, I only meant it in a joking kind of way . . .” She took a deep breath and then somehow seemed to find it hard to breathe normally. “It seems I’ve got everything very wrong. I feel like the worst person in the world now.” Her voice sounded high and almost hysterical now.

  Sarah suddenly felt exhausted with the whole thing. She went across to the table and lifted her handbag. “I’m going upstairs now, and I’ll be organising new lodgings for myself over the next few days.”

  Jane looked horrified. “Oh Sarah, don’t! Please don’t go!”

  Vivienne stood up. “If anyone should go, it should be me. I’m sure I’m not very welcome after all that’s been said.”

  “If you will stay, Sarah,” Elizabeth said, “then it’s up to you about Vivienne.”

  There was a silence now and then Sarah said. “I would have to be sure . . . things would have to be very different.”

  “Believe me – they will be,” Vivienne said. “I promise.”

  Sarah turned away. “We’ll see . . .”

  Quarter of an hour later there was a knock on Sarah’s door. She was lying on the bed with her coat still on and staring up at the ceiling. She quickly moved into a sitting position, then called, “Come in!”

  Jane came in with a cup of tea and two digestive biscuits. “If you haven’t anything planned for dinner, we thought we would all get dressed and go down to the nice restaurant at the railway station.” Then, before Sarah could say anything, she said. “We all want to treat you to a meal . . . to say we’re sorry about what happened and that we want you to stay.”

  There was a pause. Sarah wasn’t sure what to do. Then, she decided that it didn’t really matter. If things didn’t suit her, she could leave any time she wanted. In the meantime, if things improved then that was grand.

  It was a far better position than she’d been in back home with Martina and James.

  She now had options.

  “Okay,” she said, “That sounds very nice.”

  Chapter 20

  It was the following Monday before Lucy returned to work, looking paler and thinner than before.

  She stood in the middle of the shop and looked around her. “After being away for a while, it’s like coming back to a completely different place. I can’t believe all the changes you’ve made.”

  Sarah insisted on her taking it easy, and said she should put her feet up in the kitchen and sit with a book unless it got really busy.

  “All I’ve been doing is taking it easy, while you’ve obviously been working like a Trojan.” She lifted up a navy velvet cushion which was trimmed with a twisted golden cord. “This is beautiful!”

  “I made four of them from a remnant I found in the stock cupboard,” Sarah said, “and I sold three of them the morning I brought them in. I have an order for five more in red velvet.”

  Lucy shook her head. “I don’t know where you get all the ideas from.”

  “I enjoy it,” Sarah told her. “I get a great feeling from seeing something I’ve made, and I like trying new things.” She pushed the picture of her most ambitious creation – her own wedding dress – out of her mind. “And anyway, it passes the time now the evenings are getting dark earlier.”

  “Don’t you go out with the girls in the house after work?” Lucy thought back to all the evenings she spent in golf clubs, cinemas and dance halls when she was younger. It seemed a long time ago.

  Sarah’s gaze moved to the door where a customer was standing, looking at the window display. “No,” she said. “They do ask me, but I don’t have any great interest in going out.”

  Lucy suddenly remembered Peter Spencer’s phone call. “Are things okay up at the house? Are you getting on with the others?”

  “Yes, it’s fine.” For a moment Sarah toyed with telling her about the difficult start she’d had with Vivienne, but something stopped her. Lucy had enough on her plate recovering from her illness and dealing with an elderly father. She didn’t need a complaining employee. Besides, things had improved back at the house and there was no point in raking over old wounds.

  “You should have some leisure time,” Lucy said. “Get out and meet other younger people. Maybe meet a nice young man?”

  Sarah shook her head, her eyes still on the customer at the door. “I have no interest,” she repeated.

  The doorbell rang as the woman opened the door. “You have some lovely velvet material in the window. If I get the measurements, could you make me a pair of curtains and some cushions, please?”

  Lucy looked at Sarah and raised her eyebrows. There would be a lot of work involved. Would it be too much with the bags of alterations she had waiting?

  Sarah smiled. “Of course. Have you decided on a colour yet?”

  * * *

  The weeks went by quickly with Sarah’s routine of working in the shop and sewing in the dark nights and weekend. It was only when she received a letter from her friend Sheila that she realised Christmas was just around the corner.

  Sheila was checking if she had plans to come home for the festive period. Without having to think about it, Sarah knew she would stay in England. She had several good reasons for this. She had no intention of going back to Tullamore where she would inevitably run into Con Tierney or Patricia Quinn. Neither did she want to be a source of entertainment for all the gossips. And the hardest thing to face was the fact that she knew Martina and James would not want her in the house. Martina had written on several occasions, giving updates of her pregnancy symptoms and telling her any bits of news – usually bad news about other people. At no time had she mentioned Sarah coming home for Christmas, which Sarah took as a clear message.

  Whilst she knew what she wasn’t going to do for Christmas, Sarah had no idea what she would actually do. She had heard the girls in the house discussing who was going home and who was working. It sounded as though the ones working would be having Christmas dinner in the hospital, so she wasn’t likely to have any company at the house. When they asked about her plans, she avoided giving a straight answer, saying that she wasn’t sure what she was doing yet.

  “Knowing you,” Vivienne had said, “you will probably end up at that blasted sewing machine even on Christmas Day.”

  Sarah had laughed along with the others, steadfastly refusing to take offence at the medical student’s comment. She had already stood her corner and she knew Vivienne wouldn’t dare purposely to offend her again. While Sarah would never consider her as a real friend – knowing that the student was capable of such prejudice and nastiness – there was a kind of truce between them which allowed Sarah to live in the same house with her.

  David McGuire had come into the shop one afternoon when Lucy had a meeting with her solicitor, to enquire what Sarah was doing at Christmas. He had a knack for knowing when the coast was clear and he could grab a few minutes with Sarah when her boss was out.

  “I’ll probably be spending it at the house with the other girls who aren’t going home,” she had told him.

  “Why don’t you come down to our house for your Christmas dinner?” he asked. “My granny and granddad keep asking when they’re going to meet this Irish girl from the sewing shop.”

  “That’s nice of you asking . . .” Sarah was both touched and awkward at the offer. “But Christmas is for families, and I wouldn’t feel comfortable intruding on you all.”

  “But that’s daft, man! Our house always has people coming and going. They love having visitors and they would hate to think of you feeling homesick when you could be amongst Irish people. You can’t spend Christmas and Boxing Day without a family.”

  There was a small part of her that was tempted
. She could tell that David’s family would be every bit as friendly as he was and she knew she would probably have a lovely time with him, but she couldn’t take the chance of making him – or his family – feel that she was interested in him.

  “Thanks again for asking,” she said, “but, no . . .”

  It didn’t make her feel any better when an upset Harriet came into the shop one morning that same week to say that she had asked David to come to her clinic staff’s Christmas party with her.

  “He didn’t even give me an excuse,” she told Sarah. “He just said he didn’t fancy it.” She shook her red curly head and shrugged. “Who doesn’t fancy a party at Christmas? Especially when it’s free – I was going to pay for his meal. I think it’s more like he doesn’t fancy me.” She looked at Sarah. “I think he might have a girlfriend. Have you heard him mention anyone?”

  No,” she said, “He’s never mentioned any girlfriend to me, but I don’t suppose he would. I don’t talk about personal things to him.”

  “You’re so lucky,” Harriet sighed. “I’d give anything to work across the lane from him and see him every day.”

  “He is a nice enough,” Sarah was deliberately casual, “but I’m sure there are plenty of others around like him.”

  “No,” Harriet said. “He’s different. He’s a decent, genuine fellow and I really thought he liked me.” She calculated. “All over the summer and up until the last few months he seemed quite keen. He always asked me to dance, and a couple of nights he walked me home. We weren’t officially courting or anything, but I got the impression it would eventually lead there.” She shrugged. “He seems to have cooled off recently. I suppose I’ll just have to keep hoping. You’ll let me know if you hear anything about him and other girls?”

  “I don’t really get into personal chats with him,” said Sarah. “But if I hear anything I’ll tell you.”

  How could she tell Harriet that the bookseller’s attentions were directed towards her? She couldn’t. It would spoil their friendship and possibly stop Harriet from calling into the shop, which wouldn’t be fair on Lucy. It made things complicated and she wished David McGuire would just leave her alone. She’d had enough of awkward relationships back at the house and felt she needed a spell where things were quiet and easy. She thought back to how simple life had seemed only a few months ago. She’d had the same friends since she started school and she’d never had any major rows with them. Even though Sheila and Patricia had always made little digs about each other to Sarah, they had always been nice to her. But that had all changed with the events that happened leading up to the wedding.

  She gave a deep sigh. Looking back didn’t help. She had to keep looking forward, and be grateful for the one dependable thing in her life – her work.

  Chapter 21

  On a cold afternoon in early December, just as Sarah had finished putting the lights on the Christmas tree in the window, Lisha Williams and her mother came into the shop. They were looking for material for a dress for the sixteen year-old girl’s school party. Sarah was struck again by how good-looking they both were and how much they looked like each other apart from their hair and skin colour.

  “I don’t want anything old-fashioned,” Lisha had explained, her eyes flitting anxiously towards her mother. “We’ve been to the shops and I haven’t seen anything that suits me.”

  Fiona Williams looked at Sarah, smiled and then lifted her eyes to the ceiling.

  Sarah understood that there had obviously been some disagreement between then. “I think we’ll be able to find you something here that you like,” she said. “And if you’re not sure, you can always adapt it.” She got out the pattern books and they spent some time poring over them.

  Eventually, Lisha pointed to a jade-green, silk cocktail dress with a low neck and a matching stole. “I like that one,” she said. “That’s exactly the sort I’m looking for.”

  Fiona Williams looked alarmed. “I think that’s a bit grown-up for you, Lisha,” she said. She pointed to a pink lace evening gown with a high neck. “I think that would be more suitable.”

  “But, Mum, I don’t like it!” Lisha said. “The other girls are wearing shorter dresses and I don’t want to be different.”

  “But the neckline isn’t for a young girl . . .”

  Sarah could immediately see her mother’s concerns. “It’s easy enough to bring the neckline up a big higher,” she said quickly. “It’s just a case of measuring it carefully.”

  Fiona looked doubtful. “I wasn’t really planning on making something so complicated. I’d hoped to actually buy a dress for her, but there was nothing she liked.”

  “But you’re good at making things,” Lisha said, smiling at her mum.

  Fiona looked at Sarah. “I make a lot of my own skirts for work and plain things like that. I’m not confident about doing something as complicated as this.”

  Sarah went over to the drawer to where the patterns were and found the one they were looking at. She brought it back to the counter and opened it up. “I don’t think it’s too difficult.”

  “Do you have the same green material?” Lisha asked. “I really like that colour.”

  Sarah left them studying the pattern and went to check the rolls of material. A few minutes later she came back with a roll of dark green satin.

  Lisha’s eyes lit up when she saw the fabric. “Oh, that’s gorgeous! It’s exactly the colour I want.”

  “It is lovely,” her mother agreed. She looked at Lisha and then shook her head and laughed. “Oh, go on. You’re not going to be happy with anything else.”

  “Oh, thanks, Mum,” the young girl said, putting her arm through her mother’s.

  “See how you get on with it,” Sarah said, rolling the material out onto the counter to measure it. “And if you get stuck at it, I’ll give you a hand.”

  “Oh, we couldn’t put you to the trouble,” Fiona said.

  “It’s no trouble,” Sarah told her. “You know where I live – I’m only across the road from you.”

  Fiona smiled. “Thanks, it’s very good of you.”

  It was only later that Sarah thought of Vivienne and suddenly wondered if she would have anything to say about Lisha calling to the house and maybe even be abusive to her. Then she realised that Vivienne wouldn’t dare. She knew that Sarah would carry out her threats of reporting her to the hospital authorities. Whether it was something they could, or would, do anything about, didn’t matter. Any kind of complaint would still make trouble for her.

  * * *

  The following frosty Sunday morning David McGuire introduced Sarah to his mother as they were coming out from Mass in the cathedral. Sarah cursed herself for having a long lie in bed and missing the earlier Mass – and for also forgetting that this might happen.

  “Mam,” David said, guiding a slim, dark-haired, well-groomed woman by the arm, “this is Sarah, the Irish girl I was telling you about.”

  Mrs McGuire’s face broke into a smile and she had the same bright, cheery look in her eyes that her son had. “So this is the great worker from the sewing shop?” She stretched her hand out. “And don’t you have the loveliest blonde hair? It’s so long you must be able to sit on it. Isn’t it lovely, David?”

  “It is beautiful – she’s a beautiful girl,” he said, looking directly at her.

  Sarah felt her cheeks burning as she shook hands with the cheery woman. “It’s very nice to meet you.”

  Mrs McGuire stepped back. “And the lovely suit you’re wearing! Did you make it yourself?”

  “I did,” Sarah said, looking down at the deep blue three-quarter swing coat with the fur collar and matching skirt. “It’s a fairly easy style.”

  “David was telling me that you’re great at making and altering things. I’ve a few things I was going to drop into the shop. Would you be able to put a new zip in a skirt for me?”

  “Of course I would,” Sarah said. She avoided looking directly at David but she could see there was a beami
ng smile on his face.

  “You must come out to our house when you’re not so busy,” Mrs McGuire said. “David was telling his granny and granddad all about you and they’re dying to meet you.” She raised her eyebrows and smiled. “For some reason they always think young Irish lads and girls get very homesick when they leave Ireland. I think it says more about themselves. I’m sure a lovely girl like you has made loads of friends already?”

  “She’s too busy working – aren’t you, Sarah?” There was a note of criticism in his voice. “She never takes a weekend off to go to the dancing or anything. I’ve asked her out to the house loads of times.”

  Sarah felt a wave of embarrassment wash over her. “I’m sorry . . . I’m just so busy. I’ve got a lot of alterations to do and quite a few orders for things to make before Christmas. As David probably told you, the business needed a lot of work to get it back on its feet.”

  “Surely you’ll have a bit of time off over Christmas?” Mrs McGuire asked. “You must have an afternoon or evening when you can drop up to the house to see the old couple? They would just love talking to you about Dublin and Galway and all those places they remember.”

  “It’s very good of you,” Sarah said, “and I really appreciate you inviting me. I’ll see what time I have over the next few weeks.” She put her collar up. “It’s getting very cold now, isn’t it? Again, thanks for the invitation – and it was lovely to meet you.”

  As she turned away, Sarah saw the friendly woman give her son an apologetic look. A look that that said she’d done her best to encourage the girl he liked to come to their house. Sarah felt very bad about turning down the invitation, especially the thought that she had snubbed his elderly grandparents. She knew how friendly Irish people were, and how strange they would think she was, not wanting to meet some of her own kind.

  Sarah wished she could explain the situation to Mrs McGuire – tell her that she couldn’t risk hurting Harriet Scott by getting involved with the boy she had set her heart on. Tell her that even though she liked David very much, after her own experience of betrayal she wasn’t sure if she could ever risk a close relationship again.