Then he was marching out of the room, his leather boots squeaking. Clara lay in the large bed listening to him chattering to his mother. The front door closed and she heard the car engine rev as her husband drove off to town. She pulled the bedcovers over her head and wept in desolation.
Chapter 33
Vinnie never mentioned the miscarriage again. Clara hardly saw him all that following week. She sat at the bottom of the garden in a deck chair, staring at the trees, sheltering under an umbrella if it rained. Dolly could not persuade her to come in. Only Vinnie, ordering her inside after dark, registered through the fog of her unhappiness.
Clara had no appetite and ate little. Vinnie appeared to eat out most days, but she did not ask where or with whom. She was just thankful he did not make her go along too, for she dreaded having to make social conversation with their friends as if nothing had happened.
As far as she knew, only Willa had been told of her pregnancy. Dolly had cautioned them not to tell anyone until it was more advanced. Now Vinnie acted as if it had never been. Willa had sent a small note, expressing regret that she was ‘indisposed’ and hoping to see her after the holiday. So that was how Vinnie was explaining her absence to their social circle: she was mildly ill.
Two days before the boat sailed for Hamburg, Clara faced up to him.
‘I’m not going with you,’ she told him quietly.
‘Don’t be daft. Of course you are,’ he replied.
‘I don’t feel up to it. I’ll only spoil it for you and the Bell-Carrs.’
‘But the doctor said it would do you good—’
‘The doctor isn’t me,’ Clara said firmly. ‘I know he’s well meaning, but only I know what I’m fit for — and it’s not gallivanting around Germany.’
Vinnie grew angry, but his shouts of accusation that she was being selfish and he needed her there with him made her withdraw further into her bleak, isolated world.
‘I can’t face all those people,’ she tried to explain.
‘Course you can. I’ve spent a fortune on new clothes so you can look the part,’ Vinnie complained.
‘Is that all you want, Vinnie?’ Clara accused him wearily. ‘The blonde, blue-eyed Nordic wife to hang on your arm and impress your business partners?’
He stormed up to her and for a fearful moment Clara thought he would strike her. But he clenched his fists and hissed, ‘Stay then and stew in your own misery! But don’t whine about it afterwards — and don’t say I never gave you the chance to gan abroad and see a bit of the world. That’s your trouble, Clara, you’re too bloody narrow-minded. I thought you shared my vision, saw beyond Byfell. But now I’m not so sure. You’ve lost your spark,’ he said in contempt. ‘I hope for both our sakes you find it again quick.’
He left her reeling from the savagery of his words. He hardly spoke to her again before he left. On the day of departure, Clarkie came to carry his luggage and take him to the quayside.
Vinnie kissed her briefly on the cheek. ‘Behave yourself while I’m away,’ he said brusquely. ‘I’ve told Jimmy and Clarkie to keep an eye on you — and Mam, of course. You’re not to gan anywhere without them knowing, do you hear? And no running off to your mam’s like last time; I want you here where you can be looked after.’
Clara bit back a caustic reply that she was his wife not his prisoner. She would do as she pleased, but there was no point in antagonising him at the last minute.
She forced herself to say, ’Have a canny trip.’
For the first couple of days after Vinnie had gone, Clara continued as before, content just to sit in the garden, a book unread on her lap, ignoring Dolly’s reproachful comments.
‘Better pull yourself together by the time my Vinnie gets back. You’re not the only lass that’s ever miscarried, you know. Never took you as the sort to go to pieces. I warned him you’d lead him a merry dance. You should have gone with him.’
Finally Clara lost patience. ‘No, you should have gone with him, Mrs Craven. You’ve still got him tied to your apron strings.’
‘The cheek of it!’ Dolly exclaimed. ‘Wait till I tell my Vinnie.’
Clara felt a small flicker of triumph as her mother-in-law stalked off and left her alone. She leaned back in the mild sunshine, realising she could fritter away the whole day like this if she pleased. There would be no Vinnie ringing up every hour to check on what she was doing and no need to dress for dinner and await his return. She did not have to get up to make his breakfast or lay out his clothes, did not have to search for things to say to him about her empty days. She did not have to do anything to please Vinnie for a whole two weeks. The thought was liberating, like a shaft of sunlight breaking through the black cloud of depression that weighed her down.
The next day, Clara rang her mother at the garage. ‘I’m coming to stop with you till Vinnie gets back. I can’t bear it here with Dolly’s catty comments and everyone watching me.’
‘No, pet,’ Patience whispered. ‘I’m sorry, but you can’t.’
‘Mam? Just for a few days then — till my next visit to Gilead. We could go together.’
‘Sorry. I can’t explain over the telephone,’ she said in agitation.
‘Something’s happened,’ Clara said suspiciously. ‘Has Vinnie had words with you?’
There was silence, then Patience said, ‘Yes.’
Clara felt suddenly tearful. ‘I need you, Mam. What does it matter what Vinnie says?’
‘Clara,’ Patience said urgently, ‘Vinnie told me I’ll lose my job if I take you in.’
Clara was flabbergasted. ‘Why would he say such a thing?’
‘Said he wouldn’t be made a fool of behind his back. What sort of man couldn’t control his own wife? that’s what he said.’
Clara began to shake. Patience promised she would come and see her as soon as possible, then quickly rang off. The words rang in her head; control his own wife. That’s exactly what Vinnie was doing, controlling her and every aspect of her life. Even when he was not there, he still dictated her movements: whom she saw, where she went, what she did. What a fool she was to think she could do as she pleased even with her husband out of the country. Clara went and sat outside.
When had the restrictions begun? After Sarah was born or further back? During the first pregnancy, perhaps. Clara thought back to their marriage, their courtship. Even before that, Vinnie had had a say in her life and the life of her family. He had always been there offering help — a job, a loan, a lift in his car — his generosity making them feel somehow beholden. He had taken over the organising of her father’s funeral; he had taken care of Brodsky. Even at Danny Watts’s wedding all those years ago, Vinnie had contrived that she and Reenie should attend.
That was the way he operated, drawing people in and making them dependent on him and his largesse. But it was not just her. He controlled everyone: her family, his boxers, his business partners, his Blackshirts, his mother. In a strange way, even Alastair and Cissie, who thought everyone obeyed their commands, were manipulated by Vinnie’s charm and forcefulness into doing what he wanted. Two years ago, Alastair would rather have died than set foot on German soil.
Yet there was one man who had defied Vinnie, refused to take his money or make use of his contacts. Frank Lewis. Idealistic, optimistic Frank, whom his family suspected was dead. How could they bear the uncertainty? The Lewises had stood out against Vinnie’s controlling grip, but had paid the price. Whether he was the instigator of their being hounded from Byfell, she might never know. But she felt a deep shame when she thought of them. She had willingly turned her back on her old friends, eager to follow the heady fascist dream. She had allowed herself to be seduced by its promise of self-glorification and power; had wanted it not just for Vinnie but for herself. Clara stared back at The Cedars. She was like a bird in a gilded cage of her own making. She realised she was frightened of Vinnie and his power over her, but what frightened her more was the person she had become. She made up her mind there and then that
she must flex her wings before it was too late.
On the pretext of going to visit Willa, Clara got Jimmy to drop her in Jesmond at a time she knew Willa would be out shopping. As she went to ring the doorbell, she waved Jimmy away. Once he had driven off, Clara walked swiftly down Willa’s street and headed for Sandyford, a ten-minute walk away. It was easy to recognise the Lewises’ hairdresser’s by the anti-fascist poster in the window and another one asking for donations towards the Republican cause in the newly erupted Spanish Civil War. Clara smiled at this outward sign that their campaigning spirit had not been quashed.
She stood on the opposite pavement, summoning up the courage to go in. Half obscured by the posters, she thought she saw Oscar’s bald head at the window.
‘Looks like you could do with a perm and set.’ A voice startled her from behind. She whipped round to see Reenie standing eyeing her; blonde head cocked quizzically, a parcel of groceries in her arms.
Clara gulped. ‘I need more than that,’ she murmured. ‘But you look grand, Reenie.’
‘What are you doing here?’ Reenie asked suspiciously. ‘Are you on your own?’
Clara felt tears flood her throat. She nodded, unable to speak.
Reenie stepped forward. ‘You all right? You look terrible.’
Clara stood shaking uncontrollably, trying to speak. ‘R-Reenie — I’m so s-sorry . . .’ She let out a sob from deep inside and started to cry.
Quickly Reenie shifted her parcel into one arm and put the other round her old friend. ‘Haway, Clara,’ she said gently, ‘come inside.’
Reenie guided her across the street and into the shop. Oscar looked up from shaving a customer, his mouth dropping open in surprise. Marta was washing a woman’s hair at the sink on the other side of the divide. She broke off in mid-sentence.
‘Clara!’
‘We’re going upstairs,’ Reenie said at once, steering Clara straight through the back of the shop. ‘Clara needs a sit-down.’
She pushed Clara into the small sitting room-cum-kitchen at the top of the stairs. It was full of familiar furniture, reminiscent of the Lewises’ old home in Drummond Street. Reenie dumped down the groceries, poured Clara a glass of water and told her to sit down. They sat in silence for several minutes while Clara, head bowed, wept quietly.
Eventually, her tears subsided and she looked up. Reenie was watching her, her look guarded.
‘Do you want to tell me what’s happened?’ she asked.
‘I don’t know where to begin,’ Clara whispered.
‘I’ve got plenty time,’ Reenie assured her. ‘I’m off duty.’
Clara swallowed. Hesitantly, she began to tell her old friend all her troubles. Soon the words were tumbling out about her guilt over Sarah, her friends’ rejection of her disabled daughter and Sarah’s admission to a children’s hospital. She told Reenie of Vinnie’s growing attraction to extreme right-wing politics, his increasing intolerance and the way he controlled her life. Finally, she spoke of her miscarriage. The pain was still so raw that her voice broke.
Reenie took her hand and held it in hers. ‘I’m sorry, Clara,’ she said softly. ‘I had no idea.’
Clutching Reenie’s hand tightly, Clara said in a voice that trembled, ‘I came here to say sorry, not the other way round. I feel that bad about what’s happened to you and your family — feel responsible. I’ve been a bad friend. Can you ever forgive me?’
Reenie put her arms about Clara and hugged her in reply. ‘I don’t blame you; I blame Vinnie Craven for turning your head. Everyone could see you were head over heels in love with him — except our Benny.’
Clara hugged her back. ‘Poor Benny! How is he?’
Reenie drew away and sighed. ‘He’s throwing himself into this aid relief for Spain; he has to have something to get angry about. Doesn’t work much in the shop any more — too busy fundraising or organising hunger marches. It’s like he’s trying to make up for—’ Reenie broke off and shook her head.
‘For what?’
‘For not being Frank,’ Reenie said, her expression unutterably sad.
Clara’s heart squeezed. ‘Is there still no news of him?’
Reenie shook her head. ‘We all think he’s dead,’ she whispered, ‘except for Mam. She will never believe it. But those camps; we’ve heard terrible stories.’ She shuddered.
Clara put out her hand. ‘Perhaps they’re not as bad as all that. I’ve heard they’re better than some prisons—’ She stopped at the sight of Reenie’s angry frown.
‘Don’t be so naive,’ Reenie snapped.
‘Sorry.’ Clara flushed. She no longer knew what to believe.
They eyed each other warily. Perhaps the gulf between them was too wide after all; the attempt to bridge it too late. Then Reenie surprised her.
‘If you really want to know what’s going on in Germany, come along to our meeting on Friday night. City Hall. The MP Ellen Wilkinson’s speaking.’
Clara hesitated. ‘I’m not sure I can . . .’
Reenie’s look was challenging. ‘You really are afraid of Vinnie, aren’t you? Even when he’s hundreds of miles away.’
Clara was stung. ‘I’m not!’
‘Then come along. I’ll meet you outside at seven o’clock.’
Clara agreed, wondering what she was going to tell Dolly and Jimmy. Soon after that, she left. On the way out, she promised a waving Marta that she would come back soon for a proper visit. Outside, she clasped Reenie’s hands in hers.
‘Thank you for listening.’ She smiled tremulously. ‘I haven’t been able to tell all that to anyone — not even Mam.’
Reenie smiled back briefly. ‘I’m glad I could help.’
‘Can we be friends again?’ Clara asked bashfully.
Reenie eyed her. ‘That’s up to you, Clara. You know Vinnie will try to stop it.’
Clara felt a lurch of fear at the thought and knew Reenie was right. ‘I’ll come on Friday,’ she promised, determined to be brave.
‘Friday then.’ Reenie nodded and waved her away.
When Jimmy picked up Clara outside the Jesmond tea room to which she was supposed to have taken Willa, she told her brother straight away. ‘I’m going with Willa to a concert on Friday night. We might have supper afterwards, so it’ll be late. I’ll drive myself so you don’t have to wait up.’
‘I don’t mind,’ Jimmy answered. ‘That’s my job.’
Clara said, ‘Well, I’d like to drive myself sometimes. If I don’t, I’ll forget how to do it. What’s the point of Vinnie giving me a car if I never get to drive it?’
Jimmy looked uncomfortable. ‘Vinnie said I had to drive you everywhere. Those were his orders.’
‘He doesn’t need to know,’ Clara said with a look of appeal.
Jimmy glanced at her in shock. ‘I’m not ganin’ to lie to him for you,’ he muttered.
‘Don’t then,’ Clara said shortly. ‘But while he’s not here, I’ll not be dictated to by my kid brother. I shall drive myself into town on Friday night, and that’s that.’
They drove the rest of the way home in stony silence.
Clara looked forward with nervous excitement to the Friday meeting. Dolly surveyed her critically when she was on the point of leaving.
‘You haven’t made much of an effort to dress up for a night out with the Templetons,’ she remarked. ‘Don’t know what Vinnie would say.’
‘He’d say, have a canny evening,’ Clara answered and went into the kitchen to find Jimmy. Reluctantly he handed over the car keys. Clara left feeling light-headed with the small triumph.
Arriving outside the City Hall, she peered anxiously among the crowd for Reenie.
‘There she is!’ a voice cried. ‘Clara, over here!’
Clara turned to see Reenie and Benny beckoning her through the open doors. Benny looked thinner-faced, his hair severely cropped. He smiled a little warily.
‘Reenie didn’t think you’d come,’ he said. ‘It’s very brave of you.’
‘N
ot really,’ Clara said breathlessly, her heart banging with nerves. ‘How are you, Benny?’
‘Still alive,’ he said with a twisted smile. ‘And you?’
She nodded. ‘I’m sorry—’
‘Don’t be,’ he interrupted.
‘Come on, both of you,’ Reenie said, pushing forward impatiently, ‘let’s get a good seat.’
Clara and Benny exchanged looks. ‘Still bossing us around,’ Clara said.
‘Just like old times,’ Benny agreed. They moved forward together. ‘You’re not wearing your fascist uniform under that coat, are you?’ he teased.
Clara blushed but quipped back, ‘No, just a badge or two.’
Benny chuckled. ‘Remember, no heckling or saluting, or you’ll get us thrown out.’
‘Have you ever been to a meeting where you haven’t been thrown out?’ Clara asked dryly.
‘Not one of your husband’s,’ Benny grunted.
Reenie broke in, ‘That’s enough. You can argue afterwards.’
Laughing, Benny linked an arm with both of them and pushed them towards the stalls.
Clara had expected to be bored by the meeting; her only reason for going had been to please Reenie and rekindle their lost friendship. But she was captivated by the oratory of ‘Red’ Ellen Wilkinson who spoke stirringly about a planned hunger march from Jarrow to London that she intended to lead. Clara thought how Vinnie would pour scorn on such attempts to sway the politicians in London, but she was struck by the woman’s courage and optimism. Red Ellen believed in the power of ordinary people.
The MP went on to talk about the plight of the Spanish people, fighting for their elected government against Franco’s fascist coup. Clara noticed how Benny shouted out vociferously in agreement. Then Ellen introduced a German refugee on to the stage. His suit hung off his skeletal frame, his face was pinched and grey.
The audience went quiet as the man spoke haltingly but with dignity about the persecution of left-wingers like himself, and now Jews, under the Nazis. He had been tortured for printing leaflets critical of Hitler’s hooligans and taken to Dachau. Clara felt Reenie and Benny flinch at the mention of the concentration camp.
A HANDFUL OF STARS An enthralling story of poverty, passion and survival: one of the Tyneside Sagas Page 36
