Lynne Francis - Sarah’s Story - An emotional family saga that you won’t be able to put down

Afterwards, it was as if she had emerged from some kind of enchantment. Joe had his back to her, tucking in his shirt, and she lay and gazed up at the trees overhead, watching the patterns that their leaves made against the sky. There was something about the quality of the light that made her sit up suddenly, fearful of what time it was.

Joe was silent on their way back to the edge of the wood, but when they reached it he turned her to face him. ‘I was your first.’ It was a statement rather than a question but Sarah nodded, at a loss for words. He pulled her to him, in a rough hug that all but knocked the air out of her, then held her away from him at arm’s length.

‘Look after yourself, Sarah Gibson. And look out for me when I get back.’

Then he set off at a great pace down the hill and did not turn round once, leaving Sarah to watch him go, fearful of how late she might be to meet her grandmother. With Joe no longer at her side, she wasn’t sure that what had just happened was such a good idea, after all. She felt in desperate need of some time to herself to think it all over but, once Joe had reached the bottom of the hill, Sarah set off in the same direction. When she arrived back at Nancy’s house, her grandmother and Nancy were in the front garden, talking, and Sarah was suddenly hopeful that she wasn’t too tardy.

‘There you are, girl! I was beginning to wonder what had become of you.’ Ada didn’t sound particularly annoyed, so perhaps it had been a good visit.

‘I’m sorry, Gran.’ Sarah hesitated. ‘I fell asleep at home. I hope I’m not late.’

‘You’d have done better to make time to tidy yourself up before you left,’ Ada said, giving Sarah a critical look.

She blushed, hoping that what had just occurred by the deer pool wasn’t as obvious to others as it felt to her, but her grandmother had turned back to Nancy to discuss some aspect of the garden, leaving Sarah free to indulge in her thoughts until it was time to go home to Hill Farm Cottage.

The weather turned while Joe was away. The early promise of summer was washed away in week after week of rain. The farmers were in despair as their crops failed to prosper and began to rot in the fields. Cows and sheep huddled together, taking whatever shelter they could. As time passed with no sign of the rain abating, their owners were forced to drive them back to their winter quarters, worrying all the while about whether they could afford to feed them for the rest of the year.

Sarah, although not oblivious to the weather, was unaffected by the misery around her. She was too wrapped up in her own private longing, which created a purgatory all of its own. She had no knowledge of when Joe might return, but also no knowledge of how and when to find him if and when he did. She trudged through the mud on errands for Ada, returning each time with skirts soaked and muddied and boots that had barely dried out before her feet must go into them again for another journey.

After the first week of rain, people ceased to notice it, enduring it instead with a kind of stoical despair. The weather gave Sarah an excuse to be abroad – head down, shawl drawn over her hair and face – without it being remarked upon. She was sustained in her forays outside by vivid memories of her own glimpse of summer, coloured by her two encounters with Joe. She revisited the meetings time and again, until every word and every nuance were etched on her memory. The one thing she couldn’t bring to mind was what he had said about his return. Was it a week? A month? Had he even given any indication? She simply couldn’t remember.

So Sarah made a point of making detours on her journeys to come back via Tinker’s Way, this being the only fixed location in her encounters with Joe. It felt as though it was the one place where she might happen on him again. Yet after only a week she was forced to abandon this. Two fields ran along the edge of Tinker’s Way, both set on hillsides, and the run-off turned the track into an increasingly muddy morass. At first Sarah had stuck to the grassy edges of the track, persevering in her quest, until these, too, became consumed by mud, at which point she had to admit defeat. Tinker’s Way was impassable and she was going to have to settle with the knowledge that, although she didn’t know where to find Joe, he knew where to find her.

In the end, Joe did find Sarah, just when she was least expecting it. She’d taken advantage of a break in the weather to hang out some washing in the garden, keeping her fingers crossed that the wind, which had accompanied the sunshine, wouldn’t simply push in yet more black clouds. She was busy calculating whether it was worth washing more of the pile of dirty linen, which had grown considerably during the rainy spell, when she was seized around the waist from behind and a hand was clamped over her mouth.

‘Sssh!’ a male voice whispered in her ear and Sarah, heart beating fit to burst, found herself spun around and face to face with Joe.

‘Joe! When did you get back?’ Sarah immediately glanced behind her, back towards the house, fearful that her grandmother would spot her. As she had hoped, the billowing sheets hid them both from view.

‘Just last night,’ he said. ‘And Sarah Gibson was the first person I wanted to see.’

Sarah blushed and bit her lip. ‘How did you get into the garden?’

‘Over t’wall.’ Joe indicated the sizeable dry-stone wall that ran along one edge of the garden. ‘I’ve been waiting out here a while for thee.’

His smile lit up his eyes, just as Sarah remembered, and she felt a huge wave of relief and happiness wash over her. He was back, and he’d come straight around to find her.

‘You mustn’t stay here,’ she said, common sense taking over. ‘If my grandmother sees you, there’ll be trouble.’ She glanced anxiously once more over her shoulder.

‘Later then,’ Joe said. ‘This a’ternoon. I’ll wait by Two-Ways Cross.’ He named a crossroads familiar to Sarah, one that she passed regularly on her way into Northwaite. Then he was gone, vaulting over the wall with ease, before she could gather her wits and reply. She could hear him whistling as he headed away back towards Northwaite.

Sarah struggled to fulfil her household duties that morning. She was glad of the washing, which gave her an excuse to be in and out of the house, for her hands were shaking with nervous excitement and Ada would surely have remarked upon it otherwise. As she had half-expected, the clouds blew in again by late morning and Sarah hastily gathered the washing back in. As she shook it out in the kitchen and found a place for it to dry near the range, the rain came down heavily once more.

‘I do hope this doesn’t last,’ Ada said. ‘I’ve promised Mrs Shepherd that she will have her remedy this afternoon and it looks as though you will get drenched yet again.’ She looked out at the rain and let out a long sigh.

‘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.