Alice set off at a great pace down the hill, ignoring her mother’s warnings to be careful and not to catch her foot in a rabbit hole. Sarah watched her daughter’s dark curly hair bouncing down her back as she leapt from tussock to tussock, screaming her enjoyment as she ran. When she caught up with Alice at the bottom of the hill, Sarah scolded her for her disobedience.
‘But it was fun,’ Alice protested. ‘And see – I came to no harm. I’m sure you did it when you were young.’
Sarah was silenced. It hadn’t been that long ago that she had roamed freely around these hills and fields, without a care in the world. Now here she was, just twenty-four years old and, she reflected, living a life filled with responsibility. Pushing the thought away, she took Alice’s hand in hers and they set off along Tinker’s Way, Alice chattering non-stop until they were in sight of Lane End Cottage, when she stopped abruptly.
‘Who’s that at our gate?’ Alice asked.
Sarah, squinting against the low sun, saw that there was indeed a figure at the gate, deep in conversation with Martha. As they drew closer, she observed that it was a man, holding a pale-coloured straw hat in his hands.
‘I don’t know who it is,’ Sarah replied, at the very same moment as she recognised the visitor for who it was – Daniel.
Surely, though, Daniel was in America now? Whatever was he doing here in Northwaite? With barely fifty yards separating them, and the memory of their last meeting suddenly uppermost in her mind, she was seized by the inclination to turn and flee even as her feet took her mechanically forwards.
‘Sarah, here you are at last!’ Martha called out as they approached. ‘Look who’s come to visit! I was trying to persuade him to step inside but he insisted on waiting for you.’
Fleetingly, Sarah saw Martha as if through Daniel’s eyes. Even if the slurring of her words hadn’t given her away, her florid complexion and stoutness, both relatively new acquisitions, bore witness to the fact that daytime drinking was now habitual for her.
Alice sidled behind her mother’s skirts, overcome with shyness, as Sarah greeted Daniel.
‘What a surprise! I thought you long gone to America. What brings you to these parts?’ Without waiting for an answer she opened the gate. ‘Won’t you come in? You must be hot from your walk – I do believe Alice and I saw you as you passed along Tinker’s Way.’
She could sense that she was prattling, out of pure nervousness, but didn’t seem able to stop herself.
‘Alice, come out and show yourself. This is Daniel. You were very fond of him when you were small.’ Sarah attempted to extricate Alice, who had now buried her head in the folds of her mother’s skirt, necessitating an awkward crab-like shuffle to the kitchen door.
‘Martha, thank you so much for looking after Daniel. I’ll call round later to see how you do.’ Sarah politely but firmly made it clear that her neighbour’s company was not required. She knew only too well how Martha, made jolly by the drink, would dominate the conversation before either falling asleep or becoming aggressive. She took good care of her neighbour, though. She was in the habit of checking on her every evening, to make sure that she had eaten and that she hadn’t fallen asleep leaving the house in danger of burning down from a neglected fire or lamp while she slept.
Martha, who had begun to follow them up the path, turned away muttering. Sarah ushered Daniel into the kitchen and closed the door firmly.
‘Let’s go and sit in the garden. It’s so hot for September but there’s some shade out there.’
Sarah busied herself with glasses and set these and a jug of elderflower cordial on a tray. Daniel, who had been trying to coax Alice into overcoming her shyness and making friends again, moved quickly to take the tray from Sarah. She followed him into the garden, despatching Alice to fetch a blanket that they could sit on. Sarah’s heart was beating fast and she hoped that she was managing to disguise how unsettled Daniel’s visit had made her. Casting covert glances at him while she prepared the tray, she had noticed that he appeared to have filled out a little and gained some frown lines on his forehead. Other than that, the passage of time had left him largely unchanged.
‘So,’ she said, when they were all settled with glasses of cordial, ‘what brings you here?’
Daniel took a deep draught of his drink. ‘Why, I’ve only just discovered that Ada has died. And that it happened nigh on two years ago. Why ever didn’t you let me know, Sarah?’
Sarah was taken aback. Why hadn’t she let Daniel know? She thought back. She supposed it was because she had no address for him in America and, perhaps, had been reluctant to try to find one.
‘It was so sudden, Daniel. It happened without warning. She was buried within the week and my mind was in turmoil. It never occurred to me to try to track you down in America.’
Sarah and Daniel looked at each other. The mixture of emotions that she had felt on seeing him was replaced by a wariness of his mood, which bordered on irritable.
‘So, how did you hear about Gran?’ Sarah asked, trying to unravel what had brought him there.
‘I was in communication with the mill at Northwaite. I asked the manager how you did and he wrote back that you had left some time before, after your grandmother died. I felt that there was no time to write and await a reply from you, when I was due to visit Manchester anyway, so here I am.’ Daniel’s expression and words implied that he was still put out by the manner in which he had discovered what had occurred.
‘I’m so sorry, Daniel.’ Sarah was contrite, then a thought struck her. ‘Did you and Gran not correspond regularly? Did you not wonder why her letters ceased?’
Daniel looked a little uncomfortable. ‘I was so busy on arrival in the United States, finding somewhere to live and getting my wife settled.’ Sarah gave what she hoped was an imperceptible start. ‘Some months passed before I wrote to Ada with my new address and, when I didn’t hear anything in return, I assumed that my letter or her reply had gone astray. I resolved to write again but I confess a year or more must have passed. Then a trip back to the mill in Manchester became necessary so I thought it would be more easily done from here.’ Daniel looked despondent. ‘I had no idea that it was all too late.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Sarah said again. She described a little of what had happened on that fateful day, taking care not to cause upset to Alice, who had wandered away but was now back, clutching her rag doll Tilly.
‘Will you stay and eat with us and tell us about your adventures?’ Sarah asked.
‘My return passage is booked from Liverpool the day after tomorrow but I must say that I have little wish to make the return journey to Manchester this evening,’ Daniel said. ‘If I can impose on you to let me stay in my old room I will be up and on my way before daybreak tomorrow.’
Sarah was surprised to find that Daniel would be leaving England so soon. They hadn’t seen each other in nearly four years and she thought that she had successfully shut him out of her mind in that time. Now that he was here, she was no longer sure. She turned away from him and fussed over Alice, tugging her rumpled pinafore into a semblance of neatness, to hide her own expression.
‘That’s settled, then,’ Sarah said. ‘You can sleep in your old room.’
She was relieved that Alice had, as yet, refused to move into the room that Daniel had once used. If she had, Daniel would have had to sleep in the room that still remained her grandmother’s, in Sarah’s mind, despite the passage of so much time.
Daniel unbent a little now that it was apparent he hadn’t purposely been denied knowledge of Ada’s passing. The rest of the afternoon passed swiftly, with Alice deciding that Daniel could be her friend after all. She conducted him around the garden, Tilly in tow, to show him all her favourite hiding places while Sarah watched briefly, a smile on her lips, before quickly moving on to prepare some food for them all.
Chapter 54
With dinner eaten and Alice tucked into bed, despite her sleepy protests, Sarah lit the fire in the parlour in honour
of Daniel’s visit and to drive away the evening chill that had set in under clear September skies.
‘I must say I expected to find Joe back here with you now,’ Daniel said once they were settled by the fire.
‘Not yet,’ Sarah said. She was reluctant to be drawn into discussing Joe with Daniel, feeling a sudden shame at the thought of her husband. How different he was from Daniel! She had managed to successfully shut Joe out of her thoughts on the whole. Since Ada’s death it had become obvious to her that she must be entirely self-sufficient and, right at this moment, the thought of Joe’s return was an unwelcome one.
‘How are you managing, Sarah?’ Daniel asked suddenly. ‘How are you earning a living now that you’ve left the mill?’
Sarah explained how she had taken over from Ada and built the practice so that she was now the best-known herbalist for miles around. She felt a sense of pride as she described her achievements to Daniel. ‘Also,’ she added as an afterthought, ‘Ada did leave me a small legacy to help provide for the future.’
‘A legacy?’ Daniel’s expression was hard to read.
‘Yes, she’d inherited a little from her own grandmother who was an artist and had kept it untouched, even adding a little to it over the years.’
‘Do you mind me asking where it is now?’ Daniel asked.
Sarah hesitated, colouring up. ‘It’s in a safe place,’ she said.
‘In the house?’ Daniel pressed.
Sarah was puzzled. Did he mean to ask to borrow money? His manner of dress suggested prosperity so it seemed unlikely but even so …
Daniel spoke again, breaking into her thoughts. ‘You must excuse my blunt questions. They were only intended to help you protect your money. I wonder, had you considered putting them into a savings account, at the Post Office for instance?’
‘A savings account?’ Sarah was doubtful. ‘Surely the money is safer kept where I can see it?’
‘Well, that’s the popular opinion,’ Daniel conceded. ‘But what if the house should catch fire or someone should discover your hiding place and take your money?’ He didn’t specify who that ‘someone’ might be but they both knew that he meant Joe.
‘I’ll think about it,’ Sarah said, having no intention of doing so. Daniel persisted, explaining how she could earn money on her legacy by, in effect, lending it to the Post Office who would pay her interest in return. Intrigued by such a novel idea, but still wary, she promised again to look into it, although this time she actually meant it.
The rest of the evening passed in more wide-ranging discussion, Daniel describing his journey by steamer to New York from Liverpool, how the city he found on arrival was bigger than Manchester, set on a great waterfront along the East River and with every square inch of space seemingly crammed with buildings as far as the eye could see. He spoke of a great bridge that was being built across the water, with towers of brick set in the river and huge loops of steel holding up what would be carriageways for pedestrians, horse-drawn carriages and steam trains running in both directions, side by side. Sarah shook her head in wonder, trying hard to imagine the marvels his words evoked.
Daniel was frustrated with himself. ‘I’m not doing it justice. I should have thought to bring a newspaper with me from New York – there are always photographs of the city, and of the bridge as it grows. And I hear there are plans afoot to build some of the tallest buildings in the world there, even though it already has some that are higher than I ever saw in Manchester.’
Such modern developments were clearly very much to Daniel’s taste, Sarah thought.
‘And where do you live?’ she asked tentatively. She wasn’t sure that she wanted to know too much about where Daniel lived with his wife but felt it would be polite to enquire.
‘Not in New York as you might expect. The mills are in New England so we had to travel further north, to Rhode Island.’
As Daniel described the wildness of the ocean bordering the land and the great cities growing there, then went on to describe the technical advances being made in the American mills, Sarah sat back. She found herself nodding, understanding less than half of what he said but captivated by watching and listening to him. She had a feeling that Daniel had moved a long way from her in life, not just in geographical miles, and he would move yet farther still. Nevertheless, she was enjoying the evening, and Daniel’s company, so much that she kept finding new questions to ask him to delay his departure for bed, only too conscious that in the morning he would be gone.
‘Do you have children?’ Sarah asked finally. It was the closest she could get to the topic she had been skirting around all evening, that of his wife.
A shadow crossed Daniel’s face. ‘No, we don’t.’ He hesitated, then said in a rush, ‘And I fear we will not. My wife came back with me to England but she will not be returning to America. She has chosen to stay here, instead. With her parents.’
There was a long silence as he gazed into the fire. Sarah didn’t know how to respond and the silence deepened. Daniel looked thoroughly miserable and she longed to reach out to him, but held herself back.
At last, he spoke again. ‘It hasn’t been a happy marriage, Sarah.’ He turned to look at her, and his expression was sombre. ‘My thoughts were too caught up in you and I hoped that by leaving the country and marrying I could suppress them. It was a mistake.’
Sarah was unable to withhold a gasp at his words. Agitated, she rose from the fireside, and Daniel did the same, both of them aware that words had been spoken that now could not be unsaid.
Daniel hugged Sarah to him suddenly, making her gasp once again. He held her so close that she could barely breathe and then he kissed her on the cheek. He didn’t let go and she half-feared, half-hoped that he might turn her face towards him and kiss her on the mouth. She knew she would be lost if he did and so she broke free, heart hammering, and stammered that she needed to check on Martha before turning in.
As she stumbled down the garden path in the dark, quite sure that Martha would be either abed or fast asleep in a chair at the kitchen table, she felt her cheek burning as though branded by Daniel’s lips. She let herself into Martha’s house, trying all the while to make sense of Daniel’s words. Listening to his description of life in America she had felt no envy – it was so far beyond her understanding that she couldn’t find it in her. But she had felt a terrible pang when she thought of herself and her own future. Was her destiny always to be hard at work and caring for others? Was she to be forever denied the happiness that she once thought would be hers when she married Joe?
Now, with Daniel’s revelation about the unhappiness of his marriage, she was forced to re-evaluate. Suddenly she felt on a more equal footing with him – both of them trapped in marriages that were a mistake, both of them doing their utmost to make the best of things. Reaching a decision all at once she felt strong in a way that she hadn’t since her single-minded pursuit of Joe, so many years before.
She checked that Martha was safely in bed, with no candles left burning and the fire already low in the grate, before quietly moving the empty bottles to the kitchen sink. Perhaps they would serve as a reminder to Martha of how much she had drunk when she awoke, although, if they did, Sarah doubted she’d heed the warning beyond mid-morning, when she’d already be feeling the need of her first drink of the day.
Sarah returned home and quietly tidied up before preparing to mount the stairs to bed. She hesitated on the landing, all previous certainty draining away. Daniel had already told Sarah that he would be gone before she and Alice awoke in the morning, needing to return to Manchester first before journeying on to Liverpool. If she crept silently past his room, without stopping to check whether she could hear his sleeping breath, then all would go on as before.
But, as she tiptoed past his door, it opened silently and Daniel stood there, a dark outline in the doorway. It was impossible to make out his features but Sarah stared for a moment before tentatively stretching out a hand towards him. She laid her palm flat
against his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath his shirt and his heartbeat, fast and strong, echoing her own.
This time, when he drew her towards him, she was sure. He stepped backwards into the room, quietly closing the door with one hand as he kissed her mouth. She lifted both hands to her head and pulled the pins from her hair, feeling a sense of release as it tumbled free.
Sarah was glad of the darkness. It allowed her to feel that she was someone else, somewhere other than in her own home, her daughter asleep in the next room. It allowed her to immerse herself in the sensations of Daniel’s hands in her hair and on her body and to give back to him the pleasure that he was giving her. She wished that every minute of their night could be a day, while at the same time not allowing herself to think at all.
When she finally fell into a light sleep, Sarah dreamt of Daniel. She saw the pair of them as though observing a painting, his freckled face flushed lightly with heat, his hair darkened and damp with sweat. She saw his arms wrapped around her; arms that were far paler than Joe’s because of the hours he spent indoors but nonetheless muscled because of the work he did with heavy machinery. She awoke with a start to find Daniel standing at the bedside, already dressed, the thin light of dawn breaking into the room.
‘Come back to bed,’ she whispered, before she could stop herself.
Daniel shook his head slowly, biting his lip. Then he bent forward and kissed her forehead, her shoulders and the dip of her collarbone before he raised her hand to his cheek. He held it there for a moment, his eyes closed, before gently resting it down on the sheet. Then he stepped swiftly to the door and was gone, without looking back.
Sarah lay awhile, watching him in her mind’s eye as he walked down the path then headed into the village before taking the road down to Nortonstall and the station, to await the first train of the day. She could hardly bear to leave the warmth of the bed, and the memories of what had passed there during the dark hours of the night, but she must make her way to her own bed before Alice awoke. She closed her eyes briefly, hugging the memory of Daniel to herself, catching the faintest scent of him still there on her skin. Then she arose, gathered her clothes up from the floor where they had been scattered, and crept cautiously to her own room, taking care to avoid waking Alice.
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