Page 43 of It Always Snows on Mistletoe Square
‘We will get there, though, don’t you worry.’ Clara pulls on her gloves.
‘Where are you going?’ Stephen asks again. ‘I know there’s no point in asking you to go and rest, but at least tell me which of your friends you are going to visit.’
Clara checks her final appearance in the mirror. ‘I’m not visiting friends,’ she says proudly, and she turns to face her husband again. ‘I’m going to vote.’
Stephen looks shocked. ‘You’re what?’
‘I just said, didn’t I? I’m going to do what I’ve been campaigning for all this time. I’m going to place my first vote in a general election.’
‘And who may I ask will you be voting for?’ Stephen stands up, his hands on his hips, so his newspaper drops to the floor. Ivy scurries over to pick it up for him.
‘I do not have to disclose that to you,’ Clara says, her chin firmly jutting out.
‘As your husband I demand to know. Otherwise you shall not go. I will stand in your way and prevent you from leaving.’ He goes over to the door and stands in front of the opening.
Ivy, looking quite anxious, hurriedly tends to the fire, keeping herself well out of the tensions between her employers.
I can see Clara weighing up her options in her head before she answers. ‘If you must know,’ she says clearly, ‘I will be voting for the Liberal candidate. There, does that make you happy?’
Stephen nods. ‘As it should be.’
‘Now, will you let me pass?’ Clara asks.
But Stephen doesn’t move.
‘I still do not think you should be going out in your condition. Apart from the fact you are due to give birth to our child very soon, and it’s freezing cold outside, what about the threat of influenza spreading across the country?’
‘I will be fine,’ Clara insists. ‘It’s just the sniffles.’
‘That’s not what it said in yesterday’s newspaper. They are talking about a pandemic.’
‘Nonsense. Just journalists making trouble for trouble’s sake.’
‘Clara, I am very aware I married a strong woman – you made that quite clear from the start of our courtship. But as your husband I am asking you to be careful for your own sake and for the sake of your unborn child.’
‘I will be careful, Stephen. Please stop worrying about me.’ Clara makes a move towards the door but Stephen still doesn’t move aside.
‘But I do worry,’ he says. ‘I worry very much. I don’t want you to lose this one, Clara.’ He moves away from the door and places his hand on her bump. ‘We have had far too much heartache in this house over the last few years, I do not wish either of us to suffer any more.’
Clara’s face softens and her expression changes from defiance to sorrow.
‘You are right, my husband. We have both lost much as a result of this ghastly war – first my dear brother in the Somme.’ She looks across at a photo of a soldier in uniform on the sideboard, which I immediately recognise as the same photo as the one hanging in Estelle’s hallway. ‘And then, as a result, our first child too.’ She puts her hand over his on her protruding tummy. ‘This baby means everything to me, as I know it does you. But you must understand why I need to go and do my duty today.’
Stephen nods. ‘As you wish. May I request that Ivy accompanies you, though? She will make sure no harm comes to you. Ivy? Will you please go with Clara this afternoon?’
‘Yes, sir, of course I will.’ Ivy glances at Clara. ‘If that’s all right with you, madam? It may mean dinner is a little later than usual tonight, though.’
Clara hesitates, then realises this is the only way Stephen is going to allow her to leave the house. ‘So be it,’ she says, sighing as she sits down on one of the wooden chairs by the door. Which I recognise as the same ones I uncovered upstairs earlier today.
Clara pulls off her gloves again and puts her hands neatly in her lap. ‘I will wait here while you get your coat and hat, Ivy. Do wrap up warmly. My husband tells me it’s now snowing outside.’
‘Yes, madam. I’ll be as quick as I can.’
‘Poor Ivy,’ Clara says as Ivy disappears down the hallway. ‘She is so put upon now we have lost all our other staff.’
‘This is what you get from giving women more opportunities.’ Stephen heads back over to the fireplace. ‘They demand more in return. Suddenly working in service isn’t good enough – they want to work in factories and shops instead of in perfectly good homes.’
‘It’s not that they don’t want to work in homes,’ Clara says. ‘It’s that they get better pay and conditions elsewhere since the Shops Act. If it wasn’t for the fact that Ivy has been with us since I was small, I’m sure she would go too. She does so well considering she also has two children to bring up alone since she lost her husband. We are lucky her sister helps to take care of them so she is still able to work here. Ah, here she is now.’
