Page 20 of A Family Affair
Clarissa chuckled, ‘They’re not Brontës, let me see. There’sLady Chatterleyby DH Lawrence,Chériby Collette,Mrs Dallowayby Virginia Woolf… oh andUlyssesby James Joyce and many more. Mother would’ve had a fit if she’d known they’d been saved from the bin.’
Penny seemed in awe. ‘She was quite a one, wasn’t she, your sister.’
‘Oh, she was. And I cried so much when she left that day. Clinging on to her hand, eliciting promises that she wouldn’t go anywhere near Mr Hitler and would write every week. You’d have thought she was going to the other side of the world forever, but that’s how it felt. And in a way, I was right, because it was forever.’
‘How so?’ Penny was focusing on the portrait once more, not a note had been made and her pen lay idle on top.
‘She kept her promise and wrote every week for a month, telling me all about the camp and the horrid mattresses they had to stuff with straw. The drills and the food that wasn’t too bad but not a patch on Cookie’s. I used to rifle through the post when it arrived and then for no reason whatsoever, her letters just stopped.’
Penny hugged her notebook to her chest and turned to Clarissa. ‘Do you know why?’
Clarissa wished more than anything that she could say, yes. Instead, she told a half-truth. ‘You have to remember that it was a long time ago and I was so young. And after all these years what happened seems dreamlike, I suppose. But I can put it all together. A sequence of events that began with a phone call.’
‘Would you like to tell me about it?’ Penny’s voice was gentle, encouraging.
Clarissa though for a moment, her breath caught in her chest, then she said, ‘Yes, I think I would.’
CHAPTER16
Gathering her thoughts, Clarissa closed her eyes. Like a reel of film playing before her eyes, she went back to that rainy August day in 1940 and watched her nine-year-old self playing in the hallway. Hopscotch on the black and white floor tiles, her patent shoes tapping each square. And while Penny listened, Clarissa narrated the scene.
* * *
Outside, the deluge was showing no signs of abating. Her parents were in the drawing room reading. When the phone in the hall began to ring, Kingsley the butler appeared and with nothing more interesting to do, Clarissa watched and listened. His back was turned but whoever was on the phone had a profound effect because his stoop became ramrod straight. After telling the caller to hold the line a moment, rather than his usual sedate gait, he scurried to the drawing room, his face set in alabaster flecked with pink.
Knock. Enter. Then mutterings and in a flash her father appeared, followed closely by her mother. Clarissa might well have been invisible from where she sat on the third step up, peering through the spindles. Father told Kingsley he would take the call in his study. Hewas notto be disturbed.
Whether he wanted Mother there or not, from the way she raced after him, wide-eyed and ashen faced, her presence was not an option. After the butler disappeared, no doubt to pass on events to Cookie, Clarissa crept over to the door and pushed her ear to the wood.
‘No. You will not come here. I will come to you. I won’t have you upset your mother. Be at Piccadilly Station at noon. I will meet you outside. No, Eleonora you may not speak with your mother! For once in your life do as you are damn well told. Until tomorrow.’
The force with which Father slammed down the receiver of the phone made Clarissa jump, but it was the words of Mother that caused her heart to constrict.
‘Tell me, George. For the love of God tell me what she’s done. Why is she in Manchester? I don’t understand.’
‘Francesca, leave it to me… Why do the women of this house persist in disobeying me? Just do as I say, woman.’
Her mother gasped and stormed from the room, slamming the door behind her.
Clarissa didn’t sleep a wink that night. She was banished to her room and ate tea alone, with only her dolls for company. The hours dragged and dragged, while her mind whirred and whirred. Maids came and went. Clarissa wished Miss Cleves the governess hadn’t gone to Kendal for a week’s holiday at her sister’s.
The following morning, Mother took to her bed, Father left in the Daimler to catch the 11.40 train to Manchester, telling Kingsley he would be back by two. Clearly he didn’t intend spending long with Eleonora. Clarissa held on to the vain hope that he would return and by his side would be her sister. All friends again.
It was not to be. Clarissa waited at the long window on the landing. Her heart flipped when his car appeared at the gates and raced up the drive. Even his Daimler looked angry.
When father alighted the car he was alone. And after he spoke to Mother in her bedroom, there were tears, the wailing kind and the slamming of doors. Another long night loomed for Clarissa, and she had to wait for three days before somebody deigned to explain what was going on.
Summoned to the orangery by her mother, Clarissa wavered between nerves and curiosity as she scrutinised the pinched face and tired eyes before her, the painted lips as they said the words.
‘Darling I’m terribly sorry for neglecting you but truly, I have been so utterly distraught…’ Mother paused, gripped her handkerchief, affected a wistful look before gathering herself. ‘Your sister has done a very foolish thing but, under the circumstances we must support her decision. Merely because it is for the good of the country and despite breaking my heart.’
Clarissa just stared and waited, like when she wanted seconds and Cookie said there were none, then gave in. Instead of a dollop of apple crumble and a spoon of custard, Clarissa was served a tale of the unexpected.
‘Eleonora has volunteered to go to London, to the war office where she will do very secret and important work. Which means she won’t be coming home for a while. So you will have to be brave and pray hard for her, and I shall do the same.’
Panic set in. ‘But Mother, what if one of Mr Hitler’s bombs drop on Eleonora… you must make her come home, right now. It isn’t safe.’
Mother fought to maintain her composure which resulted in a steel-edged response. ‘Well I am sure many mothers across this land wish they could demand the safe return of their sons, and indeed their daughters, but it isn’t quite so simple. We all have to make sacrifices in order to win this war. Now run along. I’m getting another of my headaches and need to lie down.’
