Sarah 5

 

Previously…

‘Sarah,’ she asked as she picked up something from side table, ‘do you recognise the girl in this photo?’

I took the picture in its ornate frame and looked at it. It was quite old and there was a younger Lady Fairbairn in it, looking quite pretty; also there was a boy and girl, they looked like they were in their late teens. The boy I didn’t recognise but the girl…there was something about the girl…

‘That’s strange, the girl looks a bit like my mum…’

‘Go over to that mirror and take the photo.’

Puzzled, I did as I was told and I looked at me reflection then down at the photo.

‘Ooh she looks like me…’

My voice trailed off, as I kept looking between the picture and my reflection.

Auntie came up beside me and put her arms around my shoulders.

‘That,’ she said, ‘was my daughter and son, her name was Lady Roberta Fairbairn. You, my dear Sarah, unless I am very much mistaken, are my granddaughter.’

And now the story continues…

‘Pardon?’

‘I believe that you are my Granddaughter.’

‘I can’t be.’

‘Why?’

‘Because…because, things like that only happen in books.’

‘Not convinced?’

She went over to where she had been sitting and picked up something from a side table and then brought it back to me.

‘Look at this photo.’

I put the other photo on my lap and she handed the new one to me. It was a black and white and slightly browned photo of a man in uniform, an officer, I think and a young, very pretty girl.

‘Who’s this?’ I asked.

‘That is me when I was slightly younger with Tremaine. He was my fiancé when this picture was taken. We were married shortly after. Look at the two photographs.’

I did as she asked. It took a while but then I got it.

‘You look very similar…’ I said after staring at the images of Lady F as a youngster and the one with the girl in it.

‘We would, she is…or was my daughter and you Sarah, I am convinced, are my granddaughter. I never knew that she had had a child; we didn’t speak or have any contact after the unpleasantness between us. I was stubborn and I suppose she was too; too much damn’ pride ter admit that either of us was wrong.’

I kept looking at both photos and then up at…her – I didn’t know what to call her. I could see that she had aged a lot, obvious really, but she hadn’t lost her beauty, the beauty that radiated from the picture taken so many years before. Then the other photo; I knew there and then that what Auntie, or rather my grandmother was saying must be true. I was her granddaughter. I had a funny feeling in my tummy; I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Getting up, I went over to the mirror, looked at my reflection and then once again at the one with the young girl in it. The similarities were too close. The girl in the picture looked very much like me.
I turned to Lady F, my mind in turmoil.

Looking at her, I could see that she had tears in her eyes and also she looked uncertain and almost vulnerable, as if I might reject her or say that we weren’t related. I wasn’t normally that observant. It had been me, me, me, for so long, that thinking of others was a novel thing. She was Lady Fairbairn, my mum was, before she married, Roberta Fairbairn. I stared at my reflection, then, yet again, at the photos lying on the table. I picked them up; I was seeing the uncanny likeness of all three of us…

I stopped thinking as my head was beginning to hurt. I just carefully put the precious photos back on the table and without any further thought, went over and hugged her…

~ §~

Even now, I can’t remember what we said for a while. I know that we cried a lot, something I never thought I would see her do; but I did a lot, but eventually we pulled ourselves together and sat on the sofa holding hands. She was so sad that she had lost her daughter and I could see that she was struggling a bit with all the emotion. I didn’t think for a moment that she was usually all that emotional. She was of an era that did not like to show their feelings. But this was something else and she would have been completely heartless if she had not have let herself go a bit when confronted with the fact that she had lost a daughter but gained a granddaughter.

‘Mum did love you,’ I said after a while.

‘How do yer know that Sarah?’

‘She sometimes talked about you and her father, my grandfather, I suppose. She said that you and her were like two peas in a pod, proud and always right; never willing to give in or give way. I think that she regretted not making up with you. But she thought that too much water had gone under the bridge and that it was too late to make up.’

‘It’s never too late and I just wish that things had been different. At least you and I have each other and I hope that your parents are looking down at us and approve of the fact that we have found each other.’

‘Oh yes, Grandmother, it is so unbelievable that we are together.’

‘Well Sarah, enough of this sentimental stuff, let’s get down ter brass tacks’ said Grandmother, ‘this is all wonderful but we need ter sort out the future; your future. I am your closest living relative and as such, I will undertake ter look after yer and there will be no question from the authorities about that. You will grow up here with me and we will sort out your schoolin’ and all that nonsense. That is, if that’s that what yer want?’

I hugged her again and said, ‘oh yes Granny, that will be great,’

‘Good, then that is settled. It makes everything much simpler that you are my lovely granddaughter. We don’t need ter go through hoops to sort out the red tape. I have a couple of tame judges that will assist in making sure that I am legally your guardian…’

‘Will that mean that you will adopt me, Grandma?’

‘Yes, if that is what you wish.’

‘Oh Nanny, that is so much what I want!’

I jumped up and down like a little girl; not cool, but I wasn’t feeling that cool at that moment. Want to make something of it?

‘Sarah.’

‘Yes Nana?’

‘Why do yer keep callin’ me different names; Granny, Nana, and all that nonsense?’

‘I…I don’t know what to call you. Auntie is no good now that you are my grandmother. I know what I would like to call you.’

‘And what is that child?’

‘Erm, well, if you are going to adopt me, you will, in fact be my new mother and Mum was erm Mum and I couldn’t call you that. I want, if I could that is…’

‘Come on girl; spit it out…’

I gulped and looked down, not wanting to see her expression.

‘I…I would love to call you er…erm…Mummy?’

I looked up and I could see the surprised expression on her face. She thought for a moment smiled and then nodded.

‘I would be honoured for you to call me Mummy; anyway, being called Granny would make me feel old and I am not that ancient.’

I wasn’t about to argue with her!

~ §~

It must be a ‘below stairs’ thing, either that or the room had been bugged, as it appeared that everyone knew of my status without me or Mummy (I loved saying that!) saying a thing.

Mummy had told me to run off and have a look around the place while she made some important phone calls – about me, I supposed. Nowhere was evidently off limits except the wine cellar…I wondered why?

Anyway, I went off and did start looking around and all the servants, workers and hangers on greeted me warmly and called me ‘Miss Sarah’. It was strange; I had never been treated so, what do you call it…differentially; as if I was someone important. That was daft; I was just Sarah, but then I was told by a strict looking old bird, who appeared to have been my Mums’ Nanny and then Governess and had stayed on for some reason, that I was in fact Lady Sarah!

‘Blimey,’ I said.

‘Young Ladies do not blaspheme,’ she said with arched eyebrows that looked very like Lady Fairbairn aka my new Mummy.

‘Sorry,’ I said as I proceeded to get as far away from her as possible. When I was away from her piercing gaze I stopped in one of the thousands of corridors and leant up against a wall. I couldn’t believe it. I was a Lady!

‘Cor blimey, God love a duck!’ I breathed, ‘me one of the nobs or is that knobs?’

All this meant that Mum had been a Lady too. Why hadn’t she ever told me; was she ashamed or did she just want to forget her past?

I shook my head and just carried on walking, trying to come to terms with my new status and taking everything in; should I wear a tiara or something?

The place seemed even huger (if that’s the word) inside than what I had seen outside – very TARDIS like. There were what seemed like hundreds of rooms of all shapes and sizes. Some were bedrooms, others were bathrooms. Then there were sitting rooms, libraries, studies and there were a few huge rooms that looked like dance rooms or banqueting halls.

At one point, Jenkins the butler crept up behind me, nearly giving me a heart attack and coughed in my ear.

‘Your mother requests that you join her for tea in the breakfast room in thirty minutes.’

‘Oh, erm, okay…erm, how do I get there Mister Jenkins?’

‘Just Jenkins Miss, if you please. If you would like to follow me, I will guide you to your room, where you might want to freshen up and then I will send one of the maids to show you the way.’

‘That would be great!’ I said enthusiastically, kissing his cheek sort of spontaneously.

It was as if I had slapped him or called him something nasty. He went pale and I think that he almost tottered. But butlers were made of strong stuff and he immediately recovered.

‘Miss Sarah, please do not do that again. It is not a right and correct thing to do. Now please follow me.

I did as he asked, saying nothing. I had obviously crossed the line, but secretly, I didn’t care as I felt and believed that he was a bit of a sweetie and showing a wee bit of affection hurt nobody, did it?

~ §~

When we finally arrived at my bedroom door, Mr Jenkins opened it and I went in saying, ‘thank you,’ as I am a very polite girl.

‘You are welcome Miss,’ he replied as he went off to do some butlering, a slight smile playing on his lips.

Inside was the chirpy maid, Maisie.

‘Hello Miss, I’ve just been tidying up. I think that Milady wants to see you shortly.’

‘Yes, I have to go to the breakfast room in…’ I looked at the clock on the wall, ‘cripes, ten minutes!’

‘Will you change Miss?’

‘Have I got time; erm should I change?’

‘You might want to slip on a nice blouse and skirt Miss, Milady is a stickler for dressing smart, even when she says casual.’

‘Have I got many skirts and blouses?’ I asked and then giggling like a little kid, I answered myself, ‘of course I have.’

I went into the dressing room and then I had the age old problem that girls have always had.

‘What shall I wear then? You know her better than me. I don’t want to look silly or overdo it.’

‘How about this Miss?’ asked Maisie, pulling a blouse off a hanger.

It wasn’t fancy. Something a girl might want to wear to go to a restaurant which was slightly more upmarket than Maccy D’s. It was plain, cream coloured, made from a soft material that was nice to touch…quite silky. It had a crew neck design with short sleeves and a short zip at the back. The label said that it was made by Tommy Hilfiger whoever he was. Then Maisie pulled a skirt off a hanger. It was a black, A line skirt with soft pleats. The label said ‘next’ and it went well with the blouse, as far as I was concerned, but I was no expert - yet. Maisie seemed to think that the combination was okay and so I went with her suggestions.

I had little time, so I just went into the bathroom and quickly changed. The underwear I didn’t bother to change as they all seemed to go with what I was wearing and anyway, I didn’t have time to faff about. I had visions that Mummy would make me lift the hem of the skirt to see if I had clean knickers on – nah, she wasn't that sort of person. Toffs and nobs don’t do that sort thing, do they?

For some reason I had forgotten to brush my teeth that morning and I rectified the matter without delay. I opened my toilet bag and there, on the top, was a strip of the birth control, or girly pills as I liked to call them that I had, up to recently, been taking.

I blinked a couple of times. It was so tempting to just pop one and continue transforming my body into what I hoped was a more girly form, even though I knew that they might do me some harm. Then I remembered what I had been told by the doctor and the promises I had made to Mummy. I would just have to start trusting people. Sighing, I just put them into the little waste bin and carried on cleaning my teeth.

After restoring my fresh breath confidence, as they say in the adverts, I got my skates on. Not literally; mind you, that was an idea for getting around the place more quickly…

Time was short; I would have to stop Dolly Daydreaming!

In a few moments I had changed, brushed my hair, refreshed my lippy and I was ready to go. Coming out of the bathroom, Maisie took one look at me and smiled.

‘You are so pretty Miss.’ she said.

‘Get out of here,’ I replied as my face went red. I wasn’t used to compliments.

~ §~

Mummy was in the breakfast room, sitting by a window, looking out onto the lawn. She was on the phone.

‘Vicar, I don’t care if St Jude does it, they are Methodist and as such can’t be trusted ter hold a decent service without that happy clappy stuff. I will not countenance the use of tambourines and guitars in church. She looked up at me and waved at me.

‘Yes, we shall speak further on the matter. Good day.’

She aggressively stabbed a finger at the phone, threw it down on the sofa and then looked at me as I came up to her.

‘Ah Sarah, you look nice, I hope that the clothes in your dressing room are to your satisfaction?’

‘Yes Mummy, they are wonderful.’

‘Well, we will have ter get you some more. A girl needs ter chose her own clothes. But that will be fer another day. Now come and sit down we need ter discuss a few things.’

‘Shall I pour?’ I asked, spying the tea pot and rather scrumptious looking scones and cream.

She smiled and nodded her head. I was just about to tip some milk into the cups…

‘STOP!’

Jumping slightly, milk jug in hand, I looked up.

‘Tea first and then milk.’

‘Oh,’ I replied, ‘sorry Mummy.’

I always thought that it was milk first and then tea. Perhaps we nob like persons do it differently. So much to learn and so little time to erm, learn it…

After handing her a cup of tea and offering her a plate with a scone, like what I thought a good and dutiful daughter would do, I sat down opposite her, carefully smoothing my skirt under me, and proceeded to demolish my scone. I don’t think that she was that pleased that my scone vanished quite as quickly, but she couldn’t say much as she wasn't far behind me in that particular race.

Once we had cleared the table of scones and had our second cup of tea, she was ready to talk.

‘Now Sarah, I have spoken to certain people and can confirm that, as I thought, there should not be any problems about you stayin’ with me and then, once the bumf has been sorted out regardin’ becoming my adopted child, I’ll get a judge ter sign on the dotted line in the New Year. Social Services wanted ter stick their damn’ oars in, but I had a few words with a chum in Whitehall who just happens ter be the Home Secretary and then the SS were more, shall we say, amenable. What do yer think about that?’

‘Oh Mummy, that will be great!’ I jumped up and down on my chair like a little kid. I would have to learn to be a bit more cool…

She smiled.

‘Yer will have ter see the quacks soon and they will sort out yer pills and whatnot. Even though it’s Christmas, we should have the results of the tests that yer had soon too, so that they will know how ter treat yer, but I don’t want yer ter worry about that now. It’s Christmastime and I want yer ter enjoy yerself. A few people will be comin’ over on Christmas day, includin’ some kids of your own age.’

‘How many people?’ I asked.

‘Only about fifty or so.’

‘Blimey!’

‘Well brought up gels do not say blimey, damn it!’

‘Sorry Mummy.’

Fifi looked up from licking her whatsits and gave me a look that was full of sympathy; I just smiled at her and she went back to her business with a sigh.

‘Now,’ said Mummy looking out of the window, ‘seems like it’s nice outside. What say we go for a little walkies in the gardens?’

Fifi’s head snapped up expectantly. She was all for the idea.

‘That would be nice,’ I replied, ‘but I’m not wearing outdoor type clothes.’

‘Then go and change you silly girl! We’ll meet at the front door in ten – no fifteen minutes.’

I got up and looked down at her.

‘Mummy, you are awful, but I like you!’

I giggled and ran out of the room before I got my ears chewed off.

~ §~

I was getting to know my way around a bit now and I only got lost once. Soon I found the way to my bedroom, quickly stripped down to my panties and training bra and then found some boot cut jeans, a girly type t-shirt in tasteful shocking pink and a chunky white jumper. In seconds I had changed, sorted out my messed up hair, repaired my face, picked up a parka type coat and knee high boots and then I trotted downstairs. I hadn’t had time to sort out the mess that I had left in my room but I would do that later. I wasn't the tidiest person around, but hey, that was one of my endearing qualities!

It was so nice to be able to dress and be the girl that I had always known that I was, if you know what I mean. I didn’t feel the least like a boy and I don’t think that I ever did. I loved the fact that everyone accepted me for who and what I was. I was kind of sure that all the people who lived and worked in the mansion knew about me by now. I don’t think that Mummy would say much, but in a place like this, there are unlikely to be many secrets and I wouldn’t be surprised if walls had ears!

Mummy was waiting for me at the front door. She was wearing a fur coat with a matching hat that wouldn’t look out of place in Siberia. Fifi was there looking alert and ready for the walkies!

‘There you are child, what took yer so long? Let’s get goin’ then.’

I followed her out and then started walking along a gravel path that led to the lake and the fountain which was spectacular to say the least. The jets of water looked like they shot up at least a hundred metres in the air. Luckily the wind was going away from us, or we would have been seriously sprayed with water.

Fifi went off and sniffing at things and watering the grass and not a few statues with her erm, scent.

Mummy pointed out the various things that made up the extensive, well kept gardens. There was a walled garden, maze, bridges over the river that meandered through the park and some ornamental gardens and so much more. It was all a bit overpowering and I had to pinch myself that I was actually living there and could walk about without buying a ticket.

‘Capability Brown designed most of it, especially the formal gardens; it’s about a hundred acres. Damn’ moles seemed to steer clear of this part I’m glad ter say; in the rest of the parkland though, we can’t get rid of ‘em. Enough of that; anyway, we only have about a thousand acres of parkland and the rest, about five thousand or so, are rented out ter tenant farmers. Good income that keeps the coffers pretty full.’

We walked on past some stables with horses.

‘Oh Mummy, can I learn to ride?’

‘Can’t ride? All gels should ride. Had me first pony when I was nine, fell off the dam’ thing five times but soon got the hang of it. Yes we’ll pick out a quiet little thing for yer. Vicar’s daughters will teach yer, horse mad they are. You’ll meet them Christmas Day. Now it’s getting’ cold, let’s head back. I need a scotch on the rocks.’

‘Not tea Mummy?’

‘Don’t be silly, child.’

We went back a different way and soon found ourselves next to the lawn, close to the house, where the moles seemed to have had a field day.

Mummy was looking over to the other side of the lawn and then suddenly stiffened.

‘Bugger me with a pitchfork; those damn’ moles!’

I looked over to where she was looking and I could see a few mounds of earth being pushed up through the grass.

‘JENKINS. GET THE LANDROVER OUT!’

I think that her below could be heard in the next county. In the distance, birds flew off in all directions. Sheep, peacefully grazing in a field, looked up and then carried on; well they are bit thick! Deer on the edge of the woods scattered as if their very lives depended on it. The moles just ignored her; perhaps they were immune to her bellowing or maybe a bit deaf? I didn’t know but what I did know was that I had ringing in my ears for hours afterwards.

Jenkins appeared, as if by magic, in an open jeep and pulled up beside us. In the back was a sort of platform rather than seats and a grab rail that went over the top.

‘In the back young Sarah.’

I jumped in and then unbelievably, the spry Lady F, my brand spanking new Mummy, leapt up beside me, belying her age and probable wonky joints.

‘Hang on,’ she shouted as we suddenly moved off across the lawn towards the mounds of earth two hundred metres away.

Mummy was a strange sight in her fur coat and hat. She had pulled off a shotgun from a bracket down beside her and she was cocking it in what looked like an expert way. Where was the titled lady with whom butter wouldn’t melt in the mouth? It looked like she had some sort of blood lust and I worried for the health and safety of the poor little moles that were only doing what came natural to them.

As I held on for dear life, Mummy’s expensive looking fur hat flew off as we erm, flew across the lawn. Any four and two legged wildlife that had been around had now scattered to the four winds and it seemed to me that it was just us, careering along and the mole, who appeared to be deaf dumb and blind and unaware of the cataclysmic and ultimately fatal experience that it was just about to experience.

The lawn had holes in it everywhere and Jenkins with the expertise of a rally driver, managed to avoid them. The trouble with that was, we were flung from the left to the right several times before we got anywhere close to the blasted hole where the mole was still digging its way out of, oblivious to the danger coming ever closer.

Suddenly, when we were about twenty meters from the hole, a little furry head popped out of it and I could clearly see its lickle, ickle pink paws. Mummy put the gun to her shoulder and fired off both barrels, despite the fact that we must have been doing thirty miles an hour.

The little mole’s head vanished and I was fearful that she had actually hit the poor thing, but I couldn’t see any sign of blood and I was hopeful that he or she would live to dig another day.

‘Damn’ and blast, missed the bugger!’ shouted Mummy who then bashed poor Jenkins on the head; an obvious sign for him to turn and head back to the house, which we proceeded to do at a much gentler pace. Mummy was inspecting the gun and looking a bit miffed.

‘I need ter get the sights looked at. I swear that I had the little bugger.’

~ §~

We pulled up in front of the mansion in a shower of gravel. Mummy got out of the Land Rover with me closely behind, feeling a bit shaky and fragile. Fifi appeared at my side but didn’t seem all that concerned that World War Three had just been enacted.

‘You alright Sarah, look a bit pale there. Hope that yer not coming down with the Lurgy or somethin’ Jenkins, get young Spratt ter go and find me hat will yer?’

‘Yes Milady,’ said the imperturbable butler.

‘Sarah, I’m goin ter change, I’ll see yer at dinner!’

With that, she strode into the mansion barking out orders to people unseen, Fifi following dutifully behind her.

Mr Jenkins switched off the engine and suddenly it was quiet again. He got out of the car and came up to me.

‘Are you all right Miss?’ he asked with concern.

‘Erm, is she always like this?’

‘Like what Miss?’

Um, erm, eccentric?’

‘Oh yes Miss; this is one of her quieter days.’

I sighed, not knowing what I was gettin’…I mean getting into.

‘Don’t worry Miss, She is not quite as she seems. You will learn that some of it is show and some of it is real. She has a reputation for eccentricity and she likes to keep everyone on their toes. If I might take the liberty of saying, you will learn what is real and what is not from your interactions with her. I have been with the family all my life as had my father and grandfather before me and I can assure you that she is an exceptionally good person and has a very caring nature.’

‘Not with moles she hasn’t; that poor mole, I hope that she didn’t kill it!’

He smiled.

‘Between you and me miss, she has never managed to shoot and kill a mole.’

‘Pardon me?’

‘I erm, supply the bullets and they are blanks.’

‘And you never told her?’

‘I don’t think that is wise, do you Miss?’

‘Probably not.’

The butler got back into the car and started the engine. He looked over at me.

‘I would appreciate it if our conversation goes no further Miss.’

I used my finger to zip my lips and he smiled gratefully and drove off.

I looked over to the other side of the pockmarked lawn and I swear that I saw a little head pop up from one of the mounds of earth; but that could have been my imagination.

---

To Be Continued…

~o~O~o~

I apologise for the delay in posting. Real life once again, has got in the way!

Please leave comments…thanks! ~Sue