Alone Beneath The Heaven (51 page)

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Authors: Rita Bradshaw

BOOK: Alone Beneath The Heaven
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How could a few words by a man she had never met before wipe away all the pain and bitterness of twenty-four years? But they had. Her mother would have kept her, Jack had said so, and there was no point in him lying. If it wasn’t true, all he had had to do was not contact her in the first place. Her mother hadn’t known . . .
 
Had Jack told his sister about her yet, and if so, what was she thinking right at this moment? Surely Nancy would want to see her? She had to want that.
 
Sarah suddenly found it impossible to stay in bed, excitement and apprehension propelling her out from under the covers and into the bathroom. She would keep busy this morning - nothing strenuous, she’d promised Rodney - but she could sort out all the bags and boxes holding the baby’s things and put them away in the nursery. They had had the chest of drawers, little wardrobe with rabbit motifs and matching cot delivered the day before, and the pretty bright room, which Rodney had painted sunshine yellow, was a happy place to be this morning. She had to do something to keep herself occupied before Jack telephoned; she’d go mad otherwise.
 
The call came at twelve thirty.
 
‘Sarah?’ Jack’s disembodied voice caused her heart to race like an express train. ‘I’ve had a word with your mam’ - her mam,
her mam
- ‘an’ she wants to see you tonight, if you’re willin’? You could come round our house, Abbie is itchin’ to meet you an’ Rodney, an’ then Nancy’ll come along with Bill a bit later, if that suits you?’
 
If it suited her?
‘That - that sounds wonderful.’
 
‘Right, tonight it is then. Six o’clock suit you, lass? You an’ Rodney could come afore that if you’ve a mind, an’ have a bite with me an’ Abbie an’ the bairns, but it’s up to you.’
 
‘I think - thank you very much, but I don’t think I could eat anything tonight, Uncle Jack.’
 
‘Aye, lass, just so, that’s what our Abbie said you’d say. Plenty of time in the future, eh? Look, me money’s gone, I’ve nipped out in me dinner break an’ I’ve got to get back, but you’ve got the address, lass? I slipped it to Rodney last night.’
 
‘Yes, yes we’ve got it.’ It was standing alongside the treasured photograph.
 
‘Good. Six it is then.’ And then the pips went.
 
 
Jack’s three-up, three-down terraced house was only some two hundred yards away from the café where they had met the night before, and the woman who answered the door with Sarah’s uncle stared open-mouthed at Sarah, before she collected herself enough to say, ‘Eh, don’t stand out there, lass, come in, come in.’
 
Once in the hall, which although narrow and small was painted a light fresh blue, the woman continued to stare at her, as she said, ‘By, by, lass. By . . .’ It seemed all she was capable of saying, and as Sarah looked back into the amazed eyes, the wide-lipped mouth and warm tint to the fresh skin combining to give a brightness to the face that was very appealing, it came to her that she would like her uncle’s wife.
 
‘An’ you say my manners are lackin’ at times.’ Jack now dug his wife in the ribs. ‘Come on through to the sitting room the pair of you,’ he said loudly, with a faintly embarrassed air.
 
‘Ee, I’m sorry, lass, but I can see what Jack meant now, right enough, you are your mam’s lass, an’ no mistake.’ As they reached the sitting room Abbie turned and hugged Sarah, adding, ‘Peas in a pod couldn’t be more alike. Oh, I’m glad to see you, Sarah, I am that. Who would have thought it?’
 
Sarah wasn’t quite sure if her uncle’s wife was referring to her likeness to Nancy, or the situation as a whole, so she merely smiled her answer before she turned and said, ‘This is my husband, Rodney,’ taking Rodney’s arm as she did so.
 
‘Aye, I didn’t think it was the lodger, lass.’
 
And then they were laughing, the others wholeheartedly but Sarah a little nervously, something which Abbie must have recognized because she said, her face becoming straight, ‘Here, lass, all this must have taken it out of you. Come and have a seat by the fire, an’ I’ll get a cup of tea while you take the load off.’
 
The sitting room was small, but again sparkling clean and homely, with the inevitable blackleaded grate in which a small coal fire burnt despite the warmth of the September night. Once seated, Sarah glanced carefully about her, not wishing to offend her uncle or his wife by being too nosy, and she liked what she saw.
 
The small three-piece suite was a brown tweed with wooden arms, and relatively new, as was the wall-to-wall carpet, also in serviceable brown. The little china cabinet in one corner holding a collection of treasures, along with an ancient radiogram and long rectangular occasional table, made up the sum total of furniture in the room, but the curtains at the window were a deep red - and faintly reminiscent of Florrie’s - and gave a warm cosiness to the practical room that was very appealing.
 
It was a cosy place, a family house, Sarah felt, and she complimented Jack on his home as Abbie bustled off into the kitchen.
 
‘Aye, well you’re seein’ the best of it, to be truthful, lass,’ Jack said stolidly. ‘Abbie’s old aunty died a while back an’ left the wife a bit, an’ Abbie’d been longin’ to have a clean sweep in here since we got married. We was given a load of stuff then, an’ very grateful we was, mind, but Abbie’d got some ideas of how she wanted it to look. There’s a lot of folks round here that have their front room as their front room - high days an’ holidays, you know? - but Abbie wanted it done so the bairns could still come in here an’ spoil nothin’.’
 
‘It’s very nice,’ Sarah said again.
 
‘Aye, she’s got an eye, has my Abbie, an’ it was nice not to have to scrape an’ pinch for a change. When we first got married, an’ our Tim come pretty quick, your mam was the one that put food in our bellies more than once. Round she’d come of an evenin’, just to say hallo accordin’ to her, but when she’d gone we’d find a bag of groceries somewhere or other to see us through to payday. She’s one on her own, your mam.’
 
The appearance of her three young cousins who had been playing in the yard outside - the older two protesting that they had been playing chucks with Philip and Rory Drew, and they’d been winning, and
why
did they have to come in now? - brought an air of matter-of-factness to the proceedings, especially when the baby of the trio, little Billy, had an accident and wet his pants whilst sitting on his father’s lap. But Sarah still felt as though she might blink and the whole thing would have been a dream. A wonderful, fantastic, impossible dream.
 
She felt so keyed up she hardly knew what she was saying, and when they were all seated with their cups of tea, the children having been sent out to play again, it was a relief when Abbie broached the subject of her mother’s visit, saying, ‘Well, lass, she’ll be here in a minute or two, your mam. She said she’d call round about half six an’ it’s gettin’ on for that now. Is there anythin’ you want to ask me an’ Jack afore she comes?’
 
Sarah stared into the kind face and answered truthfully, ‘I don’t know where to start, Abbie.’
 
‘No, lass, I don’t suppose you do.’
 
‘I still can hardly believe it, to be honest. I mean I know it, but I can’t take it in. It’s real, but it’s not, you know?’
 
‘Aye, lass, I felt somethin’ similar when the poor King died this year, an’ him still only fifty-six. That was a shock to everyone, that was, an’ folk hereabouts said for days they couldn’t get it into their heads he had really gone. Mind you, with your mam, it’s a nice shock, not like that one, but still, I know what you mean.’
 
‘That’s not the same at all.’ Jack sounded quite indignant that his wife could compare the demise of King George VI with Sarah finding his sister, but his wife flapped her hand at him as she said, ‘Oh Sarah knows what I mean, don’t you, lass?’ She continued, without waiting for an answer, ‘Well, all I can say is that your mam is a lovely woman, Sarah. She didn’t deserve what her mam did any more than you did.’ Abbie bit down on her inner lip before adding, ‘Jack says she was never the same after. Broke her heart, it did.’
 
Sarah drew in a long breath and nodded slowly. What could she say? She just wanted to see her mother now, she didn’t want to talk or ask any questions. She just wanted to see her mother’s face.
 
And then, as if in answer to her heart’s plea, there was a knock at the front door followed by a man’s voice calling, the tone overly robust, ‘Hallo there! Anybody home?’
 
Sarah had leapt to her feet in a manner that belied her advanced pregnancy, and now Rodney followed suit, catching Jack’s arm as the other man made to go towards the door and saying, ‘It’s them? It’s her?’
 
‘Aye, it’s Nancy an’ Bill.’
 
It was going to happen. It was going to happen
now
.
 
The sensation that had spiralled into Sarah’s head and round her body fragmented the light and turned her gaze into tunnel vision that was pointed at the door. She was vaguely aware of Abbie and Jack hastily leaving the room, and Rodney holding her shoulder tightly as he pulled her against him, supporting her with his body, but she couldn’t have moved or spoken if her life had depended on it.
 
And then her mother stepped into the room.
 
The world stopped revolving and time stood still.
 
‘Sarah?’ It was soft and trembling, but still Sarah couldn’t speak. She was looking into her mother’s face, and she knew her, and she saw the same sense of heart recognition in the beautiful tragic blue eyes staring back at her.
 
And then Nancy’s legs began to buckle, and on the perimeter of Sarah’s vision she was aware of Rodney leaping forward and shouting, ‘Catch her,’ to the tall grey-haired man standing just behind her mother.
 
It was Rodney who took Nancy’s weight, and as the older woman’s head fell back limply against his arm and he caught the full force of the amazing likeness to Sarah close to, he realized he was looking at his wife’s face in twenty years’ time and felt the equivalent of an electric shock pass down his spine. But then his professional side took over, his voice soothing and calm as he said, ‘Don’t worry, she’s only fainted, she’ll be perfectly all right. Here, let’s lay her on the settee for a minute or two, she’s already beginning to come round.’
 
Sarah was half supporting her mother’s head as Rodney carried Nancy across the room, and she sank down onto the settee with her, her arms going tightly round the older woman’s slender body that was so slight it could be called sylphlike. There was some silver in the golden hair that was pulled into a low thick bun on the nape of Nancy’s neck, and as Sarah saw it her throat seized and locked and she cradled her mother closer.
 
And it was at that moment that Nancy opened her eyes and looked up into the face of the daughter she had been mourning for twenty-four years. ‘Sarah . . .’ It was a whisper, but the tone was such that it caused both men to glance at each other and quietly leave the room.
 
Sarah was blinking rapidly, not wanting her tears to mist the sight of this dear face, and then as Nancy, her own face awash now, said, ‘I always called you Jane in my heart, but Sarah Jane is a lovely name . . .’ she managed, ‘You thought of me sometimes?’
 
‘Always.’ Nancy raised herself, her hands taking Sarah’s as she said, ‘How can you ever forgive me? Do - do you hate me?’
 
‘Hate you?’ Sarah shook her head, her tears blinding her as she said, ‘I love you, you’re my mother.’
 
‘Oh my bairn, my precious precious bairn.’ And now it was Nancy who took her daughter in her arms, covering her face in kisses and punctuating each kiss with endearments. And as Sarah clung to her mother, as she felt herself enfolded in the warmth and the scented smell of her, she felt something happening to the empty place deep inside that had been with her since she was a child. It was filling, like an underground geyser sending up a hot column of water to the bright sunlight above, and as it rose all the pain and anguish was melting inwards to meet it until all that was left was pure joy.
 
And the rocking continued, her mother’s voice repeating, ‘I love you, I love you, my brave brave little lass. There, there, my bairn, I love you . . .’
 
She had dreamt this moment as a child so many times - tasted it, lived it, only to wake in the morning and have it taken from her. But this was that morning, this was real, and her voice reflected her ecstasy as she whispered, ‘I’ve found you, mam.’
 
Chapter Twenty-five
 
‘Rodney? She’s started, lad.’ Nancy listened to the voice at the other end of the telephone as she smiled at her daughter sitting at the kitchen table, and then said, ‘Of course I’m sure. I might only have had the one but there are some things that never change.’ A pause, and then, ‘Aye, her waters went a minute or two ago.’

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