Sarah Love

by Geraldine O'Neill

  Sarah gasped and then started to laugh. “What have I told you about bad-mouthing Lucy?” She went over with her hand raised as though she was going to slap him.

  His hand shot out to playfully grab her wrist, and when she looked up at him, his eyes caught hers and somehow the laughter disappeared and suddenly both their faces were serious.

  David eased his grip on her wrist and then he stepped back. “I give in,” he said, holding both hands up now, but his face looked flushed. He glanced over at Jane and winked. “I’ll never say anything about Miss Harrison again. The next time I’m up in Newcastle she’ll be wearing one of the dresses herself.”

  “You are terrible!” Sarah said. She went to laugh but her face felt strangely rigid. She shook her head and went over to stand by the window, to catch her breath.

  A short while later they left and were soon on the merry-go-round of the Tube stations again. When they arrived at Kensington they had a look around the shops and then David walked them up to The Olympia Exhibition Centre for the fashion show which started at two o’clock. As it had turned out, Camilla was working and couldn’t come. The place was busy with people milling around everywhere.

  David checked the information notice at the door. “It looks like there are a few exhibitions on today.”

  The girls gathered beside him to see what else was on, but Sarah made sure she didn’t catch his eye or get too close after their strange little encounter earlier on.

  Sarah pointed to one of the posters. “Oh, there’s a furniture and interior design show on all day in one of the other halls.”

  “That’s sounds interesting,” Jane said. “We might have a look at that when the fashion show’s finished.” She looked at David. “Do you fancy coming to that? We could meet you in the foyer here.”

  “Are you joking?” he laughed. “I told you the decoration in the house is nothing to do with me. I’ll meet you in The Old Shakespeare pub when you’re ready.”

  “Won’t you be bored just hanging around?” Jane asked.

  “I’m going to walk down and buy a couple of papers and when I’ve finished them, I have this.” He went into his inside pocket and brought out a Penguin paperback. “And I might go mad and have a couple of pints too. I can’t think of a nicer way to spend a Friday afternoon off.” He gave them a broad grin and pointed to a large building. “It’s just behind there. I’ll be in the lounge waiting for you, ladies, and if you’re nice to me I might even buy you a drink.”

  “Oh, my God,” Jane said as they walked into the hall where the show was being held, “Camilla is one lucky girl. Why are all the best ones always taken?”

  * * *

  Sarah thought the show was a spectacle and her eyes were glued to the runway as she took in every model that came down it wearing the Spring and Summer Collection for 1966. At times her breath was taken away by the perfection of some of the classic outfits and the sheer artistry involved in the new innovative styles. She found herself shaking her head in bemusement at some of the combinations the models wore like white ankle boots with spotty tights and tartan shorts and at other times she and Jane clutched each other in silent laughter at the more bizarre outfits. She came out of the hall at the end with a folder full of leaflets about the designers and which shops would be selling the new collections.

  They went across the hallway to the homes exhibition and, when they told the cheery Cockney lad on the door that they had just come out of another show, he waved them in for free. “The prices are bad enough for one show,” he said, “without paying for two.”

  They had a walk around the show looking at all the stands and the new kitchen and bathroom designs. Sarah was interested in the soft furnishing displays and once again her notebook came out to take down details of curtain tie-backs and edgings and anything else that caught her eye. An hour passed and then Jane, who wasn’t as interested in the displays as her friend, looked at her watch.

  “I think we should get back, I feel bad leaving poor David on his own.”

  They walked out into the busy foyer and then Jane said she was just going to run to the toilet. Sarah was standing reading a poster when she suddenly felt a hand on her shoulder.

  “Sarah,” a female Irish voice said, “it is you, isn’t it?”

  Sarah turned round to find herself face to face with a familiar face from Tullamore. Her heart started to race when she realised it was Orla Tierney – Con’s sister.

  Chapter 39

  Sarah eyes widened with shock. “Orla!” She could not think what to do or say.

  “It is you!” Orla said. “I saw you earlier on walking around the show, but I just couldn’t be sure it was you.” She stepped back and looked Sarah up and down. “It was mainly the hair,” she said, “but the clothes are so different. They’re lovely and so is your short hair. You look like a totally different girl.”

  Sarah swallowed and felt as though she had something stuck in her throat. It was too late to walk away now. “So,” she said, trying to smile. “What are you doing here in London?”

  “The home exhibition,” Orla said nodding. “I’m working for an interior design and decorating firm in Dublin. We come over to London when any of the exhibitions are on.” She smiled. “Trying to keep ahead of the competition.”

  Sarah listened to her explaining all about her job as if she did not already know.

  Then, she felt a hand on her arm. Her nerves were still jangling from meeting Orla so she whirled around.

  “I can see you’re chatting,” Jane said, smiling at Orla, “I’ll meet you over in The Old Shakespeare.”

  “It’s okay,” Sarah said quickly. “I’m coming now . . .” She looked at Orla. “I’m with my friend and we’ve someone else waiting for us.” When she turned back, Jane was making for the big glass doors. Sarah moved to follow her, but Orla kept talking.

  “I didn’t know you were in London, I thought you were in Newcastle. Miss Reynolds was down in the house and she told my mother how well you were doing.”

  “We’re down in London for a visit . . .” Sarah was completely thrown now, not knowing what to say or how to say it, and trying not to give too much information away. The very last thing in the world she expected was to run into someone like Orla Tierney in the middle of hundreds of strangers in London.

  “You look fantastic,” Orla said. Her hand came out to feel the material of Sarah’s white PVC coat. “You look like a model.”

  “Thanks, you look well yourself!” Sarah took a couple of steps backward.

  “Oh don’t!” Orla laughed. She held out the skirt of her plain navy mid-length skirt which matched her jacket. It was the sort of thing that Sarah was wearing a few years ago. “I think I’m well behind the times when I look at all the fashions here. I think I need to come over some weekend when I’m not working and go round all the shops. When you’re at these trade things you don’t get any time.” She suddenly stopped.

  “So, what are you doing here? Are you at the trade show?”

  “No,” Sarah said, “We were in at a fashion show in one of the other areas.”

  “Fashion?” Orla looked interested.

  “The sewing shop I work in, we’ve branched out into womenwear – dresses and skirts, that kind of thing.”

  “Very good.” Orla gave a grin – a forced grin.

  Sarah could see the girl was trying to act as though the events of the last year hadn’t happened. Trying to pretend that her brother back in Ireland hadn’t done the dirty on her with Patricia Quinn.

  “How are you in yourself, Sarah? Are things going well for you?” A little pause. “Have you met anyone else yet?”

  Sarah looked straight at the girl who should have been her sister-in-law. “I’m grand, Orla – I’ve never been happier. I love my new life and my new job.”

  Orla nodded. “Good, I’m delighted for you. And did you meet anyone else yet?”

  “I’ve met lots of people,” Sarah said, determined not to give her any gossip to tak
e back home to Con. “I have lots of friends.” She hitched her bag up on her shoulder. “It was nice to see you . . .”

  Orla had one last shot at getting information. “Have you been back in Tullamore recently?”

  Sarah shook her head. “No, I’m too busy. I’ve got to go,” she said. “I hope the rest of your trip goes well.”

  When she found the pub she stood outside for a few minutes composing herself, then when she went inside and saw a sign for the Ladies’, she went straight there. She stood in front of the mirror at the sink and stared at her red, flushed face. Then she turned the cold tap on and started to splash water all over her face until she felt it beginning to cool down. She dug into her handbag and got her new Mary Quant stick foundation out and with a shaking hand she applied it all over her face. She then powdered it and put fresh pink lipstick on which she thought helped to detract from her high colour. She stood for a few minutes taking deep breaths until she finally felt composed enough to go in and join her friends.

  The old Tudor-style pub was half-full, with walls papered in deep wine and green colours which made everything seem cosy and warm. David and Jane were sitting at a table to the side of the bar in deep-buttoned green-leather chairs. She told them that Orla was an old school friend, and then listened to David and Jane saying what they thought the odds were of meeting someone from a small town in Ireland in the middle of London. When she explained that the girl worked in the home-decorating business David laughed and said that maybe the odds weren’t so high after all.

  David stood up. “What do you fancy to drink?”

  Sarah stared over at the bar for inspiration and when none came she looked at Jane’s sparkling drink. “I’ll have what Jane’s having, please.”

  David came back with two Babychams and a pint of bitter for himself.

  When they were almost at the end of their drinks Sarah slipped out of her seat and went to the bar to buy another round. David made a fuss when she gave him the bitter, saying women shouldn’t go to the bar, but she was pleased with herself as it gave her a feeling of independence.

  Jane bought another round and then went over to the juke-box. She put several coins in it and then stood going through the list page by page. The first one she chose was “The House of the Rising Sun” by The Animals.

  Sarah found herself more relaxed now with the comfortable atmosphere in the pub, the music and the Babychams. She felt it was one of the nicest pubs she’d ever been in. In fact, all the places – the shops, the restaurants and cafés – were nicer than anything she had ever been used to. She looked over at David who was looking across the pub at Jane picking her records and realised that they wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for his big-hearted generosity. She wondered now if she had made that plain to him.

  “David,” she said, leaning forward to rest her clasped hands on the table, “I want to thank you very much for having me and Jane to stay this week. You’ve been a brilliant host and we’ve had a fantastic time. I’m very grateful. It’s the first time I’ve felt truly relaxed since I came to England a year ago.”

  He turned towards her now and smiled, and she noticed that his gaze was somewhere over her shoulder rather than looking directly at her. “You’re very welcome, Sarah. It’s lovely to have people I know from Newcastle visiting, because in certain ways I miss it. I enjoy seeing them and taking them round the sights.”

  She hesitated. “I know you have other friends,” she said, “but I’m thanking you because I realise I’ve not always been the best of friends to you . . .”

  He shook his head. “You don’t need to say any more,” he said, still looking past her. “Everything is fine. We’re fine.”

  But she couldn’t let it rest. She felt compelled to explain herself further. To make things right between them. “I’ve never meant to hurt you or be rude to you.” The words were tumbling out. “And I know at times I have been rude. It’s just that things were so difficult when I first came over.” She swallowed hard. “All the business about my cancelled wedding and then the situation with Harriet . . .”

  He nodded. “You don’t need to explain.” His voice sounded strained and weary.

  “But I do.” Then, she felt tears welling up. “I feel awful that you left your family and friends to come down here when maybe . . . maybe if I had been different . . .”

  He sat up and looked properly at her now. “Sarah . . . what’s wrong? What are you trying to say?”

  She realised then she didn’t know what she wanted to say. She looked at him now and as their eyes held again, she felt something she had never felt before. An intense hot feeling moved from her chest to her stomach and then moved rapidly downwards to an area of her body she had hardly been aware of before.

  Embarrassed in case he sensed what she was feeling, she looked away – looked over at Jane and the juke-box.

  David lifted his drink and took a mouthful of it, then put it back down on the table.

  A few moments later she stole another glance at him and this time she had the strangest, almost overwhelming urge to reach over and touch his face.

  When he looked at her again she stood up and without saying anything went over to join her friend. Jane had still two choices left before her two-shillings ran out.

  “I’m looking for the Righteous Brothers’ ‘You’ve Lost that Lovin’ Feeling’,” she said.

  They flicked through a few of the pages until Sarah spotted it.

  “Well done, you can pick the last one.”

  Sarah took her time going through the lists, trying not to think of the weird feelings she seemed to be developing for David McGuire. All the months he had been after her, all the times she had rejected him. As the melodious tones of the song started to play, Sarah thought how ironic it was that she had suddenly found something like a loving feeling – when it was all too late.

  “Sarah,” Jane whispered. “Are you all right?”

  Sarah looked at her.

  “It’s just you seem a bit off – or quiet – with David.” She glanced over at the table. “And he doesn’t look as cheery as he usually does. Have you had a row with him or something?”

  “Not at all,” Sarah said. “We’re getting on great. I was just thanking him for being so good to us.” She leaned in closer to her friend. “Don’t forget he’s been in here drinking all afternoon. I’m not saying he’s drunk or anything, but it’s bound to have an effect.”

  Jane raised her eyebrows. “True. I never thought of that.”

  Sarah quickly picked “Mr Tamburine Man” as she thought it might cheer things up, and then they went back to the table.

  “Right,” David said, clapping his hands and looking from one to the other. “What’s the plan? We need to go and eat somewhere.”

  The girls looked at each other.

  “You decide,” Jane said.

  “Ah no,” David replied, “it’s your last night and it’s got to be what you two want.”

  “Is Camilla joining us for the meal?” Sarah asked.

  “I have to ring her and let her know where we’re going. She was working until five and then going home to get changed.” He nodded out to the door. “There’s a phone box outside.”

  “What about that lovely Italian restaurant you took us to the first night?” Jane asked. “It’s near your flat and we can just walk home.”

  “Great – that’s fine by me. Sarah?”

  “Yes,” she agreed, “it was lovely. One of the best places we’ve been.” She lifted her half-full glass of Babycham and took a sip. “I don’t know if I should finish this – I’ve had enough already!”

  David grinned at her now – looking like his old self. “Go on,” he said, “live life dangerously for once.”

  Sarah lifted the glass to her lips and took another mouthful and then she caught Jane’s eye and they both started to giggle. Then, she was vaguely aware of someone at the bar watching them. When she glanced over she saw it was a tall, dark-haired young man in a smart busi
ness suit. She looked quickly away in case he thought she was eyeing him up, and then a few seconds later, something made her look over again and she saw he was coming towards their table.

  Recognition suddenly hit her and her whole body froze. My God, she thought, this can’t be happening . . .

  But it was happening. She looked up properly and there was Con Tierney standing right in front of her.

  “Hello, Sarah,” he said, “Orla told me you might be in here.” He glanced at David and Jane. “Is there any chance we might have a few words?”

  Her heart was thumping hard against her ribcage. “No, Con. I don’t think that would be a good idea.”

  “Please,” he said. “There are some things I need to say. I’m not going to get this chance again.”

  David suddenly stood up. “Look, I don’t know who you are – but you heard her, she doesn’t want to talk to you.”

  Con straightened up and it was obvious that he was good three or four inches taller than David. “I don’t mean to cause any problem here or anything but –”

  “You heard her,” David repeated, his tone more definite.

  Sarah moved now, sensing that things might take a wrong turn. She couldn’t do that to David. “Right,” she said to Con, pointing to a table over at the window. “You have exactly five minutes.”

  Con started moving towards the table and David slowly sat back down.

  “I’m sorry,” Sarah said to David. “I’ll explain later.”

  “Is it him?” David asked. “Is it the guy you were going to marry?”

  “Yes,” she said. “I met his sister in the exhibition hall – but she didn’t tell me he was with her.”

  “I’ll be watching,” David told her. “I’ll watch every move he makes.”

  “It’ll be okay,” she said. “He’s not going to do anything.”

  Sarah listened while Con told her how much he’d missed her, how his life was ruined after she left and how he had only just started to pick himself back up.