Sarah Love

by Geraldine O'Neill

“Thanks, that’s good of you.” He gestured towards the sewing shop. “Big changes. If you’d asked me last year did I ever think she would do the place up I would have said you were mad.” He smiled and shook his head. “I’ll say something – for a small, delicate-looking girl you know how to get things done. Before you came the shop was on its last legs.”

  Sarah looked at him in bemusement. “But it’s not down to me. Lucy decided on her own about the renovations. I made no suggestions about it.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “Well, let’s just say you gave her the incentive.” There was a pause and then he said, “Have you had your lunch?”

  “No,” she told him. “I was going to have it when I get back to the house. I’m working from home this week.”

  “Away, man!” he said, nodding in the direction of the main shops. “You can surely take an hour off today?” He held the bag up. “I think I owe you a lunch after all the trouble you’ve gone to with this.”

  Sarah’s immediate reaction was to refuse but before she got a chance he said, “It will probably be the last time. I’m heading off to London in the next few weeks. I’m going into partnership with my uncle. Originally he offered me the job of manager, but when he came up last week he suggested I go into ownership with him in the shop in Charing Cross Road.”

  She was taken aback. “Well, congratulations! Owning your own bookshop – that’s a huge achievement.” She smiled at him, all the tension leaving her. “I’ll join you for lunch on the condition that it’s my treat – to wish you well in your new business and new life in London.”

  “Okay,” he shrugged. “I’m not going to argue with that.” He looked at the bag Sarah had given him. “If you’ll wait a minute I’ll just drop it into the shop for safe-keeping.”

  Sarah waited for him at the door. She glanced around the shop and wondered how different the bright, welcoming place would be without its lively, enthusiastic manager.

  As they walked along, Sarah thought he seemed different. He was easier, less animated, and less obvious in his delight at being with her. Lucy had warned her to expect him to say something before making his final decision about London. Sarah had half-rehearsed what she would say back, but now it seemed as though there was no need. He had made up his own mind.

  They went to the café where they had gone the first day they met. David was his usual friendly self, and if he harboured any resentment at the rebuffs she’d given him over the past months he didn’t show it.

  “I’m looking forward to London,” he told her. “It’s an exciting place – I’m looking forward to the challenge.” He narrowed his eyes. “You’ve settled well in Newcastle, haven’t you?”

  “Yes,” she answered without hesitation. “I’m very happy here.”

  “There’s more to you than meets the eye, Sarah,” he said. “You came here without knowing a soul and you’ve made a new career and a new life. Look how you sorted out all that carry-on up at the house with the snooty doctor. You know how to look after yourself – you’re a survivor.”

  “I had to be,” she replied.

  As they walked back to the shop, Sarah felt a pang of regret about David’s departure. It was a pity he had changed their easy friendship by developing feelings for her, because he was someone she could count on to have her best interests at heart. She had shown her vulnerable side to him on several occasions and he had immediately dropped his chirpy banter to listen attentively and then advise her in a serious, intelligent way. She knew she hadn’t been so caring about his feelings, and she wished it could have been different. As their steps kept time with each other, she knew she would miss his warm, easygoing ways

  They slowed down as they came to the bookshop and then David turned towards her. “In case I don’t get to talk to you on our own like this again, I just want to say I’m sorry if I put you in an awkward position with Harriet, and I’m sorry if giving you the poetry book made you embarrassed.” He looked straight into her eyes. “My interfering, but well-meaning, grandmother told me that she put you in the picture about it. All I can say is that I made light of picking the book up for you because I thought if I explained what it meant to me personally that it would only embarrass you.”

  Sarah felt her face flush. “It was kind of you and I appreciate it, and I will take the time to read it properly.”

  He smiled. “I’m glad that’s settled.

  Since she knew he couldn’t misconstrue her actions now, she moved towards him and gave him a hug. “I really wish you all the best, David.”

  His arms came around her waist and he pulled her close. “And I wish you all the best.” For a brief moment he leaned his head against hers. “I’m not going to say anything more, because I’ve said enough already.”

  Then, just as she was walking away, David took a business card out of his pocket. “That’s the shop address and the phone number. If you ever need anything, or if you fancy a trip down to London, just phone me.”

  Sarah took the card from him, and as their hands touched, she suddenly felt tears spring up in her eyes. “I’ll miss you,” she whispered, then she quickly walked away.

  * * *

  She was back at the house working on a curtain pelmet when she heard the gate clanging and then a knock on the door. She ran downstairs to see Lisha William standing on the step, her eyes red from crying.

  “I hope you don’t mind me coming over,” she said, her whole body trembling, “but I didn’t want to be on my own.”

  “Lisha, what’s wrong?”

  “My father died this morning. He was rushed into hospital last night.”

  Sarah’s chest tightened. She had been right about the poor man.

  Lisha wiped the back of her sleeve to her eyes, suddenly looking like a young girl again. “My mother and my brother, Mark, have had to go to see the solicitor or something like that . . . and she told me to come home to put coal on the fire and check everything was okay.” Tears filled her eyes again. “I know it’s stupid, but I feel afraid in the house on my own.”

  Sarah put her arms around the girl. “Come in,” she said, guiding her along the hallway. “I’m glad you thought to come over.”

  Sarah made mugs of hot chocolate and listened while Lisha poured the story out about her stepfather’s recent and swift decline. “He was in hospital between Christmas and New Year, but then he said he felt okay again. “They said he had heart failure. He’d had it quite a while and we thought if he took it easy he would get better.”

  Sarah nodded, trying to think of the right thing to say. “I understand how you feel,” she ventured, “because I lost my mother when I was thirteen.”

  Lisha took a sip from the mug. “What happened?”

  “She had some sort of blood disorder. I’m not sure exactly what it was, but it made her very tired and ill.”

  “That must have been terrible. I couldn’t imagine what I’d do if anything happened my mum.”

  Sarah nodded and then took a drink of her hot chocolate. She rarely allowed herself to think how she felt about having lost her mother. It was so long ago and had somehow got overshadowed by her father’s death. She tried to remember how she had coped – the things that had got her through both those difficult periods. The only thing she could come up with was keeping busy to distract herself from the devastation that had barged into her life. Reading was impossible for the first phase of the grieving. Words and sentences would be read over and over again, until they became strange unintelligible squiggles. Mundane household tasks had not been much better. Washing dishes or peeling vegetables still allowed her mind to wander, and she had often caught herself staring out of the kitchen window with her hands in a basin of stone-cold water.

  “Have you done everything you need to do at home?” Sarah checked. “Because you know that you’ll have lots of people calling around?”

  Lisha nodded. “Yes, it’s all ready.”

  “Well,” Sarah said, “I think it’s better if you keep yourself occupied, so wo
uld you like to come upstairs and help me? I’ve got some small beads that I’m sewing onto the corners of some cushions. It’s an easy job . . . and you can sit by the window and watch for your mother coming back.”

  They went up to Sarah’s room and sat with the radio on in the background, working away on the cushions. Sarah was surprised at how neatly and quickly the young girl worked. Gradually, she seemed to relax and she started to talk about school.

  “Did you know that I’ve been picked for the county swimming team?”

  “No,” Sarah said, “That’s brilliant news! I’d no idea you were such a good swimmer. I thought your mother said you played hockey?”

  Lisha pushed a long black ringlet away from her face. “I play most sports, but recently I’ve won quite a few of the local swimming galas and now I’ve been put forward for the county championships.”

  “That is fantastic. I suppose there’s a lot of training involved?”

  “Yes, I’m going most evenings after school, and after Easter we’ll start practising early in the mornings. The only thing is we have to pay for some of the training and the bus fares and things, and it can be quite expensive.” She shrugged. “My dad wasn’t able to work for the last year. I don’t know how my mum will manage for money now he’s dead.”

  By the time Fiona Williams pulled up in a black hackney cab, Lisha had finished all the cushions that Sarah needed and had also helped tacking an embroidered border onto a pelmet.

  Sarah went out along with her to offer her condolences to her mother. As they crossed the road, she pushed two half-crowns into Lisha’s pocket.

  “No, no . . .” Lisha protested, trying to give her the money back.

  “Take it,” Sarah told her. “Working with those beads is very fiddly and you’ve saved me a lot of time.” She smiled at her. “Your work was perfect – that’s another new talent you have.”

  Lisha gave her a proper smile. “Thanks.” She went on into the house.

  Fiona Williams looked defeated and resigned. “I thought last year was bad,” she said in a flat tone, “but this year has started off even worse.”

  “If there’s anything I can do,” Sarah offered. “Just call over any time.”

  “Thanks for being so good to Lisha,” Fiona said. “I appreciate it. She’s finding it tough at school and Tony being sick has really affected her.” She looked at Sarah. “You know Tony wasn’t her real father? It’s obvious with her colour and everything that she couldn’t have been his daughter, but they were close.” She paused. “Lisha’s father was an officer in the Navy. He was a nice man, and when we found out I was expecting Lisha he was full of plans about us getting married.” She shrugged. “But he went off as usual on the ship one day and I never heard a word from him ever again.”

  Although she hid it well, Sarah was taken aback at Fiona Williams being so frank about having an illegitimate daughter. Back in Ireland things like that were shrouded in secrecy.

  Fiona rubbed her eyes. “I was lucky then to meet Tony. They got on very well, better than many real fathers and daughters.” She looked straight at Sarah, almost as though she was looking through her. “I’ll tell you the kind of man he was – he never once made any issue about her colour or who her real father was. How many men could you say that about?”

  “I only met him once,” Sarah said, “but he seemed like a very nice man.”

  “He was. I’ll never meet another one like him.” She closed her eyes and shook her head. “All the men you meet day in and day out – and you’re lucky if you come across a handful in the whole of your life that would make a decent husband. Well, I met mine, and now he’s dead and gone. It’ll be me and the kids from now on.”

  Sarah felt a shiver run through her. Had her father felt like that after her mother died? She couldn’t remember any big difference in him. He must have suffered in silence.

  * * *

  Sarah worked long into the night to finish the most pressing orders. Several times she was tempted to run out to the phone box to phone Lucy and cancel the trip they’d planned to Whitely Bay, but she knew that it would only cause a row and draw more attention to the amount of work she did.

  Chapter 32

  On Thursday at five o’clock Sarah heard a car engine outside the house and wondered if it was Lucy. She had said she would call on her way home from Durham and give her an update on the work that was going on in the shop. When she heard the front door open she presumed it was one of the girls. Then, when there was usually a “Hi!” or “It’s me!” there was only the sound of slow footsteps going along the hallway and then up the stairs.

  Sarah tried to work out which one of the other lodgers it might be. They were all working various shifts today and by her reckoning none of them should be home at this time. She went out into the hallway and saw Vivienne standing with her hands rested on the banister halfway up the stairs. Her face looked chalk white and she still had her heavy camel duffle coat that she wore to work on and her pull-on hat and gloves. Her bag lay in the hallway downstairs.

  “Are you okay?” Sarah asked.

  “No . . . I’ve come home from work. I’ve had a very heavy period and I don’t feel well . . .” She moved her hands and then slowly manoeuvred herself into a sitting-position on one of the stairs.

  Sarah went quickly down the stairs beside her. “Can I get you something? Do you feel sick or faint or what?”

  Vivienne now had her head in her hands. “I’ve got a bad pain in my stomach . . .”

  “Have you taken anything?” Sarah checked. “I think I have some aspirin in a drawer somewhere.”

  She shook her head. “I’ve already been given something at work. They said it was fairly strong.”

  “It would be best if we got you up to bed. If I take your arm you’ll find it easier.”

  The medical student took a deep breath and then she turned sideways and pulled herself up on the banister, and it was then that Sarah saw the dark red bloodstain on the back of her coat. She quickly decided that it was best not to alarm Vivienne – she would say nothing until she got her into the bedroom. As they slowly made their way up the stairs – Vivienne bent double with the pain in her stomach – she was working out where she would find a big towel to save the mattress.

  When they got to the bedroom, Vivienne gave a little moan. “It’s a bit of a tip. I haven’t had a chance to tidy it yet.”

  “I wouldn’t worry about that just now.” Sarah guided her across a messy room to a wooden chair. She quickly moved the clothes from the back of it, and said “Sit there until I get the bed sorted for you.” Then she went over and straightened the pillows and pulled the sheets and blankets up then went to the door. “I won’t be a minute – I’ve got to get something.” She ran along the hallway to the airing cupboard and grabbed two navy towels and went quickly back to Vivienne’s bedroom.

  “Have you got sanitary pads?” Sarah asked, as she spread the towels, one on top of the other.

  Vivienne pointed over to a tallboy at the door. “I’ve some in the top drawer.”

  Sarah pulled the drawer open and lifted a packet of Dr White’s out. “Have you any bigger ones?”

  “Those should be okay . . .”

  “I don’t want to frighten you, but your coat’s stained, so it must be pretty heavy.”

  Vivienne’s face froze. She moved in the chair and pulled her coat out from under her. “Oh, God . . .” she said, struggling to get her arms out of the sleeves. “It’s back really heavy again. It was like that this morning.”

  “Here, let me help you,” Sarah said, coming around the back of the chair. She helped Vivienne take the coat off and saw that the back of her tweed skirt was soaked through as well. She bit her lip, not sure what to say. Vivienne was after all, a medical student who must know that there was a problem having a bleed as heavy as this. “I think if you could get changed you might see if it’s finished or if you’re still bleeding.”

  Vivienne gave a weary, frustrated sigh.
“I got larger towels in work . . . they’re downstairs in my bag.”

  “I’ll get them for you,” Sarah said, making for the door.

  “No – honestly – thanks.” Vivienne started to get up, then the pain made her sit back down again. “I should go to the bathroom . . . and get washed.”

  Sarah was getting frightened now. She’d often had bad period pains herself and the occasional heavy period, but this didn’t seem normal. “I could bring a basin of hot water up.”

  “You’re very kind,” Vivienne said, “but I’d better go down.” She stood up straight, then took several deep breaths. “I don’t feel quite so bad now. I think I’ll manage.”

  “We’ll walk down together,” Sarah told her.

  When they got to the bottom of the stairs, Sarah lifted Vivienne’s bag and went ahead to the bathroom, while Vivienne made her slow, painstaking way behind her.

  Sarah then waited in the kitchen. She put the kettle on, thinking that a hot-water bottle and a hot drink might help the period pains.

  For the next ten minutes she walked back and forward from the kitchen to the hallway, checking if Vivienne was okay. When she heard the bath water running she knocked on the door to see if there was anything else she could do.

  “I need to have a proper bath,” Vivienne called. “I think it might help me.”

  “Well, don’t lock the door just in case you’re not well,” Sarah advised. She went back into the kitchen and filled the hot-water bottle, and then topped up the water in the kettle again from the tap to make tea. A few minutes later as she was scooping tea into the pot, the doorbell rang.

  It was Lucy. Sarah brought her into the hallway.

  “I’ve just called in at the shop,” she told Sarah “and it’s looking really, really well. They have removed the walls in the kitchen and plastered all the exposed areas. I can’t believe the difference it’s made. It looks huge.”

  “That’s great news. Do you think they’ll have it ready for Monday?”

  “They say they’ll have downstairs finished tomorrow and most of the work done upstairs by then. The plumbers are due in tomorrow to get the new toilet and kitchen fitted upstairs.” Her eyes were shining. “It’s going to look great. Now, there’s something I want to ask you. Something that you might want to think about.”