‘Clara adores the cinema,’ Willa answered for her. ‘Did you enjoy Grand Hotel the other week?’
‘Very much,’ Clara said. ‘I’m a Garbo fan. My friend Reenie and I used to practise speaking as low as Garbo to give us an air of mystery. But lads just thought we had colds.’
Cissie and Willa laughed with her.
‘I love Garbo too,’ Cissie told her. ‘Some day, Clara, you must come out to Hoxton Hall and we’ll watch old films. We have a film projector in the library. We don’t use it nearly enough.’
‘Do you really mean that?’ Clara gasped.
‘Of course I do. Willa could bring you out. We’ll have our own film show.’ She lowered her voice for just the women. ‘It’s deadly dull at Hoxton most of the week now that James is off to boarding school. I can tell you’d brighten it up no end.’
‘Super!’ Willa enthused. ‘Nanny could bring Baby. He loves Buster Keaton.’
‘So do I.’ Clara grinned. ‘Reminds me of my brother Jimmy — he’s just as clumsy.’
‘And what does Jimmy do?’ Cissie asked.
Clara hesitated. ‘He works at Craven’s boxing hall. Wants to box professionally someday.’
‘One of Vincent Craven’s young men?’ Cissie asked. Clara nodded. ‘My husband thinks highly of Vincent and what he’s doing for the unemployed boys.’
‘Clara’s a good friend of Mr Craven’s,’ Willa said eagerly. ‘They went to see Grand Hotel together. Isn’t that right, Clara?’
Clara reddened. ‘He’s a family friend.’
Cissie put a hand on her arm. ‘Well, you keep good company. The brigadier thinks Vincent is a man for the future. We need more ambitious young men like him who care about the state this country is in.’ She gave a conspiratorial smile. ‘Besides, he’s quite the charmer.’
Clara excused herself to go and interview some of the men who were the recipients of the charity. Most had been brought from Gilead, a large hospital twenty miles up the Tyne valley.
‘Been there since 1920,’ an ex-soldier called Bob Grayson told her.
‘Don’t you ever go home?’ Clara asked in astonishment.
He gave her a strange look. ‘It is me home. I need nursing all the time. Can’t even wipe me own backside,’ he told her bluntly. ‘Mam couldn’t have managed. She’s dead now, any road.’ He nodded at another man sitting in a wheelchair staring blankly around him, his hands shaking in his lap. ‘Some of ’em are gaga.’ He lowered his voice. ‘Gilead’s a lunatic asylum too, you know. They don’t like to mention that. Surprised they brought old Percy. Still, it’s a day out and we shouldn’t grumble.’
Clara was thankful her own father had survived the War unharmed. If Patience had had to fend for herself and her young children, how different their lives would have been. It made her all the more determined to grab every opportunity that came her way. Willa and Cissie’s friendship, for instance.
By the time Clara left she had arranged to meet Willa again for a swim at the city pool. Clara silently thanked her father for having taught her to swim as a child at the public baths. Cissie had promised to arrange a trip up to Hoxton Hall over the summer. As she made her way back to Byfell on the tram, Clara’s head reeled. How was it that these well-to-do women had befriended her? She had nothing in common with them, except a sense of fun and a love of matinee idols. But she liked them for their openness, their lack of snobbery. And her instinct told her that underneath the light-hearted chatter, they were a touch lonely and bored.
Maybe their interest in her was transitory and they saw her as an exotic species they could cultivate: an ambitious working-class girl they could take under their wing and fashion in their own image. Clara did not care. She would seize the chance that these friendships offered of entering a new and exciting world, beyond the confines of Byfell’s smoky streets. She smiled to think how her mother would demand every little detail.
As the tram rattled downriver, Clara also pondered her relationship with Vinnie. It came as a surprise to hear that he was admired by influential people like the Bell-Carrs. She had to admit to feeling a little flattered to be linked with him by Willa. Maybe she judged him too harshly and he did not see her just in terms of a casual affair.
Still, Clara felt uncomfortable with the thought. She did not love Vinnie. Deep down, she hoped that if she bided her time, the opportunity would come to tell Frank that she loved him. No one came close to him in her affections. Yet it was still too soon after the break-up with Benny to declare her feelings. Reenie was not speaking to her and Clara did not have the nerve to go near the Lewises’ shop.
***
She began to see Willa on a weekly basis. They would meet in town for a swim or go to an art exhibition. Willa was keen on modernists and liked to patronise local artists. Sometimes Clara would go to Madras House for coffee and they would play outside with Willa’s little boy Robert, Clara chasing him in endless games of hide and seek around the large garden. She would entertain him with a trick her father had taught her, making a coin disappear from the palm of her hand and pretending she found it in the boy’s ear. Robert squealed with laughter and demanded she repeat it again and again.
Always, Willa would announce when it was time for Clara to go.
‘I must get ready for George coming home,’ Willa would explain. ‘He likes just me and Baby to be here when he gets in. He has such a tiring time at work, with all the uncertainty over trade. Pipe and slippers time, he calls it. Not that he smokes,’ she laughed.
Clara marvelled at the Templetons’ leisured existence compared to her own upbringing. Her parents had known what a really tiring day at work was: keeping a shop open till the last customer went, staying up late sorting stock or wrestling with figures, endless worries over bank loans, rentmen, creditors and the dwindling demand for fancy goods. They had painstakingly built up their own business over many years, only to see it come crashing down. Vinnie had blamed the government’s mishandling of the economy rather than Harry’s recklessness with money. Whatever the cause, Clara admired the Templetons for hanging on to their business. Yet, as she left the comfort of Madras House for Minto Street, she could not help envy welling up inside too.
Once, in late July, Cissie Bell-Carr was visiting when Clara called.
‘You must forgive me, dear girl, for not arranging your visit to Hoxton.’ Cissie was fulsome in apology. ‘Alastair and I have been away in Ireland. And now James is back for the holidays and it’s almost the shooting season. But I promise you, we’ll get together soon.’
Clara was sceptical. But a week later, Vinnie called in at the newspaper offices, waving a gilt-edged invitation at her. Clara saw Miss Holt give her a curious look and ushered Vinnie into the corridor. She had refused several invitations to the pictures since the Benny incident and given the boxing assignments to Adam Paxton.
‘Why have you been avoiding me, lass?’ Vinnie demanded.
‘I’ve been busy.’ Clara was evasive.
‘Not too busy to drop everything for Mrs Templeton when she asks you,’ he said dryly.
‘Who told you that?’ she demanded. ‘Jimmy Big-mouth, I suppose.’
‘I’ve met George Templeton at a couple of Rotary meetings, as it happens,’ Vinnie answered. ‘He was asking me about you — whether you were a suitable friend for his wife.’
‘Of all the cheek!’ Clara exclaimed.
‘Don’t worry, I told him you were.’ He was standing very close, eyeing her keenly. ‘So why are you keeping away from me, Clara? What are you afraid of?’
‘Nothing.’ Clara held his look. ‘What have you got there?’
He smiled suddenly. ‘A summons from the Bell-Carrs, no less. Dinner at the Sandford Rooms. They’re coming to the heavyweight fight next week.’
Clara folded her arms. ‘Good for you. What’s that got to do with me?’
Vinnie handed her the card. ‘They want you there too — as my partner. Look, Mrs Bell-Carr’s written it on the bottom.’
Clara took the card suspiciously. It was addressed to ‘Vincent Craven and Guest’, cordially inviting them to attend a late supper at the Sandford Rooms in Grainger Street on Saturday 6 August after 9 p.m. Written across the bottom of the card in large looped black ink was the instruction, ‘I insist you bring Clara as your partner. She must discover for herself how good the chef is at the Sandford! Cissie Bell-Carr.’
Clara stared back at Vinnie. He knew she could not resist such an opportunity.
‘I suppose I could do a write-up on the restaurant,’ she said.
Vinnie chuckled. ‘I’ll send Clarkie round to pick you up in the car. Be ready at six-thirty. We’ll have cocktails in the office first.’ Clara nodded. He stepped towards her and she tensed. Vinnie pulled out a five pound note and pressed it into her hand. ‘Buy something canny to wear.’
She gasped at the amount. ‘I don’t need your money,’ she protested, thrusting it back at him.
‘See it as a loan then.’ He shrugged, refusing to take it back. ‘Listen, Clara, it’s a big chance for you to mix with the right people — make new contacts for your job. You need to dress up for the part, lass. Believe me, looking smart impresses people like the Bell-Carrs. It’s money in the bank.’
Clara was easily tempted. When had she ever had five pounds to spend on clothes? She could buy a whole new wardrobe. ‘Just a loan, then,’ she agreed.
Vinnie left her with that strange mix of unease and excitement that she was coming to associate with him.
Patience went into town with Clara for the first time since Harry had died. She was shaking with nerves all the way on the tram and Clara insisted on her sitting down in a cafe for a cup of tea before they embarked on shopping. It was Patience who wanted to go round all the town’s dress shops and department stores, but she soon tired and had to keep sitting down. Concerned that the trip was exhausting her mother, Clara swiftly chose an elegant dark blue satin cocktail dress, black high-heeled shoes, gloves and a black slouch hat which perched at a rakish angle. In the fitting room her mother became weepy.
‘You look beautiful,’ she said, choking back tears. ‘All grown up.’
She was tearful too when Clara made ready on Saturday night, washing her hair and brushing it out into rippling waves, carefully applying rouge and bright red lipstick that she had bought on their shopping trip.
‘Don’t, Mam,’ Clara said, trying to comfort her.
‘I just keep thinking of Harry — how proud he would’ve—’ She broke off, burying her face in her hands.
Clara put her arms round her mother and kissed her forehead. ‘I know how much you miss him,’ she whispered. ‘I do too. But you mustn’t upset yourself.’
Patience dropped her hands. ‘I’m not upset,’ she hissed, ‘I’m angry.’
Clara drew back in surprise. Her mother’s face was tense with suppressed rage.
‘That stupid, selfish man! Why did he go and leave us? We had everything he ever wanted; you and Jimmy, the shop and a canny home. We had standing in the town; people looked up to him. I’m sick of hearing people say what a grand man he was. Well, if he was that grand, why did he do such a cowardly thing?’
‘Mam, stop it,’ Clara said in agitation. She had no idea her mother harboured such bitterness. ‘Dad wasn’t a coward. Things just got on top of him.’
‘Why do you defend him after all we’ve been through?’ Patience railed.
‘Because I loved him,’ Clara replied, ‘and I know you did too.’
Patience gave her a bleak look. ‘He doesn’t deserve it. He wasn’t the man you thought he was.’
‘What do you mean?’ Clara demanded.
Patience clenched her mouth shut and shook her head. Clara thought suddenly of the woman in the photograph and understood her mother’s angry sorrow. She’d hidden the locket away in an old handbag where Patience wouldn’t find it. Harry had let her down badly. But that did not make him a bad father to her and she would not let his memory be tarnished by the affair.
‘I think I understand,’ she said gently.
Patience shot her a look. She seized Clara by the hand. ‘You can’t understand. But promise me this: don’t turn your nose up at Vinnie Craven. There’s a man who knows his mind. He’s ambitious and clever in business - more than your father ever was. Stick with him and you’ll go far. The Cravens have been good to us since Harry died.’
‘So have others,’ Clara retorted. ‘I’ll not be made to feel beholden.’
‘You could do a lot worse than Vinnie,’ Patience persisted. ‘If it wasn’t for him Jimmy would probably be in a Borstal by now. Anyway, the man’s daft about you.’
Clara gave a derisive laugh. ‘I annoy him, more like, ’cos I won’t fall at his feet like other lasses.’
Patience sighed impatiently. ‘Don’t know where you get such stubbornness from.’
Clara smiled, wiping off the lipstick mark she had made on her mother’s forehead. ‘You, of course.’
A car horn tooted in the street below. Clara’s heart lurched. She went to the window and saw Vinnie’s car below.
‘It’s Clarkie.’ She put on her new hat and gloves and snatched up a small handbag she had bought in a closing-down sale in Byfell. It held her lipstick, comb, notebook and pencil. The horn tooted again. ‘Wish me luck.’
Patience smiled finally. She held her daughter’s face briefly between her bony hands. ‘Enjoy yourself,’ she said, kissing her nose. ‘I’ll want every detail in the morning.’
Clarkie was dressed in a smart suit, a little too long in the arms. He gave Clara an appreciative grin and held the door open for her as he had seen his boss do. As she sat in the car, Max walked past and did a double-take.
‘Clara, is that you?’ he called out. She smiled and waved as Clarkie revved the engine and pulled away with a sudden lurch. They laughed at the look of astonishment on his face.
‘Why’s he looking so surprised?’ Clara cried.
‘’Cos you look like a film star, miss,’ Clarkie said.
When she walked into the hall Clara was aware of people staring. Clarkie led her through to the office as if she were visiting for the first time. Dolly was dressed up in a velvet evening gown, busily setting out glasses on the sideboard. None of the guest party had yet arrived. Dolly gasped at the sight of Clara in her new dress.
‘What a picture!’ she cried. ‘Wait till Vinnie sees you.’
‘Sees what?’ Vinnie asked, breezing in from the far door that led from the training gym. He was immaculately turned out in evening dress, his dark hair smoothed, his chin newly shaven. He checked his step, for a moment not seeming to recognise Clara. Then he continued towards her, taking in every detail at a glance.
‘You look beautiful,’ he murmured, taking her bare arm and raising her gloved hand to his lips. ‘Better than Garbo.’ He smiled and planted a lingering kiss on her fingers.
Clara blushed. For a moment she thought of Reenie and how she would have snorted with laughter to hear Vinnie’s flattery. Clara had a pang of regret that she would not be able to gossip with her friend about the evening. She no longer knew how Reenie spent her precious few hours off work.
Dismissing such thoughts, she smiled back at Vinnie. He was looking his most handsome. It set her pulse racing. Tonight she was going to enjoy herself. She accepted a cocktail from Dolly.
Soon afterwards, the Templetons arrived with two other local businessmen and their wives. The Bell-Carrs came just before the fight was due to start. They took their seats at the ringside as if they knew they were the star attraction. Clara was light-headed from the two drinks she had drunk too quickly in her nervousness. She felt important sitting on the same row as the glamorous guests with Vinnie beside her. He squeezed her hand before the fight began and she did not pull away.
Caught up in the action in the ring, she shouted encouragement to the local fighter as loudly as the others. The visiting boxer from Middlesbrough was knocked out in the tenth round and the local crowd stamped and roare
d. Vinnie leaned over and kissed Clara on the cheek in delight. She laughed and applauded.
Still feeling giddy with excitement, she followed the Templetons out of the row. Jimmy was among the young men holding back the press of spectators to allow the special guests to leave first. She swayed, a little unsteady in her high-heeled shoes. Vinnie grabbed her arm and she hung on to him as they left the hall. She was concentrating too hard on walking in the new shoes to notice any of the faces in the dimly lit hall.
Clara had no idea that Frank was standing near the doorway observing her. He pressed closer to see the glamorous young woman in the low-cut blue dress who clung to Vinnie’s arm as they went past. From the back of the hall, something had reminded him of Clara: the long pale neck, the toss of honey-coloured hair, the glimpse of red lips in a generous smile. She went by laughing. Realisation punched him in the stomach. It was Clara. Her face under the jaunty hat was flushed, happy.
Then, when she was almost past, their eyes met. Clara faltered. Frank wondered if he embarrassed her, reminded her of the trouble over Benny. He thought she would pretend she had not seen him and walk swiftly on.
‘Frank,’ she gasped, making Vinnie come to a halt. ‘How are you?’
‘Champion.’ Frank nodded. ‘And you?’
She smiled. ‘The same.’
Vinnie glanced between them, and then stuck out his hand. ‘Good to see you, Frank lad. Enjoy the fight?’
Frank shook hands. ‘Aye. Makes me wish I was up there myself.’
‘Not too late,’ Vinnie said, clapping him on the shoulder.
‘Wouldn’t do much for my musician’s fingers,’ Frank smiled wryly.
‘Are you playing much?’ Clara asked.
Frank shook his head. ‘Can’t get the work.’
‘Maybe you should try a bit further afield,’ Vinnie suggested. ‘Come and have a chat. I’ve got contacts down London way.’ He steered Clara forward. ‘Must catch up with our guests. Nice to see you, Frank.’
Clara kept looking at Frank as Vinnie propelled her away. ‘Tell Reenie I miss her,’ she called over her shoulder. ‘Tell her for me, Frank.’
THE TYNESIDE SAGAS: Box set of three dramatic and emotional stories: A Handful of Stars, Chasing the Dream and For Love & Glory Page 19
