Sarah Love

by Geraldine O'Neill

  “I really have no interest in meeting anyone,” Sarah repeated.

  “I understand, after what you’ve been through,” Lucy said, “but I think you should be open to meeting someone if the right person comes along. You don’t want to look back in years to come and regret turning someone very suitable down.”

  “I don’t care,” Sarah said. “I’d be quite happy on my own. I don’t think you have to be married to be happy.”

  Lucy raised her eyebrows. “I thought that once, and by the time I thought I was ready to settle for a nice, decent man I discovered that I’d left it too late. I’d missed the boat – and all those clichés.”

  “But you’re happy enough,” Sarah told her. “You have a good business, a beautiful home and you have a good social life playing golf and going to concerts and all that.”

  “It’s not the same as having someone to share things with. Someone to eat with every night, someone to talk things over with. Somebody to look after and worry about you.” She paused. “Somebody to share a bed with.”

  Sarah looked at her now, not knowing which way to go. Surely, she thought, Lucy was referring to having someone for company. Surely a woman her age – who was a spinster – wasn’t referring to sex? She waited.

  “Well?” Lucy said. “Don’t you agree that it’s silly to be lonely when you could have someone who could meet all those needs?” She paused. “You might not think it’s important now, Sarah, but women have needs too. Physical needs . . .”

  Sarah wondered if perhaps the sherry and the Babycham had gone to her employer’s head. She herself didn’t feel anything untoward from the drink apart from a nice relaxed feeling that, due to the uncomfortable conversation, was now gone.

  There was an awkward silence which Sarah was compelled to fill. “I don’t have any of those feelings.” She smiled to lighten things. “I’m happy with my work and the odd night at the pictures with the girls. I don’t need anything else.”

  “You’re a lucky person then. I’m afraid my life is full of regrets.”

  Sarah now felt a flicker of curiosity. “But why?’ she asked. “When you have so much?”

  Lucy reached her hand up to her thick hair to tuck it behind her ear. Her gaze seemed far away. “Because I remember the feeling of being with someone who understood me, who accepted me and who . . .” She halted. “Someone who loved me.”

  “Do you mind me asking what happened?”

  “I was still silly and immature into my twenties,” Lucy said. “I thought he wasn’t exciting enough, that there should be . . .” She motioned with her hand as though trying to catch the words. “That there should be more. I thought anyone my parents liked must be boring. I was determined to go my own way and make my own choices.” She gave a bitter little laugh. “But I learned my lesson about exciting men and I paid a high price for my stupidity. I certainly did.” She looked directly at Sarah now. “But unfortunately I’ve made other people pay as well, and I’m reminded of it every single day. My father makes sure of that.” She suddenly sat up straight and then looked at Sarah in a startled way, as though she had suddenly woken up and found herself in a strange place. “Goodness! I think I’m being boring now.” She was awkward, flustered. “It’s Christmas Eve and I shouldn’t really be talking to you like this. I’m terribly sorry . . .”

  Sarah realised that the person she worked with every day had suddenly disappeared, and she was now in the presence of the anxious, distant woman who had collected her at the station on her first day in Newcastle.

  “I enjoy talking to you.” Sarah thought her words sounded feeble, that she needed to say something more to reassure Lucy that she hadn’t said anything untoward. “It’s nice to be with someone who can speak in such an honest way.”

  Lucy didn’t seem to hear her. “I meant to put the electric blankets on earlier.” She jumped to her feet. “It’s a cold night, we’ll need them on.”

  When she came back down, it was as if the conversation had never taken place. Lucy wore a smile which Sarah thought looked as though it was paining her. They worked together bringing the glasses and plates out to the kitchen and washing and drying them and putting them away. Their conversation was now about things like where the clean cutlery went and what time they would have to be up in the morning.

  They went into the sitting room and talked about the programmes that were on television on Christmas Day while they straightened the cushions, switched off lamps and put the fireguard in.

  “I’ll set my alarm for eight o’clock,” Lucy said, “and that will give us plenty of time to get you to the cathedral for ten.”

  * * *

  In the morning things were back to normal between them. Sarah gave Lucy the gloves which she was delighted with, and which fitted perfectly, and Lucy gave her a pale grey, cashmere sweater with a turtle-neck.

  “I know you can knit beautiful sweaters,” she said. “But something like this is hard to make and I thought the colour would suit you. I bought it from Fenwick’s, and I still have the receipt so if you don’t like it, or it’s the wrong size, you can take it back.”

  “I love it,” Sarah said. “And it will go with my skirts and suits – and it will look lovely with trousers, because I’m definitely going to buy a pair like yours. I’ll try it on when I’ve had my bath.” She was thrilled with the gift as she had seen the shelves of Ballantyne Cashmere sweaters in the department store and, apart from being soft and beautiful, she knew they were expensive.

  Lucy put the small prepared turkey into the oven on a low light and then they sat together at the kitchen table while Lucy ate a boiled egg and toast with a cup of tea. Sarah had nothing as she was fasting before Communion.

  “I don’t know how you can go out in the morning without eating,” Lucy said, “I have to have a cup of tea before I begin to feel normal.”

  “I’m used to it,” Sarah said. “I’ve done it ever since I made my First Holy Communion.”

  Lucy turned as though she was looking out of the kitchen window and Sarah noticed she put some pills into her mouth.

  “I should have made the effort to go to church over Christmas,” Lucy said, “but time has just run away.” She looked at the clock. “I must watch the time. I don’t want us to be late.”

  Sarah wondered why she was going all the way to Durham on Christmas morning, but she said nothing. “I’ll go and have my bath now,” she told her host. “I washed my hair yesterday to save time, so I should be ready for half past nine.”

  “I had mine earlier,” Lucy said, “so I’m going to light the fire in the sitting-room now, and it should be fine by the time you get back from church.”

  Sarah came back downstairs at twenty past nine wearing her new sweater with a red skirt and long black leather boots. She carried a three-quarter-length matching red coat and a black scarf, gloves and beret.

  “It fits perfectly,” Lucy said, “and it’s lovely with that outfit. Did you buy it here?”

  “No, I made it at home last Christmas.”

  “The coat as well?”

  “Yes. It was fairly straightforward.”

  “You amaze me,” Lucy said. “The more things I see you’ve made, the more I’m beginning to think your talent is wasted working in my shop.”

  “I love it,” Sarah told her. “And there’s nothing better than loving your work.”

  “Well, it’s lucky for me that you feel like that, but I hope one day you’ll find something better to love.”

  Sarah decided to take a chance. “We’d better stop,” she said, grinning, “Or we’ll be back in the exact same conversation as last night.”

  Lucy hesitated, and then she smiled.

  * * *

  When Sarah was getting out of the car at the cathedral, the cold wind whipped her beret off and onto the roof. As she stretched to retrieve it, she noticed the pile of Christmas presents on the back seat all wrapped up in Santa Claus and snowman paper. Beside them were a dozen or so Cadbury’s selection box
es.

  Lucy was obviously going to see a family in Durham and Sarah wondered why, when she had been so open about very personal things last night, she was being so secretive about the visit.

  Although she was early, the cathedral was already quite full. She picked a back pew over at the far wall where she thought she would not be noticed, and where she could slip out easily just as the Mass was ending. She did not want to run into David McGuire or his family today.

  When she came back from Mass Sarah checked on the turkey, filled the basin in the sink with hot water and began peeling the vegetables that were laid out on the worktop. She put the carrots into the basin first and then lifted the paring knife. She put her hands into the comforting water to take out a carrot, and then stood still, staring out of the window into the cold wintry garden.

  It hadn’t been a bad winter in Newcastle so far, she thought, not compared to last year when they had been snowed in at the farm in Tullamore. The newspapers and radio all said it had been the coldest winter for years. It had started in earnest just after Christmas, causing everything to grind to a halt. At the farm things had been chaotic and they all had to pitch in. James had brought two newborn lambs into the kitchen and she and Martina had fed them with a bottle. Then a picture of Con came into her mind when he appeared at the cottage door like a snowman, wearing long Wellington boots and carrying a bottle of whiskey and a porter cake his mother had made.

  Sarah then thought of the letter she had received last week from Sheila Brady with her Christmas card, saying that she had heard that Con was working for a decorating firm out in Bray. Seemingly the company got contracts for all the big houses and hotels out in the sea town. She heard he was coming home for Christmas and that she would keep Sarah informed of any news and whether she saw Patricia Quinn or not.

  Sarah intended to write back in the New Year and tell her friend that she didn’t want any more news about him or Patricia Quinn. Now she suddenly thought that she didn’t want to hear anything from Sheila. Her letters, full of news and gossip about people they had gone to school with or knew from church, only unsettled her.

  Maybe it would be best to take her time replying, and that would mean it would be longer before she heard from Sheila again. And when she did reply, she would only refer to the more chatty news about Sheila’s new boyfriend and that kind of thing, ignoring any references to Con Tierney.

  She lifted a large carrot now and made herself concentrate on peeling it. She watched the thin curls of orange skin slide into the basin. She tried to make each curl longer than the previous one. When she had peeled enough, she chopped the carrots and put them into a pan of cold water, then, before starting on the brussel sprouts, she went over and switched the radio on to provide distraction from any further thoughts. After she finished the vegetables she would set the table and then she would go into the sitting-room, where the fire was now blazing, and read one of the magazines that Lucy had left for her.

  * * *

  Lucy came back at half-past two, looking thoughtful, and offering no details of her visit. At one point when Sarah went into the kitchen to check if the roast potatoes were nearly ready, she saw her employer studying a calendar that looked as though it had been made by a child – the sort clumsily made in school from an old Christmas card. Lucy silently slipped it into a drawer and then they both turned their attention to the finishing touches of the meal.

  The afternoon and evening went in the same pleasant way as the previous one, as they ate and drank of the best, watched television and listened to the radio. Sarah only had one glass of wine with her meal as it was something she had not yet acquired a taste for. She drank lemonade and more of the little sweet bottles of Snowball.

  It was getting on for ten o’clock and Sarah was thinking of bed when Lucy asked her if she had plans for the next few days.

  “My dress for the New Year’s Ball. It will take me a few days’ work to get that done.” Then, she hesitated before adding. “And I’ve been invited out to meet David McGuire’s grandparents. I’m going on Sunday and Harriet is coming with me.”

  “Really?” Lucy’s voice was high with surprise.

  Sarah reeled off the story about the grandparents being Irish. “I don’t want to snub them,” she explained, “but I don’t want to give the impression that I fancy David or anything like that to him or his family. That’s why I’m taking Harriet. She does actually like him and it might give him the chance to get to know her better.”

  “It’s unlikely that he’s going to suddenly develop feelings for her,” Lucy sighed. “David has known Harriet for the last number of years, and if he had any notions about her I think their friendship would have progressed further by now.” She looked at Sarah. “He’s a very nice fellow. He’s intelligent and more than presentable-looking . . . and from what I’ve seen, I think he has strong feelings for you.”

  Sarah closed her eyes and shook her head. “I can’t seem to put him off – he started asking me out to the pictures the very first week I was here.”

  “Would it do any harm to go? You might find you like him.”

  “I do like him,” Sarah admitted, “but only as a friend.”

  “You have a lot in common,” Lucy said. “You’re both the same religion which is always a big help, he’s from an Irish background and you are both passionate about the work you do.” She smiled. “And you both have a similar sense of humour. It’s very important to be able to laugh with someone.”

  “I’m okay as I am,” Sarah said, not wanting her employer to go back down the same road again as last night. “You really don’t need to worry about me. I’m getting on fine with the girls in the house –”

  Lucy cut in, sensing her defensiveness. “I just don’t want you to cut yourself off from a nice, decent fellow because of what happened to you back in Ireland. You can’t live your life totally alone, and in the future you might find you’ve thrown yourself in desperation at the wrong type.”

  “But,” Sarah said, “I have no intentions of doing that. I’m not that stupid.”

  “I was exactly like you,” Lucy told her in a voice shaking with emotion. “I thought I was fine on my own and then something happened which made me realise how lonely I was and I ended up making the biggest mistake of my life.”

  Sarah wanted to know what Lucy’s mistake was. Since Lucy was the one who had pushed the subject to such an uncomfortable level, she felt she had the right to press her now. “What happened?” she asked in a gentle voice. “What mistake did you make that you feel is so bad?”

  Lucy put her head in her hands. She was silent for almost a minute and then she said, “I had an affair with a married man.”

  Sarah felt her heart speeding up. This was not the sort of thing she expected to hear from an employer she should be looking up to. What would Miss Reynolds and the priest back home think if they heard this?

  “I’m not proud of it. I was a foolish, foolish girl who believed she had met the love of her life and I was lured into situations I would never have believed possible.” She looked up at Sarah. “I can’t tell you the worst things that happened, but I can tell you that it has left me with feelings of worthlessness and despair. And it ruined my relationship with my parents . . . my father blames me for my mother’s death. He said she made herself ill worrying about me . . .” Her hands came up to cover her face and she suddenly started to cry.

  Sarah looked at her in stunned silence and when she heard the wracking sobs she moved across the floor to put her arms around the older woman to comfort her. Whether what Lucy had done was right or wrong she didn’t know – and more surprisingly – didn’t care. The only thing Sarah knew for sure was that Lucy Harrison was a kind and decent person.

  And Sarah was beginning to realise that sometimes good people do bad things.

  Chapter 25

  Lucy woke with a start just after nine o’clock on Boxing Day and immediately the vivid dream came flooding back. Another of the recurring ones – the on
e in the courtroom. The one where everyone screamed that it was all her fault. She closed her eyes and willed it away.

  Then, the hangover from the dream was replaced by a feeling of regret when she remembered the things she had told Sarah last night. Why, oh why did she feel so compelled to tell the young girl things? There was no need to allow Sarah so close to her. There was no need to reveal the dark side of her past.

  Lucy wondered if she had frightened Sarah off. If she had made her wonder what type of woman she was working for. If she said anything more, she might lose her and she couldn’t risk that. And if she lost Sarah she would go back to the disorganised, disinterested spinster that she had been for the last number of years. She would lose all the light and optimism and faith in the future that the talented young woman had so generously shared. And all the more generous of her, since Sarah was still nursing a recent raw wound herself. But she was a survivor. She had picked herself up and moved to begin a new life in a new country. She had already made a brilliant start in a few short months and Lucy knew the Irish girl would continue determinedly along the same vein. But, Lucy now worried that if she revealed any more of her darker side, Sarah might well decide to move to a more uplifting working environment than Harrison’s shop.

  Lucy sat up now. She needed to talk to Harriet. She needed to explain that having lifted the lid on these past episodes in her life – having discussed them in a clinical way – they were now appearing in normal conversations in a most inappropriate way.

  She also needed advice on her medication. Maybe one tablet more or one less might make a difference to the way she was feeling. It had happened before. She leaned across to the phone by the bedside cabinet and dialled the District Nurse’s number.

  “Lucy!” Harriet said, when she heard her voice. “How did Christmas go with you and Sarah?”

  “It went very well, thank you.”

  “Are you all right?”

  “I think so.” Her throat tightened. “I’m just a little concerned that my medication might not be . . . might not be controlling things as rigidly as before.”