Page 19 of A Family Affair
It had been most pleasant, showing off her home to Penny, who appeared to soak it all up, asking very intelligent questions, even spotting and naming antiquities, the odd painting and artist, even some of the first editions in the library. It was as they returned to the foyer that Clarissa saw Penny glance upwards, her eyes taking in the beautiful staircase and then downwards, to the stairlift.
‘This has been such a treat for me, it really has, and I wouldn’t want to intrude on your privacy by going upstairs, so perhaps we could focus on family history now. Get some background detail about your ancestors. Shall we go back to the drawing room?’ Penny flipped a page in her notebook, pen poised.
As Jennifer began to turn the wheelchair, Clarissa made a snap decision and raised her hand to indicate they should remain at the foot of the stairs. ‘Actually, I would like to show you the first floor, and afterwards you and Terry can have a wander up to the servant quarters in the attic – but before that, there’s a special room I want you to see.’
* * *
They were standing before the portrait of Eleonora. Clarissa had insisted on walking there once she alighted the stairlift. Jennifer hovered at the door while Terry took more snaps.
Penny just stared. ‘Who is it? She’s very beautiful.’
‘That’s my elder sister, Eleonora. She was ten years older than me. I was a surprise baby after mother had lost two in between. I idolised Eleonora. She would be one hundred and two, had she lived, and there isn’t a day goes by that I don’t miss and think of her.’
Penny asked, ‘What happened to her?’
Clarissa felt suddenly weary. No doubt all the chatting and pointing had worn her out so feeling the need to sit, she took the few steps to the bed and sat, indicating that Penny should do the same. Clarissa rarely disturbed the damask quilt and now felt she was doubly invading Eleonora’s space; but needs must.
Looking up at the portrait, Clarissa considered the question before giving an answer. The urge to talk, to explain, to open her very own Pandora’s box was immense yet at the same time, Clarissa had no desire to air her family’s affairs to all and sundry.
Turning to Jennifer, she suggested, ‘Jennifer, would you take Terry downstairs and ask Cookie Beattie to prepare him some elevenses. Penny and I will be down shortly.’
Always reliable in picking up the beat, Jennifer nodded, ‘Of course, come along, Terry. I’ll lead the way.’
Also good at taking the hint it seemed, Terry glanced momentarily at Penny then followed Jennifer out of the room. Once the door closed, Clarissa spoke, but kept her eyes firmly on the portrait, while the young woman by her side listened attentively.
‘This part of my family history is between you and me, not the masses who watch your programme. I will tell you it all because I sense in you a kindred spirit, someone who respects the past and hopefully my privacy. Do you understand?’
‘Yes, yes of course.’ And as if to reassure Clarissa, Penny clicked the top of her pen and closed her notepad.
It did the trick and encouraged Clarissa to tell Eleonora’s story.
‘The last time I saw my sister was in 1940. May the 2nd to be precise. I wrote about the day she left in my diary. It was such a strange time because everything around us was changing. Young men marching off to war, young women wanting to do their bit; and it seemed that Eleonora was no different.
‘It began, I’m sure of it, when her friend, the village schoolteacher Mr Jones, was killed in Belgium only days after he’d arrived. He was a lovely man. Had a kind face and was so tall and handsome, like a film star. I used to see him at church each Sunday where he’d lift his trilby and say hello to my parents and make Eleonora blush when he smiled at her.
‘I didn’t blush when he bowed theatrically and said, “and good day to you, Miss Clarissa,” but I did wish I could go to the village school. Cookie said Mr Jones was the best teacher they’d had for many a moon and her nieces and nephews thought the world of him.
‘I’d heard the news at breakfast from Mother and later, I found Eleonora crying in the rose garden. She was reading letters, dabbing her red eyes with a soggy handkerchief and when I asked her what was wrong, she said, “Bloody Hitler has ruined my life, that’s what’s wrong.” I remember being so shocked that my perfect sister had said a swear word.
‘One of the letters got caught on the breeze and fluttered away so I chased it and nervously handed it back to Eleonora. As I did, I glanced at the signature which said, “ever yours, Robert.”’
Clarissa paused and Penny asked, ‘Do you think it was from Mr Jones, the teacher? And they were lovers?’
‘Oh yes, most definitely. Not that I made the connection right away, because to me he was simple Mr Jones. In those days I didn’t even consider that my governess had a first name. She was just Miss Cleves. It was later, when I saw his gravestone at the church, that I realised. Of course, they’d kept their affair secret because my parents were terrible snobs and lived by the rules of their class and station. And whilst I was an inquisitive child, I was also naïve. I lived my happy life inside the Chamberlain bubble. One that my sister was about to pop.’
Penny inclined her body slightly, clearly intrigued. ‘How so?’
‘Not long after I saw Eleonora crying, there was a terrible row. As always, I’d been sent to my bedroom while my parents and Eleonora were at loggerheads in father’s study. And as always, I disobeyed and crept downstairs to eavesdrop. I was a terrible ear-wigger. There are secret passageways all over the house and I was always creeping about, but none in his study unfortunately, so I listened at the door.
‘My sister wanted to do her bit and join the Women’s Auxiliary, the ATS as it was known, and father flipped his lid. Mother was distraught and begged Eleonora not to go. Eleonora was adamant she would, insisting it was only delaying the inevitable. There were rumours that soon, women would be drafted into all sorts of roles to make up for all the men being sent to war.’
‘Did she get her way?’
Clarissa allowed herself a rueful smile. ‘Oh yes. Eleonora was a fiery redhead and had a temper to match her flaming locks, and lord, could she scream and shout when the need arose.
‘Before I knew it, she was packing her things and, once her papers came, she was off to begin her basic training. Before she left, she entrusted me with some of her most precious jewellery, and the books that Mother said were deviant and had banned from the house. Eleonora had hidden them in her room. I still have them now.’
‘Which books were they?’ I love the old classics.’
