The afternoon flew in and the stock flew out. Several dresses were favourites and the racks were soon empty and Sarah had to go upstairs and bring down more. By five o’clock several of the rails had no dresses on them with all the replacements sold too.
Sarah noted down the designs that were gone and was already planning a full day’s work tomorrow to make sure she had more in stock for Monday.
The hats and scarves were a big hit too, since the spring weather was still on the cool side. Sarah kept a close watch on everything, checking which things were favourites and which ones were not hitting the exact note she had hoped for.
And then it was half past five and the last customer was served, giving the girls little time to tidy things up and get it ready for the formal opening at six o’clock. Lucy came across wearing a black A-line sleeveless dress which had a big daisy motif around the hem which stopped just above her knee. She wore a white skinny-rib top underneath and two rows of long black beads.
“You look fantastic!” Sarah told her.
Lucy leaned forward in a conspiratorial manner. “I had to make a special effort when my dear husband has been honoured by being asked to make such an important opening speech.”
“Oh, don’t!” Sarah said, “You’re making me feel nervous talking like that.”
“Relax,” Lucy told her, patting her hand. “It will all go perfectly.”
More and more people arrived, and Sarah found she would be busy chatting to one group and then she would feel a hand on her shoulder and turn to find another group waiting for her behind.
When it was busy enough, Sarah got Diana to bring out the trolley with the glasses and the wine to distribute to the guests. She then signalled to Diana and Adele to go around the crowd with bowls of cashew nuts and trays of cheese and pineapple on cocktail sticks, and round crackers spread with pâté and cheese-spread with shrimps.
Peter arrived and, after checking the microphone system for his speech, he and Sarah went through to the stockroom to get the champagne and the trays of flutes. When she came back into the shop, she was delighted when she caught sight of Harriet Scott making her way through the crowd, hand in hand with a short, stocky fellow with longish hair and a beard.
“This is Kevin,” she told Sarah and Lucy, her eyes sparkling. “He’s a pharmacist in the hospital. He couldn’t believe it when I told him you made all these clothes yourself.”
“If you knew the hours she puts in,” Lucy laughed. “You wouldn’t be surprised at all.”
Kevin laughed and shook hands with them and both he and Harriet congratulated Sarah on the shop opening and gave her a card and a box of chocolates. Sarah got them wine and, after chatting for a while, Harriet dragged him off to look at the rails of clothes.
A short while later Peter made his way through the crowds to Lucy. “I think it’s time to start the formalities now. I don’t think many more people can fit in the shop.”
Her eyes darted to the art-deco clock above the service counter. “Give me two minutes. I just need to check that everyone is here. You find Sarah and let her know you’re ready to begin.”
When Lucy came back she waved to Peter from the door and he took up the microphone.
Everyone fell silent, eyes fixed on him.
He started off telling the guests about a young girl from Ireland sewing in the bedroom of a white-washed cottage, dreaming of the day when legions of young women would be walking around wearing outfits she had designed.
Sarah kept a fixed smile on her face as she heard the sentimental description of her teenage years and wished this part of the night was over. She felt self-conscious at being the focus of everyone’s gaze, but knew it was the business end of things that she would have to endure.
Peter went on for a while, explaining the work behind getting the building ready and the long hours Sarah had put into getting the stock ready for the opening. Sarah occasionally stole glances at the assembled crowd and offered up a silent prayer of thanks that so many people had turned up to support her. She looked at Lucy, whose gaze remained firmly fixed on Peter and felt both happiness and a slight touch of envy at her friend’s good fortune in finding such a solid, supportive and kind man.
Her mind wandered off for a few moments as she wondered if she would ever find anyone like that to share her life. She had come across plenty of men in her time in Newcastle – the handsome doctors at the party, the men who eyed her up in restaurants, the businessmen she came in regular contact with. But none of them had raised the smallest spark in her. There was only one man who had managed to do that.
Suddenly, there was a burst of applause and everyone turned towards her. Then she realised that Peter was beckoning her up to the microphone to say a few words.
She held her hands up and shook her head, but still found herself being propelled towards the front. And then she knew there was no point and gave in.
She took the microphone and then stood for a few seconds gathering her thoughts.
Her voice wavered when she started off but quickly became stronger and clearer.
“I have many, many people to thank here this evening,” she said, “but there is one person who I will never be able to thank enough for the help, advice and friendship she has so freely given since I came to Newcastle not that long ago. That lovely lady is the owner of Harrison’s shop across the way – Lucy Spencer – and I’d like you all to give her a huge round of applause!”
She then went on to thank Peter for all his legal and professional advice and all the local business people who had been so supportive, the staff of Love boutique, giving a special mention to Lisha and her mother who had helped with the making of some of the accessories on sale. She gave a special thanks to the girls in Victoria Street who had put up with the whirring of her sewing machine at all hours of the night, and got a big cheer of delight from Vivienne, Anna and Elizabeth. She looked for Jane but couldn’t see her and then, just as she was winding up with final few words of thanks, she spotted her friend at the door with a well-dressed dark-haired man.
It was when Peter popped the cork on the bottle of champagne and the crowd all cheered, that something made her glance over at the door again to where Jane had been standing. Both she and her partner had moved. Lucy rushed forward to hug her and then Peter came over to them with half-filled champagne flutes.
“Thank you,” Sarah said, holding the glass up to them both. “You have given me the biggest support I’ve ever had in my life.”
Lucy touched her glass to Sarah’s. “You have lots of people – lots of friends supporting you here today.” She looked over Sarah’s shoulder. “And you’ve a special one coming towards you now.”
Sarah turned and saw Jane making her way through the crowd with a big beaming smile on her face. “Congratulations, darling!” she said, throwing her arms around Sarah’s neck. “This is the start of something very, very big. But then, we all knew that.”
Sarah’s eyes filled with tears. “Oh, thank you!”
Jane let Sarah go and, smiling, stepped to one side.
Sarah’s heart suddenly stopped. “My God . . .” The words wouldn’t come.
“Congratulations,” David McGuire said, taking her hands in his. “I decided I couldn’t miss seeing the fruits of all that hard labour.”
She looked at him, unable to take it in. “I can’t believe you’re here . . . I’d no idea . . . you sent the beautiful flowers . . .” She turned back to Jane but she had disappeared again. And then she realised that Lucy had moved as well. They were standing on their own.
David guided her by the elbow over to a space at the side of the room.
“I’m here because I got a phone call from your friend, Miss Harrison.”
“Lucy? When did she phone?”
“Last week . . . but I wasn’t sure whether to come or not. I wasn’t even decided when I ordered the flowers yesterday . . .” He took a deep breath and shifted his gaze to the wall just above her head. “I don’t know how to
say this. I didn’t want to come because I didn’t want to be like the big Irish fellow . . . I couldn’t bear it again.”
“David . . .” Sarah said, her hand coming up to touch the side of his face. “You’re nothing like him.”
He looked directly at her now. “She said you told her you have feelings for me . . . more than just friendship?”
She looked into his eyes and knew she had too much to lose to stay silent. “I do,” she said, “And I realised it some time ago. I love you, David – I love you with all my heart.”
He didn’t react, but there was something in his eyes that made her continue.
“And I know the right thing would have been to have said nothing to anyone – but I couldn’t.” She closed her eyes for a moment. “It would have killed me . . . I had to let my feelings out. So I told Lucy.” She swallowed hard. “I don’t even know if you have any feelings left for me . . .”
“And – what if I have?” There was vulnerability in his voice.
“I’m willing to try anything,” she said determinedly. “Anything at all to make it work. I know that your life is down in London and I’m up here – and that’s all my fault – but I’ll travel down at weekends. If things work out, I’d even move to London if that’s what it takes.” The intensity of her feelings could not be mistaken. “Just tell me what I need to do, David . . . and I’ll do it.”
He seemed to consider her words for a moment and then suddenly the rigidity went from his face and he broke into a smile. His arms came around her waist and his mouth came down on hers. As she returned his warm hard kiss, Sarah knew without a doubt that she had found the friend, the confidant – the one true love she hadn’t known she’d been searching for. The crowd and the music, the celebratory noise and everything else just fell away. They stood wrapped together until at some point they both became aware of clapping noises behind them.
Sarah eased out of her arms to find Peter and Lisha, and all the girls from the house cheering and clapping while a single tear trickled down Lucy’s face.
* * *
Later, back in Sarah’s flat, they talked about how they would manage the future.
“I’ll come back to Newcastle,” David told her as they sat on the sofa, with their arms wrapped around each other.
“How?” she asked.
“I don’t know exactly how I’ll do it, and it may take some time, but it’s the only way that will work.”
“What about the bookshop in London?”
“I’ll see about selling my partnership in it,” he said. “I have a feeling that some of the family will be interested in it.” He shrugged. “If it works out that I can afford to keep the partnership, then we’ll just get a manager in my place.”
“And what will you do up here?”
“I’ll find something.” He sounded confident. “I can live at home until something comes up. I have savings and my grandparents have always told me that there’s money there for each of the grandchildren from when they sold the building business. They offered me it for the shop in London, but I managed to raise the money myself.”
He squeezed her shoulder. “I’m not worried at all.”
“You know Thomson’s are in financial difficulties?” she said. “I’ve heard they might be closing permanently.”
He smiled at her. “I heard that too.” He raised his eyebrows. “It was another reason I came up here today. I’m going to spend a bit of time on Monday, finding out what’s going on there.”
Sarah sat up straight. “Do you mean you didn’t just come up to Newcastle to see me?”
He glanced away. “How could I know what was going to happen? How could I know you were going to tell me all those things?”
“Oh, David . . .” She buried her face in his chest. “I’ll never be able to tell you how sorry I am for treating you like that.” She was silent. “What will your family think of me? Will they hate me for taking so long to realise? Will they understand how difficult it was for me starting all over again after what happened in Ireland?”
“They understand already,” he told her. “Every time I went home or phoned home they kept asking if I’d heard from you yet. My granddad even had a bet with me that we’d end up together. After last summer I wouldn’t have given tuppence for his odds – but now the old sod will probably be rubbing his hands together in glee . . .”
Sarah laughed and then reached up to kiss him playfully on the nose. “I have so much to find out about you . . .”
“And I,” he said, suddenly grabbing her and laying her sideways on the sofa, “am looking forward to getting to know every single inch of you.” He then moved until her was lying on top of her and Sarah was left in no doubt as to what he meant.
The last time she had been in such a position with Con Tierney, her heart had been racing for all the wrong reasons and her instincts had been to fight him off.
With David, she knew they both felt exactly the same. When she realised she loved him, it was because she knew that she wanted and needed him in all the right physical ways. When the subject of marriage came up, as she knew it would, she would tell him it would have to be soon. Very soon.
The sky was dark and the streetlamps were on as he was leaving. They walked across to Thomson’s bookshop and looked in through the shadowy window.
“Wouldn’t that be amazing if we ended up with businesses next door to each other?” David said.
“I couldn’t imagine anything more perfect. It would be a dream come true.” She hugged his arm. “I’ll be counting the days until you’re back in Newcastle.”
He halted, thinking. “If all goes to plan, we’ll end up married and settled here, but I’ve often wondered will you miss Ireland? Will you some day think you might want to go back there to live?”
“My home is here,” she told him with great certainty, “but there’s a part of my heart in Ireland – in Tullamore – and it always will be.”
“We can go over for a holiday any time you want.”
“Oh, we will,” she told him, tightening her grip on his arm. “I’ve already got you lined up to accompany me to a wedding and a christening in the summer.”
He pulled her closer to him. “We’ll have to check out the dates – we don’t want it to clash with our own wedding plans.”
Sarah smiled. “I suppose I’d better get started on the dress soon.”
The End
If you enjoyed Sarah Love
by Geraldine O’Neill why not try
Leaving Clare also published by Poolbeg?
Here’s a sneak preview of Chapter One.
Chapter 1 Leaving Clare
April 1958
County Clare, Ireland
Rose Barry woke at half-past eight to a blue sky more suited to August than April, and the smell of bacon and sausages wafting through the small cottage that she shared with her parents and grandmother Martha, her seventeen-year-old brother Paul and her two younger sisters Eileen and Veronica.
One of her first thoughts was whether Michael and Ruairí Murphy would call in at Slattery’s pub that afternoon. Most of the local girls had an eye for them but working part-time in the only pub-cum-shop in the area gave the dark-haired, eighteen-year-old Rose a distinct advantage. Well, if they didn’t come in during the afternoon for their usual Saturday game of cards, they would definitely be there later on. The two lads spent most weekend nights in Slattery’s, joining in with the music sessions – Michael on the fiddle and Ruairí on the accordion.
Rose smiled at the thought of the day ahead and threw the bedcovers back.
Martha Barry had been up and about a good hour or more before Rose stirred. Dressed in her customary cross-over, flowery apron, she had lit the stubborn old Stanley range and then set about cooking breakfast for the whole family as she routinely did at the weekends. Rose’s mother, Kathleen – a dark-haired, good-looking woman who was an older version of her daughter – had left the house around eight o’clock as usual. She worked in the local
Guards’ Barracks, doing all the cooking and washing and general looking-after of the Guards.
“You should have taken a bit of a lie-in for yourself,” Rose told her grandmother as she sat down at the white-painted kitchen table. The comment was only perfunctory, as it would have been a sad Saturday if she had no cooked breakfast made for her.
“Ah sure, a young girleen like you needs a decent bite when you have a good walk ahead of you and then be on your feet all day at work.” Martha put the plate of bacon, sausage and black and white pudding in front of her grand-daughter, then affectionately tousled her thick, straight hair. “You can make a start on that. I have a bit of fried soda bread and an egg still cooking in the pan for you.”
Then she went back to the range where she would stay contentedly for most of the morning until all the family had been fed.
The twenty-minute walk down to Slattery’s bar at the quayside was all the more pleasant since it was such a lovely sunny morning, and Rose called out or stopped to chat to various neighbours who lived in the whitewashed cottages along the way. On a fine morning there were always people around the houses, bringing in turf or emptying ashes or going in and out tending to the cattle.
Rose’s Saturday shift started off on a high note when she arrived at the pub to find that the landlord and his wife were all dressed up and ready to head out for a day in Galway. Mary Slattery was bustling around in her good red coat between the bar and shop, her black court shoes tapping on the old stone floor, while Joe was huffing and puffing about being made to wear a suit and kept running his finger inside the neck of his starched white shirt.
“Will you leave your shirt alone, for God’s sake!” Mary hissed as she went to the till in the shop with a bag full of copper which would be needed for change.
Joe looked at Rose, rolled his eyes to the ceiling and sighed loudly.
Mary put her hands on her hips and gave him a long look. “Get yerself out to that car and get it warmed up,” she told him, “and don’t be acting the eejit with me this morning!”
Sarah Love Page 41