“What would I do without the two of you?” Clara forced a smile. “I’ll visit Sophie as often as I can. Gerhard simply has to concede that. I’ll go there again tomorrow and talk to him.” She felt a grain of hope appear inside her. Maybe all was not yet lost.
Josephine and Isabelle looked at each other doubtfully. If there was one thing Gerhard Gropius wasn’t, it was a man who made concessions.
“That horrible man!” Isabelle suddenly blurted. “Of all the people in this world, why did you have to fall in love with him? Or worse, marry him? It was obvious from the start that he had it in for you. You wasted so many years with him.”
Clara recoiled as if someone had struck her with a whip.
“Isabelle,” Josephine said in a warning tone. “I’m sure it wasn’t all bad, was it, Clara?”
It was a moment before Clara could respond. “At the start, Gerhard was nice. He made all the decisions, and I felt I was in good hands.” She looked intently at Isabelle. “Maybe you can’t understand that. Your parents always gave you a certain amount of . . . well, freedom. You could get away with things. With your husband Leon, too. But I never knew any other way to live than to obey, without protest. From childhood my mother dictated life for me—everything from what I wore to when I’d been educated enough. I could have gone to a girls’ secondary school, like you did! My teacher urged my parents to send me, but Mother wanted me to go to home economics school to learn how to be a good wife.” Clara grimaced. “And I really tried to be just that! I wanted to anticipate every wish he had. I wanted to do everything right. And when I couldn’t, I looked for the fault in myself. I told myself I was too scatterbrained, too stupid, too forgetful. That I needed to think more before I said something or did something. Listen to Gerhard better. Every day, I tried to become a better housewife . . . a better wife. But with every word of criticism, every time Gerhard flew into a rage, all I did was get more nervous and make more mistakes.”
“But you’re one of the most orderly and efficient people I know,” said Josephine. “I still remember how I envied you in school because your exercise books were always so perfect and neat and your school bag was so organized. Mine always looked like a tornado had been through it. I haven’t improved much since.” She gestured toward the living room table, stacked with magazines, a few empty glasses from earlier in the evening, Amelie’s toys, and Adrian’s pipe.
All three laughed at that.
Clara took a sip of her tea. “I was never as bold as either of you. And Gerhard destroyed what little confidence I had, bit by bit. It felt like I was dissolving more each day, like an old rag with threads that get more and more fragile. At some point, there wouldn’t have been much left of me at all.” She laughed sadly. “If I look back on it now . . . every effort I made was a waste of time, because I could never do anything well enough for Gerhard. He didn’t want to praise me, but instead to humiliate me, taunt me, lecture me. That’s what mattered to him. It had nothing to do with having a perfect house. But I had to understand that before I could do anything about it, don’t you see?”
Isabelle and Josephine nodded sympathetically, but Clara doubted that they had really understood.
“Every morning, I had to ask him what he wanted for dinner that evening. He would say potatoes and gravy, for instance. So that’s what I would cook. But come dinner, it was possible that he would throw his plate across the room and scream, ‘How can you cook such a heavy meal on a hot day like this? Cold meat in aspic would be just the thing for me now!’” She shook her head as if to shake off the memory. “If I took him a glass of beer, he’d want wine, or vice versa. ‘Are you trying to turn me into a drunk?’ he asked one day. ‘Unlike you, I have to work during the day, so it’s important that I go to bed with a clear head.’ So the next day, all I put on the table was a carafe of water. ‘Oh, I see!’ he screamed at me. ‘I’m supposed to drink water so madam here can drink a brandy in the afternoon with the money I make?’”
“Why didn’t you ever say anything?” Josephine whispered. She looked as if she would burst into tears at any moment.
Clara sniffed. “How would that have changed anything? I’d made my bed, and I had to lie in it. Besides, the children were still so small. I couldn’t leave them. And you see how hard it is to get a divorce.”
For a long time, none of them said anything. The clock on the wall struck two.
“Oh, Clara, if only I could have helped you somehow,” said Josephine.
“You did. You were always there for me, and that was enough, even if I didn’t always show you what my real life was like,” said Clara. “When my parents had their accident, Gerhard was also having problems in his practice. You know how life can be—everything pouring down at once. His best nurse and his secretary resigned at almost the same time, so the office was a mess, and his patients were not shy about complaining. My dear husband was not used to that, not when his female patients worshipped him otherwise. He came home in a bad mood every evening, and he took it out on me. He beat me a lot during that time, and it got harder and harder to pretend my little world was in order. But I still tried to put on my happy smile for the children, to protect them. Still, they must have known something was going on. Sophie began wetting her bed again. She cried a lot and never left my side. Gerhard had turned Matthias against me much earlier, and for the first time I began to think that it could not be good to let the children grow up in such an atmosphere. I had to look for a solution, whatever the cost.”
Josephine placed her hand on Clara’s arm and pressed gently. “One day, your son will realize what a strong, wonderful woman his mother is. And your daughter will admire you for the courage you’ve shown.”
“Let’s hope so,” said Clara softly, but she felt doubt creeping over her again. Had the price been too high?
Isabelle abruptly put down her cup. The tea was cold. “With all due respect to your tea, dear Jo, now that we’re so wide awake anyway, we can just as well end this night with champagne.” She stood up and went into the kitchen, returning a moment later with a bottle and three glasses. “Our first Feininger-Lambert, 1901. For Daniel and me, this champagne was the symbol of a new start, and that’s what it should be for you, too.” She filled three glasses, then raised hers to Clara. “To your liberty!”
“To your new life!” Josephine said. “May everything work out for the best.”
Clara gingerly raised her glass to clink with the others. The rose-pink champagne smelled of strawberries and vanilla. “To my new life,” she said aloud. Then, to herself: I will do everything I can not to mess it up.
Chapter Four
Although it was almost three in the morning when the women went back to bed, they were up again before eight. Isabelle’s train left for Reims at ten, and Clara wanted to start looking for work immediately. To make sure that Clara presented herself well, Isabelle was supposed to give her some advice about clothes before she left.
“The black dress? No, much too gloomy for a summer day. And the lacy one is too flirty altogether.” Isabelle, legs crossed, sat on the edge of Clara’s bed while Clara brought out her dresses for her friend to inspect.
“What do you think of this dark-blue one?” Clara asked cautiously. She didn’t have many more to choose from. To her relief, Isabelle approved.
“It’s crucial that you look professional and well groomed. Nothing over the top,” said Isabelle, well versed in fashion matters. “If you come across as too elegant or seductive, all you’ll do is get on the wrong side of the pharmacists’ wives.”
Clara looked in the mirror. The outfit was a few years old, but the fabric was good quality. The cut was flattering to her slim figure without overemphasizing her curves. The dark blue was easy to look at, and she wore new black shoes as well. But was it enough to make a good impression on a pharmacist?
“Done?” Josephine suddenly asked from behind Clara. Josephine, who was dressed for going out, wore a pale-yellow summer skirt and jacket and a straw hat.
“Because you’re both leaving me today, I’ve decided to go into the shop. Adrian has already gone ahead on his bicycle. Our driver will be here in an hour, and he can drive you, Isabelle, to the station, and then Clara and me into town.”
Clara spun around and smiled at Josephine. “What do you think? Can I go like this?”
“You look fantastic!” Josephine said, then turned to Isabelle. “Did you do her hair?” Isabelle nodded. “Well, you should wear your hair that way all the time.” Spontaneously, she went over to Clara and embraced her. “Now come on, both of you, let’s at least have a little breakfast together!” With one arm still around Clara’s shoulders, she led her downstairs. Isabelle, smiling broadly, followed.
“What if you came back to Champagne with me? A change of scene would surely do you good. Daniel would be happy to see you again, too. When you first met, years ago, there wasn’t much time for deeper conversations,” said Isabelle as they sat together over fresh rolls and coffee. Whenever Isabelle talked about her second husband, her cheeks flushed red with pleasure and desire, and now was no exception.
Clara was so excited by the idea that she all but lost her appetite. “I’d love to visit you on your vineyard, and it would be wonderful to see your husband and Marguerite again. The last time I saw your daughter, she was crawling around the house. And now she’s seven!” Clara sighed.
“And you haven’t even met the twins, Norbert and Jean. They’re already three, you know,” Isabelle said, with a tinge of accusation.
“Why do you have to live so far away?” Josephine laughed. “It takes so much just to get there that visits like this are a rare treasure.”
“That’s absolutely true.” Clara nodded. “And, as much as I’d like to travel to Champagne, right now is simply not the right time.”
“Not the right time? We’ve got the picking season coming up. All the commotion of that will get you thinking about other things in no time. Besides, we could visit Raymond Dupont. My dear champagne dealer is still searching for the woman of his dreams. If I remember right, you were once quite taken with him,” Isabelle replied.
“Isa! Clara’s been divorced for one day! And all you think about is matching her up again, just like that?” said Josephine in disbelief.
“It’s never too early for a new love,” said Isabelle, waving her hand with what seemed like a French airiness.
All three laughed, though there was something forced about it.
The night had been short, and after Clara’s nocturnal confessions, they all felt rather vulnerable. Isabelle’s imminent departure only amplified the feeling. They had no idea when they would share a moment like this again, the three of them, together. They all felt the burden in their hearts, and it was precisely for that reason that they tried to keep the tone of their conversation light.
“You might not believe it, but I’ve actually thought of Raymond Dupont and his wonderful champagne business many times. He is a striking man. And then there’s Reims—what a gorgeous town that is! A visit to Champagne is certainly tempting,” Clara replied, then nibbled at her roll. “But I really don’t want to think about a new love in my life now. The first thing I must do is get my life in order. As soon as I’ve found work and a nice apartment, I’m going to bring Sophie to live with me. And then she can have ten kittens and a dog, too! And who knows? Maybe Matthias will look up to his mother a little again.”
“That’s the right attitude,” Josephine said.
“We women manage a lot more than people give us credit for,” Isabelle added. “When I look back at the time of Leon’s death . . .” She shook her head. “It all looked so hopeless. I never thought I would ever be happy again. But with your help, I got back on my feet again. And today I have a wonderful husband and three children and a successful company.” Her eyes shone with pride and confidence. “The feeling of coping with whatever life throws at you, beating all the odds, is indescribable. It is more intoxicating than champagne.”
“You don’t know how good it is to hear that.” Clara smiled. “When I think about everything ahead of me . . . it terrifies me. Walking into a pharmacy and asking about work? Oh Lord, I might not even get a single word out.”
Her two friends protested loudly at that. “But you always wanted to work in a pharmacy,” said Josephine. “Now you finally have the chance!”
Clara nodded. “Do you remember? When I was young, I dreamed of studying pharmacology. But at the time it wasn’t even possible. And even if women had been able to go to the universities back then, Gerhard would never have allowed it. He ridiculed me when I raised the topic once. Humiliated me.” Her expression was grim, but there was determination in her eyes, too. “But that time is over. No one can stop me now. I don’t have the money to study, but I can certainly work in a pharmacy.”
“Oh, look at the time!” Isabelle cried when she glanced at the clock on the wall. She threw her napkin on the table and stood up. “I hope your driver gets here soon. If we don’t get going, I’ll miss my train.”
Clara and Josephine exchanged a dejected look, then they stood up also. When and where would they see Isabelle again? In Champagne? In Berlin? Only one thing was clear: they had gone through thick and thin together for most of their lives, and the same would be true in the future.
They had almost reached the front door when Clara, from the corner of her eye, saw the daily paper rolled up on a shelf by the coatrack. As if at the command of an inner voice, she stopped abruptly.
“Clara, we have to go,” Josephine urged. “Leave the newspaper.”
Without a word, Clara unrolled the paper. It was the Berlin Morning Post. The front-page headline read “DIVORCE! FAMOUS GYNECOLOGIST AND UNFAITHFUL WIFE—SHE ADMITS TRAVELING SALESMAN CAME ONCE A MONTH.” Beneath the headline was a photograph of Clara outside the courtroom, taken the moment Clara had looked around, desperately searching for Josephine and Isabelle. She looked disoriented, almost mad.
“This will finish me,” Clara whispered.
“Those filthy hacks!” said Isabelle, peering over Clara’s shoulder.
“Oh, forget it! Don’t lose courage because of something like that,” said Josephine vehemently. But a trace of uncertainty tinged her words as well.
“The entire city is going through an upheaval. Unbelievable, isn’t it?” said Josephine when they were sitting in the back seat of the carriage. Although it was still quite early in the morning, the streets were already so full that progress was at a walking speed. “You could drive down a street today and come back next week and not recognize anything. They are tearing down whole rows of houses and moving the residents out to other parts of the city, laying tracks for the new tram system everywhere, and even digging tunnels for a new underground railway.”
Clara, still shocked by the article in the newspaper, nodded halfheartedly.
“And that’s not all,” Josephine said, making an effort to sound cheerful. “New companies are springing up all over the place. Little shops, big department stores, mail-order companies, and factories are spreading all over the city. Pretty soon you’ll be able to get anything you want in Berlin. And the best part is that more and more companies are being run by women.”
“And you were one of the first to risk it!” said Isabelle. “I was so jealous of your independence back then.”
“Looking back, it was really very brave of me, but I didn’t give it a second thought at the time. I just wanted to show certain people,” Josephine admitted with a grin. “When I opened my repair shop in 1896, people were amazed. But just as many berated me. A woman working with bicycles? And running her own business? The general consensus was that I was doomed to failure. Weren’t they all surprised when it worked out? Those times are over now, thank God.”
“Do you really think things have changed for women in the meantime?” Clara looked optimistically at her friend.
“If you knew how many of these shops have a woman at the helm these days,” said Josephine, and spread her
hands as if to include the shops lined up like pearls on a string. “Admittedly, most of them are still in the classic female arenas. Hat shops, dressmakers, florists. Big factories and other companies, especially anything to do with technology, are still firmly in men’s hands. But who knows what women are capable of?”
“Around Champagne, it’s been quite usual for hundreds of years for women to lead major wine-growing estates and champagne cellars,” Isabelle added.
“I take so much courage from both of you,” Clara said, and she meant it absolutely. “You’ve achieved so much! The only trails I’ve blazed have been in the divorce court, and I don’t think anyone wants to emulate me for that.” She frowned. “Do you remember when we were still so young, and we wished so much that the winds of change would blow through the streets. A turn-of-the-century wind, sweeping away everything old and dusty and clearing a path for new ideas. Sometimes, I think that wind has started, but will it be enough to blow the old cobwebs out of people’s heads, too?” Clara’s voice trembled a little. The closer they got to the center of Berlin, the stronger the nervous tingling in her stomach grew. What if everyone started pointing at her, like they had the day before in the courtroom?
“Certainly not everyone’s head. There are more than enough men around who still think of us as the weaker sex and don’t trust us to do anything right. But those are the ones we ignore!” said Josephine as the carriage pulled up in front of the train station.
Isabelle gave Clara’s left hand an encouraging squeeze. “It will all work out for the best, believe me. The next time I see you, your life will look very different than it does today!”
Chapter Five
Clara had decided to start her search for work in the center of Berlin. There were more than a dozen pharmacies on Alexanderplatz and the surrounding streets, and she hoped that in the big city, she would be anonymous. She could safely assume that Gerhard had turned all the pharmacists—and their wives—against her in her old quarter. There was probably no one in Luisenstadt who would give her so much as the time of day.
The Queen of Beauty (The Century Trilogy Book 3) Page 3
