By the time the first customers arrived, the floor had been swept and the counters and shelves and the silver till had been washed down, and the account books and the pattern books were all back in their place. Sarah had quickly filled the pigeon-hole boxes with a mixture of coloured wool but, even as she was doing it, she knew as soon as she got time she would go back and re-arrange it so that the wool was in the exact order of shades.
Throughout the morning, every time the door closed after a customer, they moved quickly to empty boxes of threads and knitting needles and put them into their new homes. The workmen kept the noise upstairs to a minimum but inevitably there was the sound of voices and heavy footsteps competing against the background music from their transistor radio. Every so often one of the workmen came tramping down the stairs to collect something from the van parked outside, and when the door opened clouds of sawdust escaped.
“I think we should close the shop for an hour at lunch today,” Lucy said. “We need a break from the noise upstairs and it was uncomfortable fighting our way through the mess to make tea earlier.”
“Where do you fancy going?” Sarah asked.
“We could go to Fenwick’s tearoom – they always have a good choice and it will give us a decent walk out in the fresh air to clear all that dust out of our lungs.”
After lunch, they had a wander around Fenwick’s ladies’ department looking at the new spring fashions which had just arrived.
“Look at that!” Sarah gasped, holding out the price-tag on a simple straight dress. “I could make that in a couple of hours for a fraction of the price and still make a profit.”
“Well, you should!” Lucy whispered back. “There are lots of people who would buy dresses like that if they could afford it, and the new shorter lengths mean you’re using less material.”
“But I have a lot of orders for curtains and things like that, and with the shop busy it’s getting harder to get the time during the day like I used to.” She suddenly stopped. “I didn’t mean that to sound as though I was complaining – I enjoy sewing whatever it is I’m doing.”
“I know that, and it’s good that you’re so adaptable because it keeps us in business,” Lucy said. “Let’s see how things go over the next few weeks,” She checked her watch. “I have to go to the post-office. I’ll meet you back at the shop.”
Sarah walked along to the newsagent’s and bought three house magazines which all had features on the latest designs in decorating and in soft furnishings. She went over the advantages and disadvantages of moving to the flat in Pilgrims Land in her mind, but still couldn’t come to any decision. In many ways she knew it was only the fear of changing things yet again.
The shop was more or less organised by the time they closed up. The existing stock was now sorted onto the new display shelves, and the bigger, improved changing room had the chair and the clothes hooks all back in place. The windows had been washed and cleaned ready for the new gift-ware items that were due to arrive the following week.
“There are still things to do,” Lucy said, as she locked up, “but the workmen have said they’ll finish off the downstairs paintwork on Wednesday afternoon and they said the kitchen will be finished tomorrow. They expect to have the rooms papered and painted by Friday.”
“And you and I will go and look at furniture on Saturday afternoon?”
“Yes, I suppose the quicker we start the sooner it will be finished.”
* * *
On Friday evening there was a letter from Sheila Brady waiting for Sarah on the coat-stand table by the door. Sarah took it into the kitchen with her and stood reading it while the kettle boiled.
The first paragraph was all about Tom Lafferty, the fellow she had met over Christmas and how great they were still getting on. The whole family had met him and in fact her mother had discovered that she knew his granny and some of his uncles who had emigrated to America. Sarah smiled as she read it. There was no doubt that this was a serious romance.
The rest of the letter was full of a court report about a fight between two local doctors which had given much amusement to the local townspeople. Sheila had copied long sections from the local newspaper which had quoted the judge’s witty comments on the fight and had highlighted the pettiness between two so-called pillars of society.
She mentioned she had seen Martina and James in town, and how Martina had been odd with her when Sheila had pointed to her expanded stomach and remarked how “blooming” she looked. Sarah gave a wry smile thinking that that’s exactly how her sister-in-law would have reacted. Martina managed to find a slight in everything.
The letter then went on to say that Con Tierney was still up in Dublin working for the big decorating firm and that Sheila’s mother had heard that he had got his younger sister, Carmel, a job working in the company’s shop out in Donnybrook.
She said she also heard that Patricia Quinn was still going out with the farmer from Mullingar, but she had never seen hide nor hair of her since last September, and she didn’t know how she would react if they ever met up. “I can’t ever forgive her for what she did to you,” Sheila wrote. “You lost your husband and then when you moved to England, I lost my best friend. Patricia Quinn has a lot to answer for. If it wasn’t for meeting Tom, I don’t know what I would have done.”
Sheila’s letter ended the same way her other ones did, asking Sarah when she was thinking of coming home and saying how everyone was asking for her. It dawned on Sarah that she would find herself short on company if she were to take a trip home, as it sounded as though Sheila was seeing Tom Lafferty almost every night. If they weren’t at the pictures or a dance together, Tom was up at her house or she was out at his family’s. She no longer had Patricia Quinn to go out with and soon Martina and James would be too wrapped up their new baby to go anywhere.
Sarah pondered over the situation for a few minutes, then told herself that it didn’t matter because she had no plans to return to Ireland in the foreseeable future. What was there in Tullamore for her now? As the weeks went by, her hometown had become more of a dim and distant place in her memory. She would have a couple of weeks off in the summer and she would take days out here and there getting to know the surrounding places. Jane had asked her recently if she fancied a day out to Edinburgh over Easter as there was a direct train from Newcastle and it could be done in a day.
Vivienne and Anna came in shortly after her and Anna offered to run over to the shop to get them fish and chips. Sarah was always happy not to have to cook, and since it was Friday evening she would only have been frying fish in any case.
In all the months she had been living in the house as the only Catholic, she still kept up her religious observance of Mass every Sunday in the cathedral and not eating meat on Fridays. Occasionally she wondered if she was doing it out of sheer habit or whether it meant that she had a strong religious conviction. Most of the time she came to the conclusion that it was ingrained routine, something that everyone back home did without question. Here, she thought, there was no one checking up on her, but something still got her out of bed on even the darkest, dreariest Sunday mornings.
She went over to the cupboard now to help Vivienne get the plates and cutlery out for Anna’s return. Since it was the first time they’d been on their own for a while, she took the chance to check how Vivienne was.
“I hope you don’t mind me asking, but has everything settled back down to normal?” She chose her words carefully. “Are you feeling back to your old self?”
Vivienne’s face coloured. “I’m fine, thank you . . . I’ve really learned from that episode and will make sure nothing like that ever happens again.”
Sarah immediately regretted saying anything as Vivienne seemed uncomfortable with the reminder of the incident. “Don’t be too hard on yourself,” she said. “We all make mistakes.” She went to the cupboard to get the salt and vinegar.
“I’ll certainly watch what I drink in future and make absolutely sure that I never get into t
hat state again. If I’d turned up at home pregnant, my parents would have disowned me forever.” She smiled. “I don’t know what I would have done without James’s help – his friend quickly solved the problem.”
Sarah felt herself tense up at the description of James Ryder’s friend having “solved the problem”, as if it had been something trivial. Then, she caught herself. She knew she shouldn’t judge. She forced a smile. “As you say, it won’t happen again.”
Vivienne rolled her eyes. “In future I’ll make sure the man has French letters and, when I meet someone I’m seeing regularly, I’m going to go on the pill.”
Sarah’s face stiffened at the medical student flaunting her sexual attitudes so blatantly, as if anyone else’s religious or moral view were of no consequence.
Vivienne gave a casual shrug. “You’re a modern young woman – you know what it’s like to be close to a man. You’ve been engaged . . .”
Vivienne suddenly faltered and Sarah knew she had realised that in order to defend her own position, she had touched on Sarah’s rawest nerve.
Sarah turned away, fighting back the urge to retaliate – to say something equally hurtful in return. But she knew there was no point. For all she had a nicer, more decent side to her, there was some little glitch in Vivienne that would always make her unpredictable and self-serving.
Sarah swallowed back her feelings, telling herself that she must stop feeling personally responsible for pointing out Vivienne’s faults. She had tackled the medical student when she first arrived about her prejudices, initially thinking that was her only weakness. But, as the time had gone on, Sarah realised Vivienne was awkward with everyone. All the other girls openly acknowledged their exasperation with her outspoken ways – and behind her back often mocked her for it and imitated her high-handed ways with colleagues at work.
Sarah reckoned Vivienne would come a cropper soon. She had managed to avoid anything really serious happening up until now – but the day would come when she would meet her match.
Over the fish and chips there was a discussion about a new film that was on in the cinema and whether anyone fancied going to it. Sarah said she might go if the film didn’t finish too late, as she still had a few things she wanted to finish off for the shop display.
“Don’t tell me you’re still sewing eyes on knitted dolls?” Vivienne laughed and looked around the rest of the group for support in what she called friendly teasing.
“They’re actually sewing kits,” Sarah said, not rising to the bait. “And people are more prepared to buy things when they can see what they look like finished.” She finished the last bite of her fish and put her knife and fork down on the plate. “If no one else has planned to use the bathroom, I’m going to go and have a bath now.”
Later on she heard Elizabeth coming in the front door and a few minutes later the nurse came bounding up the stairs to knock on the bedroom door.
“Sarah,” she said, sticking her head around the door, “there was a mistake on the ward rota and they’ve more staff than they need, so I’ve got tonight off!” She grinned in delight. “And I just heard there’s a dance on in the Station Hotel tonight that a lot of the hospital staff are going to. It’s only five minutes’ walk down the road and finishes at half ten. Do you fancy coming? Vivienne and Anna are dead keen to go.”
“If you don’t mind,” Sarah said, “I’ll give it a miss. I’ve some things I need to get on with.” The cinema on a Friday night was one thing but a dance was another when she had to be up for work in the morning. There was also a serial radio play that she wanted to catch the final episode of.
The girls called to say they were going out just before eight o’clock and shortly afterwards the doorbell rang. For a moment Sarah thought one of them might have forgotten something and then it dawned on her they would have used their key. She ran downstairs to find Lisha Williams standing on the doorstep with her arms folded.
“Hi, Sarah,” she said. “I’ve nothing to do at home and I wondered if you had any sewing or anything that you wanted me to help you with?”
“Come in,” Sarah said. “I was just going to make some tea if you fancy it, or I think there might be some lemonade in the pantry.”
“Oh, lemonade, please,” the girl said, following her down the hallway.
Sarah sorted the drinks and went over what things Lisha could help her with. This had been the third or fourth time since the funeral that Lisha had come over to the house and she felt things must be bad at home if she needed to get away so often.
When they were back up in her bedroom, Sarah went over to a box which held the kits for the soft toys. “It would be real help if you could finish this off,” she said, holding out a naked pink rag-doll. Then she lifted the bag that held the rest of the materials for the doll. “The instructions are in here along with the wool for her hair and the pattern for her clothes.”
“That’s brilliant!” Lisha said, grinning. She went over to the armchair by the window and Sarah brought her a small stool to put her things on. She switched the radio on and found a pop station she knew the girl would like, and then settled down at the sewing machine to finish yet another pair of curtains that someone wanted for Easter.
They worked solidly for a while, Sarah glancing over every so often to check how Lisha was doing. After a while Billy J Kramer came on the radio singing “Do You Want to Know a Secret?” and Lisha joined in with it.
“You have a lovely voice,” Sarah said.
“I love that song. I love music of any sort really.”
“You’re a very talented girl. How is your swimming training coming on?”
“Great, we have a new coach and he really pushes us. I did my best time yesterday.”
“How is your mother?” Sarah asked.
“She’s okay . . .” There was a hesitancy in Lisha’s voice.
“She’s a very strong woman,” Sarah told her. “You and Mark are lucky to have her.”
They worked a while longer, then Lisha lifted up the doll, complete now with a full head of brown hair and a dress and black shoes. “What do you think?”
“That looks perfect!” Sarah’s voice was high with surprise. “You’re really getting the hang of sewing, Lisha.”
“Will I do another one or have you something else?”
“There should be another rag-doll pattern in the box,” Sarah said. “One with blonde hair. It would be nice to have them side by side in the window.”
“You have a lovely job,” Lisha said. “It must be great doing things like that all day.”
“It is a lovely job,” Sarah said, “but there’s more to it than just sewing. You have to order the material and work out what’s likely to sell, and then you’re on your feet all day. It suits me great but it mightn’t suit everyone.”
They worked away together and some time later Sarah looked at her watch. “It’s quarter to ten, Lisha, I think you should call a halt. Your mother might want to get to bed.”
“She won’t mind,” Lisha said. “Are you finishing now?”
“I’ll probably work on for another half an hour,” Sarah said. “There’s a play on the radio I was going to listen to, and I’ll do my hand-hemming while it’s on.”
“I could finish this second doll if I stayed on with you,” Lisha said. “I’ve just finished sewing the stuffing in and I’ve only the eyes and the dress to do.” When she saw Sarah pursing her lips together she said quickly, “I’ll run across now and check that my mother is okay. I’ll leave the door on the latch.”
She was back in minutes carrying a plate with two thick pieces of ginger cake on it. “My mum made that earlier on and she said we could have it for supper.” She held up a key. “She and Mark are going to bed and she said I could let myself in when we’re finished.”
“That was really nice of her.”
“She’s been doing a lot of knitting and baking since the funeral – she says it keeps her busy.”
“What sort of things does she
knit?” Sarah asked.
“She’s doing baby clothes for someone from work. She’s really good. She can do lace and all that sort of thing.”
“I must have a look at what she does,” Sarah said. “Lucy was saying that we might take in some craft work to sell in the shop, as I haven’t got so much time to spend on things like baby shawls.” Sarah knew that Fiona Williams was still very down-hearted about losing her husband, and she thought that something like knitting might keep her busy and help the shop at the same time.
She ran the machine on the last seam of the curtain she was working on, then held the material up to the little blade on the side of the machine and cut the threads. She gave a sigh of satisfaction, then switched the machine off.
She went downstairs and quickly boiled some milk to make cocoa. When she came back upstairs and they sat drinking and eating the cake while listening to the drama on the radio. When they finished the supper they began to stitch as they listened.
It was gone eleven o’clock when Sarah heard the gate banging and then the front door open. The loud male voices and Vivienne’s unmistakable shrieks of laughter told her that the girls had brought company home. They occasionally had female friends to stay overnight from the hospital, and they were often picked up in cars and taxis by fellows they were dating, but she had never known any of them to bring lads back after a night out.
Sarah stood up. “I think you should be heading home now, Lisha,” she said. “I’ll walk you across the road.”
“Can I help you again tomorrow? I’d really love to do the teddy-bear pattern.”
Sarah smiled at her. “I’m not going to say ‘no’ because you’ve done great work on the dolls tonight and –” she raised her eyebrows “– you’ve done them much quicker than I do.” She winked. “We’ll work out what I’m paying you tomorrow.”
Lisha shook her head. “I didn’t do it to get paid,” she said. “I enjoy it and I like being over here with you.” The Beatles singing “From Me to You” suddenly blasted out from the radiogram down-stairs. An excited glint came into her eyes. “I think your friends are having a party downstairs.”
Sarah Love Page 32
