One month later
She wrung her hands, pacing from one side of the kitchen to the other. It was very early in the morning, and she had slept very well until a terrible nightmare woke her.
Now, Shelagh wondered if she was okay. And if she wasn't, how would she know?
Anna had not shown any signs of life. Shelagh did not know where the Bates lived, what their phone number was. She only knew they were in Ireland, if it was true what Anna said before she left.
Hot tears began to flow. She still had the vivid image of Anna, screaming in pain in a strange bed, in a strange house, and Shelagh helpless with the blood that flowed, just watching as Anna, her sister, left quickly. She screamed and screamed her name, but Anna was gone, forever.
She woke up drenched in sweat, with one hand covering her mouth to hide the sobs that wanted to escape and wake her husband and Teddy.
She did not believe in the omens of bad dreams, but it had been so real that now, shivering in the kitchen in the darkness of dawn, she doubted if perhaps everything she saw really happened or was just the product of her unconscious.
"Shelagh, love?"
She saw Patrick coming down the stairs and she walked over to him, shaking more.
"Something bad happened, I know there is something wrong."
Her husband frowned, stepped down the last step, and took her by the shoulders.
"Shelagh are you okay?"
She just shook her head.
"Something happened to her, I know."
"Who are you talking about? Honey, breathe please."
She shook her head, ran her hands through her hair, feeling desperate. She sure looked crazy, but she did not care much.
"Anna."
He pulled away from her a little bit, looking at her carefully.
In the entire month, that name had not been spoken. She pretended that everything was fine and that she felt calm when the inconvenience Anna caused with her arrival had disappeared. Deep down, she continued to feel guilty about everything.
"Sit down."
Patrick sat her in a chair, and sat next to her. He waited until Shelagh looked up at him.
"I had a horrible dream."
He nodded, understanding.
"But I know it wasn't just a dream," she continued, "It was too real. But maybe... maybe I've been more concerned than I showed, about her. I don't know if she will be taking care of her health, if she takes the pills, if she managed to have an operation to avoid getting pregnant again..."
"I doubt that in Ireland she can have that."
"That's why I've been worried. We both know that if what happened to her happens again, she... Well, she wouldn't be able to recover, physically or mentally."
Patrick squeezed her hands, kissed them.
"Let's do something. Go back to bed, try to get some more rest, and when I have some free time in the afternoon, I'll find out about her. We know they're in Dublin, we can look in a phone book, or something like that."
"No," she denied. "No, Patrick, you have a lot of work to do. I...I will do what you told me and in the next few days I will see what I do about her. Surely they are things in my head, which tries to mortify me in this way. She sure is fine."
"John."
The man just grunted, rolled over on the bed.
"John, help me."
He opened one eye and sat up immediately when he noticed his wife standing next to him.
"Anna? What's going on?"
"It's happening again!" she replied with an anguished voice. "I'm losing it again, I know, that's it!"
John Bates stood up, noticing his wife hyperventilating. He hugged her, she was shaking but a quick glance showed him that there was no blood in her nightgown, on the bed, or in the floor.
"How do you know?" he asked foolishly and berated himself.
She looked at him indignantly, pushed him away.
"It has happened so many times! Of course I know it!"
"Sorry love," he said, sitting her on the bed. "I'll get dressed and we'll go to the hospital."
"No! No!" she screamed desperately.
"Shh Anna, you'll wake up Johnny. We'll go fast, they'll see you right away, and we'll be here before he finds out."
"No John, not a hospital, no! It's a miscarriage, I know what to do because it happened so many times!"
She flinched, moaning like a creature. John wrapped her in his own jacket, helped her with her slippers, and they both went outside. Anna kept refusing, sobbing and choking on coughs but John forced her into the car. As he drove, he took her hand in an attempt to steady her.
He felt guilty for what he was doing, but he could not see Anna like this and just wait. The last time it was all so terrible that he knew that if it happened again, Anna could suffer serious consequences.
He still kept wondering why she was pregnant if she took the pills Shelagh gave her.
He thought of Shelagh. His wife's sister would know what to do. She would know what to say, how to handle this situation. Anna needed a woman by her side, a woman like Shelagh Turner, but Ireland was being difficult enough for them to ask Anna why she was not communicating with Shelagh.
When they arrived at the hospital and he desperately explained that his wife was having a miscarriage, he expected some compassion, but a bored-faced nurse pointed to an abandoned wheelchair in a hallway and then pointed to a door where he should go with Anna.
Pushing a wheelchair and supporting himself with a cane was quite difficult, but once Anna entered the indicated small room, another nurse slammed the door in his face, leaving him alone in the cold hallway.
"There is a nun there", she thought, lying on a gurney. She feared them, but she had liked Poplar's nuns.
This nun, however, watched everything from a corner, undeterred.
When the nurse finished checking her, the nun approached, but she did not speak to Anna.
"Well, nurse?" she asked.
Anna saw that the nurse was very young, and probably a student. She shrugged.
"There's nothing."
The nun frowned, glaring at the nurse.
"How can there be nothing, nurse? This woman manifests a miscarriage."
"There's nothing, sister," the girl replied with shame.
The nun lifted the blanket that covered Anna's legs and put her cold and hard hands on the belly. It was a more awkward revision than the previous one, but it ended with a smile from the nun, which did not convince Anna.
"Dear you're not having a miscarriage."
Hope began to blossom. If she wasn't having a miscarriage, then…?
"You're not even pregnant."
She felt a brick press against her chest. The nun spoke, but Anna did not listen or respond.
"Mrs Bates?"
Anna shook off her bewilderment and looked at the woman.
"I asked you why you thought you were having a miscarriage. Have you had others before?"
Anna nodded.
"When was your last period?"
She thought, did the math. The box of pills Shelagh gave her had just finished, and she had started a new one.
She thought of Shelagh. She wanted her there, she needed someone who would treat her well and not as a nuisance.
"Mrs Bates?"
"A month ago," she replied fearfully.
The nun smiled again, Anna did not feel warmth or sympathy in that smile, but something like mockery.
"Then the pain you feel is your period. Surely today or tomorrow you will have it."
"No... it can't be, I...I don't suffer pain like that and..."
"When was your last miscarriage?" the nun interrupted.
"Very recently," Anna sat slowly on the gurney, her gaze searched for her slippers that had fallen anywhere. The young nurse handed them to her.
"That's why you feel pain," the nun concluded. "Go home, rest for today and tomorrow."
The nun left, followed by the girl. Anna got off the gurney, put on John's jacket, and went out into the hallway. John was sitting in a chair, with his hands clasped. He seemed like he was praying. When he saw her, he stood up quickly and put an arm around her.
"What happened?"
"There's nothing."
"What do you mean with…?"
"Nothing, John. No miscarriage, no pregnancy. I guess I'm going crazy."
"I have it!" Patrick announced two nights later, entering the kitchen with a notebook in his hands. "I called the hotel where John Bates worked and they gave me the phone number of the Dublin branch. I called and he actually works there, only he left earlier today."
Shelagh looked at the notebook with the odd numbers her husband wrote down.
"If you want, I'll call there tomorrow and I'll talk to him. To find out how she is, ask for their address, or something like that."
He was excited and overjoyed of his discovery but Shelagh just continued putting the dishes on the table and called the children to dinner.
"Just ask how she's doing, I just want to know that," she answered before the children appeared.
"But…"
"If she hasn't communicated it's because she doesn't want to know anything about me, so let's leave her with that."
Her husband concentrated on the food, while Tim looked at her mother with a frown.
"Are you talking about Anna?"
"Tim, eat your food so you can continue your biology homework," Shelagh replied without looking at him.
"I'd like to know how Johnny is," Angela announced. "Mom, can we write to him?"
Shelagh tightened a smile, stirring her food from side to side of the plate.
"Maybe another day, dear."
When she saw her son enter the house, she was not surprised that he did not greet her.
He had been like this for a month, being the most distant child in the world with his mother. His anger did not seem to diminish and his indifference to the school, his home, his family, and even his father's new car, were worrying her greatly.
"Say hi to your mother, John," his father asked, and the boy reluctantly walked to the room where his mother was lying.
"Hi honey, how was school?"
"Like every day," he said, turning and leaving.
Anna heard John reprimand his son in a low voice and she saw the boy shuffling back.
"Would you like to have some tea, mom?"
"No honey, I'm fine, thank you."
Johnny left again and his father entered.
"If he continues like this, I will threaten to send him to boarding school."
"John don't be like that, he's just a kid. And he is right, this is not working."
He sat next to her, shrugged.
"What if I told you that I just got promoted? I'm assistant manager now."
"What? So fast? That's great! Congrats, love!"
John smiled, stroked her face.
"We will have a little more money and we can fix the house."
Indeed, the house they had found to live in was old and needed all kinds of repairs and renovations. Lack of money had postponed everything, and even unopened boxes were still piled up in the rooms since the move.
"Oh, and a neighbor has asked for you," continued John, "The lady across the street. I told her you were feeling a little sick and she asked if you need help with shopping or cleaning the house."
Anna barely smiled. She was having a hard time, almost as much as her son, getting along with the new people. She felt that they looked at her suspiciously, every afternoon she saw the children in the street playing, but no one knocked on the door and invited Johnny. Being English was a problem in the neighborhood where they lived, she knew it.
She felt guilty knowing that she had completely taken the wrong path, and she suspected that perhaps her imagination was playing tricks making her believe that she was not wanted by anyone. It did not matter if it was London, Ireland, or China, the problem seemed to be her.
She looked at her belly, which was still aching with strong cramps. She sighed.
"Anna, with this promotion I'll be less at home. Maybe…"
John sighed too, moved his hands like when he tried to explain something he could not find the words.
"Maybe?"
"Maybe you should talk more with that neighbor, or with the others. Be more accompanied, somehow…"
Anna took his hands, stroked them.
"I know what you mean, and I'll try."
And yes, she tried.
The next morning, she got out of bed. Her period was heavy and painful, but still she forced herself to get up and clean a bit. The neighbor knocked on the door and asked if she needed help. Anna was going to refuse, but she accepted to have company and to establish some kind of contact with someone who was not from her family.
The woman helped wash the floors, while she talked non-stop about her five children and two grandchildren. She was a huge and kind woman, who spoke quickly and with a heavy accent that Anna found it difficult to follow. Her name was Dora McGuire, and when she finished all the chores, she made tea and forced Anna to sit in an armchair.
"Thank you Mrs. McGuire, but..."
"Sweetheart, you don't look very good, so a cup doesn't hurt. And call me Dora, please."
Anna obeyed and took a sip of the tea. The woman sat across from her, wiping her hands on her apron.
"I hope you feel better soon. I'll be back tomorrow, or I'll tell Lucy. Do you know Lucy?"
"No, I don't know anyone around here," Anna hid her face in the cup. She really had not done anything to find out more about her neighbors, she only kept locked up and went out to the street for what was strictly necessary.
"Oh, you must know her, that woman cooks like the gods and with two or three wee things. Although, since last week she only knows to complain about her hairdresser. She was a very good girl at her job, but she got herself an American boyfriend, can you imagine? Of course she dropped all of this and ran off with him. They say she went to New York, who could be that lucky! Now the heads of the whole neighborhood, including mine, are like bird's nests. I don't give much importance to it, but Lucy! For her it is a tragedy. You have very beautiful and shiny hair, do you use dye or is natural?"
"No, my hair is always like that," Anna blushed, no one, except John, had ever told her that she had beautiful hair, "And I always cut it and I comb it."
"Really?"
Anna barely knew Dora, but she could tell the woman was up to something in her head when she looked at her with a smirk and nodded slowly.
Two months later, Anna was happy that Dora had looked past the slim, lanky woman her English neighbor was.
Three days a week, Dora, Lucy, and many other women came to her house so that Anna could perform miracles on their heads. The women were delighted to have someone so professional that expertly cut, dyed, waved and styled. Anna never thought that her work with the Crawleys would open the doors to her in Ireland, but the neighbors assured that if she had worked with such important personalities, it was because she was good, so they trusted their hair in her capable hands.
Working gave her a purpose and a benefit as well. She felt useful, she could talk about frivolous and uncommitted topics and above all, she did not have time to think.
Even Johnny was favored, because the mothers left their mistrust and allowed their children to invite the little Englishman to play.
By Christmas, Anna knew that Ireland suited them. In those months life had changed for the better, and that proved her point: leaving London was the right thing. There were no more miscarriages, and her little house was now painted, decorated, and with flowers in its garden.
"Child, you never talk about your family. Tell me, do you have brothers or sisters?" Lucy asked, as she fingered her head full of curlers.
"Why do you want to know that, woman?" Dora complained, looking at her nails perfectly painted by Anna, "Also, if she doesn't have siblings she'll be very calm, won't you, Anna? What do you think? Siblings are always an inconvenience. If you had known my sister Fran, oh God, that woman from the day she was born she brought me problems. She now lives in Spain, so far away! And even so, when she calls me, I already know that it is because she got into some trouble!"
The women continued to rant about their families, not realizing that Anna never answered the question. When they left, very happy with the results of the great hairdresser, Anna counted the money she had earned for the day and smiled satisfied. She started to tidy up all the mess in her kitchen, and surrounded by the silence that remained in her house after so much chatter, she found herself thinking about the answer to Lucy's question. Did she have, or didn't she have a sister?
She laughed a little as she remembered Dora and her anecdotes with her sister, and she doubted whether Shelagh had done the same to her. Of course she did, because knowing when she was an adult that she had a sister who hated her was a big problem that upset her quiet and normal life. But…
Anna sighed. It was time to stop playing dumb.
In all her time in Ireland, she did not forget Shelagh. The physical remoteness did nothing against her thoughts. Shelagh was always there, although Anna no longer displayed Joseph's photos on the furniture in her house, and tried to avoid anything that reminded her of Poplar's little woman.
But always, every day, even for a second, Anna thought about Shelagh.
So she considered breaking the silence.
She had not wanted to call or write, for fear of not being well received. Besides, her life was reeling and she just wanted a new beginning, away from everything she had ever known.
She now had some good things to tell without having to lie, and it was approaching Christmas and a card was always a good excuse to communicate, in a simple and uncompromising way. Hopefully Shelagh would respond and contact would be reestablished but without disturbing either of them.
Anna quickly cleaned the kitchen and set off to a nearby store, which sold very nice office things. She bought the most beautiful and brilliant card, and when she got home she wrote a few words.
"Do you want to say hello?" she asked her son who just got home from a street football game.
Johnny nodded and added, in his hesitant handwriting, a few kisses for the Turner children.
"When will we see them?" he asked with an innocent look.
Anna concentrated on closing the card envelope, and without looking at her son, she lied:
"Surely very soon."
"Now carefully, hang it up."
Shelagh smiled at Teddy, who was moving restlessly in her arms, trying to choose a branch of the tree to hang the ornament. At last he chose one, stretched out his plump hands, and hung up the golden object.
He laughed pleased at his accomplishment and his mother kissed him on the cheeks.
"Very good, darling! Now we are going to hang a couple more, so when your sisters arrive from school they will be surprised by your work."
She handed the boy another ornament and guided him until he placed it on another branch.
Shelagh heard the door open and shut, and saw her eldest son leaving his backpack anywhere and her daughters running towards her.
"Mommy, you won't know what ...! Christmas tree! Both girls yelled, widening their eyes.
"Yes, girls, the tree is ready, go wash your hands and we can decorate it. Tim, don't run away, you participate too."
"Mom, I'm older," the boy grumbled, but anyway he took an ornament and hung it up.
May returned and from her pocket took out an envelope.
"There was this on the door," she handed it to Shelagh and she pulled Teddy into Tim's arms.
When Shelagh saw the sender, her heart stopped for a couple of seconds.
She opened the envelope quickly.
About Anna, she just knew that she was okay. Patrick confirmed it after calling John Bates. The man, according to Patrick, was very happy with the call and gave him the address and telephone number of his home, but Shelagh never dared to do anything.
She was still evaluating how to get close to Anna one day.
But before she could make a move, Anna was there, greeting her through a piece of colored cardboard, offering her direction and her wishes for happiness.
"It's from Johnny!" exclaimed May, who had been by her mother's side the whole time without her knowing it. Angela came over and Tim did too.
"Can I keep the stamp?" Tim asked.
"Can I read it?" May moved closer to her mother.
"Can I draw the Santa from the card? It has nice colors," Angela asked.
Shelagh nodded to everything, unable to say anything.
She quickly made a decision. She would not send a card in response.
That same night, when everyone was asleep, Shelagh went down to the kitchen and wrote a letter. She commented about her life, the children, she asked about the Bates family, about Ireland. Something quite generic that still took a lot of work to write.
And towards the end, in the last line before signing, she wrote that she missed her.
She hid the purpose of her letter there among a pile of news that Anna surely did not care much about.
"I miss you a lot".
And she signed and hid the sheets of paper in an envelope before regretting it.
It was true.
She missed Anna.
Anna destabilized everything with her arrival, but when she left things did not straighten out. Shelagh let her go because it was her decision, but she could not forget that night on her doorstep, chatting and laughing, telling each other her romantic stories. That night Shelagh won a friend who was gone forever and she missed a lot.
Anna was valuable; she was a kind and sweet person. She was, in many ways, like Shelagh. And above all, she was not to blame for anything. None of them were to blame.
Lucy left, delighted with her new look. She was an impulsive and nervous woman who could not bear to see her hair in bad shape, but when she was under Anna's hands, she only smiled. Her children no longer lived with her and were far away so the woman's only occupation was to look in the mirror and see mistakes on her face and in her hair, and although Anna could not correct the first, she could do wonders with the latter.
When Anna closed the door and sighed looking at the mess of combs, scissors, shampoos and dyes on the kitchen table, she also noticed the envelope that her son left there when he returned from school. She had not time to glance at it.
She sat down to rest her legs and took it.
"Shelagh Turner" said on the sender, and Anna trembled.
Inside the envelope there did not seem to be a card, but something thicker. Opening it, Anna noticed sheets of paper. It was a letter.
They were two pages that could not be full of insults or reproaches, so she began to read. Shelagh had neat handwriting that got a bit erratic at times, and a lot of scratches made Anna think that perhaps Shelagh was not writing the things she wanted to say. Anna understood her, she on her card meant something more than good Christmas wishes.
Everything in Poplar seemed to be the same. The kids missed Johnny, they had good grades. Shelagh was still working, her husband too. Anna knew they had not shared much while they were together, so there was not much to tell in a letter either.
But Anna saw that this was not a simple letter, between the lines she saw much more, until she reached the final revelation: Shelagh asked for forgiveness and said that she missed her.
It was unexpected. Shelagh Mannion missed her. Why, she Anna did not know.
What she did know was that she missed Shelagh too.
Taking a shaky breath, she tucked the letter into the envelope and stared at a point on the wall. She could not quite understand how to follow this sudden approach. Oh how right Dora was! Sisters only bring trouble.
Anna laughed, looking at the envelope on the table, and decided it.
She stood up, walked over to the phone, and dialed the number, which she surprisingly remembered.
The secretary's voice greeted her, and then the voice she expected to hear.
"Hi Shelagh, I just read your letter."
They were in the middle of a difficult delivery and for the first time, she did not want to be there. She had not gotten a good night's sleep for a couple of days and she could tell she was getting the flu judging by how her entire body ached.
Sister Julienne looked at her and frowned.
"Shelagh, do you want to go home?"
She denied without saying anything, although she just wanted to go to sleep right there.
"Oh sweety, are you sick too?" Trixie asked, maneuvering with the poor woman giving birth, "Go home, Shelagh, we can take care of it here."
"But…"
"You heard Nurse Franklin," Sister Julienne stated and Trixie smiled, before speaking to the woman in labor.
She no longer had the strength to object so she left the delivery room dragging her feet. Miss Higgins intercepted her, saying that someone wanted to speak to her on the phone. She complained, taking her forehead. Who the hell could it be?
When she took the receiver and greeted, rather curtly, her entire body seemed to forget the illness and went off like an alarm.
Anna was speaking.
Shelagh was terrified, the last time Anna called her was because she was in a state of complete calamity.
"Shelagh? Are you there?" she heard Anna's hesitant voice.
"Yes Anna, I'm sorry…Is something wrong with you?"
"No, I was just telling you that I just read your letter. I'm fine, don't worry. We are all good here."
Shelagh breathed a sigh of relief.
"I really liked what you told me in your letter, and I'm glad that everyone is well in Poplar. I'm sorry if receiving my card maybe bothered you or..."
"No, no, not at all, it made me very happy," Shelagh interrupted, and heard a giggle from the other side.
"Well I'm glad. Your letter also made me very happy."
Then they were silent, not knowing what else to say. With panic, embarrassment and also with a little affection, Shelagh remembered the conversations with Patrick, when they were just beginning their relationship and they were silent without knowing what to say or do for fear that the other would disappear.
"Anna, I'm about to go home, can I call you from there in a few minutes?"
"Oh, sure! I'm sorry if I bothered you at work."
"I was already leaving. Give me your number."
So Shelagh already had the excuse to call her again. As she walked home, the flu began to manifest with some sneezing and chills, but still she sat by the phone with a cup of hot tea, and talked to Anna for a full hour, until the woman, from the other side, sent her straight to sleep.
"Listen to me Shelagh you're coughing like an old engine and don't think I don't remember what you told me about your lung disease. Go to sleep right now, you need to rest."
Shelagh laughed through a new coughing attack, and Anna insisted.
"Are they orders from an older sister?" Shelagh said without thinking.
Anna remained silent, cleared her throat and with a voice too bright that was hiding something, she spoke.
"Yes, orders from older sister. Take care of yourself."
For the next week, Anna called every day to make sure Shelagh was recovering from the flu. And while she felt feverish and her body aching, Shelagh waited every afternoon for the ringing of the phone.
Two months later
When Patrick Turner entered his house, he was not surprised to see his wife with the telephone receiver between her shoulder and her neck, while with her hands beat vigorously in a bowl. On the contrary, he smiled widely.
He was always surprised when he found new things in Shelagh, and the latest news was that voice and that special laugh his wife had every week when she spoke to Anna Bates.
"I'm beating the eggs as fast as you say, but I don't see results! Are you sure it is so?" Shelagh snorted, put the bowl on the table and took the receiver with one hand, "It doesn't look like you say it should!"
She beat the eggs again, while she spoke quickly to Anna. At last, she seemed to accomplish her task, because she triumphantly proclaimed that her preparation had the proper consistency.
"Anna, Patrick has arrived, I'll continue with this and then I'll tell you if it ended well or not. Thanks!"
She hung up and continued into the kitchen.
"How was everything, darling?" she yelled from there to her husband.
"Very well. Were you talking with Anna?"
"Of course, it's Friday. Look, she passed me a recipe that if I succeed, it will be the best cake I have ever made. She learned it when she was working at Downton Abbey, it's a recipe for kings!"
"Oh, and we are kings?"
"Well, you are the king of my heart, so yes."
Patrick laughed at her response and continued to watch her as she commented on various things about Anna.
It seemed that both women had taken a peaceful and friendly course since Shelagh wrote the letter and received the first call from Anna. Then, she got sick and they talked every day, and then they started using all kinds of excuses to make calls that lasted longer and longer, until they agreed on something for the first time since they met: they would call each other alternately, every Friday.
So Shelagh left work a little earlier every Friday to make the call or receive the call from Anna to talk without the presence of husbands or children. Recipes, mother advices, and even how to do hairstyles had filled the Friday afternoons.
"Patrick, can you hand me that pot?" Shelagh pointed to the top of the cupboard, and he handed it to her, while she continued speaking with enthusiasm, "Did you hear what I said?"
He grimaced, denying, and she looked at him in exasperation.
"Sorry love, I was just thinking about you."
She rolled her eyes, but blushed.
"I said I'll buy a present for Anna tomorrow, so I'll send it right away. Do you think it will be there for her birthday? It is in three days. I should have remembered before," she said in dismay.
Patrick smiled widely, nodding. He had no idea if a package would get to Dublin so quickly, but he could not help but be proud of his wife.
"Mom."
"No Johnny, you won't have a dog."
The boy turned around, grumbling, but then went back into the living room.
"But…"
"No."
Johnny went back to his room, saying that everyone had a dog except him. But he ran back, and Anna smiled.
"Angela and May have rabbits, can I have one? It's less work and they don't bark!"
"Less work? You should listen to Shelagh when she talks about those critters."
"But…!"
"No John Bates, no pets for you."
Again, the boy left, and he did not return. Anna continued to do her accounts, looking if she had managed to save money after the disastrous catastrophe with her hair dryer, which stopped working and also caught fire causing panic in her clients and herself, for course.
Her husband came downstairs, adjusting his tie and looking at himself in the living room mirror.
"Do I look good?"
"You're always look good, darling. Those men won't hesitate to give you the job."
John smiled, tilting his head, and sitting down on the couch across from her.
"I don't know Anna. I'm older and now they want young people."
"Young people don't have your experience, and being a hotel manager is something you've already done, and in London. The others have nothing to do, believe me that you will pass this exam and win the promotion."
John sighed, he looked nervous and Anna understood. The hotel owner had four potential managers to evaluate, and John was one of them. He could be chosen, she had faith in that, but it was true, the rest were young and spoke French and Italian and other languages.
"I was thinking," John said, as he watched her continue with her accounts, "If they give me the promotion, I'll give the dog to Johnny."
She put down her pencil and looked at him.
"John, we already talked about it, neither of us has time to take care of a puppy. It is a lot of work."
"Johnny will have to take care of it. He is already a big boy, he can take over. And it will help him a lot, he has no brothers or sisters, he must learn to be responsible for a living being and what better than a puppy."
She pressed her lips together, returning to her accounts.
"And we will also do our best to have your own beauty salon."
She looked up, scared. She did not understand what he was talking about. A dog was complicated, but a beauty salon? Besides, she was not a professional, she had not studied, all she knew was because she always wanted to learn new things.
"Let's tell the truth, having those women here is getting a bit chaotic. And I know you want to work more than three days," he smiled, and she could not deny him an answer.
It was true, the only three days that she worked she enjoyed it very much and she always wanted to do it, but it was also true that her house was a jumble of jars, combs and other people's hair.
She never had the dream of a beauty salon of her own, in fact, she never had many dreams, except to marry this wonderful man and have a family with him.
"I'm going," John stood up, sighing. "Will you wish me luck or not?"
Anna smiled, stood up too, and kissed his cheek. Adjusting his tie, she looked him in the eye.
"I wish you all the luck, my love."
The phone rang and John looked at his watch.
"That must be your sister. Bye!" With a quick kiss he left and Anna ran to answer the phone.
Her eyes filled with tears when she heard Shelagh's voice that, without even saying hello, she exclaimed worriedly, from the other side of the line:
"Do you know if he was promoted? Did he pass the exam? I just finished praying that everything goes well!"
Anna nodded, unable to find the words to express how happy she was.
Life had changed a lot.