Sarah's Story

by Lynne Francis

  Ada and Sarah settled themselves on a low rock and watched Daniel and Alice, now playing among the stones at the water’s edge. Within a quarter of an hour, Sarah noticed that her grandmother had started to shiver, and so she summoned Daniel and Alice to return home. The steep climb back up the path in the fading light, and then on to Lane End Cottage, left them all breathless. The onset of dusk brought with it a sharp drop in temperature and they were glad of the warmth of the kitchen, although they were all rosy-cheeked after their exertions.

  ‘Thank you for suggesting the walk, Daniel,’ Sarah said, conscious that she rarely took walks that weren’t for a set purpose. She went to the village to buy food, to Nortonstall to the market, to deliver herbs locally or collect herbs further afield. She never went out just for a walk, for recreation and exercise, and she felt all the better for it.

  As did her grandmother, if one could judge by her relaxed and carefree appearance as she chatted with Daniel while the kettle boiled on the range. She looked ten years younger, Sarah thought, trying to shake off the feeling that her own marriage had brought them more problems than she could ever have anticipated, had she given it a moment’s thought. Which, of course, she hadn’t.

  Chapter 42

  Over the coming months, Daniel became established as part of the family, spending two weeks out of every four at Lane End Cottage. The arrangement suited them all. The extra income from his board and lodging went some way to alleviating the anxiety that Ada and Sarah felt over the loss of Joe’s earnings. And there was no denying that, although Ada and Sarah were quite self-sufficient, they were glad to make use of Daniel to do some of the heavier work, such as chopping wood, and for fixing things about the place.

  Soon it became habit to save such tasks for his visits. The most benefit, though, was undoubtedly gained from his company. He brought with him tales of the big city, which Ada and Sarah were always eager to hear, enjoying the glimpse of a world quite beyond anything that village life offered. He also brought levity and humour to lives that had become accustomed to difficulty as the state most likely to prevail.

  Sarah was almost startled when spring came – it had felt throughout the winter months as though life was somehow filled with light, even when it was dark and cold outside. Alice, in particular, benefited from the extra attention that Daniel’s visits brought. At one year old, she had become a confident walker and the proud possessor of a vocabulary of ten words.

  When Sarah wrote to Joe, she told him of their good fortune in having Daniel as a regular boarder. She played down the ways in which the family profited from his presence, not wanting her husband’s mind made uneasy over the part Daniel was starting to play in the family. For herself, it felt as though she had lost her sisters but gained a brother.

  Through the summer Daniel’s visits were frequent enough to guarantee the family a steady source of income, yet infrequent enough to be eagerly awaited. Each time he left, or rather failed to return from work after spending a few days with them, Alice would follow Sarah around asking for ‘Uncle Da-da’ and becoming disconsolate when she was told, ‘No, he’ll be back again in a few days’ time.’ Sarah had given up trying to discourage Alice’s use of ‘Da-da’ for Daniel. After all, she reasoned, by the time Joe returned, Alice would have long given up on baby talk and she could tell that it pleased Daniel to be given this nickname.

  Sarah’s studies of herbalism continued at Ada’s insistence. ‘Although we have this extra income from Daniel, the time will come when I can no longer practise,’ she said. ‘And you will need to be ready for that day, to take over where I leave off.’

  Sarah nodded her agreement, but for her the urgency had abated once more. She had Alice to take care of and although she helped her grandmother as before, she wasn’t always as focused as she might be. Ada held her counsel, deciding that Sarah could absorb a great deal of what she needed to know by working alongside her, and so the summer progressed harmoniously enough. Sarah felt as though their lives were happy and settled for the first time in a long time and she allowed herself to relax and enjoy it.

  She wrote dutiful letters to Joe but after her suggestions that she should visit were turned down on more than one occasion she decided it was for the best. Joe was where he was and there was no point in fretting about it. They would pick up again when he was released – in the meantime, her life must go on.

  So Sarah was totally unprepared when, in the second spring since Joe’s imprisonment, Daniel arrived to stay, seemingly ill at ease. He was his usual self with Alice, now two years old and already very good at managing to get her own way with him. He avoided Ada and Sarah’s eyes, however, which immediately caused Ada concern. Sarah wondered whether they had upset him in some way but it wasn’t until that evening, when Alice was asleep, that he felt able to reveal what lay behind his awkwardness.

  ‘My work is done at Hobbs’ Mill,’ he said abruptly. ‘I won’t have need of staying with you in the future. Although I hope I may still visit,’ he added hastily, seeing the shocked expressions on Ada and Sarah’s faces. ‘But I won’t need regular board and lodging.’ The last few words were uttered barely above a whisper and the misery on Daniel’s face showed that he was only too well aware what this meant to them.

  There was a silence, which lengthened as Ada and Sarah struggled for words. The loss of income was not uppermost in Sarah’s mind; instead, her concern was for Alice, who was at her happiest when Daniel stayed with them. And she worried for Ada, too, for whom Daniel was the grandson she had never had.

  Both women spoke at once: ‘You mustn’t …’ ‘Please don’t …’ Sarah paused and Ada gave a rather shaky laugh. ‘You mustn’t apologise,’ she continued. ‘We have all benefited from having you here with us and we’re just so sorry that it must come to an end.’

  ‘Please don’t worry,’ Sarah added. ‘We always knew that this would happen, but as time passed we had forgotten that the arrangement wasn’t a permanent one.’

  ‘But the money …’ Daniel’s voice faltered. He knew how much they relied on the relatively small amount he paid them.

  ‘You mustn’t think about it.’ Ada was firm. ‘Far more important to us is the loss of your company. I hope I can rely on you to honour your word and still find time to visit us whenever you can?’

  ‘Indeed.’ Sarah was as eager as Ada to gloss over the impact of the loss of money. ‘Alice will be quite lost without her Uncle Dan-dan,’ she said, Alice having decided to adopt a new name for Daniel, in keeping with her greater age. ‘We can’t expect to impose on your time,’ she added hastily, ‘but you must remember you will be welcome here whenever you would like to come.’

  ‘I hope that will be often,’ Daniel said. He looked a little forlorn. ‘I’ve come to view this as more of a home than any other I’ve had.’

  They all fell silent again until Daniel made an effort to divert their attention by relating an incident from the mill and the rest of the evening passed in general conversation. That night, however, Alice was the only one to rest easy. The others tossed and turned in their beds, struggling to comprehend what the new situation would mean to them. Ada’s thoughts spun between the loss of money and of Daniel’s company, Sarah’s between what Alice’s reaction would be and how she herself would miss Daniel, whilst the man in question was racked with guilt by the impact of his news. Ada, Alice and Sarah occupied his thoughts. The latter would have been startled to know that she occupied the greater part of them.

  Chapter 43

  Despite everyone’s best efforts to make Daniel’s final stay at Lane End Cottage as normal as possible, none of them could prevent moments of sadness descending, quickly smoothed over by hasty conversation. Sarah had decided that Alice shouldn’t be told of the change that was about to befall them, hopeful that a young child’s hazy sense of the passage of time would allow them to pretend that it wasn’t long since Daniel’s last visit and not yet time for the next. So Daniel made his departure very early one morning, before the r
est of the household was up. Having told Ada and Sarah of his intention the night before, he left without any major farewells but with the promise of a social visit to be made very soon.

  Yet as the weeks passed, although Daniel continued to write on a weekly basis, he failed to put in an appearance at Lane End Cottage. Alice had given up asking for Uncle Dan-dan but Sarah was sure that she hadn’t stopped missing him. She went often to the gate as if looking for someone, and looked up hopefully whenever patients knocked at the door. It hurt Sarah to see her like this and she wondered what was keeping Daniel away.

  What surprised her even more, though, was how much she herself missed Daniel. She found herself saving anecdotes to tell him, then remembering that it was pointless to do so, as she didn’t know when she would next see him. She longed, too, for adult company other than that of her grandmother.

  She had Martha next door, of course, and she was as steady and as reliable as ever. She had commented that Daniel hadn’t been to visit in a while and when Sarah explained, out of earshot of Alice, why that was, Martha had looked at her with a good deal of sympathy.

  ‘You must miss him very much.’

  ‘Yes, we do. Not just because of the money, of course, but for his company. And he was so good with Alice.’ Sarah watched as Alice trotted around Martha’s garden in determined pursuit of a cat, who had chosen Martha to be his new owner after moving out of the farm up the road.

  ‘And he was good for you, too.’

  Sarah looked up. ‘Yes, his company is much missed. And he was a great help about the place.’

  ‘Sarah, he was more than that.’ Martha slowly shook her head. ‘Look at you, barely twenty years old and with that husband of yours no use to you at all, locked away in jail. Daniel clearly doted on you. I wouldn’t be surprised if he took himself off on purpose.’

  Shocked, Sarah bent to her task of shelling peas and hoped that her blush wasn’t visible. She hadn’t considered Daniel’s absence in this light before and now that she had, the thought quickly took root in her mind. Could there be any truth in it? Surely not – after all, he’d explained how he was no longer needed at the mill, his project successfully completed.

  ‘I’m sure you’re mistaken,’ she finally managed to say. ‘Daniel is like a brother to me. And in any case, in his most recent letter he promises to visit as soon as his work in Manchester permits.’

  Martha wasn’t to be so easily put off. ‘You’d have been a good match for each other if things had been different,’ she said, taking the bowl of shelled peas from Sarah and returning with a jug of barley water and three glasses.

  ‘If things had been different he’d have been married to my sister Ellen,’ Sarah replied, with some spirit.

  Martha let the comment lie. ‘Have you heard from Joe of late?’ she asked.

  Sarah was glad to change the subject, but less glad of where the conversation now led. ‘Yes, I had a letter just this week. I’d asked him again about a visit but he said his sister Kitty had been to see him quite unexpectedly and he didn’t think another visit would be granted any time soon.’

  Martha paused as she poured the barley water. ‘His sister? Did you know anything about this?’

  Sarah, who had been taken aback and upset by the news, had to confess that she didn’t. As soon as Kitty had been mentioned in the letter she realised that she and Joe had never discussed his family and she had no knowledge of the whereabouts of either parents or siblings. She intended to ask Joe for more information in her own reply.

  ‘Could his sister be of any help to you, I wonder?’ Martha asked, handing a glass of barley water to Alice, who had given up on her attempts to play with the cat and had flopped beside them in the shade.

  ‘Help? In what way?’ Sarah asked.

  ‘Money, perhaps.’ Martha had moved to tying back roses that had become unruly around the back door and had her face turned away from Sarah. ‘I fear that if the three of you try to manage on what Ada alone can make from her herbalism it might be too much for her. On the other hand, it might be good for you to take some work out of the house.’

  Sarah was surprised. She wondered whether her grandmother had said something to Martha. Could she have asked her to drop a hint in this way?

  ‘I think we manage well enough. But did you have some work in mind?’

  ‘I hear they’re hiring at the mill,’ Martha said. ‘The success of whatever it was that Daniel was working on means they have taken on more orders, and more orders means more workers are needed.’

  ‘I’m sure it isn’t necessary but I will think about it,’ Sarah said, having no intention of doing any such thing. She changed the topic by asking Martha about her recipe for the barley water. Shortly after, she made her excuses and left with Alice, on the pretext of needing to help Ada. She found that what she really needed was a little time to think about what Martha had said. There was a lot to take in.

  Had Daniel really stopped visiting because of the feelings he had for her, knowing her to be a married woman? Her astonishment at this notion was beginning to be overtaken by another feeling, one that she hadn’t experienced in a while. To be admired by a man was both surprising and appealing, and even as she tried to push these feelings aside they were taking root and growing in intensity.

  Yet, once her thoughts turned to Martha’s second pronouncement, it was easy to deflate her unseemly excitement at the first. Martha’s suggestion that she might work at the mill, to ease the burden of being a breadwinner that had fallen on Ada once more, was an unwelcome one. She had shrugged it off at the time but it, too, had taken root and started to grow.

  Chapter 44

  Sarah had reason to regret the feelings that her conversation with Martha had aroused. She wrote to Joe, asking him to share the details of his family with her and expressing her sadness that she hadn’t had the chance to become acquainted with Kitty. But she paid far less heed to that letter, once posted, than she did to the correspondence between Ada and Daniel.

  Daniel was still making vague promises to visit as soon as he could manage it, and with each postponement of his appearance it felt to Sarah that she missed him all the more. But as summer passed and autumn came upon them she found herself writing to him, although not in the way she had sometimes imagined in her daydreams. This letter was emotional, but carried no expression of Sarah’s feelings, confused as they were. Instead, it was written on behalf of Ada, who had fallen ill at the start of autumn and was now confined to her bed, in great pain from a bout of rheumatism. Sarah had administered the remedies that her grandmother had instructed her to make but they had brought her little relief. Her letter to Daniel was brief, but heartfelt.

  ‘Dear Daniel,

  ‘I hope this letter finds you well. You must be a little surprised to receive a letter in a hand other than my grandmother’s but I am sorry to have to report that she has taken to her bed this past week or so, having felt unwell since the beginning of September, and she now finds herself unable to hold a pen, such is the pain of her rheumatism.

  ‘If you were able to find some time to visit her I know she would be very grateful. Alice and I would be glad of your company, too. If this proves impossible then please do still write – my grandmother will be as happy to hear from you as ever.

  Yours,

  Sarah Bancroft’

  She had agonised over what to say at first but after a false start or two had let the words flow as they would. With the letter despatched she fell to wondering how long it would be before she could expect a reply, resolving neither to keep constant watch for the postman, nor to count the days. Daniel had, after all, made it very plain how busy he was and his failure to keep his word over his visits was surely testament to this.

  So it came as something of a shock to find Martha loitering by her gate one afternoon later that week as Sarah returned from delivering remedies around the neighbourhood. She had managed to maintain the practice as well as she could while Ada was ill, taking instruction on any
remedies she wasn’t yet experienced in making, but she had noticed that some patients, wary of change, had ceased to make their regular visits to Lane End Cottage.

  Sarah spotted Martha as she walked up the road and wondered why she was out in the garden on such a dreary October afternoon. It was impossible to see whether she had Alice, whom she’d happily agreed to mind, outside with her but Sarah rather hoped not. She hadn’t left any outdoor clothes for her daughter and there was a dampness in the air.

  ‘There you are!’ Martha exclaimed as Sarah drew closer. ‘I wanted to catch you just in case you went home first before you came looking for Alice. I wanted to warn you.’

  ‘Warn me?’ Sarah’s hand flew to her mouth in horror. Had something happened to her grandmother while she had been out? Or to Alice? For Alice was nowhere to be seen.

  Martha saw Sarah’s gaze sweep across the garden and guessed who she was looking for. ‘Don’t worry, Alice is perfectly safe. She’s at home.’

  ‘At home? Is Gran feeling better?’ Sarah, struggling to make sense of the situation, already had her hand on the latch of the gate.

  ‘Before you go in I should tell you something,’ Martha said. ‘Alice is with Daniel. He’s come to visit Ada. He knocked at your door and, getting no reply, he didn’t like to walk in and risk frightening Ada so he came to see me to ask when you were expected home. Alice was so delighted to see him and so insistent on taking him to see her gran that I thought it would be all right to let them both go. I hope I didn’t do wrong.’ Martha, having recounted her news, looked anxious in case Sarah disapproved.

  ‘Thank you, Martha. I’m sure Gran was delighted. You did right.’ Sarah was already heading up the garden path and flung the words back over her shoulder as she went. In truth, she felt slightly piqued that she hadn’t been at home to welcome Daniel. Why hadn’t he written first? Her heart started to thump with the anticipation of seeing him and by the time she was through the door she felt a little shaky. She had longed to see Daniel for so long and now that he was here she felt embarrassed, as though her thoughts might be written plainly across her face.