Sarah's Story

by Lynne Francis

  There was another reason for her choosing to absent herself from Joe, too. Once Sarah was seeing patients again after Annie’s birth, she received one of her regular visits from Ramsay, the manager at Hobbs’ Mill. She had long been supplying him with a remedy for his mother that she swore was the only thing keeping her alive after all these years. It was a mild nerve tonic, faithfully replicating Ada’s original recipe, and had successfully kept her tendency towards dark thoughts and anxiety at bay. Now he was keen to consult Sarah about his daughter, Molly, whose cough was proving troublesome.

  Ramsay always shared whatever news and gossip he had from the mill although Sarah, having left there over six years ago, sometimes struggled to remember most of the people that he referred to. This time, though, was different.

  ‘I had some sad news this week,’ he said, as Sarah stoppered the bottle of tonic for his mother.

  ‘Oh?’ she said, looking up, her attention caught.

  ‘You’ll remember the lad that lodged with you and your grandmother for a while when he was working at t’mill here? He were based in Manchester – Daniel Whittaker, his name was. Went off to work in mills in America.’

  Sarah tried to make her response casual, although her heart was beating wildly. ‘Has something happened to him? You mentioned sad news …’ Her voice trailed off.

  ‘Aye, he were caught up in an accident at sea. The ship he were on got hit by another in the fog and down it went. He were three days out of New York, on way to Liverpool. It were in t’ paper,’ Ramsay added, in case Sarah needed reassurance that he was telling the truth.

  ‘There were no survivors?’ Sarah struggled to raise her voice above a whisper.

  ‘Oh, aye. One boat of about twenty souls. But all the rest lost. A terrible tragedy.’

  Ramsay went on to tell Sarah more about the report in the paper and how Daniel’s name was on the list of those drowned, news that had come to him from the manager of the Manchester mill where he had once worked.

  ‘Daniel had arranged to visit them while he were back. They were right shocked an’ upset,’ Ramsay proclaimed, solemnly.

  Sarah could barely remember anything about Ramsay’s subsequent departure, other than his apologies for not delivering such distressing news ‘with a sight more tact’, and a promise to get his wife Ivy to bring their sick daughter to see him at the first opportunity. She had shut the door on him then rested her head against it.

  She had heard from Daniel only once after he had left her, that September morning nearly five years before. A letter had come with an American stamp and she had been terrified, sure that the village would find her out in her guilt. She had to remind herself that Daniel had been a friend to the family before he had become anything else, and there was no reason why she shouldn’t receive a letter from him.

  ‘My dearest Sarah,’ it read. ‘I have thought long and hard about writing to you, and have tried so very hard not to do so. If only you knew how many letters I have begun and discarded, fearful of causing you problems or pain. But perhaps I am being thoughtless in attributing my own feelings to you, too. Yet, when we parted, I felt sure that our feelings were entwined. Sarah, you are married, with a beautiful daughter. I know that I can never be part of your life but I wanted you to know that you will always be part – a major part – of mine. I love you, Sarah, even though you can never be mine.

  Daniel.’

  The letter had arrived a month after Daniel had left. Sarah had read it every night, alone in her bed, and kept it under her pillow. After another month it was beginning to tear along the creases and a month after that, fearful that she would be unable to find a safe hiding place for it before Joe next returned, she threw it on the fire. By then, every word of it was committed to her memory and treasured in her heart. The letter had upset her equilibrium and added fuel to the anger she had felt when she discovered that Joe had stolen from her cashbox, shortly after his return from prison.

  Yet when Ella was born, Sarah had once again resigned herself to the way things were. Daniel was, without doubt, a better man than Joe, but Daniel lived in the United States and she wasn’t married to him. She was married to Joe and must make the best of how things were, for the sake of her family. She could at least carry the memory of Daniel’s words with her and know that, wherever he was, she was never far from his thoughts.

  Sarah took that comfort from Ramsay’s revelation. The routine of her days and the demands on her time by the patients, her family and Joe meant that she could push the worst of her thoughts away until it was time to go to bed. Then, with Annie tucked up beside her and Thomas sleeping peacefully on the other side of the room, she could silently indulge her grief and sense of loss. Her dreams were filled with the crash of waves against the side of a great ship as it foundered, cries of panic muffled in the fog. She was there in the cold greyness, desperately searching for Daniel’s familiar features among the faces of those thronged on deck. She tried to push her way through them, calling out his name, but they didn’t move, turning their backs on her and shutting her out until they faded away into the fog and she was alone.

  Time and again, she awoke weeping, fearing that she had called Daniel’s name aloud. But the children slept on, undisturbed, and Joe’s regular snores sounded along the landing.

  Chapter 60

  If Joe was aware that anything other than the birth of their fourth child was keeping his wife from his bed, he didn’t show it. He tried his best to win Sarah round and, although his visits were no more frequent, he was at his most charming when he was there. He didn’t push or wheedle or make demands and the passage of time allowed Sarah to mourn in secret. She was grateful to him for that, although she took care not to make it apparent what was going on in her head.

  After a year had passed she could no longer use the excuse of needing to nurse Annie as a reason to stay away from his bed. Yet she did not want to risk having another baby. Although they were managing well enough as a family of four children, due to Alice being so much older and able to help care for the younger ones, Sarah found that her own health was increasingly bad in the winter. The cough that had afflicted her at the mill returned as the weather worsened and on some winter mornings she could barely drag herself out of bed to prepare breakfast. The remedies that she created for herself had only partial success yet, as the weather improved in the spring, so did her health.

  So Sarah had returned to the marital bed but had become quite adept at managing Joe’s advances, generally making sure that she didn’t go up to bed until she knew that he was asleep. The household settled into a new pattern and, although Joe’s homecomings remained unannounced, Sarah found herself starting to look forward to having him around again. The children were all getting older and life was becoming a little easier to manage; at times Sarah wondered whether Daniel’s death had contributed to this. There was no longer any prospect of escape, no matter how improbable; no reason to believe that things could ever be other than they were.

  A hot summer’s evening when Annie was three years old was to change all of that once more. It was the last day of Joe’s leave before he had to return to his boat, and the sunny weather, after a disappointing summer, proved irresistible to the family. A picnic lunch in the garden, with a joint of cold ham, pickles, cheese and bread, turned into an indolent afternoon. Alice and Ella sprawled in the shade on a blanket while Thomas poked things in their ears and Annie pulled their hair to get their attention.

  After a while, Alice was persuaded to take Thomas off to the field to watch for rabbits. Annie curled up between Ella and her mother and fell asleep, while Sarah herself dozed. She awoke to the sensation of someone stroking her arm and the curve of her collarbone and she lay for a moment without opening her eyes, enjoying the sensation. She thought that it was one of the children and a small smile played on her lips but, when she opened her eyes, it was to find Joe’s face very close to her own.

  Startled, her instinct was to pull away but Joe put his fingers to his l
ips and shook his head, indicating the sleeping family at her side. Unable to move, she closed her eyes again and let herself relax. It was a long time since any hands other than small ones had stroked her face. She was almost sorry when she heard Thomas’s chatter as he and Alice climbed over the fence and came back up the garden. Joe squeezed her hand and smiled ruefully as she struggled to rouse herself fully and sit up.

  That evening as the family sat over a late supper, Sarah watched Joe as he teased Thomas, who was sleepy again and inclined to crankiness. Joe’s face was more lined now with age and his hair was increasingly grey, but the memory came back to her of how she had felt about him when they first met. That was more than fifteen years ago now. Could it really be so long?

  She shook her head as she thought of her innocence back then. She had been drawn to his smile and his confident pursuit of her and she had responded, without a thought of what lay ahead. She had been young and foolish, with a notion in her head about what marriage meant that bore no relation to the reality. It had been a hard life with Joe but they had got this far and she knew she must look to the future and hope that what lay in store was a promise of many happy and fulfilling years.

  That night, Sarah didn’t wait for Joe to fall asleep before she went up to bed. He seemed surprised by her presence when she slipped between the sheets beside him and she took his hand and pressed it to her cheek. He turned to her, wordlessly, and she felt as though her love for her husband had returned and with it an ardour that she had never experienced before. When he woke at dawn to set off for the canal she clung to him and he was reluctant to part from her.

  ‘I’ll be back afore long,’ he promised. ‘Mebbe you’re right. ’Tis time to find work that doesn’t keep me apart from you and the bairns for such a length o’ time.’

  He sighed and Sarah found herself moved by the despondent expression on his face. She went down to the kitchen and packed up some of the leftover ham and cheese so that he would have some supplies to send him on his way, then she stood on the doorstep and waved him off as the sun rose, casting shafts of misty light through the trees. It promised to be another fine day. Sarah, too wide awake to return to bed, took herself out into the garden and tended the herb beds, snipping off dead leaves and flowers and enjoying the aroma of the crushed vegetation before returning to the house to greet the family as they awoke.

  Six weeks later, as strengthening winds blew the few remaining leaves from the trees, Sarah had to accept that what she feared would happen had come to pass. She was with child again. Her face was grim as she thought of the discussion she must have with Joe when he was next home. She must persuade him to look for work locally with some urgency and they must agree that there would be no more children.

  Her small frame showed this, her fifth pregnancy, at a very early stage. She thought Alice had noticed it, for she seemed to have increased her efforts to be a helpful daughter. She was not only consistently patient with the little ones but had started to help her mother by logging all the dispensing of remedies, and the payments, in the ledger, which was a vital part of Sarah’s work.

  Christmas came and went with no sign of Joe’s return. The weather was harsh and Sarah put his absence down to the fact that once again his boat must be stuck in the ice, waiting for better weather to release it. She resolved to go down to the canal in the New Year and ask whether anyone there knew of his whereabouts, although part of her felt that he would be sure to arrive before she would need to do so.

  By the time that the snow and frost had eased it was March and Sarah was too big with child to undertake the journey. She considered sending Alice, but balked at the thought of sending her alone on such a mission, and so she persuaded herself that Joe would be back at any moment. Several times a day she was convinced that she heard him whistling as he came along the road. Surely that was the sound of the latch on the gate as it opened? Weren’t those his footsteps coming up the path?

  She caught Alice watching her closely on more than one occasion, so she tried to stop herself showing any signs of the growing unease that she was feeling at the length of Joe’s absence. When Beatrice, or Beattie as she very quickly became known, arrived in a bit of a rush two weeks early, Joe had still not shown his face at Lane End Cottage. Sarah’s emotions veered between anger and fear. Martha, who had been on hand for the birth as she had for all of Sarah’s babies, pursed her lips and shook her head as she swaddled the latest arrival.

  ‘You need to track down that husband of yours and have words with him. He can’t be going gallivanting off like this with nary a word and you having five mouths to feed now. Your grandmother will be turning in her grave. I don’t know how you get by …’

  The truth was Sarah had ceased to rely on Joe’s money, which was always erratic in appearance, a long time before. She knew, though, that she needed to be well enough to be up and out of bed and able to see her patients within a week or two. She couldn’t afford for any of them to start looking elsewhere – to the new doctor in the village, for example. She thought it unlikely, as they all swore by her remedies and had stayed loyal to her, but she mustn’t give them the opportunity.

  It was hard to conjure up the warm feelings that she’d had towards Joe when she’d last seen him. Martha was right: she needed to make him see that things must change, once and for all.

  ‘I’ll get back to work first,’ Sarah told herself, ‘and then I’ll make that trip to the canal to see what they know down there about the whereabouts of Joseph Bancroft.’

  Chapter 61

  ‘I wonder, could you tell me where I might find Joe Bancroft?’

  Sarah hoped her request sounded polite but firm. The man had stepped out from his hut on the towpath by the locks, seemingly intent on barring her passage. Sarah didn’t know whether the towpath was a public right of way, but she wanted to impress on him that she had genuine business there. She was nervous he would deny her, though; his dog, which had been curled up inside the tiny hut, came to the door and growled at her.

  The man regarded Sarah with some suspicion. ‘Tha’ll not find him here,’ he said. He paused, observing her, and Sarah, suddenly aware that she had been twisting her wedding ring on her finger in a state of anxiety, stopped and clasped her hands in front of her. During the walk down to the canal she had become increasingly nervous. She’d left Alice in charge of the children and for the first time, alone and away from the house, she had allowed herself to speculate at length on what might have kept Joe away from them for so long. Such reflection had just caused her agitation to increase.

  The man considered, then decided to take pity on her. ‘Ask down there.’ He jerked his head towards the row of narrow-boats moored along the bank.

  ‘Kitty,’ he bellowed suddenly, startling Sarah, then he tipped his cap to her and retreated back inside his hut, shushing the dog.

  Sarah set off uncertainly along the towpath, not sure where she was meant to go until she spotted the figure of a woman who was watching Sarah approach from the cabin of a boat moored a little way along.

  When they were first married Sarah had been curious about Joe’s lifestyle on the boats, and his work there. He’d answered her questions but hadn’t encouraged her when she’d suggested that she might accompany him there one day and she had long ago stopped asking to visit the canal. Bringing up Alice – and then Ella, Thomas and Annie – very much on her own had taken up all her time. She had ceased to think of the canal dwellers as a community of which Joe was a part and, instead, had come to regard it as a place of work, which she resented for taking him away from home so often. Now, she was struck by what she observed as she made her way along the towpath.

  The boats were closely moored, nose to tail or in some cases side by side. It looked as though the only living space available on each boat was a tiny cabin at one end – the rest of the space was given over to a hold to store cargo. Clearly the community was making the most of being moored up for a while: washing was strung along the towpath hedgerows to
dry in the spring sunshine and children of all ages were running up and down, playing tag, while dogs, excited by the activity, barked from the decks where they were chained.

  The woman, who Sarah presumed must be Kitty, was now standing on the towpath with her hands on her hips and regarding Sarah with apparent hostility as she approached.

  ‘I was looking for Joseph Bancroft,’ Sarah said, dispensing with any niceties of greeting for the woman really did look quite formidable.

  ‘And what might you be wanting with him?’ Kitty demanded.

  Sarah was taken aback. ‘He’s my husband. I believe he works on one of the boats here.’

  Kitty’s expression changed. She no longer looked so menacing. In fact, Sarah thought, she looked shocked. Surely Kitty was the name of Joe’s sister, the one who had visited him in prison when she was in desperate straits? Could this be her? Although Sarah had managed in the end to suggest meeting her and seeing what help they could offer to her and her children, Joe had brushed the suggestion aside. He had never mentioned that she had become a canal dweller, too.

  ‘You’d best come in,’ Kitty said at last, stepping back onto the boat and pulling aside the curtain that separated the cabin from the tiller. ‘I was afeared you were an inspector, coming to check on the children. Although those inspectors are usually men, ’tis true.’ She seemed to be talking to herself as she stood to one side, jerking her head at Sarah to indicate she should get on board.

  Three or four of the children, wearing clothes noticeably more ragged than the others, although clean, had gathered by the boat, their curiosity piqued by the visitor. Kitty shooed them away with some vehemence.