‘Hello,’ she called up the stairs, finding the downstairs rooms quiet and peaceful.
‘Hello,’ Daniel called back. ‘We’re with Ada.’
As Sarah climbed the stairs Alice appeared on the landing. ‘Dan-dan’s here,’ she exclaimed in great excitement. The sight of her daughter calmed Sarah. Her delight in Daniel’s appearance put her own feelings into perspective and by the time she stood on the threshold of her grandmother’s bedroom she felt sure that she was ready to greet Daniel as though she had last seen him just a week or two before.
The sight of him, though, as he turned towards her from his seat by the bed threatened to undo her resolve. He looked as he always had – his face frank and open and creased into a smile at the sight of her. His freckles stood out against his pale skin and his hair was perhaps a little longer than it ought to be, curling over his collar, but she experienced a great urge to rush over and fling her arms around him.
Instead, she contented herself by returning his smile and saying, ‘I’m so pleased that you were able to come. Gran must be too. And it goes without saying that Alice is very happy, as you can see.’ She bent down to pick up her daughter, who wriggled and protested, demanding to be put down so she could return to Daniel’s side.
Daniel clearly thought a rebuke was implied in her words and he coloured up a little. ‘I’m very sorry that it has been so long since I was able to visit you all.’ He paused and Sarah flapped her hand at him to signify dissent.
‘No, no, you mustn’t apologise. You have work to do, and besides you are here now and you have clearly over-excited Gran and tired her out already.’
Sarah, determined to lighten the tone, indicated Ada, who had indeed fallen asleep, worn out by two hours of Alice’s chatter.
Sarah lowered her voice. ‘Let’s leave her to rest for a while. Come down to the kitchen and I’ll get you something to eat after your journey. And I want to hear all about what you have been up to since we last saw you.’
Chapter 45
Daniel’s presence that evening continued to cause Sarah to veer between delight and embarrassment. Her pleasure at seeing him again was tempered by the new realisation of how her feelings toward him had developed. She feared that this might be too clearly read in her face. She wondered now whether she had been blind in the past. She’d thought of Daniel as akin to a brother, being unable to conceive of an easy relationship with a man in any other way. But where did this new realisation leave Joe in her life? As the hours passed, though, she was able to push such unwelcome thoughts away and concentrate solely on the joy of having Daniel there.
Their conversation initially was disjointed. One or other of them would remember something they wanted to ask or tell the other and embark upon it, only to be interrupted by Alice, or the fact that food needed to be cooked and Ada tended to. In the end, Sarah was glad that Alice took Daniel away to insist he did some drawing with her, leaving Sarah to get food on the table and marshal her thoughts. She wasn’t sure how long Daniel’s visit would last but the prospect of having his company to herself that evening was both welcome and novel. She’d never experienced it before, her grandmother having always been present.
By unspoken consent they put aside any further attempts to catch up on news while Alice and Ada still had demands on them, concentrating their attention instead on grandmother and great-granddaughter until they could finally relax into each other’s company as the house slipped into the quiet of evening.
‘So, what has been happening? What has kept you away from us for so long?’ Sarah asked, having determined in the hours running up to this moment that she would ask him outright.
‘I have so little to report,’ Daniel protested. ‘My life consists in the main of going to work and coming home again, and repeating this day after day. It’s far too dull. I want to hear about what’s to be done to make your grandmother well again, how Alice does and all the gossip from the village. And about you, of course,’ he added.
Sarah, now alert to every nuance of their conversation, wondered whether there was some evasiveness on his part – but a memory of something that Alice had done, and her wish to recount it, quite put the thought from her mind.
‘And what of Ada’s illness?’ Daniel demanded, once the topic of Alice was exhausted. ‘How long has she been like this?’
Sarah told him of the illness’s progression and Daniel frowned when she answered ‘no’ in answer to his question as to whether a doctor had been called.
Sarah shook her head. ‘It’s no good, Daniel. Gran won’t hear of consulting a doctor. Imagine how it would look if any of her patients heard of such a thing. She’s right, of course. There’s little that she doesn’t know about illnesses and their treatments. It would serve no purpose.’
Daniel looked unconvinced but turned to another issue that was on his mind. ‘How are you managing for money?’ he asked bluntly.
Sarah flushed. She’d hoped this topic wouldn’t be raised. ‘Well, Gran has been instructing me on how to make any of the remedies that I’m unfamiliar with. But she can hardly see patients in her bedroom and they are less inclined to accept what I have to say to them.’
Sarah stopped. The numbers of patients falling away had been of such concern to her earlier in the week that she had taken a step she had hoped she would never need to take. Mindful of Martha’s words in the summer, she had approached Hobbs’ Mill about taking work then, once her engagement there was confirmed, she had spoken to Martha about whether she would be prepared to take care of Alice during the long mill day. She cherished the hope that Ada might soon be well enough to share part of the responsibility. It was news that she feared Daniel would not like to hear.
‘I have a plan,’ she said finally. Daniel was looking at her expectantly and she looked away as she spoke again. ‘On Monday I start work at Hobbs’ Mill.’
‘At the mill?’ Daniel pushed his chair away from the table where they were still sitting, the remnants of their meal waiting to be cleared away. He got his feet, then sat down again. ‘Have you no other option?’ Then, as another thought struck him, ‘Who will look after Alice?’
‘Martha has kindly said she will look after Alice. I will pay her, of course,’ Sarah added. ‘Then, if … when Gran gets better she can help out part of the time.’
Daniel opened his mouth as if to speak but Sarah cut in quickly. ‘Even if Gran gets better I doubt she will be as fit as before. She’s getting on and the strain of providing for us all is too great. It makes sense for me to take on that role.’
Daniel looked concerned as he listened to her. ‘Sarah, could you not take over your grandmother’s work? She has been training you for some time now.’
Sarah shook her head. ‘It seems as though it will be hard to get the patients to accept me instead of Gran. We would earn less than before, and I would still have to pay Martha to take care of Alice for some of the time. I’ve thought long and hard but I can’t see another way to make this work, for the moment at least.’
‘The mill work is hard, Sarah,’ Daniel warned. ‘You’ll be on your feet all day. And the mill folk are …’ He hesitated.
‘I’m used to working hard – and besides, I have no option.’ Sarah knew that she sounded defiant. ‘And if you mean the mill folk are rough, well, yes, I suppose that’s true of some of them. But many of them are from the village, from families I know through Gran’s work.’
Daniel was up and pacing the floor, shaking his head. ‘Sarah, you can read and write. You could do so much better. You’ve got a good head on your shoulders. In Manchester …’ He stopped.
Sarah’s expression was mulish. ‘I don’t live in Manchester. Nor do I intend to do so. Gran is here; Alice needs to be cared for. After the experience of my mother and sisters I don’t see what Manchester has to recommend it.’ Fired up, she was on her feet too, clearing the plates and piling them in the sink.
‘But you loved to hear about city life,’ Daniel protested.
‘Hear
about it, yes. Would I want to live there? No.’ Sarah realised that her rising temper was making her clearing-up efforts noisy and she made an effort to be quieter for the sake of her grandmother and Alice, sleeping upstairs.
‘You’re wasted here,’ Daniel declared fiercely. ‘You’ll not find mill work to your taste at all. It’s dull and repetitive – take it from me. I’ve seen how it is. You have a brain and you should be using it.’
Sarah’s passage between sink and table coincided with Daniel’s pacing and for a moment or two they stood facing each other, both flushed and with expressions of grim determination on their faces. Daniel yielded first. His expression softened and he reached out his hand to fleetingly brush Sarah’s arm. His fingertips lingered for a second or two and Sarah swallowed hard, feeling her anger, so swiftly kindled, in danger of turning just as quickly to tears.
‘Don’t let us quarrel,’ Daniel said softly. He made no move to step from her path but held her gaze, while her heart thumped so loudly in her breast that she feared he must notice.
Neither of them spoke for what seemed like an age but must have been barely half a minute. Sarah felt she must break the spell, although every fibre of her being was yearning for Daniel to reach out and touch her again.
‘Since your opinion of me is so high, what work do you suggest I should get?’ she asked lightly, making to step round him to collect the last of the dishes from the table.
This time Daniel prevented her by taking her shoulders in a firm grip and holding her slightly away from him. ‘You are right to point out the folly of my suggestions. I look to force my own ideas on you, without any clear idea of the sense of them, because I am filled with guilt. I can no longer stay with you but I can afford to help you by offering you a similar monthly sum. It would be a favour to me,’ he added hastily, seeing Sarah’s expression. ‘You could view it as a loan.’
‘Daniel, we couldn’t be beholden to you in that way. We must make our own way in life, and you will need whatever money you have to secure your own future. You will marry before long and have your own family to support.’
Sarah’s last words were provocative, issued in the hope of a denial. She hoped that her face didn’t reveal how little appeal the picture she had just painted of Daniel’s future held for her, but he hardly appeared to be listening to her.
His expression was filled with anguish when he spoke again. ‘It is true that there is another reason why I have stayed away,’ he said. ‘I have met someone in Manchester, and I suppose in the fullness of time we might be wed.’
Sarah closed her eyes briefly, feeling for all the world as if he had struck her.
‘I feared you would despise me for paying scant attention to Ellen’s memory.’ Daniel sighed, but didn’t relinquish his grip on Sarah’s shoulders. ‘But even worse, Sarah, I have to confess that I have fallen in love with you.’
Sarah gasped and tried to move back but Daniel hadn’t finished. ‘With you, with Alice, with Ada and with the life you have here.’
Sarah’s mind was reeling as she tried to make sense of Daniel’s words and so she was hardly aware that he was drawing her in to his chest and holding her there. Then, almost before she realised what was happening he tilted her face up towards him and kissed her lips, softly at first then with a passion that made her stagger back when he finally released her.
They stood facing each other once more, speechless. Sarah knew that what had just taken place should never have happened. Yet she wanted to experience it again even though it was wrong. For a few euphoric moments she didn’t even care that it was wrong. Then reality began to impose itself on her thoughts. Daniel had just confessed that he was all but engaged. And not only that, she herself was a married woman. Whatever would Joe think if he knew? The thought made her glance around nervously, as though someone might see and report back to him.
‘I’m sorry, Sarah.’ Daniel reached out and caught her hand but held it gently and didn’t try to pull her to him again. He looked slightly stunned by his own actions. ‘I shouldn’t have done that but I’m not sorry that I did. Can we set it aside and carry on as before, do you think?’
Sarah considered. Could she carry on seeing Daniel and forget that this moment had ever happened? Could she welcome his wife-to-be into the house without remembering what had passed between herself and Daniel, wishing for it to happen again, yet knowing she had no right to do so? Her eyes filled with tears as she slowly shook her head. Daniel gently pressed her hand to his lips and let it fall.
‘I knew I had no right to ask such a thing. I must do as I did before and leave you – otherwise both our lives will be a torment. My offer to help you with money until Joe returns will always stand.’
Sarah shook her head again. That could never be right, even less so after what had just passed between them. A great weariness overtook her.
‘I must clear up so all is ready for the morning. I wish you a good night’s rest.’ She turned away from Daniel to busy herself at the sink.
‘I will be gone in the morning, Sarah,’ he said, hesitating before turning towards the stairs. ‘I will say goodbye to Ada before I leave, but you and Alice must not disturb yourselves.’
Sarah bent over the sink as she listened to his tread on the stairs. How would she explain to her grandmother and to Alice that Daniel had gone once more, never to return? It would be a cruel blow, one that was hard to contemplate.
Chapter 46
‘Is that you, Sarah?’ Ada’s voice was querulous as Sarah made her way upstairs a few minutes later. Sarah hesitated, scrubbed at her face in an effort to wipe away any traces of her tears, then stepped into her grandmother’s bedroom.
‘Are you all right, Gran? Can I get you something?’
‘What have you been doing downstairs until this hour? Was that Daniel I heard just now going up the stairs?’
‘It’s not that late,’ Sarah said. ‘Daniel and I were just catching up on news – it’s such a long time since we’ve seen him. Now, it’s time for you to rest if you want to make sure that you get better all the sooner.’
She made a fuss of straightening Ada’s covers and plumping her pillows to disguise the agitation that her grandmother’s words had caused her. Imagining how she would have felt if Ada had been witness to what had passed between Daniel and herself in the kitchen, she felt a wave of embarrassment wash over her.
Yet that night, as she lay in her bed while Alice slept peacefully in her own over by the window, that feeling receded. She was tortured instead by the thought of Daniel’s proximity. He lay in the next room, with just a wall to separate them. It was as though she could sense him, wakeful, just a few feet away. Sarah sat up in bed, her face hot. She turned to look at the wall behind her bedhead, as if it might open and offer her passage to the room next door. Reaching out, she laid her palm flat against the wall and closed her eyes. She stayed there until the stiffness in her shoulder obliged her to move and so she lay down again in bed, curled up tightly and wishing fiercely for the oblivion of sleep.
When she awoke, cramped and stiff from the position she had held for a few hours, the room was perceptibly less dark. For a moment she couldn’t think why she was sleeping so awkwardly until the memories flooded back from the evening before. She sat up quickly, listening. The house was still. Had Daniel left already? Or was he still asleep? Would she have a chance to speak to him before he went?
She got out of bed and tiptoed to the door, taking care to tread lightly. Pausing on the threshold she listened. Still no sound. She stepped onto the landing and saw immediately that Daniel’s door, closed last night, was wide open.
‘Daniel,’ she whispered. But she knew at once he had gone. She crept along the landing and looked into his room where the bed, neatly made, looked as though it hadn’t been slept in. Sarah went quietly across to her grandmother’s room and peeped in. Ada was sleeping peacefully, the covers pulled up under her chin. A folded note lay on the table beside her bed. Sarah stared at it. Was this the
farewell to Ada that Daniel had promised? She had to stop herself from going into the room and retrieving the note; her fingers itched to open it to see what it contained. She clenched her fingers and turned away. It was not her place to read it. She must swallow her bitter disappointment and resign herself to the fact that she had seen the last of Daniel and that it could only be for the best.
Sarah lay sleepless in bed for another hour, staring at the ceiling and trying to talk herself into believing that the phase of her life that was about to begin would be a good one. Then, when she judged it to be an acceptable time to rise, she went quietly downstairs and sat at the kitchen table, looking out as the light lifted and wishing that she could turn her thoughts to what Joe, rather than Daniel, might be doing now.
Finally she roused herself and set the kettle to boil, making up a breakfast tray to take to Ada. The thought of the letter lying there on the bedside table was filling her head by the time she mounted the stairs. Childish chatter alerted her to the fact that Alice was awake and had no doubt woken Ada, too. As she expected, when she entered Ada’s room she found her grandmother half-propped on her pillows and Alice snuggled into the bed beside her.
‘Good morning,’ Sarah greeted them cheerfully, determined not to give any hint of the gloominess of her thoughts. Putting the tray down on the bedside table, she picked up the note. ‘What’s this?’ she asked, showing it to Ada, before laying it on the bedcover. Then she moved over to the window to open the curtains, determined to hide her agitation.
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