Harriet’s shoulders instantly relaxed. “Oh, leave the poor girl alone,” she said. “When she’s ready she’ll come with us – won’t you, Sarah?” She put her arm through Sarah’s arm as though they were life-long friends.
David looked exaggeratedly dejected now, as though his attention had all been in jest. “Ah well . . .”
“I’m sure Harriet’s a good dancer,” Sarah’s voice was deliberately light, as though she hadn’t noticed his disappointment. She went to open the book then she suddenly remembered. “I’ll get that sixpence for you now.”
Lucy was still on the phone in the back-shop as Sarah went past her into the kitchen to get the money from her handbag. She loitered about for a few minutes, putting the mugs into the sink, giving David and Harriet time to talk on their own. Instinctively, she was sorry for Harriet – it seemed obvious that David had no interest in a romance with her. But Sarah knew that he liked her. She’d had enough lads after her back home to know when someone had his eye on her. Also, she didn’t know how serious Harriet’s feelings were for him, and she would hate her to feel there was any competition when there most certainly wasn’t.
The shop-bell rang and Sarah took the sixpence and went back into the shop, knowing that both Harriet and David would go now that a customer had appeared.
* * *
The morning was busy with customers collecting their alterations and others depositing items to be altered. When they were having a cup of tea around eleven o’clock, Lucy commented that the takings were up on previous Wednesdays.
“We’ve also sold a lot more knitting patterns for gloves and scarves,” she told Sarah, “and we’re completely sold out of the pattern for the rag-doll you have in the window.”
“That’s great, isn’t it?” Sarah checked.
“Of course, because we’ve also sold all the things needed for the doll like embroidery thread and stuffing. We haven’t sold much more material because people use the odds and ends they have at home, but it’s still extra sales.” She paused, thinking. “Will you be okay tomorrow on your own?”
Sarah looked at her quizzically.
“I usually have a Thursday off . . .” She cleared her throat. “But I can cancel it if you feel it’s too soon to leave you on your own.”
Sarah thought quickly. “I’ll be grand. You have your day off.” She sounded confident but inside she wondered whether she would manage if a crowd of customers came in all at once. What if someone wanted to order something they didn’t have? She hadn’t learned about the ordering system with the wholesalers yet.
“Are you sure?” the shop-owner checked.
“I’ll be fine.” She would ask about the ordering system later, and if the worst came to the worst, she would wait until her employer returned on Friday. “I’ll just do everything the way you’ve shown me.”
Lucy raised her eyebrows. “I think you would actually be much better just doing things your own way, Sarah.” She smiled. “Anything you’ve done has been an improvement, so just continue.”
On her way home from work, Sarah stopped at the grocer’s shop again and bought another chop for Anna, some carrots, a tin of peas and a packet of Bisto to make gravy. When she got back to the house in Victoria Street, she changed into a comfortable sweater and skirt. She had a cup of tea and then she started peeling the potatoes and carrots for the meal she had promised to cook.
“Well, this is a lovely meal to come home to,” Anna said, when she sat down at the table. “I’m absolutely starving.” She immediately started cutting into her chop.
“It’s a pity the others were working,” Sarah said. “I’d have been happy to cook for them as well.”
Anna grinned at her. “Don’t worry, when they hear how good a cook you are, you’ll have plenty of opportunities!”
Sarah beamed back at her. It had been a good day
* * *
Thursday went by even quicker than the previous days. The window-cleaner came in the morning, and Sarah noticed the sparkling glass made a real difference in the shop window. Every day she added something she had made the night before at home to the display – a mixture of bright knitted items and things she had sewed. The latest items were peg-bags and tea-cosies. She didn’t have a pattern for the peg-bag, it was just something she had made up herself, and she was delighted when several customers asked if she would make one for them.
“I’ll have to check with Miss Harrison,” she told them. “But if it’s okay with her I’ll make a few up to sell in the shop.”
As the day progressed, instead of being anxious at coping with the shop on her own, she found she was actually more relaxed and confident. She managed the customers easily, working quickly and asking anyone who needed more detailed advice on knitting and sewing patterns if they would wait a few minutes longer until she’d served the others first.
At lunchtime Sarah slipped out for a few minutes to buy a pie and a cake and after taking a break to eat them, she went to work on her alterations on the shop sewing machine. Apart from saving time, it meant she wouldn’t bump into David McGuire. He had dropped into the shop in the afternoon, but when Sarah made it plain that she was too busy to chat, he left quickly.
The day flew in and by the time she closed the door at half-past five, she knew that the shop takings were up again on the previous days. She also had a feeling of satisfaction knowing that in less than a week she could run Harrison’s on her own.
Chapter 15
When Sarah came home from work on Saturday afternoon, her mind was full of all the things that would keep her busy over the weekend. She had two bags of alterations and a skirt to make for a customer. If she got through everything for the customers, she had plenty of sewing she wanted to do for herself.
She dropped the bags upstairs in her bedroom, and then came down to the kitchen to make a sandwich. After that, she planned to walk back into the city to have a look at the shops. Her wage packet had held more than double the amount of money that she’d got from the hotel. She had checked the amount of rent she had to pay for her room with Lucy Harrison, and she would ask the girls how much she owed for the heating and lighting, and for the communal foods they bought.
She calculated that she would be able to save a bit of her wages every week, and she would add the money she made from the alterations to that as well. The shopkeeper had told her that anything she did outside of her working hours was her own business.
She was sitting eating her sandwich when she heard the front door opening. She looked up expectantly to see a medium-built girl with long hair who she didn’t know.
The girl did a double-take. “Ah . . . you’re the new one,” she said. “Someone mentioned we had a new one.”
Sarah realised it was the trainee doctor she hadn’t yet met. She smiled and put out her hand. “I’m Sarah – Sarah Love.”
“Vivienne Taylor-Smith.” Her face remained serious. “Are you Irish?”
Sarah smiled. “I am, for my sins.” As she looked at her, she noticed that the girl’s face was badly marked with small acne scars.
Vivienne raised her eyebrows. “We have lots of your kind working in the hospital.” Her words were short and clipped. “Nurses mainly. In fact, we’re inundated with them. Don’t you have hospitals back in Ireland?”
Sarah felt a sudden jolt at the trainee doctor’s abrupt manner, then she caught herself. She still wasn’t used to the different English accents and their way of going on. She shouldn’t take offence. “We don’t have the number of hospitals at home that you have here. I think it’s hard for nurses to find work there.”
“You would wonder at so many Irish girls training to be nurses, if they know they won’t find work back home. They are obviously planning on staying here long-term.”
She walked over to the kettle.
“It’s just boiled,” Sarah told her.
Vivienne switched the kettle back on. She moved across the room to stare out of the window, which looked out on the wall from th
e house next door. “Are the others out? The house seems very quiet.”
“They must be . . . I’ve not seen anyone since I came in. I do half-days Saturdays.” She paused. “I think Jane said she was on day-shift today, so she probably won’t be in until later.”
“And what are you doing over here?” Vivienne asked. “What do you work at?”
“I’m in a sewing shop in town.”
“A shop?” Her voice was high with surprise.
The front door went again and then shouts of greeting were heard as Elizabeth and Anna came bustling into the kitchen carrying bags of shopping.
Anna’s round face was red and damp. “I’d swear that hill gets higher every day.” She dropped the bags and threw herself down into one of the chairs in an ungainly heap.
Vivienne raised her eyebrows. “You need to get fitter.”
Sarah caught her breath, wondering if her colleague was going to be offended at the pointed remark.
“No, I’m fit enough,” Anna said, not sounding in the least offended. “We just need to buy less shopping!”
They all laughed now, and it made Sarah feel that she was out of step with them. Vivienne’s remark had obviously been a joke and she was too sensitive. She sat there for a while longer, sipping her lukewarm tea while the others made drinks and sandwiches and came to sit at the table beside her.
“We bought new dresses for the dance tonight,” Anna said. “The same style of dress but in different colours.”
Vivienne gave a little snort of laughter. “You’d look like the Teaser Twins except funnier because you’re totally different shapes.” She walked over to sit at the table. She kicked one of the shop carrier bags. “Come on then, let’s see what you bought.”
Anna reached down the side of her chair and lifted up a Fenwick bag. She brought out a sleeveless pale green dress with broad shoulder straps and a large bow at the waist.
“Very nice,” Vivienne said. “Hold it up in front of you and let me see how it looks.”
Anna did as she was told.
“The colour definitely suits you . . .”
Anna smiled. “Thanks.”
Vivienne hadn’t finished. “I’m just not sure if that bow is best placed for your stomach.” She bit her lip. “I don’t want to throw cold water on things . . . it’s just that I know you’re conscious of it and wouldn’t want to draw attention to your worst feature.”
“It looks lovely on her,” Elizabeth said quickly. “The bow – everything about it is nice.”
Vivienne shrugged. “Well, if you’re both happy with it, that’s terrific.”
“I’ll have to try the dress on again, and see how it looks,” Anna said, folding it over and putting it back into the carrier bag. “You can’t always tell with shop mirrors.”
Vivienne clapped her on the back. “I’m sure it will be just fine . . .”
Sarah noticed that the heavier girl’s neck was flushed and she now looked uncertain about the new dress. She could feel the tension in the room and was amazed that neither of the girls had tackled Vivienne about her rudeness. Then, she was suddenly reminded of her brother’s wife, Martina, back home, and all the nasty, personal comments she used to make. She had often had to bite her own tongue and rush to the solitude of her bedroom to avoid a major row. Anna was obviously doing the same thing.
Sarah noticed that Vivienne didn’t ask to see Elizabeth’s dress. The nurse had the slim type of figure that any dress would look well on.
Sarah finished eating her sandwich in silence, then she said, “I’m going down to the shops for few things, so if anyone wants anything . . .”
“I think we have everything we need,” Elizabeth said, smiling appreciatively.
She wanted to say to Anna that if she needed the bow moving or altering, she would be happy to do it, but she didn’t want to look as though she were making an issue of it in front of the others. She would wait until she came back, and speak to her alone.
She washed her plate and cup and went back to her room.
A short while later as she was coming downstairs with her coat and handbag, Sarah heard Vivienne’s raised voice coming from the kitchen. Something in the trainee doctor’s tone made her halt in her tracks.
“I’m not at all happy,” Vivienne stated. “I think we should have been consulted about this before she came. It’s us who have to live here and we must have some rights. Mr Spencer had no business sending her here without talking it over with us.”
“The landlord decides who lives in this house,” Elizabeth stated. “Nobody asked me or Jane if it was okay when you and Anna came. We were just asked if we would be in when you arrived. There was no discussion about it, and it’s no different with Sarah.”
“But it’s entirely different,” Vivienne argued. “I’m sure he knew you wouldn’t have any problem living with two educated English girls.” She paused. “This is a matter he should have consulted us over.”
Sarah stood listening, her feet rooted to the stairs. Then, as the conversation continued, she began to feel a sickness in the pit of her stomach.
“I think she seems a nice, quiet girl,” Anna said. “I don’t see what the problem is.”
“The problem is she’s different.” Vivienne’s voice was shriller now as she enunciated each word clearly. “This is supposed to be a house for professional women. She’s not professional – she works in a shop and she’s Irish. Our landlord didn’t ask us if we wanted to share with someone like that. If I wasn’t working tonight I would go straight down to his house and demand an explanation.”
“It’s too late,” Anna said. “We can’t possibly ask her to leave now.”
“The woman she works for is a friend of theirs,” Elizabeth added. “She brought Sarah here when she arrived, and she seemed a perfectly nice Englishwoman.”
“I’m sure that Sarah is from perfectly decent people,” Anna chipped in again. “I don’t think we should be judging anyone just because they’re not English.”
“Well, maybe some of us have higher standards,” Vivienne snapped back. “And I for one would like to have been consulted about whether we brought a foreigner into this house or not. It’s bad enough we have to live across the road from coloureds, but having to share a house – share a bathroom – with a common Irish worker is just a bit too close for comfort.”
“Shhhh!” Elizabeth’s voice was urgent. “She’s just upstairs – she’ll hear you.”
Sarah put her hand over her mouth. She was afraid to move now in case the old wooden stairs creaked and they realised she was outside listening.
“Surely you’ve heard the terrible reputation the Irish have – haven’t you, Anna? Drunken and dirty. Some of them have never even seen a proper bath until they came to England.”
“I really don’t agree with you,” Elizabeth stated. “Sarah seems a very clean and tidy person to me, and her clothes are smarter and more professional-looking than most of mine. I can tell she’s not the sort to get drunk – and she didn’t look surprised when we showed her the bathroom, so I think you’re wrong about that too.”
Sarah felt the smallest flicker of comfort when she heard the nurse defending her.
“You hardly know her,” Vivienne went on. “Wait until she’s been living here for a while. And even if she is nice she’s still only a shop assistant. She’s only a step up from the Irish skivvies in the hospital and she’s not the sort who should be living with professional women. Just give her a while and her true colours will come out. Wait and see.” She gave a snort of laughter. “We should have had one of those signs put up outside saying, ‘No blacks, No Irish, No dogs’.”
Sarah could hardly breathe now.
“Enough, enough!” she heard Anna say now. “Enough of the arguing. Who wants a cup of coffee?”
Sarah closed her eyes. My God! she thought. Vivienne really didn’t want her in the house, and all those awful things she’d said about the Irish. She obviously thought they were backwards and ignoran
t. Even Elizabeth, who had defended her, would be shocked if she knew she had grown up in a small cottage with a makeshift toilet and a tin bath. Sarah had never imagined that any of this would matter.
Her mind had been so taken up by what she had left behind – the loss of everything that was familiar – that she had never considered what might lie ahead. She had just presumed it would be like living in a bigger part of Ireland – somewhere like Dublin. Somewhere with decent people – friendly people. She didn’t think people would look down on her and would be so horrible about her being Irish.
Her heart was thudding now – so hard she could feel it against her ribs. What on earth had she done coming to live with people like this? And if things didn’t get better – where would she go now?
She stood a few moments longer, and then eventually she moved herself and went down the stairs and out of the house. When she got to the gate she stopped, and took in great gulps of air. Tears started to sting her eyes, but she blinked hard to force them back.
Then, a feeling of determination rose up in her. The same determination that had given her the strength to walk away from Con Tierney and Patricia Quinn.
She had been wronged once and survived, and she would do it again. She would not lie down and let people walk all over her. She would show that stuck-up bitch of a medical student and her cowering friends that she was as good as them in every way. She would use the bath so often that they would be sick of knocking on the door to use it themselves. Her instincts were always to be clean around the house, but she would make sure that everything she used would be scoured and cleaned to the last. They would be sick of the smell of bleach and disinfectant.
And she would make that horrible Vivienne eat her words. She didn’t know how she was going to do it yet – but she would find a way.
* * *
Sarah was closing the gate behind her when the door opposite opened and the young dark-skinned girl came out and onto the street. She glanced across at Sarah and then she looked away and started to walk down the street
Sarah Love Page 13
