Sarah’s Story: An emotional family saga that you won’t be able to put down. Lynne Francis. Читать онлайн. Newlib. NEWLIB.NET

Автор: Lynne Francis
Издательство: HarperCollins
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Жанр произведения: Историческая литература
Год издания: 0
isbn: 9780008244293
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hand flew to her mouth as she stifled a gasp. Had Ada really gone into The Old Bell? Had she faced down the stares and the remarks of the men who drank there in order to find Joe? Sarah was filled with a mixture of admiration for her grandmother’s fearlessness and spirit, and embarrassment for Joe. Surely he would have been humiliated in the eyes of the other men? How would this make him react at the mention of marriage?

      Ada registered Sarah’s reaction. ‘Oh, as I said, it’s not the first time I’ve ventured through those doors, you can be sure. Your father’s fondness for drink meant that I’ve fetched him from there more than once to stop him spending the last farthings that your mother needed to feed you all. And I’ve spread the word of the Methodist faith both inside and outside those doors. There’s men in there who’d do better to spend their time by their own firesides, rather than The Old Bell’s.’

      Sarah wished for a moment that she could have witnessed Ada, the indomitable widow, as she berated the men in the safe haven that they had created for themselves away from their wives and families. But her feelings were short-lived.

      ‘A pretty piece of work the pair of you have made,’ Ada said. ‘And what a time it has taken me to set it half to rights.’

      She was looking angry now and Sarah, barely understanding what she meant, quietly poured her more tea. The windows rattled as the rain gusted harder and the rain came on, splattering against the panes with such force it was as though handfuls of gravel were being thrown against them. Sarah shivered, despite the warmth of the room.

      ‘So, I’ve spoken with the minister and it is agreed. As a favour to me there will be a quiet ceremony in the chapel on Wednesday afternoon. I’ll write to your mother to let her know, but you’re not to expect her or your father to give up a day or more’s wages to make the journey here. Nor will you have your sisters as bridesmaids.’

      Sarah, who hadn’t even considered the latter as a possibility, was suddenly tormented by the thought. How Jane and Ellen would have loved it: bridesmaids, in their Sunday-best frocks with flowers in their hair.

      Ada went on, ‘Joe tells me that he can furnish a best man and we’ll find someone from the chapel to give you away. There’ll be no wedding breakfast though: your new husband has to be away to work that very afternoon.’

      Sarah was struggling to comprehend the extent of the planning and arrangements that had taken place in Ada’s few hours of absence.

      ‘So Joe …’ she faltered, struggling to express herself without revealing the fears that she was starting to feel.

      ‘Joe will be there,’ Ada said firmly. ‘He has met with the minister and provided an account of himself.’ She paused and frowned. ‘He’s a sight older than I expected. He must have ten years on you. I left him in no doubt as to how I feel about the situation, and about how he has exploited you.’

      Sarah was moved to protest, ‘It wasn’t like that …’ but Ada cut her off.

      ‘I don’t wish to know how it was. I thought your upbringing had prepared you for better than this. But what’s done is done and we must make the best of it. I suggest that you see that your best dress is in a fit state to be worn. And take a look at the fit of it.’ She cast a critical eye over Sarah’s figure. ‘It won’t do to make it too obvious why there is a necessity for such a haste to be wed.’ She stood up. ‘Now, I’m going to take a rest and I’ll thank you for not disturbing me until suppertime.’

      She climbed the stairs slowly and Sarah heard her close the bedroom door, then the creak of the floorboards as she moved about overhead before settling on the bed. For the next hour, both women were fully occupied with their own fears, hopes and imaginings for the future, thoughts that took them down very different paths.

       Chapter 9

      Sarah felt that time was dragging its heels on its way to Wednesday. Joe had shared the news of his departure with her on the Thursday, her grandmother had spoken to him and all the plans were in place by Friday, but there were still four whole days to be got through before her wedding day. Four days in which she had no chance to see Joe, for Ada as good as kept her under lock and key.

      ‘You’ve brought quite enough disgrace on our good name,’ she said. ‘I’ll not have you flaunting yourself again around the countryside.’

      Sarah cast her eyes down, unable to meet Ada’s gaze. In the words that came out of Ada’s mouth the meetings between her and Joe, which had felt so happy, joyous and full of love, had become sordid and shameful. But she ached to see Joe and to be able to discuss plans beyond the wedding day with him. She comforted herself with the thought that they would get themselves a cottage somewhere, either in Nortonstall or Northwaite, and she could keep house for him without having to endure her grandmother’s bad humour.

      Sarah got through the days by trying her best to stay on the right side of Ada, to avoid causing further upset, and daydreaming about her future at every possible moment. She accompanied Ada to the chapel on the Sunday, stealing covert glances at the congregation to see whether anyone was paying them undue attention. If they were, surely one glance at Ada, sitting bolt upright in her pew and wearing a forbidding expression, would have discouraged any further observation.

      As they departed, the minister shook Sarah’s hand in his usual cordial fashion and made no reference to her forthcoming wedding, presumably to spare her blushes in the face of the congregation. It took every ounce of her will not to look back as they walked down the path away from the chapel but she told herself that the gossipmongers were welcome to have their say; soon she would be Mrs Joe Bancroft and they could still their tongues then.

      On Tuesday letters arrived to break the monotony of Sarah’s enforced imprisonment. Ada opened the first one, which had come from Sarah’s mother in Manchester. She skimmed the contents, frowning, then read it out to Sarah.

       ‘My dearest Sarah,

      I do so wish that I could be with you on your wedding day. A day that should be a joyous occasion but that, if I understand your grandmother correctly, has had to be arranged in haste. Sarah, I am sorry that you have followed in my footsteps and I wish I could have been there these last years to offer you guidance –’

      Here Ada made a contemptuous snort. ‘I hope you have made a better choice than I did –’ here Ada was moved to snort again ‘– and wish that I could be there to meet your new husband. The fact is that neither the girls nor I are well, barely well enough to make it to the mill each day, so afflicted are we with coughing. So we must postpone our visit until the spring or summer, when we can come and see the baby as well.

      All my love, and from your loving sisters Jane and Ellen too.

      Sarah listened intently. Just as her grandmother had predicted, there would be no other family at her wedding. More worrying was to hear that they were ill. But where was her father in all of this?

      ‘My father?’ she asked tentatively. ‘Will he come to give me away?’

      Ada shook her head. ‘There’s no mention of him here. I don’t know why. It will take another letter to ask her, with no time for a reply, so you must resign yourself to the fact that I will be your only family tomorrow.’

      Sarah, seeing how tired her grandmother looked, and made anxious after hearing the news of her mother’s and sisters’ illness, was moved to get up and go over to her, to stroke her shoulder.

      ‘Never mind; they have said they will come in summer to see the baby and meanwhile we will be quite content, just the three of us, tomorrow.’

      Ada only absent-mindedly acknowledged Sarah’s attempt at a conciliatory gesture. She had picked up the second letter and was frowning at it.

      ‘I don’t recognise the writing on this,’ she said, turning it this way and that between her fingers as though hoping for clues.