He stretched his hand out. “David McGuire – pleased to meet you.”
“Sarah Love,” she said. As they shook hands, heavy drops of rain began to fall.
“Well, Sarah Love,” he said, “you’re obviously not a native of Newcastle, are you? That’s a fine Irish twang you have there.”
Sarah’s face reddened further. “I’ve just come over . . . I arrived yesterday.” She wiped a few raindrops from her face.
He checked up and down the lane, then he took her gently by the arm. “Come in, come in,” he said, guiding her into the shop doorway. “You don’t want to get that lovely long hair all wet, now, do you?”
Sarah was flustered at the compliment. She wished she’d tied her hair up or plaited it. “I don’t want Miss Harrison arriving and thinking that I’m late.”
“She wouldn’t want you to get soaked through on your first day,” he said, raising his eyebrows. “We can watch from here.” He paused. “Would you like a cup of tea? Mrs Price just made a pot ten minutes ago.” He thumbed into the shop. “We have a handy little kitchen at the back.”
Sarah shook her head, feeling awkward and embarrassed at her predicament. “Thanks, but I won’t . . .” She moved a few steps forward again to check if there was any sign of her new employer, but there wasn’t.
“Do you like books?” He gestured towards the first set of shelves behind the door.
“I love them,” Sarah said, “when I can afford them, and when I have the time to read.” A picture of the library in O’Connor Square in Tullamore flew into her mind. She usually borrowed books as opposed to buying them.
“Miss Harrison is one of our best customers actually. She’s a great reader.” He was silent for a moment. “So what do you do with your time instead of reading, like?”
The picture was replaced by one of her nearly finished wedding dress. “I sew and knit.” She turned back to look out of the window.
“Well, I suppose that’s handy if you’re going to be working in a shop that sells all that kind of stuff.” He studied her now. “So . . . what brings a lovely colleen to Newcastle-Upon-Tyne?” He put a funny, heavy accent on the last two words, and Sarah wondered if his way of speaking was typical of people from the North East of England. She had been told by Father Kelly that they were often referred to as ‘Geordies’.
Sarah’s expression went blank now. She hadn’t expected him to ask her that. .
David McGuire looked at her curiously. “I’m only chatting – I don’t mean to be nosey . . .”
“I know Lucy Harrison’s cousin . . .” Her words came out stiff and stuttering. “She thought working in the shop might suit me.”
He nodded slowly. “Lucy . . . is that her name, like? I don’t think I’ve ever heard her called anything but Miss Harrison around here, and the older one that was there was a ‘miss’ as well.”
At that very moment Sarah heard footsteps coming up the cobbled lane and seconds later Lucy Harrison appeared, the shop keys jingling in her hand.
A wave of gratitude washed over her. “I have to go. Thanks for letting me stand out of the rain.”
“Any time,” he told her. “And we sell second-hand books as well.”
“I’ll be too busy with work for reading,” she said as she walked away. And far too busy for men.
Chapter 10
“I’m sorry you had to wait.” The shopkeeper looked flustered as she located the right key. She took a few moments to get the padlock open. “I didn’t sleep too well last night, and then I overslept this morning.”
“It’s not a problem, I’ve only just arrived,” Sarah told her.
David McGuire was right – the interior of the shop, while bigger than she had imagined, reflected a similar standard as the neglected window. Sarah’s heart sank as she glanced around as she followed her new employer across the floor to the long, wooden shop counter. There were dozens of rolls of material leaning higgledy-piggeldy up against a wall, and a few – obviously having fallen – lying on the floor. The two walls on either side and the back wall had shelves stacked precariously with various colours of wool.
Lucy indicated a door over in the left-hand corner. “We have a back area here,” she said, going across to it, “with a stock-cupboard and a kitchen and toilet.”
Surprisingly, the area hidden from the public was the tidiest area of all. The stock-cupboard was a reasonable size and the rolls of material and packs of wool were all laid out on shelves, while the kitchen had a small clean Formica table with four wooden chairs tucked under it. There was a sink unit with a couple of cupboards and a worktop with an electric kettle and toaster, and three matching jars for tea, coffee and sugar. There was even a small fridge. But the thing that surprised Sarah the most was the filled bookcase which stood against the wall beside the window. She opened her mouth to comment on it, and then thought better of it. The small toilet and sink were spotlessly clean and smelling of bleach and disinfectant.
“This is a lovely area.” Sarah was glad she could say something good.
“I know the rest of the shop isn’t up to scratch,” Lucy said in a defeated tone, “but I’ve been on my own for three months.” She went over to the tap to fill the electric kettle. She brought it back to the worktop and plugged it in. “It’s since Mary left to look after her mother, and I thought I could manage everything on my own until she came back.”
Sarah wondered if the shop and the window display could have deteriorated that much in three months. Perhaps Mary hadn’t been so fussy about things either.
Lucy gave a short sigh. “But it hasn’t worked out too well. Mary – Miss Shaftoe – it seems will be gone permanently, as her mother isn’t fit to be left on her own during the day. It’s difficult really, because while her mother is in her eighties Miss Shaftoe is over sixty herself. I think she’s probably going to retire now, and I can’t say I blame her.” She motioned towards the door. “I haven’t really got on top of things in the shop since she left.”
Sarah wasn’t sure whether her new employer was referring to the untidy state of the shop or to the business in general.
“I’ll be very happy to do anything you feel needs sorting out.” She was trying to pitch her response very carefully, so as not to imply any criticism.
Her job routine in the hotel back in Tullamore had run like clockwork – setting tables, checking menus, helping out in the kitchen until the customers started to arrive, serving and then clearing up. The same, day in day out. It was hard work but in a way she had enjoyed putting things back in order again after the lunchtime mess, and had felt a satisfaction seeing the tidy, set tables at the end of her shift. Of course there had been days when the job was so mindless that she could plan her sewing projects in her head as she went about her work. Sarah felt working in the shop was much more to her liking, and if Lucy Harrison would let her, she could put all her energy and enthusiasm for sewing into this new job,
“We’ll have a cup of tea,” Lucy said, “and then I’ll show you where everything is, and how to work the till.”
The customer bell sounded and Lucy looked up at the clock. “That will be Harriet – Harriet Scott. She calls in at this time most mornings.”
Sarah heard the quick, light footsteps coming across the shop floor and around the counter towards the kitchen. A small, slim girl of indeterminate age came in wearing a navy and red nurse’s cape and hat.
“Terrible morning, isn’t it?” She gave Sarah a beaming smile. She took the hat off to reveal a neatly tied bun of red hair. “So, this is the talented Irish dressmaker you were telling me about?”
Sarah thought the nurse’s accent was more like the lad’s from the bookshop than Lucy’s.
“This is Sarah Love,” Lucy said, then she turned to the visitor, “and this is Harriet Scott. Harriet is a District Nurse.”
The girls shook hands, and instinctively Sarah knew she was going to like Harriet.
“Have you time for tea?” Lucy went over to the teapot. “I�
�m making some now.” She poured some water from the kettle in to scald it, and then she opened the tea caddy and put three spoons of tealeaves in the pot.
“I suppose I could have a very quick one,” Harriet pulled a chair out from under the table, and then she sat down to face Sarah. “Haven’t you got gorgeous blonde hair? Tell me, what do you think of Newcastle so far?”
“Grand,” Sarah said, nodding and trying to smile as though she meant it. “I haven’t really seen that much . . .” She could hear her voice giving away her anxieties. “But I like the buildings and I’ve heard the cathedral is lovely.”
Harriet raised her eyebrows “Are you a Catholic? I suppose you are, being Irish.”
Sarah couldn’t remember ever being asked this before. “Yes,” she replied, “I am.” For some reason she thought that Lucy would have automatically told anyone this when she was discussing her new employee. Obviously not. Back home almost all the people she knew were Catholic, and everyone knew the small numbers who were Protestant.
Lucy put a mug of tea down on the table in front of her and another beside the nurse, then she brought over the sugar bowl and milk jug.
“I’m C of E,” Harriet said, matter-of-factly, stretching over for the milk. “Although I don’t get to church every Sunday. There are times when it’s too big an effort if I’ve been out dancing on Saturday night.”
Sarah caught her breath. Nobody she knew back home would ever say that they couldn’t make Mass because they had been out too late the night before. If they ever did ever miss Mass for such a reason, they would pretend they had something dramatically wrong with them as an excuse.
“Churches don’t matter – we’re all God’s children,” Lucy said. She paused as though she was going to say something else, then she shrugged her shoulders. “Although there are many days when I wonder if He even knows we’re here.”
“I suppose that’s when our faith is tested,” Sarah said, thinking of how angry she felt with God last week. Thinking how angry she felt with God every time she went over her situation in her head.
There was a small silence and then she remembered Miss Reynolds’ advice when she left her at the boat in Dublin a few days ago. She’d warned Sarah that she would be in a big city with every kind of religion in it. For all she knew, Lucy Harrison might not even be a Catholic. Her cheeks started to flame, realising that her comments might infer that she thought everyone believed in God and went to church. She reached for the milk jug, trying to look confident and relaxed. Trying to look as though she didn’t regret speaking out.
Lucy put a plate with half a dozen digestives on the table and then sat down. She glanced at Harriet. “Have you a busy morning ahead of you?”
“Yes,” she said, reaching for a biscuit. “I’ve a new mother on the round, the little five-year-old fellow who has polio in his legs, and the usual elderly patients. When I’m finished I’m in the clinic in the afternoon.”
“It sounds like a really interesting job,” Sarah said.
“And she’s good at it,” Lucy Harrison said. “For a girl so young, she has a very wise head on her shoulders.”
Harriet smiled and shook her head, embarrassed. “I love it, so I’m very lucky doing something I really enjoy.”
The shop bell sounded and Sarah went to stand up.
“I’ll get this,” Lucy said. “You finish your tea”
When Lucy went out into the shop, Harriet gave Sarah a sympathetic but friendly grin. “It must be very different for you over here. Have you worked in a shop before?”
“No, I worked in a hotel, but I love sewing and knitting.”
“Well, that definitely helps when you’re in a place full of needles and wool,” Harriet laughed.
“Do you knit yourself?” Sarah asked.
“A bit, it depends on my time and my moods. I’m more of a reader.”
“There’s a bookshop just across from here.”
“I’m one of their best customers,” Harriet said. “I buy loads of books, although mainly second-hand.” She lowered her voice. “The manager – David McGuire – is really lovely.”
“I think I met him this morning.” Sarah was deliberately vague about meeting him, as she didn’t want anyone to think she was only here five minutes and was already making herself familiar with people.
“He’s gorgeous, isn’t he?”
“He seemed a nice lad,” Sarah said. “I was waiting outside the shop for Lucy this morning and it was raining. He saw me and said I could wait inside the shop for her, which was decent of him.”
“He’s that kind, he’d do anything for you,” Harriet said. She glanced towards the door, checking that Lucy couldn’t hear. “I’ve been trying to find out if he has a girlfriend, but he just laughs and jokes and you can’t ask him anything serious.”
“Doesn’t Lucy know? She must see him every day.”
Harriet rolled her eyes to the ceiling. “That’s not the kind of thing that you could ask Lucy. She has no interest in men – especially not lads our age. What about you? Have you left a boyfriend behind in Ireland?”
Sarah’s heart quickened. Lucy Harrison obviously hadn’t told her. “No . . .” She couldn’t lie as the nurse would probably find out. “Well, actually, I was engaged . . . I was supposed to have got married . . .” Without warning, her eyes suddenly filled up. She reached in her jacket pocket for a hanky.
“Oh, Sarah . . .” Harriet reached over to touch her arm. “I’m sorry I asked. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
Sarah rubbed her eyes with the hanky. “No, not at all,” she said. “How could you know?” She halted. “I should have been married this coming Saturday.” She took a deep breath. “But he did the dirty on me with one of my best friends.”
“Oh, no!”
Sarah nodded. “I just found out last week. And it was even worse. He came up to tell me she was expecting his baby.”
Harriet gasped. “You poor thing!” She took Sarah’s hand in both hers. “No wonder you’re upset. Imagine them going off together like that!”
“But they didn’t,” Sarah explained. “She lost the baby, and then he and his mother came up to see me – to try to get me to go ahead with the wedding.”
“I don’t believe it! Tell me you’re joking?” Harriet’s eyes were wide.
“I wish I was. I had no option but to leave – I had to get away.”
“You did the right thing.” She patted Sarah’s hand. “You’ll get to like it here. Lucy is quiet but she’s a good decent woman. You’ll get on fine together.”
Sarah nodded. “I hope so . . .”
Harriet took a final mouthful of her tea. “I’ve got to go.” She stood up and reached for her nurse’s hat. “I hope the rain keeps off.” She walked towards the door. “It was lovely to meet you, Sarah.”
“It’s lovely to meet you, too. It’s nice to see a friendly face when you’re in a strange country.”
“Oh, Newcastle has lots of friendly faces, and you’ll be sick of the sight of me soon.” The young nurse smiled. “I call in here most days, depending on my round.”
Sarah followed Harriet into the shop. They chatted as Lucy put the customer’s wool and knitting needles into a paper bag, then put her money in the till and gave her change back.
Lucy joined them when the woman left.
“I’m off to brave the rain,” Harriet said, pulling her hat down over her red bun.
Lucy walked to the door with her. They started talking in low voices, and, feeling that their conversation might be private, Sarah walked back to the kitchen.
Then Sarah heard Harriet say, “If you don’t feel the sleeping tablets are mixing well with your other medication, you might have to go back to the doctor.”
Sarah went over to the sink and turned the water on to make sure she couldn’t hear any more.
Then the shop bell sounded as Lucy closed the door and, shortly afterwards, Sarah went back into the main shop.
Sarah noticed her new employ
er had a despondent air about her. Sarah bit her lip. She had something to ask and she needed to do it sooner rather than later.
“Can I just check something with you, please?” she ventured.
“Yes?”
“I was just wondering . . . what should I call you? You didn’t say . . .”
“Call me? What do you mean?”
Sarah felt her neck start to redden. “Should I call you Miss Harrison or should . . .” She shrugged, feeling like a silly schoolgirl.
The shopkeeper’s eyes narrowed as she pondered the question. “Actually . . . Lucy will do. Mary – Miss Shaftoe – who was here before you, preferred us to use our surnames, but personally, I don’t think it matters.”
The doorbell went and a customer came in and Sarah watched and listened as Lucy showed the woman patterns for a baby’s matinee jacket. After that a woman came in looking for needles for a sewing machine and while Lucy served her, Sarah attended to a young girl who was looking for three balls of blue wool.
Sarah waited until Lucy had finished with her customer, then she gave her the bag with the wool in it so she could ring it up on the till.
During the next quiet spell Lucy showed Sarah the drawers that held knitting and sewing needles of every length and thickness, crochet hooks, hooks and eyes, press-studs and a variety of sewing implements she had never seen before. Then she showed her how to measure the yards of material on the counter using the long copper ruler on the top and edge.
She was in the middle of showing her how to use the till when the bell went. Two elderly women – obviously sisters – came in, linking arms. They were both white-haired and small.
“Will I serve them?” Sarah asked.
“If you like. I’ll be through the back if you need me.” Lucy hesitated. “Will you be okay about the money? Do you know all the different English coins and notes?”
“Yes,” Sarah said, “I made sure I got used to them travelling over. I’ll be careful not to mix them up.”
“And if you remember not to speak too quickly.”
Sarah Love Page 8
