They own Macy’s, the big store in New York.’
‘No, love, I don’t think so. Was it in the papers you brought yesterday?’
‘Perhaps it was today’s,’ Sarah replied uneasily. ‘I’ve brought them for you,’ she added flatly, as Rose handed her a favourite mug decorated with delicate sprays of forget-me-not.
There was a look on her face that Rose could not read. She seemed quite in command of herself, but then, she always did. The last time Rose had seen Sarah upset was more than a year ago, after a particularly bad accident at Ballievy. A machine guard had not been replaced after cleaning and a girl had been caught by her hair and died from her injuries.
They drank their tea in silence.
‘What happened to the Straus’s, Sarah?’
‘They went to the lifeboats and said “Goodbye” and Mrs Straus got in and sat down,’ began Sarah coolly. ‘And then she got up again and climbed out of the lifeboat and went back to her husband. She said they’d been together all these years and they weren’t going to be parted now. Then they went away along the deck together.’
Her tone remained steady almost to the last word, but when she said ‘together’ her voice broke into a choking sob and tears streamed down her cheeks. She covered her face with her hands, her narrow shoulders shaking as she rocked back and forth in her father’s fireside chair.
‘Sarah, Sarah, love, what is it? Tell me what it is?’ Rose whispered, jumping to her feet and putting her arms round her.
She stroked her hair and kissed her neck and the small piece of forehead that emerged as Sarah wiped her face ineffectually.
‘Sarah, love. Tell me. Is it Hugh?
‘No, it’s me,’ she gasped, as she pulled out a handkerchief from her skirt pocket. ‘I wish I could have gone with Hugh. That’s wicked isn’t it?
‘The Straus’s were old and their children grown up. If Hugh and I had been on the
Titanic
, he’d have made me go because of Helen and young Hugh. But I wouldn’t have wanted to go. Not even for them. And that’s all wrong, isn’t it? I ought to love my children and I don’t.’
‘Oh Sarah, Sarah, you’re not
wicked
, you’re bereft. You’ve lost the man you loved. You’ve loved him all your life.’
‘I still love him. I’ll never love anyone else,’ she sobbed. ‘Whatever he says, I’ll never love anyone like I loved him.’
‘Of course, you won’t. You can’t love any two people in the same way. You can’t love the children like you loved Hugh, but that doesn’t mean you don’t love them.’
‘Doesn’t it? Sometimes I can hardly bear to look at them because they’re so like him. Hugh even
sounds
like him when he’s trying to be grown up,’ she went on, her voice stronger, though the tears still flowed.
‘I simply
cannot
imagine how I can go on living without him. Without joy. Without comfort. Just work and the children. No motor coming into the yard. No footstep in the hallway. No warm arms at night or in the morning. Never, ever again.’
‘Sarah, you’re too hard on yourself. It’s not a year yet,’ Rose said firmly, wiping her tears with her own handy. ‘You’ve done nothing but work. You’re tired out and everything’s worse when you’re tired. Do you remember when you were a little girl, how irritable you got? You were so cross the others used to be afraid of you.’
Rose paused, grateful for the sniff that might have been the ghost of a laugh.
‘But now you’re so good, so grown up, so sensible, you’ve forgotten how to be sad or upset.’
‘But isn’t that what one’s supposed to do? When one has children and responsibilities?’ Sarah countered, as she blew her nose loudly.
‘Oh yes, we have to try,’ said Rose, whose back was aching furiously with bending over. ‘But how can we be comforted if we don’t admit our pain and hurt?’
‘I thought comfort was only for children,’ Sarah came back at her again as she wiped her face with Rose’s drier
‘No, love, I don’t think so. Was it in the papers you brought yesterday?’
‘Perhaps it was today’s,’ Sarah replied uneasily. ‘I’ve brought them for you,’ she added flatly, as Rose handed her a favourite mug decorated with delicate sprays of forget-me-not.
There was a look on her face that Rose could not read. She seemed quite in command of herself, but then, she always did. The last time Rose had seen Sarah upset was more than a year ago, after a particularly bad accident at Ballievy. A machine guard had not been replaced after cleaning and a girl had been caught by her hair and died from her injuries.
They drank their tea in silence.
‘What happened to the Straus’s, Sarah?’
‘They went to the lifeboats and said “Goodbye” and Mrs Straus got in and sat down,’ began Sarah coolly. ‘And then she got up again and climbed out of the lifeboat and went back to her husband. She said they’d been together all these years and they weren’t going to be parted now. Then they went away along the deck together.’
Her tone remained steady almost to the last word, but when she said ‘together’ her voice broke into a choking sob and tears streamed down her cheeks. She covered her face with her hands, her narrow shoulders shaking as she rocked back and forth in her father’s fireside chair.
‘Sarah, Sarah, love, what is it? Tell me what it is?’ Rose whispered, jumping to her feet and putting her arms round her.
She stroked her hair and kissed her neck and the small piece of forehead that emerged as Sarah wiped her face ineffectually.
‘Sarah, love. Tell me. Is it Hugh?
‘No, it’s me,’ she gasped, as she pulled out a handkerchief from her skirt pocket. ‘I wish I could have gone with Hugh. That’s wicked isn’t it?
‘The Straus’s were old and their children grown up. If Hugh and I had been on the
Titanic
, he’d have made me go because of Helen and young Hugh. But I wouldn’t have wanted to go. Not even for them. And that’s all wrong, isn’t it? I ought to love my children and I don’t.’
‘Oh Sarah, Sarah, you’re not
wicked
, you’re bereft. You’ve lost the man you loved. You’ve loved him all your life.’
‘I still love him. I’ll never love anyone else,’ she sobbed. ‘Whatever he says, I’ll never love anyone like I loved him.’
‘Of course, you won’t. You can’t love any two people in the same way. You can’t love the children like you loved Hugh, but that doesn’t mean you don’t love them.’
‘Doesn’t it? Sometimes I can hardly bear to look at them because they’re so like him. Hugh even
sounds
like him when he’s trying to be grown up,’ she went on, her voice stronger, though the tears still flowed.
‘I simply
cannot
imagine how I can go on living without him. Without joy. Without comfort. Just work and the children. No motor coming into the yard. No footstep in the hallway. No warm arms at night or in the morning. Never, ever again.’
‘Sarah, you’re too hard on yourself. It’s not a year yet,’ Rose said firmly, wiping her tears with her own handy. ‘You’ve done nothing but work. You’re tired out and everything’s worse when you’re tired. Do you remember when you were a little girl, how irritable you got? You were so cross the others used to be afraid of you.’
Rose paused, grateful for the sniff that might have been the ghost of a laugh.
‘But now you’re so good, so grown up, so sensible, you’ve forgotten how to be sad or upset.’
‘But isn’t that what one’s supposed to do? When one has children and responsibilities?’ Sarah countered, as she blew her nose loudly.
‘Oh yes, we have to try,’ said Rose, whose back was aching furiously with bending over. ‘But how can we be comforted if we don’t admit our pain and hurt?’
‘I thought comfort was only for children,’ Sarah came back at her again as she wiped her face with Rose’s drier
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