Allison looked across the table at her old friend Sarah Bramford, now Sarah Fielding, wife of a well-to-do shipping magnate. The years had been kind to Sarah, though she had never been a particularly pretty girl. Today she was strikingly attractive in her exquisite Dior silk suit and rich fox stole, obviously selected from the season’s new collection and priced well beyond the limits of clothing rations.
Allison tried not to think of the fact that her own dress was two years old, and had hardly been in style even then, notwithstanding that the lovely silk print did possess stylish lines and was the nicest dress she owned. If everything else in her life had been right, she would probably not even have noticed, because clothes, after all, had very little to do with her present frame of mind.
“You should have seen my Wally’s face when the sheik asked him if I could be part of his harem!” Sarah paused to giggle in the midst of her story about her adventures on one of her husband’s recent trips to the Middle East. “Oh, but those Arabs are charming,” she added with a coy wink.
“My father is in Egypt,” said Allison, attempting to keep her focus on the luncheon conversation as the two women sat in the plush dining room of London’s Green Velvet Restaurant. “He is fascinated with the Arabs, but doesn’t think they like the British much.”
“They like our money, though,” replied Sarah knowingly.
“They’d just as soon have German marks as British pounds.”
“But as long as we still control the canal at Suez,” said Sarah, “they’ll be our friends. My Wally says that’s why the fighting in North Africa is so crucial—keeping the sea lanes open.”
“At the rate that Rommel is going, all the fighting might not matter much longer.”
“What defeatest talk!” exclaimed Sarah, with more emphasis than she felt. “Don’t let old Winnie Churchill hear you. Now, no more politics or war talk. It’s positively depressing.” She took a dainty sip of tea as if to emphasize the more vital things in life. “You haven’t said a word about my dress, Allison—isn’t it scrumptious?”
“It certainly is,” answered Allison with proper enthusiasm. “How on earth do you manage it these days?”
“Oh, Allison, don’t be so naive. If you know the right people, you can manage anything.”
At that moment a waiter came to replenish their pot of tea. “Will there be anything else, ladies?” he asked.
Sarah shook her head and the man departed.
“I wore this to the Fairgate’s for tea last week,” she continued, as if the announcement were tantamount to the capture of the German high command. “Olivia and her mother practically drooled all over it. Have you been to their new city place over by Hyde Park? It’s on Portland Place.”
“No, I haven’t,” replied Allison.
“Oh, well, you must. By the way, did you hear that Charles was wounded recently?”
“No. How serious is it?”
“He’s being sent home, but it’s not terribly dreadful. Of course he will be decorated, so I hear.” Sarah sipped again at her tea. “I can’t tell you how thankful I am that Wally’s back has kept him out of the military. You must feel the same way about Logan.”
Allison did not reply immediately.
This was only the second time she had seen Sarah since her return to London, and she had not yet found the opportunity to bring up the subject of Logan. Actually, there had probably been any number of opportunities; she had just not found the courage.
By all appearances, it seemed that Sarah Bramford Fielding had everything—clothes, status, a happy marriage, and was even a reasonably nice person to boot, if you could overlook the superficiality of her interests, and a slightly oversized ego. But she was pleasant enough to be around.
Allison had never spoken of her marital problems to her friends, always choked by her own version of ego, better labeled pride. Yet over the last months Allison had been taking strides toward new levels of maturity. Bit by bit that very pride was being beaten down by the hammer of difficulties, and the reality of true personhood was slowly being built within her. She was learning the folly of living in a manufactured world of shallow whimsy. That world of empty priorities had blinded her to Logan’s need until it was too late, and now she was about to let it supersede her own need. She couldn’t let that happen. She couldn’t let one more acquaintance drift off into trivialities because she lacked the courage to speak out the concerns of her heart. She needed a friend just now—a real friend. If they could but pierce the surface of their relationship, it was possible Sarah could be such a friend. They had known each other for years, but they had never attained any depth with one another. Dresses and parties and school and men and fashions had dominated their conversations, but nothing beyond. Was it possible there could be more between them? Should be more?
With the question Allison found herself wondering if she had purposely avoided substance in her friendships in order to keep from having to look too deeply within herself. Did she even know how to share her heart with Sarah? What about her faith in God? Was that something she could talk about to another?
These were suddenly new questions for Allison. But they were questions whose answers she did not want to postpone any longer. Reality could only emerge between them one way. And all at once it seemed imperative to Allison that she be a real person, with real emotions, rather than trying to cover up the hurts she was struggling with inside.
“You know, Sarah,” she said, “Logan and I have been having some problems.”
“What is it?” asked Sarah, her high forehead creased with concern.
“It’s been going on for some time, I guess,” Allison went on, hesitantly, but gaining in confidence as she saw genuine feeling etched on her friend’s face. “We’ve been separated for the last few months.”
Uttering the statement was perhaps the hardest thing she had ever done in her life. Yet once it was out, she felt oddly relieved. Perhaps sitting opposite her was a friend to help her shoulder some of the burden.
“Allison, I’m so sorry,” said Sarah. “Why have you waited so long to say anything?”
“It’s not an easy thing to admit. I didn’t know what—you know, what you might think of me.”
“Nonsense. It changes nothing between us.”
“Everyone wouldn’t agree. A broken marriage is the kiss of death to some people. You’re different in their eyes from that moment on.”
“Well, I won’t tell a soul if that’s how you want it.”
“Thank you. It’s hard to admit one’s failings. I guess I want people to think well of me.”
“I suppose I know what you mean,” sympathized Sarah. “Everyone gets together and talks, but nobody says what they’re really thinking, what’s really hurting them inside.”
“For so long I’ve tried to keep anyone from seeing deep inside me, but lately I’ve been so alone. I think what I really just need is a friend—someone to confide in. We’ve known each other for so long that—”
“That it’s about time we started to act like it,” Sarah finished Allison’s sentence for her. “If I let myself admit it, I need that kind of friend too.”
“You?”
“I suppose my marriage itself is fine—most of the time,” said Sarah. “But believe me, the London social set is the most shallow mob you ever want to see, and sometimes I’m no better.”
“Remember, this is me, Sarah. I used to be a part of all that—or at least wanted to be.”
“You never did quite fit in though, as much as you tried. Especially in recent years. And I mean that as a compliment!” Sarah smiled again, then added, “I always thought it had something to do with Logan.”
“Not at first,” replied Allison. “The focus of my life changed when I really tried to give my life to the Lord. It happened with Logan and me together about the same time, just before we were married. God began to teach me new priorities and attitudes, and before I knew it I began to feel out of place with all the gossip and backbiting and petty jealousies and flaunting of wealth that went on among us. I was the worst of the lot!”
“I did see a change in you, Allison, but I guess I was too stupid to say anything.”
“We all try to put on a front of self-sufficiency. Just because I was taking being a Christian seriously doesn’t mean I changed overnight, either.”
“You’ll never know how many times when I was with your family that I wanted to ask what made them all so . . . I don’t know—different . . . complete, I suppose is the best way to describe it.”
“You really felt that way?”
“Your great-grandmother always made me feel so special and loved. I knew she was a religious lady and I couldn’t help wondering if that had anything to do with it. But I was always too embarrassed to ask. You know how it’s embarrassing to talk about spiritual things. It shouldn’t be, I suppose, but it is. You think people will laugh at you for being interested in religion. So many people think it’s only for old people.”
“I know. That’s what I always thought, before I really knew what living closely with the Lord could mean in my life.”
“But even though Lady Margaret was old,” Sarah continued, “I always wished I could have that sparkle in my life that she had.”
“So did I,” said Allison with a tender smile as she recalled her many struggles over that very thing, and her eventual reunion on a deeper level with her great-grandmother. “But she would say there was no reason why we couldn’t have what she did. It was simply a matter of making a choice about one’s priorities and attitudes.”
“It hardly seems that simple.”
“It was her choice to let the Spirit of Christ fill her with a new outlook on life that made her who she was,” replied Allison. “And that same thing happened to me nine years ago. I gave my life to God too, and for a time, things were different. I had new values and perspectives, and it really did change my attitude toward everything. Unfortunately, I allowed too many external pressures to rob that original dedication from me. I guess it happened so slowly I didn’t notice. Then as things started going sour between Logan and me, I began looking in other directions for help. It took Logan’s leaving to shake me up enough to begin looking in the right direction again. I’m trying to bring the Lord back into my life, but I don’t know what He is planning to do with my marriage—I haven’t seen or heard from Logan in five months.”
“Dear, you must be miserable!”
“I’d be lying if I tried to say I wasn’t. But God is giving me strength to face it, a little bit at a time. I wish I could describe it better so you could understand.”
“I would like to hear more,” replied Sarah.
“You would?”
“Who wouldn’t want the kind of contentment Lady Margaret had? But let’s talk more on the way.”
“On the way where?”
“I want to surprise you.”
“But the nurse is expecting me back.”
“Give her a call and tell her you’ll be a little late,” said Sarah firmly. “You don’t want to miss this.”
“I feel as if I’m being kidnapped,” laughed Allison.
“I didn’t think I’d have to kidnap you to get you to my designer.”
“What’s this all about, Sarah?”
“I know a new dress won’t solve your problems, Allison. And maybe it’s silly to worry about what you look like. But sometimes a woman needs something new, just to feel good about herself. What do you say—it couldn’t hurt, could it?” She winked and smiled.
“I could never afford—”
“Ta, ta, dear girl! This one is on my Arabian sheik!”
The next couple of hours proved a heaven-sent boon for Allison. The new dress proved the least of her delight. Rather, it was the transformation of her friendship with Sarah brought on by the newfound honesty that had flowed between them.
Late in the afternoon they left the elegant offices where Allison had been fitted for her new outfit, diligently searching the street for a taxi—not a frequent sight in those days of petrol rationing. They had walked halfway down the block when Allison stopped suddenly, her gaze focused intently on a newspaper stand across the street.
“Allison, what is it?” asked Sarah.
“That man over there—I’ve seen him before.”
“Oh . . . ?” The revelation hardly seemed startling to Sarah.
“I saw him once with Logan.”
Allison hadn’t given the incident a single thought since before the blitz. It had taken place long before she had returned to Stonewycke, but now it all came back to her clearly. She and Logan were to meet for lunch at a west-end restaurant. She’d arrived a few minutes early and was speaking to the maitre d’ about a table, when she spotted Logan already seated at the far end of the room. With him was a man whose austere, pock-marked face was not easy to forget. Even had the face been of more ordinary features, she could hardly have erased from her mind the reaction on the countenances of both men when they saw her approach. The stranger cut off his speech immediately and made his departure with only a curt tip of his hat for Allison’s benefit. When she questioned Logan about him, his response was evasive and vague. She knew that the meeting must have something to do with his mysterious job, but Logan would say nothing, and there the matter dropped. She had hardly thought of it again until the same man should suddenly appear out of the past, bringing it all vividly back to her.
Without thinking, she stepped suddenly out into the street toward the newsstand, causing several passing autos to slam on their brakes. Hardly taking a notice, she hurried on across.
“Sir!” she called out as she approached.
The man made no response.
“I say, there at the newsstand!” she called again, reaching the other side of the street and hurrying up to where he stood.
He glanced up, a cloud of uncertainty passing over his face for an instant. As it did, Allison could see the split-second hesitation as he debated within himself what he should do. At last it appeared as if it was more compulsion than decision that forced his eyes to acknowledge her.
“Sir,” she said when their eyes met, “may I please speak with you?”
But in the next instant, another cloud passed over his countenance, this time one of sudden recognition. The magazine he had been browsing fell from his hands, he turned on his heel, and quickly rushed away.
“Please—I must talk to you!” cried Allison after him.
She had taken little notice of the gathering afternoon crowd till that moment. But now suddenly it seemed as though the sidewalk was swarming with people—all bent on preventing her from catching up with the elusive stranger. Weaving her way in and out, she managed to keep him in sight for about half a block. Then suddenly he was gone.