Sarah Love

by Geraldine O'Neill

  “Are you going to ten o’clock Mass in the cathedral in the morning?” he asked.

  “I haven’t really thought about it. There are three Masses on so I’ll see which one I’m ready for.”

  “I might see you there.”

  For a moment she considered telling him that Harriet would be upset if she was to become too friendly with him, but she decided against it as it might seem like she was betraying her friend. Besides, David would probably say he didn’t care what Harriet thought. Then she would have to explain she had no interest in courting. On the other hand, he could easily laugh and tease her that he was only being friendly and she would feel a fool. She didn’t know him well enough to gauge his reaction – so she said nothing.

  She took her key out. “I thought you would have gone to a church nearer your home.”

  “It depends,” he said. “Sometimes I fancy the change.”

  She stood on the doorstep. “Thanks for the Coke and for walking me back. It was good of you.” She put her key in the door. “I’ll probably see you Monday.”

  The house was silent when she went in. She went upstairs to her room and closed the door behind her. The girls would be out for the night and she would have the house to herself. She heaved a sigh of relief.

  She sewed for a few hours – making six peg-bags – then she went down to make a cup of tea and a slice of toast. She worked on until almost eleven o’clock and then she changed into her dressing-gown and went to the bathroom, taking her toiletries with her and her towels.

  The water went lukewarm after a while, so when the bath was just half-full she poured in a capful of her rose-scented bubble bath and got in. She washed her hair in the bath with the shampoo and then knelt to rinse it off under the now-cold water from the tap. She wrapped the smaller towel around her head and dried herself with the larger one, then put her dressing gown back on. She put the tops back on her bubble bath and shampoo bottles and put them in a corner along with her blue facecloth and soap. She carefully washed the bath out and rubbed any splashes on the sides and the floor with a piece of toilet tissue.

  Back up in her room she rubbed her hair as dry as she could and then brushed it all out. The length and weight meant it took ages to dry properly, but it wasn’t a problem tonight as she knew she wasn’t going straight to sleep.

  She returned to her sewing. Some time later she heard the girls coming back in. They went into the kitchen and a few minutes later she heard footsteps coming up the stairs. They stopped outside her room and then a light knock came on the door.

  “Sarah?” she heard Elizabeth call. “I’m making toast if you’d like some.”

  Sarah held her breath. “No thanks!” she called back. “I had some earlier and I’m in bed already.”

  There was a little pause and for a moment she thought the nurse might come into the room and see she wasn’t in bed at all.

  “Okay,” Elizabeth called. “See you tomorrow.”

  She felt a small wave of relief. “See you tomorrow,” she echoed.

  It was one o’clock when she went to bed. It was nearer three o’clock by the time the anxious thoughts died away and she eventually fell asleep.

  Chapter 16

  On Sunday morning Sarah woke just on half past seven and before she had time to doze back to sleep again, she put her lamp on and then moved out of bed. She would have preferred to go to a later Mass as she felt so tired now, but she knew there was a chance she would run into David and maybe some of his family – and she didn’t want to risk it.

  She went downstairs to the bathroom and after washing and brushing her teeth she padded into the kitchen to drink half a glass of water. She couldn’t eat before Mass and Holy Communion so she hurried back upstairs, gave a quick glance out of the window and then went to her wardrobe.

  Even though it was first Mass and nobody was likely to be dressed up, she lifted out her best red and black suit and black velvet hat. If anyone thought she was too done up, she didn’t care. It wasn’t Tullamore where people would comment and talk about her. She needed something to make her feel she was as good as the other girls in the house.

  The cathedral was half-full. She went into a pew on a side aisle at the back. As she glanced around during Mass she reckoned the congregation was mainly made up of young and middle-aged mothers who would go back home and cook breakfast and then a Sunday dinner for their family. Most of the women were in plain, sensible clothes, but there were several dressed in their Sunday best like herself.

  When a couple of men tried to catch her eye, she kept her gaze straight ahead.

  On her way to Communion she could feel someone in one of the front pews looking at her and on her way back she felt it again. Her eyes flickered in the direction and she realised it was the dark-haired sophisticated woman who had come into the shop looking for sequins. The woman smiled and winked at Sarah which disconcerted her, as only lads would dare to do such a thing in church in Ireland. In fact, Sarah was surprised to see her in Mass as she seemed more like the well-off Protestants from back home.

  As soon as the priest left the altar, Sarah moved out of her pew quickly and straight out of the cathedral. It was dry so she took a walk up to a newsagent’s in Pilgrims Lane and bought a paper to kill time. They also sold rolls which she was told had been baked overnight, so she bought four – two for today and two for lunch tomorrow. Then she walked slowly back to the house.

  There was no movement from any of the rooms, so she went into the kitchen and boiled two eggs and ate them at the table with a roll and tea. Anna came down at one point to use the bathroom and stuck her head in when she was passing the kitchen . She was wearing a quilted dressing gown with the belt tied around her thick middle.

  “Morning,” she said, rubbing her eyes. “You’re surely up bright and early.” She paused. “And looking very elegant in your nice suit.”

  “I’ve been to church,” Sarah told her.

  “I’m shattered,” the girl said. “I couldn’t face church this morning. I’m going back to bed. See you later.”

  Sarah finished her breakfast, then she went back up to her room and stayed there until the afternoon. Since it was a Sunday – the day the Church said people shouldn’t be working – she felt she couldn’t do any of the things for the shop. Instead, she altered the cuffs on one of her blouses and hemmed a skirt. She read for a while and when she got fed up she started knitting a pink jumper she was working on.

  There had been movement upstairs and downstairs some time after eleven o’clock, then around twelve o’clock she heard someone going out the front door.

  She went to the corner of the window and saw Anna and Elizabeth going down the street. That left only Vivienne in the house. Her throat tightened.

  She had no intention of speaking to the nasty, prejudiced student. No matter how long she had to go without tea or something to eat, she was determined she would stay in her room until the others came back.

  The girls were back just after two, and Anna came straight upstairs to knock on Sarah’s door. “Can I come in?”

  “Yes . . .”

  “My God! Are you working again today?”

  “It’s only a jumper I’m knitting for myself . . .” Sarah couldn’t summon up any false warmth in her voice.

  “You’re a glutton for punishment working on a Sunday.” Anna paused. “If you haven’t cooked anything yet, I’ve got a chicken in the oven and enough roast potatoes for everyone.”

  A picture of Vivienne came into her mind. “Thanks, but I’m not very hungry.”

  “It won’t be ready for about an hour. You might fancy it then.”

  “I’m grand . . . I couldn’t eat it.” Sarah turned back to her knitting.

  Anna hesitated at the door. “Is everything all right?”

  Sarah looked straight at her. How could she pretend to be so friendly now? She had said not a word in defence when Vivienne had said all those awful things about Irish people. “I’m perfectly all right, thank yo
u.”

  Apart from going down to use the bathroom, she stayed upstairs all afternoon sewing, knitting or reading.

  She made the peg-bag for Lisha and toyed with the idea of taking it over to the house. Several times she picked up the bag and then changed her mind for fear of bumping into any of the girls as she was going out of the house. She also felt a bit shy about calling over because she hadn’t met either of Lisha’s parents.

  At one point she got to her feet to change the thread on the sewing machine when she heard the ice-cream jingle and heard the van pull up outside. She watched and then saw Lisha come out with a dish in her hand, which Sarah knew was for ice-cream, as she had seen other people doing it.

  She went to lift the window to call out to the girl, then she stopped herself. The natural thing would be to bring the peg bag down to her or have Lisha come across to the house for it. She wasn’t prepared to do either. She wasn’t ready to face Vivienne after hearing her vicious ranting, and she couldn’t risk Lisha coming over to the house in case she said something to the girl or even ordered her out of the house.

  She would wait and catch her on another occasion when Vivienne wasn’t around.

  When the noises around the house told her that the Sunday dinner had been eaten and everything cleared away, she went down into the empty kitchen and heated up a tin of chicken soup. She then put the bowl on a tray with bread and a glass of water and took it back upstairs where she remained for the rest of the evening.

  Chapter 17

  The following week went by just as quickly. There was little spare time in the shop between serving and doing alterations. Often she was only settled at the sewing machine when the doorbell would ring several times in a row, and she would leave her sewing to go through to help Lucy with the queue of customers.

  When the next Thursday came around and she was in charge of the shop again she didn’t even try to sew during the day, as she was kept busy with serving and tidying and re-organising the window to show off her latest craftwork. David McGuire called in most days and was now flagging in his efforts to get her to go out with him. He was beginning to accept that work was her priority and she didn’t have time to go dancing with him or to visit his family.

  She came close to telling him that she wasn’t interested in any romantic friendships because she had just broken off an engagement but she thought, instead of putting him off, it might only encourage him to wait until he thought she had got over it. She wished he would ask Harriet out, but she could tell he had no interest in the nurse. Poor Harriet had used every excuse she could think of to get him to go out with her. She asked him to a wedding where she needed a partner and to a concert saying she had a spare ticket, but he had made excuses. Sarah didn’t tell her that David had asked her out, and changed the subject every time his name came up.

  She was more relaxed in the house as she had got to know Vivienne’s work rota at the hospital, and kept to her bedroom when the trainee doctor was around. The other girls were friendly and nice to her any time she was in the kitchen making her meals or sitting at the table with them. They had given her no cause to think they didn’t like her, and she had pushed the memory of the discussion she had overheard to the back of her mind.

  She had got into the habit of having a bath most nights, and the other girls often joked about her being so clean that she would wash herself away. She noticed that most of them only bathed once or twice a week. It gave her some small satisfaction to feel that their standards were even lower than hers had been back home when all she had was a tin bath. She also noticed that Vivienne never cleaned the bath, and had heard the other girls grumbling about having to clean it before using it.

  Jane, who had been working on the day of the row, had grown friendlier towards her. She often brought two cups of tea upstairs to Sarah’s room and sat chatting with her. They had even gone to the cinema together one evening to see Some Like It Hot when the others were working. Afterwards they had gone to the café with the juke-box for a Coke and chips and a discussion about the film and Marilyn Monroe’s lovely clothes.

  Sarah wondered if Vivienne had voiced her feelings about the Irish to Jane, or whether the other girls had mentioned it. A few times she thought of bringing the subject up, but she had held back at the last minute. For all she knew, Jane might be great friends with the medical student and she didn’t want to find herself living in a house where no one spoke to her at all. All in all, it had now become a dismal situation and she felt deflated after the high hopes she’d had for her new life.

  She received several letters from home. Father Kelly had written to say he hoped she had settled and that he and Miss Reynolds hoped to make a trip over in the summer. Martina’s letter was short, telling her how they had painted her bedroom yellow for the baby coming, but had still kept her bed in case she ever wanted a holiday back home. Sarah had held the letter in her lap for a few minutes, digesting the fact that from now on she would only be an occasional visitor in the house she grew up in. Sheila’s letter was longer and full of news about people they knew from school and church. She said she didn’t know where Patricia Quinn was hiding as she had not seen her since Sarah had left. She asked what the dances and the boys were like over in Newcastle, and if she was planning on coming home for Christmas.

  Sarah felt strange after each letter, and had taken a few days to reply. She told each one that she was living in a nice house with nurses and trainee doctors and that she loved her job. She told them about her visit to the cinema and the nice café she often went to. She didn’t reply to the bits about dances and boys, and instead told them all the details of the alterations she did and all the lovely shops in Newcastle.

  It surprised her that she felt nothing when she read Patricia Quinn’s name written in the letter. She was glad, because she thought she might have felt upset and started brooding all about her wedding again.

  Ireland was beginning to seem like a dim and distant place to her.

  One week ran into the next. She had got used to life in the house and working in the shop and going around the busy city centre. She now knew her way around the streets and had visited most of the shops. She knew most of the shop-keepers in Pilgrims Lane and they all called out to her as she walked past. A lad in the butcher’s shop had asked her on a date and so had one of the tellers in the bank that Harrison’s used.

  Sarah had declined them both with a smile, and given the impression that she already had a boyfriend so they wouldn’t bother her again.

  She had been in the shop nearly a month when Lucy arrived on a Tuesday morning to say she wasn’t feeling well. Her eyes were heavy and her throat was sore. Sarah told her she should go home but she said she would see how she felt in an hour or two. When Harriet called in around lunchtime, she insisted that Lucy go home to bed.

  “It looks like tonsillitis,” Harriet said, “so you’ll need an antibiotic and a couple of days in bed.”

  By that time Lucy wasn’t fit to argue. They even had to call a taxi to take her home as she wasn’t fit to walk.

  “I hope she’s all right,” Sarah said, when she and Harriet were on their own.

  “She needs to take things easier,” the nurse said. “She’s so busy looking after the others that she neglects herself, and that drive to Durham every Thursday must wear her out.”

  “Is that where her father is?”

  “No, he’s in a home in Newcastle.” A flush came on Harriet’s face. “I’m not sure why she goes there . . . Sometimes she plays golf – it might be where one of the clubs is. Lucy is a very private person – it’s sometimes hard to figure her out.” She lifted her bag and hat. “I must go or I’ll be late for my next patients.”

  Sarah was worried about her employer, but decided that she was best left alone for the first night. Then she called up at the house on the Wednesday, taking grapes, a box of chocolates and a bottle of Lucozade. She felt guilty when a white-faced Lucy opened the door wrapped in a dressing-gown.

  �
��I’m sorry for disturbing you and I won’t come in. You need to get straight back into bed.” She halted. “Unless you’d like me to make you something to eat?”

  “Thank you, but I can’t swallow very well,” Lucy croaked. “And I don’t feel like eating.”

  “Could you manage something like soup?”

  Lucy shrugged.

  “It might help you to eat something.”

  “I think there are tins in the kitchen cupboard somewhere.” She held the door open. “I really don’t want to put you to any trouble.”

  Sarah watched while her employer climbed the stairs and then she went into the kitchen and, after checking a few cupboards, she found several tins. She decided that tomato soup would be easier to swallow than one with vegetables. She heated it on the gas cooker and then brought it upstairs with a glass of fresh water.

  Lucy managed about two-thirds of the bowl. She stopped every so often to touch her hand to her throat when she swallowed. When she finished, she lay back on her pillows looking exhausted.

  “Is there anything else I can do for you?” Sarah asked.

  Lucy shook her head. “Is everything okay at the shop?”

  “Grand, it’s ticking over just fine. I banked yesterday’s money at lunchtime and it’s all entered in the book.”

  “I hope you’re not finding it too much?”

  “I’m enjoying it, and it’s keeping me busy.”

  “You’re great,” Lucy said, giving a weak smile. “I don’t have to worry about the shop since you arrived. It’s all the other things I can’t manage that are concerning me. I hate letting people down.”

  “Do you mean visiting your father and your golf outings? Do you want me to phone anyone and explain you are ill?”

  Lucy’s brow furrowed. “I haven’t been playing golf recently, not since Mary left the shop.” She suddenly caught her breath and then went into a fit of coughing.