Sarah’s Story: An emotional family saga that you won’t be able to put down
‘No matter,’ Sarah said. ‘I’ve become used to it.’ She made an effort not to appear too cheerful or eager at the prospect of venturing out, whilst silently thanking Mrs Shepherd for giving her the excuse she needed to see Joe.
By the time dinner was eaten and the plates cleared away, the rain had eased a little but threatening clouds promised yet more to come.
‘I’ll take shelter if it comes on too hard,’ Sarah said, preparing her grandmother for a possible delayed return. She departed swiftly, heart beating fast at the prospect of seeing Joe. But he was nowhere to be seen at Two-Ways Cross, and although she waited a while, walking up and down to see whether she could observe his approach, she didn’t like to loiter too long. Wondering what might have kept him, and feeling very disconsolate, she made her way to Mrs Shepherd’s house, declining her offers of refreshment with the excuse that she’d like to get back home before the rain came on.
Sarah hurried back through the streets of Northwaite, slowing her steps as she passed The Old Bell. Was it possible that Joe was in there, oblivious to the passage of time? She had no way of finding out; entering would be inconceivable, and loitering with the intention of asking a departing customer whether Joe was there would likely cause a scandal. The door swung open and she peered in, but could make out little of the interior other than figures huddled at the bar, so she put her head down against the rain, which had resumed, borne on a driving wind, and headed back towards home.
At Two-Ways Cross she paused again. After a few moments she could hear whistling, faint at first but drawing ever closer along the road she had just traversed. Her heart leapt. ‘Joe,’ she thought, and sure enough he strode into view shortly after.
‘Well, lass, a’ thought it were you in Northwaite just now.’
She could smell the ale on his breath, but told herself that since he’d been forced to bide his time before meeting her, then of course it was likely he would be in the tavern. She was expecting a kiss but instead he seized her hand and pulled her through a gate leading into the field beside them.
‘We’ll be drownded like rats if we don’t take shelter,’ he said, taking her hand to guide her through the sticky, slippery mud – made even worse by the passage of hooves of cattle – towards the barn, which provided a trysting place less attractive than the deer pool, but no less welcome.
Joe stamped his feet and waved his arms to drive the cattle out into the field to allow them access. The cows had sheltered glumly under a tree at first but then edged back, gathering around the door and bumping into each other as they jostled for space, the breath from their nostrils hanging in the damp air.
As soon as Joe had Sarah safe within the barn, laid on the straw, he fell on her like a man ravenous. She felt a sense of disappointment that he hadn’t wooed her and coaxed her, followed by a feeling of detachment from the situation. Afterwards, he was silent, head turned away from her, and she thought he had fallen asleep. Just when she was beginning to feel that she couldn’t bear the weight of him a moment longer he turned towards her.
‘So, hast thou missed me?’ he said, stroking the side of her face and allowing his fingers to linger as he moved to caress her body. Finally, she felt the stirrings of the feelings that had both sustained her and tormented her over the last few weeks. He trailed his fingers across her belly, then laid his hand flat on it. He looked at her questioningly.
‘With child?’
She shook her head, willing him to go on with his exploration of her.
He bit the flesh on the back of her hand lightly, gazing at her all the while, then grazed her shoulder with his teeth. She shivered and he stopped.
‘Ist thou cold?’
Sarah shook her head again. The weather was chilly for a July day, sodden and damp with rain as it was, but her skin burned. She reached her hands up around his neck and pulled her down to him.
‘If it’s a baby you’re wanting, then you must do something about it,’ she whispered.
He was kissing her more gently now and Sarah was barely aware of the scratch of damp straw against her skin, but a thought she wanted to express kept rising to the surface even though her whole being wished to be simply swept along on a tide of pleasure.
‘You must marry me,’ she murmured.
Joe paused and pulled away to look at her. Had she been too bold? Sarah wondered. Had she made a mistake in voicing this thought out loud, a thought that had taken root and nagged away at her all the time he had been gone?
‘Aye, well, happen I must,’ he said, and fell to kissing her again so that Sarah barely knew whether she had heard him aright.
Chapter 7
Within a week of Joe’s return, summer was back. He’d joked that the skies had been crying over his departure but now all was well, and it was certainly true that each day brought increased sunshine, a rise in the temperatures and a rapid drying up of the mud.
Sarah used the excuse of needing to see how the herbs that she collected from the wild had fared during the rain as a reason to absent herself from the house. This, along with the delivery of remedies around the area, found her able to arrange meetings with Joe nearly every other day. Ada, absorbed in the nurturing of the herb beds at home, and in the creation of the ointments and remedies, didn’t seem to notice the length of Sarah’s absences. But Sarah found herself made greedy. She had so longed for Joe’s return that now she had him back, an hour or so of his company two or three times a week wasn’t enough for her. She wanted to spend more time with him, to do ordinary things with him. Although she didn’t regret one minute of their fevered assignations, she did find herself wondering what it might be like to sit across the table from him at breakfast, or to prepare a meal for him at the end of the day.
As July and then August passed, and the weather held out, she waited for Joe to speak again of their marriage. Come September, as the month wore on and the leaves started to fall, colder, wetter weather swept in. Outdoor meetings would soon be impossible, Sarah reasoned, and she resolved to raise the subject of marriage with Joe once more. Two events forced her hand. As she straightened her skirt and buttoned her blouse one autumnal afternoon, sheltered this time from the blustery winds by the enclosed nature of the deer pool, which had become their regular trysting place, Joe spoke. He had his back to her as he pulled on his jacket and his voice was casual.
‘I’ll be away from next week. There’s work to be had for a while.’
Sarah stilled her fingers. ‘Will we be married before you go?’ she asked.
Joe still had his back to her when he spoke again. ‘Nay, why the hurry? We can talk on it when I’m back.’
Sarah felt her colour rise along with a rush of anger. ‘And when will that be?’ she demanded.
Joe swung round to face her. ‘Why, tha’ knows I canna say for sure.’
By now, Sarah knew that Joe worked on the canal, taking boats with their loads of cotton, wool and coal up to Manchester. She’d been shocked at first; her grandmother always spoke badly of the canal dwellers, deeming them uneducated, low and thieving folk. Sarah would have liked to be able to refute this but Joe had described his life on the canal to her in the time that they were able to spare for talking when they met. He’d joked about the vegetables that they took from the gardens alongside the canal, and of his prowess as a poacher. He’d offered her pheasants and rabbits but Sarah had laughingly refused, asking him just how did he think she could explain them away to her grandmother?
He’d told her how jobs on the canal could run on for weeks and months, when the arrival of a delivery at its destination could be met with a demand for the boat to transport a new cargo back to the other end of the canal. He’d declined work over the summer in order to be free to spend time with Sarah, he’d said, but could no longer afford to miss the wages.
This time, Sarah had a pressing need to be sure of his return date.
‘I’ve a baby on the way,’ she said.
Joe looked at her with an expression she couldn’t fathom. She would have hazarded a guess at a mixture of pleased, alarmed and wary.
When he didn’t speak, she pressed on.
‘I don’t think I can wait five or six weeks for your return, Joe. I will be showing by then.’
He nodded slowly. ‘Afore I go, then. Afore I go, we will marry.’
He stood up and pulled her to her feet and hugged her close to him. They both stood without speaking for some time, wrapped in their own thoughts.
‘Must I tell my grandmother?’ Sarah spoke hesitantly. She could see no way round it, but couldn’t bear to guess at Ada’s reaction.
‘Nay, lass. Not yet. Let me think on it.’
In fact, it was Sarah who went home that day to think about it. And her thoughts persuaded her that it might be foolish to wait for Joe to organise their wedding, with so little time remaining before he was to go away again. With no idea herself, though, of how to go about organising such a thing, she could see no alternative to telling her grandmother of what had befallen her. This was not an easy conclusion to reach and she passed a restless night, with a good deal of it spent watching the shadows change on the wall as the darkness of the night lifted to reveal a grey dawn.
Even with breakfast on the table, Sarah was no clearer in her mind as to how to approach the topic. She only knew that Ada was likely to be angry; indeed, very angry. Would she forbid the wedding? Sarah wasn’t sure, but she would have to endure much scolding before it could be agreed upon. She could see little point in waiting any longer though. So, as soon as Ada had taken her seat and Sarah had poured tea into her cup, she spoke.
‘I’m to be wed.’
Ada laid down her knife and the piece of bread she was about to butter.
‘I don’t believe I can have heard you correctly. I thought you said you were about to be wed.’
‘Indeed I did,’ said Sarah.
‘And am I to know the name of the bridegroom?’ Ada’s calm reaction was not what Sarah had been expecting.
‘Joe Bancroft. From …’ Sarah hesitated, reluctant to mention Joe’s abode, which would reveal his line of work. ‘From Nortonstall.’
‘And where did you meet this Joe Bancroft?’
‘While I was out gathering lungwort and comfrey.’
Ada picked up her bread and buttered it carefully before speaking. ‘You’re too young, Sarah. You may ask this Joe Bancroft to come to the house to meet me, to see whether he might be a suitable match. With your father and mother away it falls to me to decide such things.’
Sarah looked down at her plate, concentrating hard on the faded painted twists of flowers around the edge while she fought back tears. ‘I must be wed. And within the week.’
Ada’s knife slipped from her fingers and clattered down, striking her plate and falling to the floor.
‘Am I to understand …’ She couldn’t bring herself to finish the sentence.
‘There’s to be a baby, yes.’ Sarah tried hard to stay in control but her voice shook and tears spilled down her cheeks.
‘Have you no sense? No shame? Like your mother before you. As if I hadn’t already been shamed once in my own community.’ Ada shook her head. ‘You’re throwing your life away. Like as not he’s a ne’er-do-well, or you wouldn’t find yourself in this situation.’ Her voice rose along with her anger. ‘And why married within the week, might I ask?’
‘He’s to go away for work,’ Sarah said, her voice dwindling almost to a whisper. ‘By the time he gets back, the baby will be well on the way.’
‘Aye, and how well that will look before the altar. So, do you think he’s going to stand by you? Or has he made off already?’
‘No!’ Sarah protested. ‘He said he would arrange things. But I thought …’
‘It’s as well you did, my girl.’ Ada’s tone was grim. ‘I think we had better find this Joe Bancroft and make sure he does right by you.’ She pushed her chair back from the table, tea now cold and her breakfast untouched. ‘Where does he live?’
‘I don’t rightly know.’ Sarah faltered. ‘By the canal, I think.’
Ada’s mouth tightened into a thin line. ‘By the canal? Or do you mean on the canal? Is he one of those narrow-boat folk?’ She almost spat out the words.
Sarah could only nod. ‘But he’s a good man,’ she countered. ‘Thoughtful, kind and gentle.’
‘Aye, no doubt,’ Ada said. ‘And how will he provide for you and a baby? Where will you live? Are you to join the boating folk?’
Sarah was startled. She hadn’t considered this. It had never occurred to her that she might live on the canal. She’d spent her whole life in this hilltop village, surrounded by fields and wide-open skies. Narrow-boat life, down in the damp, dank valley, suddenly seemed restrictive and, if truth be told, frightening.
‘I thought I’d live here,’ she said in a small voice.
‘It seems to me that thought has had very little to do with any of this,’ Ada said, tying on her bonnet and shrugging off Sarah’s attempts to help her fasten her shawl in place.
‘I’ll thank you for staying here for the day and keeping house,’ she said. ‘If you’d done more of that and less gallivanting off over hill and dale you might not be in the position you find yourself in.’ And Ada left the house, shutting the door with some force behind her.
Sarah cleared up the breakfast things, glancing constantly out of the window as if she expected her grandmother to reappear at any moment with a shamefaced Joe in tow. What had seemed such a delightful secret over the last two months felt shabby and demeaning now that it was revealed to public scrutiny. And could her grandmother be right? Was it possible that Joe had already left?
Chapter 8
By the time Ada reappeared it was late afternoon and Sarah was in a fever of worry, trying to imagine what might have happened. Three times she herself had put on her bonnet and got as far as the garden gate before retreating inside. She was mindful of Ada’s words and fearful of angering her even more, should she return to find the house unattended.
How would her grandmother locate Joe? she wondered. And when she did, what would she say to him? Her thoughts flitted from one possible scenario to another and, when Ada finally appeared at the gate, Sarah could have sunk to the floor in a mixture of fear, apprehension and relief. Instead, she hurried to set the kettle on the hob. When Ada opened the door and was blown in on a flurry of leaves, whipped up by the stormy weather brewing outside, Sarah was ready, solicitous. She helped Ada remove her bonnet and shawl, meeting no resistance this time, and pulled up a chair close to the warmth of the range.
Her grandmother looked grey-faced with exhaustion and Sarah noticed how her fingers trembled slightly as she raised her teacup to her lips. Sarah busied herself with the tea and setting out slices of her grandmother’s fruitcake, feeling sure that she would be in need of sustenance.
Then she asked her, ‘Did you … did you … find Joe?’
Ada gazed unseeing through the window, where the wind was lifting the autumn leaves from the trees so that they rained down in fluttering flashes of orange, red and yellow.
‘Yes, I did,’ she said, after a lengthy pause. ‘It seems that there are folk around here who know more than I do about what my own granddaughter has been up to.’
Sarah winced at the barbed comment, feeling a flush rise to her cheeks even as her heart sank. She had hoped that she and Joe had been discreet in their meetings, conducting them as far as possible from any prying eyes in the neighbourhood.
‘Your precious Joe, it seems, likes a drink just like your father did.’ Ada had colour back in her cheeks now, but her expression was stern. ‘And, just as in the past with your father, I had to go into The Old Bell to fetch him out to make an account of himself.’
Sarah’s 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.