Sarah Love

by Geraldine O'Neill

  Vivienne had obviously allowed someone she hardly knew to do much more than touch her. They had been as intimate as a man and woman can possibly be.

  “I realised a few weeks ago that I was pregnant,” Vivienne continued, “and I had no option but to go to the fellow and tell him.”

  “What did he say?”

  “He was shocked – horrified. He seemed a decent enough chap and he said he’d do his best to sort things out.”

  Sarah caught her breath at the casual way Vivienne referred to the man who made her pregnant: ‘He seemed a decent enough chap.’ She was describing a total stranger. How could an intelligent, educated girl behave in such a cheap way?

  “It turned out that the chap is close friends with James Ryder.” She paused. “You know, the doctor who was so smitten with you at the ball.

  Sarah didn’t react, waiting for Vivienne to carry on.

  “Anyway, James happened to know a gynaecologist who was sympathetic to silly women in my situation, and we got it all sorted as soon as it could be arranged. All highly confidential as there could be terrible trouble if it got out.”

  Sarah nodded, thinking that she had made the right decision not going out with James Ryder. After hearing his involvement in this incident, there was no way she would have anything to do with him now.

  Vivienne finished her tea then lay back on her pillows. “It’s all over now and I just want to forget it. The injection he gave me seems to have worked. The bleeding has eased off and the pains have gone.”

  “I’m glad,” Sarah told her. “And a good night’s rest will make all the difference.”

  When Sarah went back to her own room she suddenly felt exhausted. She got undressed and got into bed. She drifted off to sleep and fell into dreams where she was standing at the side of Con Tierney’s house while Patricia Quinn told James Ryder about the baby she had been expecting.

  Chapter 33

  Lucy came to pick up Sarah at ten o’clock on Saturday morning for their day out. It was a dry, clear day and Sarah found herself looking forward to it. She dressed casually in black slacks with a warm beige jumper and a silk black-and-cream checked Burberry scarf she had bought from Fenwick’s.

  “You look very stylish, Miss Love!” Lucy told her. “And I’ve definitely come around to your shorter hair. In fact, I really prefer it.”

  Sarah felt a small glow from the compliments, because she knew anything her employer said was genuine. If Lucy had nothing good to say, she said nothing. Vivienne – who had been up early to catch Lucy and quietly thank her again – had said similar things about Sarah’s outfit. She hadn’t taken the compliments too seriously, sensing that the medical student would say anything nice to keep on the right side of her after the drama earlier in the week.

  Vivienne seemed to have made a good recovery, and was more or less back to her old self. But Sarah saw a vulnerable look in her eyes that had never been there before. The subject of the abortion had not been raised between them since that night, and they both circled around it carefully, with Sarah asking if her heavy period had eased and Vivienne referring to it as “the night I had the haemorrhage”.

  Sarah found herself praying a lot in the last few days. She had knelt down in the Church of England at Tony Williams’ funeral the morning after the incident, and asked for the return of Vivienne’s good health, and for guidance in the way she should advise her housemate about her future behaviour.

  She didn’t know how she should act with Vivienne now the health scare was over, because deep down she felt the whole thing had been morally wrong.

  As she and Lucy drove out of Newcastle, Sarah confided that she found it hard to accept that a little life had been lost so casually, and that she felt a need for some sort of reassurance that Vivienne had learned something from the terrible ordeal.

  “Believe me,” Lucy said, “she will undoubtedly have learned something from it.”

  “But she seemed to have no remorse . . . no awareness of what a serious thing she has done,” Sarah said.

  Lucy was silent for a few moments as she negotiated a junction. “She has to find her own way of dealing with it,” she eventually said. “And you must find your own way of dealing with it too, Sarah, because I think you’re feeling some sort of guilt over the situation, as if you were somehow involved by having helped her.” Her brow wrinkled in thought. “Maybe if you spoke to someone who understood?”

  “Who do you mean?” Sarah wondered if she meant Harriet. Whilst she liked the District Nurse, and knew she had obviously been of great help to Lucy, she felt that Harriet did not have the necessary gravitas to help her with this situation.

  “I was thinking of someone who would know exactly about the type of feelings you have – maybe one of the priests from your church. As you know, I’m not very religious myself and rarely attend church, but I think it might help someone who is as committed to their faith as you are.”

  Sarah felt a weight lift from her shoulders. “That is a really good suggestion.” She smiled brightly at Lucy. “Sometimes I forget that it was a priest who helped me start a new life when I was lost.”

  They had been driving some time when it dawned on Sarah that there was still no sign of the coastal roads she had expected to see by now. “How far is it to Whitley Bay?” she asked.

  “I hope you don’t mind,” Lucy said, “but I decided to change our plans. I’m taking you somewhere today that I’ve often thought I should have taken you before.”

  Sarah looked at her, intrigued. “Where is it?”

  “I’ll explain everything when we get there.” Lucy switched the car radio on and they sat in companionable silence listening to the music and news reports.

  Twenty minutes later when she saw the sign for Durham, Sarah felt that today was going to be very different from the seaside walk she had envisaged. She had no idea what to expect or who they were going to meet.

  When they came to large gates that led into a long winding driveway, she felt a little knot in her stomach. They went slowly up the gravel drive, past a sign that said Meadow Hall and on to the car park at the front of a large, rambling grey-stone building which had a bright red and gold Virginia creeper covering the middle part of it. Sarah immediately thought that whoever owned the property obviously had a lot of money, and this was confirmed when she saw stables to the side of the house and spotted a young man around the same age as herself leading a pony around the grounds.

  “You’re going to meet some people who are very special to me here,” Lucy said. “And you’ll understand why I come here every week.”

  Sarah felt almost fearful as she got out of the car. After all the months of feeling left out of Lucy and Harriet’s secret, she now had a feeling that she had pushed her way in and was intruding into an area of Lucy’s life that she had no business being in. “You don’t have to . . .” She was stumbling over her words. “You’re entitled to your own privacy . . .”

  “I brought you here because I wanted to.” Lucy’s face had relaxed and she was smiling warmly at her. “And because I think you will enjoy your visit. My biggest problem coming here is that I don’t want to leave.”

  They walked up the front steps and into the hallway.

  “Lucy!” A blonde, middle-aged woman wearing a smart red-and-black suit and pearls and high heels came towards her. “It’s lovely to see you on a Saturday. I was delighted when you rang to say you were coming over.”

  Sarah guessed the attractive woman was the owner, and wondered if the lad she had seen was her son. She had deduced by now that the people were wealthy relatives or friends of Lucy.

  “We’re having work done at the shop,” Lucy told her, “so I thought I’d take advantage of the day off.” She turned to Sarah. “This is a young friend of mine, Sarah Love. Sarah, this is Millicent Turner.”

  “Welcome to Meadow Hall,” Millicent said, shaking Sarah’s hand. We’re always delighted to have new visitors. Now, would you like tea first or do you want to stick to
your usual routine and then join us for lunch?”

  “The usual routine,” Lucy said, taking off her coat. She looked at Sarah. “We can leave our coats – there’s a cloakroom just across the hall.”

  Sarah took her coat off and after they had hung them up, she followed the two women down a thickly carpeted hallway. She could hear music coming from several of the rooms they passed and she was just wondering if they might actually be in a hotel, when they came to a halt outside one of the doors.

  “This will be a great surprise for them,” Millicent said, her eyes twinkling. “And for one person in particular.”

  Lucy turned to Sarah and squeezed her arm. “Just relax and go with the way things are here. There’s nothing at all to worry about.”

  Sarah went through the open door behind them, and immediately she could feel the pleasant hum of activity in the bright airy room. She first noticed two girls around the same age as herself holding court in the middle of the room, then her gaze was drawn to a man in his thirties who was holding up a puppet in his hands.

  She stood on the edge of the floor and watched as Lucy went across the room. There was a whoop of surprise as Lucy bent down over a chair and then she stood watching in amazement as Lucy came towards her pushing a low, long wheelchair.

  “Charlotte,” she said, “I’d like you to meet my friend, Sarah.”

  Sarah looked down at the wheelchair and saw a little girl with long dark ringlets and big brown eyes smiling up at her.

  “Hell – o, Sarah.”

  “Sarah,” Lucy said, tears glistening in the corner of her eyes, “I’d like you to meet my daughter, Charlotte.”

  * * *

  “Charlotte has Spina Bifida complicated by epilepsy and a heart defect,” Lucy explained in a quiet voice as they walked along the corridor to the dining-room for lunch, Sarah pushing the wheelchair.

  “She’s lovely,” Sarah said. “So bubbly and bright. I can see why you find it hard leaving her every week.” She manoeuvred the wheelchair round a corner then through open double doors.

  “Mummy,” Charlotte said, “can we sit at the table beside Angela?”

  “Yes, darling,” Lucy said, wheeling the chair across the wooden floor to a table by one of the big bay windows.

  “She’s actually ten years old,” Lucy said, when they had parked the wheelchair next to her friend’s chair, “but she operates at about the level of a five-year-old. I’d love to have her home full-time but it’s impossible. I’ve got used to her difficulties from the Spina Bifida but the epilepsy is severe and unpredictable and needs specialist care.” She looked at Sarah. “Do you remember the phone call I got a few weeks ago? The time when I had to rush off?”

  “Yes,” Sarah said.

  “She had a bad seizure then, and the staff couldn’t get her out of it so she was taken to the general hospital. She had some sort of chest infection and her temperature had risen dramatically.”

  Sarah felt a wave of sympathy. “That sounds very serious.”

  “But,” Lucy said, smiling brightly, “most of the time she’s the cheery, chatty little girl you see today. She has friends who have been with her since she was very little, and they have a time-table full of activities every day with things like story time, art and crafts, swimming and individual physiotherapy.” She smiled. “They even have dance classes for the children in wheelchairs, and the older children do baking and domestic skills.”

  “Did I notice ponies?” Sarah said.

  “Yes. They cater for the individual child and encourage them to reach their full potential.” Lucy shrugged. “How could I give her all that?”

  After lunch Sarah went with Lucy to watch Charlotte in the swimming pool. Again, her heart went out to both the mother and daughter as she observed the carers from Meadow Hall lift the child from the wheelchair into the pool. Everything was carefully timed and manoeuvred and the hard work involved was obvious.

  “I often come here on a Saturday afternoon to watch her swim,” Lucy told Sarah while they sat at the side of the pool, waving and shouting words of encouragement to Charlotte, “and since my father has been in the home I sometimes come on a Sunday. Believe it or not, it’s the place I feel most relaxed and at peace in.”

  Sarah looked at her in surprise. “I thought you played golf all weekend.”

  Lucy smiled. “I do play, but not as much as I make out.” She had to raise her voice a little to be heard above the screams of laughter. “It was easier to suggest I was on the golf course than explain about coming here.”

  Afterwards, Sarah went for a walk in the grounds while Lucy went with the care staff to help dry and dress Charlotte. As she walked around the beautiful gardens and the play area for the children, she could understand how Lucy liked this place so much. It was a bright and beautiful place, full of happy, laughing children and staff who seemed to be enjoying themselves too. Lucy had told her that she was on the parents’ committee for fund-raising and had become friends with a number of the families.

  “We have picnics and a summer and Christmas Sale of Work,” Lucy said. “The parents bring things for raffles and tombola and that sort of thing.”

  “But you could have asked me to make things for it,” Sarah told her. “I would have been delighted.”

  “I did think of it, but I felt it might sound strange that I was involved with a children’s hospital.” She gave a small sigh. “I just wasn’t ready to explain things . . .”

  Sarah wondered what had made Lucy open up to her today, and she found out as they drove back to Newcastle in the afternoon.

  “I’d thought of telling you about Charlotte over Christmas, but I just didn’t have the emotional strength to go into all the details.” She glanced at Sarah. “I know you must wonder about a lot of things . . .”

  “You’re entitled to your privacy,” Sarah said. “You really don’t owe me any explanations. I know how I felt having to explain things about Con and the wedding.”

  “I wanted to tell you,” Lucy went on. “I know how decent and trustworthy you are, and I feel you’re almost like a younger sister to me.”

  Sarah’s eyes welled up. “That’s a lovely thing to say.”

  They passed an old Tudor-style hotel that was open for late afternoon teas.

  “Let’s have a stop,” Lucy said, reversing the car on the empty road. “It will be easier to chat when I’m not driving.”

  They got a quiet table at the back of the old-fashioned dining-room beside a brightly burning fire. Over tea and scones and cakes, Lucy told her story from the beginning.

  “I think I explained to your before that I was educated in London, and it was hard for me to maintain friendships when I was travelling back and forth so much. When I finished school and came to work in a large shipping office in Newcastle, I made friends with a lot of the other girls and we did all the usual things like going out to dances and to the cinema.” She smiled. “And of course we met young men – the natural order of things, I suppose. I met a particularly nice fellow – Simon Hall, a history lecturer at the university. We went out for over two years and we talked about getting engaged and married – all the usual things. My parents liked him well enough . . .”

  Her head suddenly drooped and Sarah saw shades of the old Lucy again – the anxious, angst-ridden woman who had met her in the station.

  “To be honest,” Lucy continued, “my mother and father were going through a bad patch in their marriage – constantly arguing and niggling at each other, and my father was inclined to stay out when things were bad. He would go straight to a bar from work – and my mother would be ranting and raving to me about the meal she had cooked that was now wasted. She would usually end up going to bed in the spare room before he came in. If it got really bad, she would take herself off to London on the train to stay with my grandparents or one of her sisters. My father maintained that my mother was the awkward one and had gone highly-strung with the change of life.” She shook her head. “I always felt like pi
ggy in the middle with them. I felt as long as I was there they would make more effort to be civil to each other, so there were nights when I would cancel going out with Simon at the last minute.”

  Sarah absent-mindedly spread butter on a scone. “Was he understanding about things?” she asked. She found Lucy’s revelations so much at odds with the quiet, serious-minded person she thought she had come to know. But then she remembered the reaction she had got from her fellow lodgers when she told them about her cancelled wedding. They had seen her only as a person who was interested in nothing but work and were almost amused that she had been closer to marriage than any of them.

  Lucy sighed. “Yes, he was very good, but then my mother took ill – bowel cancer – and she decided that the hospital in London was the best for her treatment. She moved back down there – partly to be near her own family and partly to spite my father. When she got really ill I gave up my job and went to stay with her.”

  “How long were you down in London?”

  “Over a year,” Lucy said. “And looking back I can see how badly I neglected Simon. I got caught up in things in London – hospital visits, catching up with old friends, invites out with relatives.” She gave a wry smile. “I met up with an old boyfriend from school and we started going to the theatre and museums and all those sorts of things. It was fairly innocent, but I was enjoying things I should have been doing with a boyfriend. I went back to Newcastle for the odd weekend and I suppose I just thought Simon would always be there waiting for me.” She shrugged. “My mother seemed to recover and stayed down in London, but when I moved back to Newcastle I discovered he had met someone else, a new, younger female colleague who got him out of the university to go on weekend field-trips all over the country. Apparently they both shared a passion for visiting old castles – something I was always too busy to do with him.” She gave a weak smile. “Oh, I can’t blame him, and he was upset when he told me.”