They turned the corner into Tenter Terrace to see Vinnie’s car parked outside the shop. Clara’s heart lurched. It probably meant her father was so drunk that Vinnie had given him a lift home. So much for making breakfast and keeping Patience company, she thought crossly.
‘Craven’s here?’ Benny queried. Clara nodded. Suddenly she did not want to be left to face the situation alone.
‘Will you come up with me, just for a minute?’ she urged. ‘Me dad might — not be well. And Mr Craven struts about the flat like he owns it and we should all be grateful for what he does. But he does nowt to stop me dad drinking and throwing good money after bad.’
Benny squeezed her arm. ‘Don’t worry, lass. Course I’ll come up.’
When they walked into the sitting room, Vinnie was standing over Patience, still in his coat and hat. Patience flew at her.
‘Where’ve you been?’
‘Hiking. You knew I was going,’ Clara defended herself. Her mother’s face was strained.
‘What’s he doing here?’ she asked rudely.
‘Clara asked me up, Mrs Magee,’ Benny said at once.
‘Mam, what’s going on?’ Clara demanded.
Patience stood there, clutching her hands to stop them shaking. It was Vinnie who answered, stepping towards Clara and Benny.
‘Clara, pet,’ he said calmly, ‘have you seen your father today?’
Clara nodded. ‘This morning, just as I was leaving. Why?’
‘I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about,’ Vinnie said, placing a hand on her arm, ‘but we don’t know where he is. Jimmy’s out looking round the town with some of my lads.’
‘He’s missing,’ Patience wailed. ‘Hasn’t been here all day. I thought he’d gone back to Craven Hall — but Jimmy came home and said he’d not been there all day.’ She covered her face and let out a howl.
Clara pushed past Vinnie to put her arms about her. ‘Don’t, Mam. We’ll find him.’
‘Course we will. ‘Vinnie encouraged her. ‘Probably fallen asleep somewhere.’
Patience cried angrily, ‘The daft man! I’ll string him up. Making us worry like this.’
‘Let me gan and look,’ Benny volunteered.
‘No,’ Patience sniffed. ‘I don’t want the whole world to know what a fool he is.’
‘That’s kind of you, Benny lad,’ Vinnie murmured, steering Patience into a seat. ‘Clara, did your father speak to you this morning?’
Clara nodded. ‘He wasn’t making much sense.’
‘Can you remember anything that might give us a clue where to look?’
Clara struggled with the uncomfortable memory. ‘He was feeling sorry for himself,’ she began. ‘Kept going on about debts — debts he couldn’t pay.’ She glanced awkwardly at Benny, but he just nodded in encouragement. ‘Dad seemed full of regret about something. Said he’d done it for Mam; he’d done everything for you, Mam.’
Patience gasped. Vinnie asked, ‘Did your father say what that something was?’
Clara shook her head. ‘He wouldn’t say.’
Patience buckled, weeping loudly into her hands. Vinnie put an arm about her but she pulled away. Vinnie stood up and nodded to Clara to comfort her mother. Clara went at once to hold her. Patience clung on to her daughter.
‘Dad did say something else,’ Clara said. ‘He talked about going back to sea — said he’d prefer that to the shop. I don’t think he was serious, though.’
Patience’s head went up. ‘Do you think that’s possible?’ Her tear-streaked face lit with hope.
‘Didn’t he used to work on the ferries at Shields?’ Clara asked.
‘He worked all over,’ Patience nodded.
Vinnie added, ‘And he was in the Merchant Navy during the war. Folk talk about Flanders heroes, but the merchantmen were the bravest of all.’
Benny piped up. ‘We could look down Shields; see if he’s tried to board a ship. Someone might have seen him.’
Vinnie nodded. ‘We’ll go in my car.’
Clara jumped up. ‘I want to come too.’
Vinnie beckoned her over and said in a low murmur, ‘I think you should stay with your mam; she’s in a bad way. You can tell Jimmy what’s happening.’ Clara was about to protest when Vinnie put a strong hand on her shoulder. ‘Bet your dad will be here by the time we get back.’ He smiled. ‘God willing.’
He turned and went swiftly from the room, not waiting for her to argue. Benny followed with an encouraging smile. Clara was left to wait with her distraught mother.
Chapter 7
It grew dark before anyone returned. Clara sat watching in the window. ‘Someone’s coming. I think it’s Jimmy.’ Footsteps came thudding up the stairs and the women crossed the room.
‘Have you found him?’ Patience demanded.
Jimmy shook his head. ‘Nowt. Clarkie sent me home. I wanted to stay out.’
‘You’ve done enough,’ his mother said, holding out her arms. But he stood still, shoulders drooping. He looked exhausted.
‘I’ll make us some more tea,’ Clara said, touching him on the shoulder as she passed. ‘Good lad, you’ve done your best. Vinnie s gone to look down Shields, see if he’s hanging around the boats.’
‘He should’ve taken me with him,’ Jimmy muttered.
‘Benny’s gone to help,’ Clara said.
‘Benny? Why him?’
Patience sniffed. ‘He came back with your sister, though I don’t know why a Leizmann has to get involved.’
‘Mam,’ Clara chided, ‘he’s only trying to help. He likes me dad.’
When she returned with a fresh pot, Jimmy was curled up on the settee next to his mother, both with their eyes closed. The tea grew cold while Clara sat in the window, frustrated at doing nothing. She should have insisted on going with the men. Her mother had said little beyond scolding her for leaving her all day and taking tea at the Lewises’.
Clara wanted to say it was more friendly at Reenie’s house. Marta would not dream of treating Jimmy with the frostiness Patience showed to Benny. But her mother was overwrought with worry, so she bit her tongue and did not argue back.
A knock on the downstairs door roused them, Clara peered out, but a mist had stolen up from the river and everything glowed mysteriously in the lamplight.
‘I’ll go,’ she said, hurrying across the room and clattering down the stairs.
Her heart jolted at the sight of Frank stepping forward from the mist. He looked at her awkwardly from under his cap.
‘Sorry to bother you, Clara, but Mam’s fussing. Is Benny still with you?’
Clara flushed. ‘Oh, no! I’m sorry. He’s gone with Mr Craven.’
‘Vinnie?’ Frank frowned.
Clara quickly explained what had happened.
‘That’s bad.’ Frank looked concerned. ‘What can I do to help?’
Clara shrugged helplessly. ‘There’s nothing to do but wait.’
‘Then I’ll wait with you,’ he offered. ‘Just let me tell them at home first.’
The window opened above them. ‘Clara!’ her mother called down. ‘Who is it?’
‘Frank Lewis,’ Clara replied. ‘I’ll be up in a minute.’
‘Frank,’ Patience spoke to him directly, ‘please go home. We really don’t need any more of your family involved.’
Clara squirmed at her mother’s rudeness. Frank gave her a questioning look and she nodded for him to go.
‘Goodnight, Mrs Magee,’ Frank answered. ‘You can send Jimmy for me if you change your mind.’
‘Yes, thank you,’ Patience answered. ‘Come inside, Clara. It’s turning damp and you’ll catch cold.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Clara apologised. ‘She’s not herself.’
Frank put out a hand and touched her shoulder. ‘No need to say sorry.’
Clara wanted to clutch his hand and put it to her face, feel the warmth of his palm. She swallowed. ‘How was your date at the pictures?’
He laughed softly. ‘Grand.’
&
nbsp; ‘Hurry up, Clara,’ Patience fretted above.
Clara gave an exasperated sigh. When would she next have a chance to be alone with Frank? But he was stepping away.
‘I’m sure your father will be home soon. Goodnight, Clara.’
She watched him disappear back into the silvery mist. She stood there for several minutes staring at the place where he had been, breathing in the cool damp air. She tried to clear her head of thoughts of him. Noises came clearly from far off: a foghorn, a barking dog rattling on its chain, someone putting out milk bottles. She should let Frank know how she felt about him. At least then she would find out his own feelings, which were as blanketed in mystery as the street in fog.
Clara turned indoors, her spirits lifting at the decision. Soon, when her father was back and things had calmed down, she would tell Frank she loved him. His brief appearance had already given her optimism. Her father would return. This was not the first time he had taken off for the day. The only difference was that Vinnie usually knew where to find him and this time he seemed as in the dark as they were.
‘Why didn’t Frank stay?’ Jimmy asked on her return.
‘Ask Mam.’ Clara yawned, throwing her mother a look.
‘We don’t need the Leizmanns knowing our business,’ Patience snapped.
‘Frank’s canny,’ Jimmy said. ‘Always gives me a tanner when I see him.’
Clara smiled. ‘That’s kind.’
‘You shouldn’t take money off him,’ Patience reproved him. ‘We’re not a charity case yet.’
Clara gave Jimmy a look that said don’t argue back.
‘Why don’t you go to bed, Mam, try to rest?’ she coaxed.
‘I couldn’t sleep,’ she fretted.
‘Just lie down. I’ll take it in turns with Jimmy to stay awake.’
‘What do you think’s really happened to me dad?’ Jimmy asked when she had gone. ‘What if he’s never coming back . . ?’
Clara tried to quell the same unease that her brother was feeling. She would have dismissed Harry’s disappearance as the usual drinking spree if she had not had that disturbing conversation with him that morning. She had never seen him so melancholic. Yet as she had left the flat she had heard him grunt with laughter. That was not the sound of a man at the end of his tether.
‘No point thinking the worst,’ she said wearily.
‘I tell you one thing,’ Jimmy said sternly, ’when he comes back, he’s ganin’ on the wagon. Mr Craven says alcohol’s a poison. Makes you unfit and daft in the head. He doesn’t let any of his lads drink and I’m never ganin’ to either.’
Clara eyed him in surprise. ‘Good for you. I didn’t know Mr Craven was so strict. There was plenty drink at Danny Watts’s wedding, I seem to remember.’
Jimmy shrugged. ‘Didn’t want to spoil a party. It’s all right in moderation, he says. But you can’t be a fighter and a drinker. Lads that do end up in a lot of bother. He hoys them out if they turn up drunk.’
‘So why does he let Dad drink the way he does down at the hall?’ Clara pointed out.
‘Cos Dad’s well beyond fighting,’ Jimmy answered. ‘Mr Craven’s different with him - sees him as this great war hero. Won’t let anyone say owt bad about me dad.’
Clara mused. ‘He really does like Dad, doesn’t he? That’s why he’s spending so much time looking out for him.’
Jimmy nodded. ‘Aye, Mr Craven thinks the world of him - his second father, he calls him. Clarkie says Mr Craven took it really bad when old Stan Craven died.’
In the early hours of the morning, Vinnie and Benny returned.
‘Sorry.’ Vinnie shook his head. ‘There’s no sign of him down Shields.’
‘He’ll be sleeping it off somewhere,’ Benny tried to comfort them.
‘We must go to the police in the morning, Clara,’ Vinnie instructed, ‘and report him missing.’
Clara nodded, her hopes dashed.
‘You get yourself off home now, lad,’ Vinnie told Benny. ‘You look done in.’
‘We could look some more,’ Benny suggested.
‘Thanks, Benny,’ Clara smiled, ‘but you’ve done more than enough. And Frank’s been round looking for you - your mam’s worrying.’
Benny flushed. ‘I’m not a bairn.’
Vinnie put a hand on his shoulder and steered him towards the door. ‘There’s nothing more can be done till the morning. Go home.’
Benny left and Vinnie looked ready to settle down.
‘There’s no need to stay, Mr Craven,’ Clara insisted. ‘If Dad comes back, me and Jimmy can deal with him.’
He gave her a look of surprise. ‘I don’t like to leave the pair of you alone,’ he said in concern.
‘We’re not alone; Mam’s with us.’
‘But Patience is hardly in any state to cope—’
‘She’s coped with me dad’s drinking and disappearing before,’ Clara interrupted. ‘We’ve had three years of this.’
Annoyance flashed across Vinnie’s face, then he was smiling as usual. ‘You’re a grand support to your mother, I can see that.’ He picked up his trilby and gloves from the nest of tables. ‘I’ll call round tomorrow.’
Jimmy followed him down the stairs and let him out. Returning, he scowled at his sister. ‘Why did you send him away after all the help he’s been?’
‘I just didn’t want him round the flat,’ Clara sighed, not quite sure why she felt uncomfortable in Vinnie’s presence. ‘And there’s nothing more we can do tonight. Let’s get some sleep.’
She lay under her covers, half dressed, ready to spring up if she heard her father return. Perhaps he had walked out on them, turned his back on all the debt and wrangling and walked right out of town? Perhaps one of his gambling creditors was after him and he had gone into hiding? Perhaps he was lying in a back alley somewhere, having fallen down drunk and knocked himself unconscious? Clara lay exhausted but sleepless, tortured by the not knowing.
At six in the morning, she got up and washed. The shop would have to be opened like any other Monday. She would get her mother breakfast and go to the police station to report her father missing before opening for business.
She glanced in on Patience. Her mother was curled up on top of the bed sleeping, her breathing noisy. Clara tiptoed out again and went downstairs, through the shop to the back kitchen. Filling the kettle, she lit the gas jet and put it on to boil. Yawning, she reached into the bread bin for the end of the loaf. It made her think of yesterday’s paste sandwiches and the hike on the moors. Maybe if she had not gone, her father would have stayed around all day too. But regretting the past was a futile pastime. She cut three slices. Jimmy could have the large crust.
While she waited for the kettle to boil, Clara went into the shop and pulled up the blinds. She thought she would sweep the floor for something to do, and went into the small changing room where they kept the brush. As she turned on the light, she tripped on something in the doorway. An empty bottle rolled away from her. Puzzled, she looked up.
Her father was hanging from a hook in the ceiling.
Stunned disbelief seized her. Her chest constricted. She could not breathe, could not cry out. He was still in the crumpled clothes she had last seen him in, his face pulled into a terrible grimace. Clara grabbed at his dangling hand. It was stiff and cold.
She gulped and retched, then found breath again.
Clara’s screaming woke Patience in an instant and had Jimmy racing down the stairs from two floors up.
Chapter 8
Clara woke up sweating, her pulse racing. She had not slept more than two hours at a stretch for over a week. The hideous sight of her father hanged in the downstairs closet haunted every waking moment and pursued her into her dreams. It did not look like him. It was a bloated, grotesque parody of Harry’s craggy, lively face.
She could not enter the shop, nor talk about it, except to the police officer who came to take a statement. There was a post-mortem, an inquest that was adjourned for a fortnight and
a reporter from a local newspaper who came asking questions until Vinnie ordered him away. Nevertheless, there was a write-up in the Tyne Times telling of Harry’s suicide and describing him as a ‘former merchant seaman and down-on-his-luck businessman’ with ‘a lot of debts’. Some neighbour who would not be named was quoted as saying that Harry Magee had ‘turned to the bottle’.
Patience railed, ‘What neighbour? Bet it was that nebby Mrs Shaw. They’ve no right to print such stories.’
‘But they’re true,’ Jimmy pointed out.
‘Don’t speak about your father like that,’ she said tearfully. ‘Isn’t it bad enough we have police brought to our door and all the town know of our private affairs?’
Patience would not eat. She existed on black tea, sitting around in her kimono with the blinds drawn not bothering to get dressed.
The shop remained closed. People came to offer their condolences but were turned away.
‘Mam doesn’t want to see anybody just yet,’ Clara had to explain, ‘not till after the funeral.’
Marta and Reenie came with a meat pie, fresh bread and a basket of apples. The friends hugged and Clara cried. Benny and Frank called round with flowers, but Clara did not dare let them in.
‘Thanks, both of you.’ Clara tried to smile, her face pale and eyes dark-ringed.
‘It must’ve been terrible,’ Benny blurted out, ‘him being there all the time and you not knowing—’
Frank elbowed him to be quiet. ‘Is there anything you need?’ he asked.
She wanted him to hold her, keep her safe from the nightmares. She shook her head, swallowing down tears.
‘You just have to ask,’ Frank said gently. ‘Anything at all. It’s no bother.’
Clara nodded, unable to speak for fear of weeping in the street.
The only visitors Patience would allow were the Cravens. Dolly sat with her, filling their sitting room with cigarette smoke and keeping up a mournful commentary.
‘I know just how you’re feeling. My Stan’s been dead nearly eight years but it seems like yesterday. There’s not a day goes by when I’m not thinking about him. They say time heals but don’t you believe them. You never get over it, Patience,’ she sighed, ‘you just learn to bear it.’
A HANDFUL OF STARS An enthralling story of poverty, passion and survival: one of the Tyneside Sagas Page 8
