Читать книгу A Sister’s Sorrow - Kitty Neale - Страница 9

Christmas came and went, and, as expected, Sarah’s festive stocking had been empty. Her mother said she didn’t believe in Christmas, and years before had told Sarah that Santa Claus didn’t exist.

Now, another four months had passed and Sarah was pleased the bitterly cold winter was behind them. As the early afternoon spring sunshine broke through the April clouds, she pushed Tommy’s pram through the housing estate. She’d found the pram broken and dumped at the bottom of the stairs, and though she didn’t like Eddy, she’d been thankful that he’d managed to repair it.

Her stomach growled. It had been days since she’d eaten properly, just a few mouthfuls of vegetable broth here and there. Her mother had given Sarah some bread ration coupons, but she’d sold them to buy formula for Tommy.

Sarah stopped for a moment and pulled back the pram hood, allowing the sun to warm Tommy’s face. As he happily gurgled, she smiled lovingly at him, satisfied that her sacrifice of food was worth it to see Tommy thriving. He was six months old now and she’d soon have to wean him off the formula, and then it wouldn’t be long before he would be walking and talking. Though she was keen to see her brother develop, part of her wished he could stay forever a small bundle, safe in her arms. She feared once Tommy was a toddler, their mother’s patience would wear thinner, and she wondered how she’d protect him against her vicious tongue and brutal ways.

‘Hey, Sarah.’

Sarah heard her friend’s voice calling her name and looked behind to see Jenny running towards her. Though they were both now fourteen years old, Sarah thought Jenny looked very young with her blonde hair in pigtails.

‘I haven’t seen you for ages,’ Jenny said breathlessly when she caught up with her.

‘I’ve been busy with Tommy. You know how it is.’

‘Yeah, I suppose. A bunch of us are going over to the old bomb site. Stanley’s dad made him a new cart and Molly and me are gonna have a leapfrog race with him. Do you want to come? It’ll be a right laugh.’

Sarah thought for a moment. She would’ve loved to join her friends and play, carefree, but she had more pressing things on her mind. ‘No, not today. I’m taking Tommy for a walk in the park.’

‘Oh, Sarah, you’re not off to see that old codger again, are you?’ Jenny asked and rolled her eyes.

‘Mr Sayers ain’t an old codger … He’s really nice.’

‘If you say so. Well, suit yourself, I’m off. You’re no fun any more.’

Sarah watched her friend skip away. Unlike her, Jenny didn’t look as if she had a care in the world, and as much as Sarah loved Tommy, a part of her was jealous and yearned for her old life back. Dismissing her thoughts for now, and driven by the need for something substantial to fill her belly, she continued through the estate, heading for Battersea Park. A cool breeze caught her long dark hair and whipped it over her face. Tucking it firmly behind her ears, she marched on, hoping to find Mr Sayers working on his allotment.

Part of the park had been given over to the war effort and many allotments remained, though with the new sculptures they were erecting and the redevelopment of the park, Mr Sayers had told Sarah he wasn’t confident he’d have his little piece of land for much longer. Still, it suited them both for the time being.

She had first met him in the park, when he’d seen her picking and scoffing wild blackberries which were growing in some brambles along one of the more discreet pathways. When he’d discovered she was eating the fruit because she was so hungry, he’d taken her to his allotment and offered her some cabbages to take home. That had been a year before Tommy had been born, and since then a firm friendship had developed. Mr Sayers’ eyes weren’t good, and he missed reading the daily papers. Sarah would sit and read aloud to him, and in exchange he would provide her with seasonal fruit and veg.

Once in the park and a little further on, she spotted her elderly friend, leaning into his shovel and digging the soil.

‘Hello, Mr Sayers,’ Sarah called, waving eagerly.

The man stood up and arched himself backwards as he squinted into the sun to see her. ‘Hello, love. I thought you might come down today so I’ve just been digging up some lovely rhubarb for you. Come and have a look at this! I can’t believe how big it’s grown, especially after all that snow we had a couple of months back!’

Sarah had heard of rhubarb but she’d never eaten it. She looked at the red and green stalks with a dubious expression on her face.

‘Boil it up in a saucepan, that’s all you have to do. With these blinking rations, I doubt you’ve got any sugar, but if you have, sprinkle a bit on, and there you have it, stewed rhubarb. You’ll love it, and so will the boy,’ Mr Sayers said, and handed Sarah the fresh fruit before looking into the pram at Tommy, who greeted the toothless old man with an equally gummy grin. ‘Blimey, he’s getting big.’

‘Yes, he is, and I think it’s time he came off the milk, so I’ll give him a bit of this rhubarb later. Thank you.’

‘Sarah, come and sit down, pet. There’s something I need to tell you.’

She noticed a troubled expression on Mr Sayers’ lined face, and instantly her heart began to pound in anticipation of bad news. She sat on a rickety bench and watched with concern as he slowly lowered himself down beside her. His back must be playing up again, she thought, wishing there was more she could do to help the dear old man. His wife had passed away many years ago, and now Mr Sayers rented a room in a house owned by an elderly couple. The rent was reasonably cheap and was supported by the fruit and vegetables he supplied, and though it was not ideal, he always said he was happy enough, although his landlady was a mean-spirited miser. He’d once told Sarah he was even charged extra for using the shed. On a few occasions, Sarah had helped Mr Sayers carry his tools back to the shed, but she’d never been invited into the house.

Mr Sayers took Sarah’s hand, and sighed a long, deep breath. Though his palms were calloused, she noticed the papery skin covering the back of his hands, and could feel him shaking.

‘What is it, Mr Sayers?’

‘Thing is, Sarah … well, I’m an old man and I’ve had a good innings. I’ve seen five kings and queens come and go, and I’ve lived through two World Wars. But my time’s about up and it won’t be long before I’ll be seeing my Dulcie again.’

Sarah knew Mr Sayers’ wife had been called Dulcie, but she was dead.

‘I don’t understand …’ she muttered, praying it wasn’t what she thought.

‘I ain’t going to mince my words, so I’ll tell you straight … I’m dying, love. The doctor says I’ve got this blinking disease that’s gonna finish me off within a few months.’

At the thought of losing her substitute granddad, Sarah instantly felt tears welling up in her eyes. Mr Sayers was such a caring, sweet man, and as most of her old schoolfriends now shunned her, he was pretty much the only friend she had. He couldn’t be dying – it wasn’t fair!

‘Now, now, now … we can’t have any of that sad stuff. Like I said, I’ve had a good and long life, but I’ve missed my Dulcie. It’ll be good to be with her again.’

Sarah pulled her hand away from Mr Sayers’ and wiped her snotty nose with the cuff of her sleeve. ‘But … but … but I’ll miss you!’ she blurted out.

Mr Sayers shuffled further along the bench and placed his arm around Sarah’s shoulders.

‘I’m sorry, pet. There’s nothing I can do about it. Death is a part of life and comes to us all eventually. I didn’t want to tell you, but I had to ’cos I won’t be coming up here no more. It’s getting a bit much for me now. Come on, stop crying, you’ll upset young Tommy …’

Sarah heaved in a juddering breath and looked into Mr Sayers’ grey, watery eyes. ‘So … is this the last time I’ll see you? No, it can’t be! Let me come and look after you … please …’

‘You can’t, love. My son and his wife are coming to pick me up tomorrow morning. They’re taking me to live out my days with them in a town up north called Liverpool,’ said Mr Sayers, then chuckled before adding, ‘It ain’t my cup of tea – they talk funny up there! Cor, you should hear the way my daughter-in-law sounds. Still, it’s for the best, I suppose.’

Sarah threw her arms around the old man, sobbing hard. Mr Sayers was like the granddad she’d never had, and her heart was breaking at the thought of never seeing him again.

‘You’ve got to be a brave girl. No more tears,’ he said, and gently eased himself away from her.

‘I’m sorry,’ Sarah said as she tried to pull herself together. ‘Can I walk back through the park with you?’

‘Of course you can, though when we get to the gates, I don’t want any of this mushy long goodbye stuff … just a quick wave and a “see you later”. OK?’

‘All right,’ Sarah reluctantly agreed. She knew she was going to mourn Mr Sayers for a long time to come. As they walked through the park, she wondered what would happen to him. If he really was going to see his Dulcie again, would he be able to get a message to her dead brother?