Sarah's Story

Sarah’s Story

Mammy gave my older sister Sarah a new diary for Christmas in 1997. It was a five-year diary that Mammy had thought was a great idea, and cost a lot less than five one-year diaries, so it was a great bargain. I used to get diaries every year too, but mammy stopped buying them the summer I left for university. She discovered them blank and piled up with other unwanted gifts under some loose floorboards when she was “Clearing out my room”. She called me at my dorm room to call me deceitful and ungrateful and to hang up on me when I tried to retort. Since then, every Christmas she has asked me, with a sarcastic quip about my pickiness, what I wanted her to spend her hard earned money on.
Sarah, however, loved to get diaries. She wasn’t much impressed with the idea of a five-year version though, and never had been good at hiding her disappointment. What was wrong with having a diary for one year? She didn’t like things to change like that. Mammy watched her turning it over, with a frown on her face:
“Sarah, with this you’ll have a whole novel. You’ll have five years of memories in one place. Won’t that be brilliant?”
“I suppose so. I won’t have to keep up with five different books, eh? Ha Ha.” She faked a laugh for mammy’s sake.
“And, there’s a lock and key on it, so it’ll be your own secret thing.”
“Is that a real lock? Does it really work?”
“Yes Sarah, you can lock it all away in there.”
“Mammy, this is a great present after all. I didn’t know it had a lock!” Sarah was converted. She loved anything with a lock. Mammy gave me a patronizing look. Sarah could never be ungrateful and deceitful.
Then I gave Sarah her other present, a lovely gel pen with pink fluffy feathers on top. “You can write in it with this Sarah.”
Sarah was over the moon. Feathers were another of her favorite things. She left all the other presents lying in a mess of Christmas paper and boxes. Even the Christmas chocolate she had been devouring since she woke up was temporarily forgotten. She scuttled off to her room to get started writing straight away.
“Thank god there was a lock on it”, said Mammy, dropping her sarcastic tone with me. “I should have known better than to get her something she wasn’t used to.”
When dinnertime came, a few hours later, she was still working fervently on her writing. Over her shoulder I could see the feathered head of the pen flying all over the place like a crazed bird. She was hunched over the book, with her hand guarding the writing and her eyes narrowed as if I was the enemy.
“Dinner’s ready Sarah. Come on, the turkey looks lovely.”
If there’s one thing Sarah loves more than keeping a diary, its Christmas dinner, so she jumped up and slammed her diary shut. She locked the tiny lock deliberately and fumbled the diary and key into her top drawer, trying to hide her actions behind the expanse of her middle. Then she turned to me and straightened up.
“Don’t you go looking for that or I’ll tell mammy on you” She wagged her finger, “And she’ll give you a hiding.”
“Don’t worry. What would you be writing about anyway? You don’t have a boyfriend, do you?” I teased her.
Sarah went red and puffed up: “No. I do not! I told Doozer McEldowney I wouldn’t be his girlfriend because mammy wouldn’t like it one bit”
“I was only teasing you Sarah. You don’t have to be so shifty.” I nudged her with my elbow. “Anyway, what do I care if you have a boyfriend?”
Sarah started to deny it again but I said “Come on, now. My stomach is rumbling” and hers was too.
We sat down to the table to a glorious meal. The turkey sat on the platter plump and golden, just waiting to be eaten. Daddy carved a few slices and remarked,
“Old Joe must have given me a good young one. Its as soft as butter.” Old Joe was the farmer my father went to every Christmas eve to pick up a turkey. They were always so fresh we knew he had killed them only that day. His plucking was careless, so there was always some down on the bird for us to finish off.
Around the turkey we had the usual vegetables and potatoes, all steaming hot and delicious. Mammy served a limited menu, but the few things she did cook were always expertly prepared, she had so many years of practice.
“Pass me the salt and pepper.”
“Daddy, are you finished with the gravy.”
“Where did you put the butter Sarah?”
“Ryan, don’t speak with your mouth full. You’ll never impress any girls with those manners.”
Ryan had brought a girl home only once in his 23 years. He didn’t say a word the whole time. I think it was his backwardness that scared her off, not his table manners. He has always been as shiftless as my Dad. He makes playing Nintendo and watching Television a full time job and my mother makes it her duty to hound him about it daily.
After Ryan grunted at my mother we all fell silent, just absorbed in the meal. It was so delicious that everybody had second helpings, and mammy even had to make more gravy. She grumbled about having to leave the table but we could see she was beaming in our enjoyment.
When the last bite was eaten we waddled into the sitting room to unbutton our trousers and watch “The Sound Of Music” as usual. The fire was lovely and warm, and mammy kept it going all day. But Sarah couldn’t rest for long. In the middle of the movie when the oldest Von Trapp girl was singing her piece in the gazebo: “I am sixteen going on seventeen”, she crept into her bedroom. I could hear her rustling and bumping and knew she was at the diary again.
The whole house, cat included, drifted off into a lazy sleep with the heat of the fire and the Christmas lights twinkling and the sound of the Von Trapps singing.
Mammy was the first to wake at the end of the movie. She went and peeked in on Sarah who was still scratching away.
“What do you think she’s writing?” She woke me to ask, full of uncertainty.
“I don’t know.” I said, rubbing my eyes, “I think she might have a man interested in her.”
“A man? What man?”
I immediately regretted saying it. Mammy always thought she would have it easy with Sarah. Her firstborn daughter was “special” and Mammy always assumed she wouldn’t have to worry about her having boyfriends or getting married. Sarah had never shown any interest, and mammy didn’t see any reason to stir things up.
“Probably just Doozer McEldowney mammy. I wouldn’t worry”
“Well, she hasn’t said anything to me about it. Why would she keep that a secret from me?”
“You know how odd she is: She probably thinks you wouldn’t allow it.”
“Well, maybe if she asked me she’d find out!’ Mammy hated more than anything to be shut out. “I don’t like her thinking I’m the big bad wolf. Maybe I should let her go out with him tonight? He’s a bit like Sarah isn’t he? You know, a bit slow. He would never be able to live out on his own or anything. But Sarah has never been out with a man before, she wouldn’t know how to act on a date.” She looked up to me, asking for reassurance. “What do you think?”
“Mum, she’s twenty four years old. You were married at twenty. If she isn’t ready for her first date by now, she never will be.”
“But do you think she’s seeing him behind my back? Why is she still in there writing? What can she have to write about? I’m going to go and talk to her.”
I sighed and rolled my eyes. Mammy was getting really worked up. She crept to Sarah’s room full of apprehension, as if she was going to give her the “birds and bees” talk about ten years too late.
“Sarah, what are you writing about baby?” she asked as she sat on the bed beside her. “Is there anything you want to tell me?”
“No, I’m just filling-in my new diary.”
“Is there anybody in particular you’re writing about?” Mammy asked gently.
“No. Just me.”
“What about a man?”
“What do you mean?” Sarah was blank.
“That McEldowney fella who’s a year older than you. I hear he’s interested in you”
“You told on me?” Sarah shot me a betrayed glare. “That’s not fair!”
“No,” Mammy said, “I was just wondering about your diary”.
“Has she been looking in my diary?”
“No, Sarah. You’ve had it all day.” I said.
“Never mind the diary Sarah, it has a lock on it. I just wanted to know if you’d like to go out to McKenna’s pub tonight?”
“No. What would I want to go there for?”
Mammy thought fast “Well, me and your daddy want a wee while on our own.”
“Oh right. Oh aye. I’ll go to McKenna’s. If you want me to.” Sarah was always obedient.
“And I will be going later with Peter and Clare and her boyfriend.”
Sarah looked from Mammy to me, struggling with the new world that was half-opening before her.
“Ok, baby, now you’re sure you have nothing to tell me.”
“No mammy…. Oh right! Thanks for dinner…. And the presents.”
Mammy laughed a little, satisfied that nothing was going on. She left some money with a very confused Sarah and went into the kitchen to finish clearing away the dishes. She was trying to stop the worry from flooding back.
After a while she brought me some dessert and whispered “Elaine, go and call McEldowney’s house and see if Doozer will take Sarah out to Mckenna’s tonight. Tell him to come over at eight.”
I groaned. “Okay Mammy, but they’re going to think it’s really weird that I’m calling to ask him to take my older sister out.”
“Well, I want everything out in the open Elaine. I don’t care how weird it looks. Go on now and call him.”

I felt like a total idiot calling Doozer to ask for a date for my 24 year-old sister, but he was cheerful enough and it didn’t seem to occur to him that it was in any way out of the ordinary. So at seven, I went to Sarah and told her to put the diary away and hurry up and get ready: Doozer was coming to collect her in an hour.
“What? Why? Mammy won’t let me go out with him!”
“No, Sarah. Mammy asked him.”
“Oh, right then. Should I wash my hair?” The most endearing thing about my sister was her immediate acceptance of everything we told her. She trusted my mother’s judgment like a child. So she bustled around for forty-five minutes with curlers hanging and makeup all over the place and stockings half-on, and me trailing behind her trying to tie up the loose ends. Finally she satisfied herself that she would “do” and got some dessert from the kitchen.
She was tucking in to mammy’s apple pie as Doozer rang the doorbell a comically deliberate four times. We opened the door to find him shifting from foot to foot and pulling at his Rudolph the Reindeer sweater. Mammy was torn in two, partly worried about her newly secretive daughter, and partly filled with desire to give Doozers hands a smack to stop him from pulling at the flashing nose on Rudolph. She could see he was no threat really. “You’re right on time Doozer. Very nice sweater you have there. Did your mammy buy it?” She winked.
“Aye, that’s Rudolf there with the flashing nose.” Said Doozer, pointing.
“Here’s our Sarah, the lady of the moment.” Sarah stood up with her dessert and fumbled and spluttered, trying to get it all swallowed. We all looked at her pensively waiting for her to speak.”
“Mammy made apple pie, do you want a bit?’
“Oh aye, it looks lovely.”

So, they sat together in the sitting room watching the next movie, “Seven Brides for Seven Brothers” and ate their pie (Sarah’s second slice) in silence. Mammy kept smiling and nodding at me. The lack of any kind of tension in the room made me want to laugh heartily. When they had eaten everything and scraped their plates clean, I rushed to them and took the dishes off their hands, afraid that Sarah might just go for a third portion.
“Well, you would need to be going now. The pub won’t be open all night.” I said.
They stood and got their coats on. Mammy gave Sarah’s hand an affectionate squeeze as she went out the door.
“Oh! Hold on a wee minute.” Sarah shouted and went running off into the bedroom.
Mammy stood for a few minutes with Doozer and his fixed grin.
“I’ll go and get her, honey”, Mammy said as Doozer grew more uncomfortable.
She followed Sarah into the room and barked, “Sarah McQuillan, come on now, and leave that bloody diary in the drawer or I’ll have to take it away from you altogether.”
“Okay, okay, Mammy. I put it away already,” said Sarah. “I just had one more wee thing to write.”
I watched mammy shoo the pair out the door, trying to restrain herself from shouting warnings and advice.
“Be careful going up the road, it’s starting to snow. Here Sarah, take my red cap.”
“Don’t worry ma, she’ll be fine.” I said, patting her arm. “Doozer’s as innocent as she is. Did you see the big eyes on him as he was going out the door? He’s had a thing for our Sarah since he was 5 years old. And I think she has had for him too, but she’d never admit it. Do you remember he sent her a card for Valentines Day in grade two and she cried and wouldn’t show it to anybody?”
“Oh yes, I never did find that card. I wonder what she did with it?
“Brenda Mullin told me she tore it up and threw it in the bin because everyone was teasing her about it.”
“Oh poor Sarah. That’s awful. So there’s nothing going on behind my back?”
“No mammy, I don’t think there’s anything going on.”
“Well what has she been writing in that diary then that she’s so secretive about?” Mammy ruminated for a while, biting her nails. She glanced at me sideways.
“We could go and read it. Do you know where the key is?”
I faked astonishment with a gasp.
“That’s why you sent her out tonight isn’t it, you crafty old….”
“Now Elaine, I am your mother. You should never accuse me of a thing like that.”
“Right.”
“But should we have a look anyway? Just to make sure that she’s not up to anything?”
“Right, if you want.”

So, off we went, sneaking into the room with nobody in the house in a fit mental state to pay us any attention. Daddy was snoring like a walrus, Ryan was engrossed in the soccer game on his TV, and we were giggling like eleven year olds, Mammy and me.
“The key is in the drawer.”
“Its here, sitting on top of the diary.” Mammy hooted, “She wouldn’t make much of a jailer.”
We unlocked the diary and opened the first page. I felt a pang of guilt, remembering Sarah’s protectiveness earlier. There was no danger of her coming back from the pub, but I was nervous now in case she had written something that Mammy shouldn’t read. It was a 1998 to 2003 diary and the first page was January 1st 1998. Mammy and me looked at each other with brows furrowed: that was a week away.
Sarah had written:
“New Years day: got up at______ .Had _______ for breakfast. Watched ______ on TV. Had ____ for lunch. Filled in my diary that mammy gave me for Christmas. Had ______ for dinner. It was _______ .Went to bed at ______ ”.

And the next day was much the same:

Day after New Years: I have kept_______ resolutions so far. Had_____for breakfast, had _______for lunch it was _____. Went to______. Weather was_____.
And she had filled it in right up until Easter Sunday, the date of the next big turkey dinner.
“Well, I wonder why she was so secretive about it ” Mammy laughed.
“I don’t know,” I said. “Poor Sarah, she doesn’t have much excitement in her life; just lunch and dinner.”
“I know, Elaine, but there’s nothing to worry about either. At least she’s safe staying at home with me. There are a lot of people who would take advantage of Sarah’s innocence."
I remembered the battle when I was moving out. My vulnerability and innocence were causes of great concern for my mother too. She pleaded and begged with me to live at home and commute to college. It would be cheaper and more convenient and she wouldn’t have to worry. It just made sense! I went anyway of course, and she huffed and sulked for a few months and teased me about acquiring a “snobby city accent” until I hinted that her behavior was keeping me from visiting home more often. With that she changed her ways, except for the occasional jibe. She transformed herself into a peer. She came down from her perch and inundated me with confidences, often much too personal, and demanded that I do the same for her. I told her just enough about my life to keep her happy because I knew that this alliance of equals was fragile. The “big bad wolf” was always waiting for a chance to chastise me.
“She was so excited at the door.” Mammy marveled at her daughter’s eccentricity. “I can’t believe she went running into her room to write again before they left! Why would she do that?”
“Probably just nerves,” I said.
I browsed through her ‘epic’ again thinking what a miserable life she had and how she never complained about mammy keeping such a tight reign on her. Mammy got up and straightened her skirt: “That girl will never leave me.” She said, satisfied. “I’m going to start on supper. Come and pick the rest of the meat off the turkey for me.”
“I’m going to take a shower in a minute.” I said, “I’m going out.” I didn’t want to help her anymore. Guilt grew like sickness in the pit of my stomach.
I was just closing her precious diary when something caught my eye. Inside the jacket of the diary Sarah had written:
“Christmas day 1997. I went out with Doozer McEldowney to McKennas at 8 o’clock. Got back at ______o’clock. We had a ______time.”
I smiled deeply, closed the book, locked it and placed it back in the top drawer. I placed the key inside the velvet jewelry box Sarah had received last year. It had a tiny gold plated lock too. She kept that key hidden under the box. Mammy didn’t know.