Sarah Love

by Geraldine O'Neill

  “I’ve no doubt that you’ll make something fantastic, but I’ll have to think about it . . . I’m not sure what would suit me.”

  Sarah suddenly felt brave. “Lucy, you have the most beautiful thick curly hair, but I think it might look even nicer if you tried a colour rinse in it to blend that little bit of grey at the front. If you don’t mind me saying, I think it would make you look younger.”

  Lucy’s hand came fluttering up to her neck. “Oh, I’m not so sure about dying my hair. I made a big mistake with it when I was younger. I tried to go lighter . . . sort of blonde. It was in terrible condition and my father said it looked ridiculous. I’ve been afraid to try anything since.”

  “I think going from dark to blond strips the colour out of your hair and leaves it very dry, but putting a dark colour over grey doesn’t do any harm. One of the girls at the house – Anna – has quite a few grey streaks in her hair and she’s only twenty-four. She puts a tint through her hair every few weeks and it looks really natural. If you like, I could do it for you.”

  Lucy looked at Sarah and then she smiled. “What have I got to lose? Even if I don’t go to the wedding, putting a bit of colour in my hair isn’t going to kill me.”

  The following Saturday, when the shop was packed with customers and all three women were run off their feet, Lucy came rushing over to Sarah to tell her that her brother was on the phone from Ireland.

  “It’s a baby girl,” James told her. “We’re calling her Teresa Bridget after Martina’s two grannies.”

  “That’s lovely,” Sarah said. “And how is Martina?”

  “She had a tough enough time,” James said. His telephone voice was always formal as though he was speaking to a stranger. “But thank God she’s doing all right, and the baby is coming on fine. Martina’s mother has come to stay for a month to give her a hand. She’s in your old room, so we moved anything you left into the shed for the time being.”

  “I’m delighted everything is fine,” Sarah said. “Give my regards to Martina. She’s probably exhausted now after it all. Was the baby born this morning or last night?”

  “Ah, she was actually born on Monday morning,” James said. “But by the time she got out of the hospital and everything, I never got a chance to phone before. To tell you the truth, I was so busy I never even thought.”

  When she came off the phone, Lucy could tell there was something wrong. As soon as there was a lull in the shop, she asked Margaret to keep an eye on things and she told Sarah they were going upstairs for a cup of tea.

  “What’s wrong?” Lucy asked when they sat down at the table.

  “The baby was born last Monday and he never even bothered to let me know.” Sarah pursed her lips tightly together.

  “Maybe they tried and couldn’t get through. The lines can be bad at times.”

  “He didn’t try to phone. He told me he forgot all about me. And there was I, thinking just the other night that they might ask me to take a week off to come over to see the baby and maybe give Martina a hand.” She lifted her hands. “I know I’d said before that I didn’t want to meet people, but I was thinking that I could just stay in the house, that I needn’t have gone near the town . . .”

  “You could go anyway,” Lucy told her. “Go as a surprise. Margaret and I can manage on our own for a week.”

  “Martina’s mother has moved into my room to help them.” Her eyes filled up. “James made it quite clear that they don’t need me. He as good as told me that they had forgotten all about me.”

  “I’m sure they haven’t,” Lucy said, trying to console her.

  Sarah stood up. “It really doesn’t matter,” she said briskly. “I have the present all ready and I’ll get it in the post today.”

  Chapter 36

  In the middle of June Sarah received a letter from Sheila Brady telling her that Tom Lafferty had surprised her with an engagement ring on her birthday. She went on to say that they had set a date for August of the following year and she wanted Sarah to be her bridesmaid.

  “I know you said you won’t be able to make it over this summer,” Sheila wrote, “but surely your boss will give you the time off for your best friend’s wedding? If you don’t get over soon, James’s little girl will be all grown up and running about.”

  Sarah showed Lucy the letter when Margaret was on her lunch break and they were on their own.

  “I think you should reassure your friend that you’ll definitely go home for her wedding,” Lucy said. Then she raised her eyebrows and smiled. “Even if it’s just to let people know that your employer isn’t the terrible ogress they all obviously think I am.”

  Sarah looked at her from under her lashes. “I didn’t actually say that. I just said we were mad busy in the shop and, with my course and everything, I didn’t feel I could spare the time.”

  “I understand!” Lucy laughed. “I meant to tell you that I got a letter from Ireland recently, from my cousin and our mutual friend in Tullamore.”

  “Miss Reynolds?” Sarah asked.

  “Yes, she’s coming over in July with Father Kelly. Apparently, they’re going to visit an elderly nun who’s ill in a convent in York and they said they would come up to Newcastle for a few days to see us both and for Miss Reynolds to visit my father. They’re going to stay in a convent in Newcastle, so they’ll probably only see us for an afternoon.”

  Sarah looked at Lucy for a moment. “How do you feel about it?”

  “It will be nice to see them,” Lucy said, “but I feel rather awkward having to explain to people about my father’s condition.” Her face darkened as it always did when she talked about him. “He’s got much worse recently, and there are times when he hardly recognises me.” She closed her eyes. “And his language can be quite appalling.”

  “They’ll understand.” Sarah thought of the well-meaning, upstanding, old-fashioned teacher and the friendly priest and hoped she was right.

  When they were locking up that evening, Lucy asked Sarah when she was likely to see Lisha again.

  “Tomorrow night,” Sarah said. “She was so pleased with the dress she made that she’s bought material to make a similar one for her mum. They’re both coming down to the flat so we can measure the pattern for Fiona.”

  “I was just thinking that we could do with a Saturday girl and Lisha came into my mind. She wouldn’t have to do anything very complicated, just serve the customers who need basic things like needles and wool and that sort of thing, and bring the people who want alterations done down to the changing room. She could also make tea for us and tidy around the kitchen. What do you think?”

  “I think it’s a great idea. It will give her a bit of pocket money and get her out of the house.”

  “Well, when you next see her, ask her to call in to the shop on her way home from school and we can show her where things are and how to use the till. If she could start this Saturday it would be great as it would give her a couple of weeks to get used to things before I have the day off for the wedding.”

  “Is it that close?” Sarah asked. “Have you got your hat yet?”

  “I bought a little feathery thing, but I’m not sure if it’s right.”

  “You must bring it in to let me see it. Have you decided how you’re wearing your hair?”

  “I think I’m going to have it put up in a French roll.”

  Sarah tilted her head to the side, trying to picture it. “I’ve never seen you with your hair up. I bet you’ll look lovely, and it will really suit your outfit, but you’re going to have to be careful about what to wear on your head. A little fascinator works better than a hat if you have your hair up.”

  “Well, you were right about having my hair coloured, it’s made such a difference. The hairdresser said the grey made me look washed out.”

  “Well, you certainly didn’t look washed out the other evening when you tried on your outfit – you were absolutely glowing.” Sarah paused, choosing her words. “I think you look so well these days, Lucy, and
Harriet commented on it on Monday. She said how well rested you looked after the weekend. Do you feel any different?”

  “Yes,” Lucy said, “I do, actually. The doctor has also reduced my medication and I feel less tired and sluggish. I think it was the side-effects.” She smiled. “I feel a huge weight was lifted off me when I told you about Charlotte and, since we did all the renovations in the shop, I feel so much more positive about the business. Our takings are up practically every week and we’re still getting new customers.”

  “Having Margaret has made a big difference,” Sarah said. “We’re getting through alterations much more quickly now. I’m able to spend a good bit of the working day on them and we’re getting bigger sewing jobs. I checked the books and we did curtains for an office this month, bed curtains for the new ward in the hospital and curtains and cushions for a small hotel.”

  “That’s wonderful, but I hope it’s not tiring you out too much. I know you’re still working away here in the evenings and you have the work from the course as well.”

  ”It’s all going fine,” Sarah reassured her. “And I love the course. It’s so interesting; we’re learned so much about the history of fashion, and the influence of different designers. This week we’re studying accessories, so if you bring your suit in later in the week then we can go down to Fenwick’s one lunchtime and find something to wear on your head.”

  * * *

  Lucy came down to the flat on the Sunday afternoon – the day after the wedding – to check how things had gone in her absence. Sarah made them both a cup of Camp coffee with boiled milk, then she told Lucy how good Lisha had been and how well Margaret and the young girl were getting on.

  “Ah, that’s good,” Lucy said. “And no problems from the customers about Lisha’s colour?” They had noticed some shocked faces the first Saturday that the girl was behind the counter, and one or two of the regulars had asked why Lucy had picked a foreign girl to work in the shop. They had been politely told that Lisha wasn’t foreign having been born and bred in Newcastle, and that she had been picked because she was great at sewing and was a hard worker.

  “No,” Sarah said. “They’re getting used to her, and she’s such a cheery, helpful girl that after a while I’m sure they won’t notice anything different about her.” She looked at Lucy and smiled. “Now, tell me all about the wedding. Were you happy with your dress and jacket?”

  “I was thrilled with it! And I received countless compliments on it. Several women thought it was an actual Chanel design and couldn’t believe it when I said you had made it.” She lifted her brows and smiled. “I think I’ve got you a few commissions. I hope it won’t put you under pressure with the work you have to do for the course.”

  “I’m well ahead with all my projects,” Sarah told her, “and besides, you know I thrive on pressure.”

  “Oh, the outfit was perfect for the church with the jacket on, and then later when we were dancing I felt very comfortable just wearing the dress.”

  “Oh . . . dancing!” Sarah said, raising her eyebrows and laughing.

  Lucy laughed too and made a little waving gesture with her hand. “Oh, don’t tease me now.” She composed herself. “I had a lovely time and Peter was an absolute gentleman. Although he knew lots of the guests, he stayed beside me all through the day. He’s a really nice man, Sarah . . . I can’t believe how well we get on and how relaxed I feel with him. His poor wife was sick for over three years before she died and he helped nurse her. He actually took the last three months off work to care for her full time.” Lucy shook her head. “That is not easy for a man to do. And we were chatting so easily I was able to explain about my father and he just said how sad it was that the brain can be so affected, and that he could understand how hard it is for the family.” She shrugged. “I’m just amazed that in the last year I’ve met someone like you who I can confide in totally, and now I’ve met a man who I feel very relaxed with as well.”

  “You like him a lot,” Sarah said. “Don’t you?”

  “Yes,” Lucy replied, “I think I do. He’s asked me to go to the theatre on Wednesday night and I told him I would. At my age, what have I got to lose?”

  * * *

  The following Saturday when Lucy and Sarah came back from their lunch break, Lisha looked very awkward and flustered. As the afternoon went on she seemed to get quieter and only spoke when the others asked her a question. Lucy checked with Margaret if there had been any problems when they were out and she said no, things had just been normal.

  Eventually, Sarah brought her upstairs to the kitchen on the pretext of making tea. “Lisha,” she said. “I feel there’s something upsetting you – what’s wrong?”

  Lisha looked down at the floor. “It’s nothing,” she said. “I shouldn’t let it bother me.”

  “You’ll have to tell me,” Sarah said, “or I will start to imagine all sorts of things.”

  Lisha rubbed her hands to her eyes as though just waking up. “It was when I went to the shop for milk – when you and Miss Harrison were out. I was just walking back when his woman came up to me and asked if I was working in Harrison’s . . .”

  “And?” Sarah prompted.

  “When I told her I was she started shouting and swearing at me. She said Miss Harrison should be reported for only taking on foreign workers when there are plenty of local people who need jobs. I tried to tell her I was English, but she called me a ‘darkie’ and a ‘nigger’!”

  Sarah’s heart quickened. “Oh, no . . .”

  Lisha’s eyes filled up. “I’m used to it at school and I’ve learned to ignore it, but adults usually just stare at me – they don’t usually say things like that.”

  Sarah moved out of the chair and went to put her arms around the girl. “If you see the woman again, tell me and I’ll sort her out.”

  “She doesn’t come into Harrison’s, she told me. She said she wouldn’t buy anything out of it if it was the last shop in Newcastle.”

  It suddenly clicked with Sarah. “What did she look like?”

  The description could only have been Isobel Brown’s mother.

  “I have an idea who it could be,” Sarah said. She squeezed Lisha’s arm. “Try not to take it personally. We’ve had trouble from her before because her daughter wasn’t given a job in the shop. I’ll make it my business to keep an eye out for her.”

  * * *

  Sarah studied for hours on the Saturday night for an exam the following week. She went to bed around half past ten with the names of different designers rattling around in her head. She woke to the sound of voices outside and when she checked the clock it was going on for midnight. Noise outside was nothing new at the weekends as people often used Pilgrims Lane as a shortcut walking back from the pubs. When she heard the drunken attempts of a group singing “Rule, Britannia”, she pulled the bed covers over her head and tried to get back to sleep.

  The singing went on for a while – “Rule, Britannia” repeated over and over again in a mixture of tuneless male and female tones. It was some time later when there was a loud cracking noise which made Sarah sit bolt upright in the bed. She took a few seconds to gather herself together, to come to the realisation that she had heard the sound of breaking glass. She threw the covers back and ran across the floor to the window. There was nothing to be seen. She switched the light on, put her dressing gown on over her pyjamas then slipped her feet into slippers and went out into the hallway. She stood still and listened – but the only sound was the ticking from her bedroom clock.

  With her heart thudding she went down the stairs and into the shop, telling herself that there were neighbours close by in the surrounding buildings. The light from the streetlamp showed her all she needed to know. There was a huge, open crack in the window and when she went over to check there was a large brick lying in the middle of her new tableware display.

  She went straight to the phone and rang Lucy’s number.

  “I’ll call the police,” Lucy said, “and then I’
ll be with you in ten minutes.”

  Before the police arrived, half a dozen of the neighbours had come to investigate the noise.

  “Ah, it will be some of those drunken hooligans that have nothing better to do than cause trouble on a Saturday night,” the baker from the shop further up the lane said. “But you’d wonder at them attacking a sewing shop. What the hell would they get out of doing that?”

  When the police car arrived, the two officers checked if any of the neighbours had actually seen or heard anything of the perpetrators, and when they drew a blank, the group all dribbled away. Sarah was in the middle of giving any details she could remember when Lucy arrived. They all went upstairs into the kitchen and Sarah made tea and toast for the four of them while the officers took notes.

  “I’m afraid we’ve nothing much to go on,” the older of the two men said, shrugging. “We can only hope that some other witnesses might call in at the shop over the next few days and give us more information.” He stood up and put his hat on. “Call us if you hear anything else.”

  When they left Lucy and Sarah went to the stockroom and got big pieces of cardboard and some duct tape to cover the hole in the window until the glazier could come on Monday.

  Lucy then told Sarah to pack an overnight case.

  “You’re not staying here on your own until we’ve got the window sorted. You can stay with me until Monday.”

  Sarah shivered, suddenly feeling tired and drained. “I’m not going to argue with you,” she said, “but I’ll come back here to study during the day, as I have all my books and materials here.” She gave a deep sigh. “I have a horrible feeling I know who did this – or who organised someone else to do it.”

  Lucy nodded. “The lovely Mrs Brown.” She walked over to the boarded-up window. “The problem is, we have no evidence. We can call the police and tell them that we’re sure we know who did it, but unless we have a witness who saw her, there’s not a single thing they can do.