A HANDFUL OF STARS An enthralling story of poverty, passion and survival: one of the Tyneside Sagas

by Trotter, Janet MacLeod

  After that, Vinnie treated her with a coldness of which she had not thought him capable. He punished her by withdrawing his affection, moving into the spare bedroom and only coming to her bed twice a week. He would make love to her mechanically and leave swiftly afterwards, telling her that he wanted her pregnant again by Christmas. He no longer took her out to dinner with him and went to the Bell-Carrs’ house parties on his own.

  ‘They don’t want you there,’ he told her callously, ‘not since it got out about you ganin’ to meetings with the anti-fascists. You’re an embarrassment.’

  ‘Why are you being so unkind to me?’ Clara asked in bewilderment. ‘Don’t you love me anymore?’

  ‘I’m teaching you a lesson for being disloyal to me,’ Vinnie said brutally.

  ‘And how long must I go on being punished for daring to speak to old friends?’ Clara demanded.

  ‘Till you can prove yourself a dutiful wife,’ Vinnie replied, ‘and give me a healthy son.’

  Clara lay awake late, listening out for him coming home and breathing more easily when she heard him go into his room and stay there for the night. Sometimes he never came home at all and she wondered where he went. Once, she dared question him.

  ‘I slept at the hall,’ he snapped, ‘not that it’s any business of yours.’

  ‘I’m your wife,’ Clara protested. ‘Of course it’s my business.’

  He scrutinised her with hard dark eyes. ‘Then do your job and give me a bairn.’

  ‘You’ve got one,’ Clara answered.

  He looked contemptuous. ‘That thing lying up at Gilead’s not a bairn. I want a normal one. Give me a son, Clara, and things can go back to how they were before between the pair of us.’

  At that moment Clara hated her husband. Things could never go back to how they were. How had she ever loved him with such a passion? It must have been infatuation not love, for now that it was gone she felt empty and numb to any feeling.

  It was painfully obvious that he had fallen out of love with her too and seemed to get pleasure only out of controlling her. Those two weeks of separation had changed Vinnie as much as they had her. She suspected he was seeing other women, reverting to his habits of old.

  Vinnie never resorted to physical violence to make her do as he wanted. He did not have to, for she lived in fear of him. He resumed the frequent telephone calls he made from work to check up on her movements and she dreaded his return in the late afternoon when she would have to account for every minute of the day. On Wednesdays, Clarkie would drive her to Willa’s for lunch and on Fridays to the library so she could change her books. She was allowed to see Patience and Jimmy at Glanton Terrace on Sunday afternoons, but they were no longer invited up to The Cedars.

  Yet Jimmy would not allow his mother and sister to say anything disloyal about Vinnie.

  ‘You’ve brought this trouble on yourself,’ he told Clara resentfully. ‘Why did you have to gan stirring things up?’

  ‘I just wanted a bit of my life back,’ Clara tried to explain.

  Jimmy looked at her in bewilderment. ‘But you’ve got everything! Half the lasses round here would swap places with you tomorra.’

  ‘And me with them,’ Clara muttered.

  Clara lived for the fortnightly visits to Gilead and the brief half-hour on a Saturday morning when she left the hairdresser’s early to meet Reenie in the cafe. It was Reenie who encouraged her to think of small rebellions: throw away her fascist badges and write anonymous letters to the Tyne Times in support of anti-fascists in Spain and Germany. Clara slipped these letters to Reenie who passed them on to Jellicoe.

  ‘He wanted to publish your article,’ Reenie told her, ‘but he’s too afraid of Vinnie’s thugs.’

  Sometimes Benny would be there to meet her too. Clara was always torn between delight at seeing him and fear that one of Vinnie’s men would catch them together.

  One day, just before Christmas, Benny came alone. He reached across the table and took her hand eagerly in his. Embarrassed, Clara pulled away.

  ‘Why do you stay with that man when he makes you so unhappy?’ Benny said angrily.

  ‘I don’t have any choice,’ Clara replied.

  ‘Yes you do,’ Benny insisted. ‘I could take care of you.’

  Clara laughed bitterly. ‘Do you think Vinnie’s just going to stand by and see me go to you?’

  ‘Would you if you could?’ Benny challenged her.

  Clara sighed. ‘Don’t ask me, Benny, when there’s no point.’

  ‘But what if we didn’t stay here?’ Benny said excitedly. ‘What if we went far away?’

  Clara shook her head in bafflement. ‘What are you talking about?’

  He leaned across the table, his eyes full of fervour. ‘I’m going to Spain — with the International Brigade, to fight the fascists.’

  Clara looked at him in concern. ‘Oh, Benny!’

  ‘Something has to be done,’ he answered impatiently. ‘Our government stands by watching while a democracy is butchered. That bombing of Madrid last month when hundreds were killed — they were mostly women and children. I’m going to help. Come with me, Clara.’

  She looked at him in disbelief. ‘Go away with you? I - I couldn’t. . .’

  ‘Why not?’ he demanded. ‘You’ve nothing to keep you here.’

  Her head reeled at the possibility. She said nervously, ‘I have Sarah.’

  ‘For two hours every fortnight, if you’re lucky,’ Benny pointed out. ‘I can’t sit back any longer seeing that man make your life a misery.’

  Clara stared at him. He was offering a lifeline, a reckless adventure. How typical of Benny. If she got up now and went with him, she would never have to return to The Cedars and Vinnie’s cruel control. But her courage failed her.

  ‘I can’t just run away,’ she said quietly. ‘I would only have to face him again sooner or later — and he would make things ten times worse for our families here.’

  Benny gave her a stormy look. ‘If I was Frank you’d come with me, wouldn’t you?’

  ‘Frank?’ Clara flinched. ‘Why do you say that?’

  ‘Because you loved him,’ Benny said. ‘You always loved him better than me, didn’t you? I saw it even if Frank and Reenie didn’t.’

  Clara’s heart thumped hard. She could not deny it. Benny gave her a look of desperation.

  ‘No one misses Frank more than I do — but Frank’s dead. You don’t love Vinnie anymore. But I still love you, Clara, and I know I could make you happy. Come away with me,’ he urged. ‘Don’t we deserve some happiness?’

  Clara said bitterly, ‘I’ve got what I deserve — and that’s a life with Vinnie.’

  Benny looked at her in frustration. ‘After all that man has done to my family, you’re still prepared to stay with him?’

  ‘It was never proved Vinnie was behind the attack on your shop,’ Clara said, tired of the old arguments.

  ‘He would have had us out of there one way or another,’ Benny said angrily. ‘He was the landlord, after all.’

  Clara gaped at him. ‘The landlord of Tenter Terrace?’

  ‘Aye. Didn’t you know?’ Benny looked sceptical.

  ‘No, of course not.’

  ‘Part of a consortium; Cooper Holdings.’

  Clara’s insides clenched. ‘But why would he smash up his own premises? Surely that shows Vinnie had nothing to do with it?’

  Benny gave her a pitying look. ‘Your husband would go to any lengths to punish us for standing out against him and his glorious crusade for Fascism — even if it meant a loss of rent for a few weeks. Especially when he blamed us for you getting caught in that battle in Clayton Street. He threatened me that I had it coming.’

  Clara felt fresh pain at the memory. ‘I saw you there outside the hall,’ she accused him. ‘I can’t blame Vinnie for being angry over that.’

  Benny exclaimed, ‘Clara, do you have any idea how your husband operates? He deliberately incited the anti-fascists to meet the BUF head o
n that day. He sent round his bully boys with loudhailers to provoke us the week before. Vinnie knew there would be trouble, because he made sure there would be!’

  ‘No!’ Clara gasped.

  ‘Yes, Clara! It’s a well-known fascist tactic to stir up a bit of interest — make us out to be the attackers and them like soldiers defending their leaders. I bet your membership went up after those street battles — brought in lads on the dole with nowt else to do.’

  Clara shuddered at the thought of Vinnie’s having orchestrated the whole confrontation.

  ‘You would have turned up to defy them no matter what,’ she pointed out.

  ‘Aye, but it might not have got out of hand.’

  Clara’s eyes smarted. ‘It wasn’t Vinnie’s fault that I got stuck at Clayton Street, whatever else he did.’

  ‘We tried to call a cease-fire several times that afternoon, but the fascists wouldn’t have it.’

  ‘You were there in Clayton Street?’ Clara cried.

  Benny nodded. ‘When we heard there was a lass gone into labour, it was my lads called the ambulance and forced a way through so they could carry you out. I didn’t know then that it was you, else, by heck, I would have carried you myself!’

  ‘Oh, Benny,’ Clara said unhappily, ‘what a terrible, terrible mess.’

  He reached out and held her hand again. They sat for several minutes saying nothing. Then she pulled back with a sigh.

  Benny said, ‘You’re not coming with me, are you?’

  Clara shook her head. He glanced away, his face tense with disappointment.

  ‘But you’ve shown me one thing,’ she said gently, ‘I have to fight my own battles. No one else can do that for me.’ She stood up. ‘I have to go. When will you leave?’

  ‘Soon as I can,’ Benny said, his voice tight.

  ‘Please be careful,’ Clara urged. Leaning briefly towards him she brushed his cheek with a kiss. ‘Maybe when you come back, things will be different.’

  With a defeated expression, he watched her go. Clara hurried out, wondering if she had thrown away her one chance of escape. But how could she leave Sarah and Patience and Jimmy to the mercy of the Cravens? Somehow, she had to find another way out of the imprisoning fear and dependence in which they were all held captive.

  Chapter 36

  1937

  When Vinnie came to Clara’s room, late on a spring evening, she told him.

  ‘I’m pregnant again.’

  He stopped his undressing and stared at her. ‘Pregnant? Are you sure?’

  ‘Quite sure. I’m feeling sick just like I did with Sarah.’

  Vinnie’s expression softened. ‘That’s grand news!’ He came and sat on the bed. ‘Have you seen Dr Dixon?’

  ‘I don’t need to,’ Clara said. ‘I know the signs.’

  ‘Still, he should come and check you’re all right.’ Vinnie was firm.

  Clara clapped her hand over her mouth and groaned. She sprang out of bed and dashed for the washbasin in the corner. She retched loudly into the basin and opened the tap. Splashing her face, she turned. Vinnie was already pulling on his trousers.

  ‘I’ll not bother you tonight,’ he said. As she returned to bed, he caught her by the arm. ‘I’m really pleased.’ Pulling her to him, he placed his hand over her stomach and caressed it. Clara tried not to tense. Vinnie kissed her forehead. ‘This is going to be a good year for us,’ he said. He tilted her chin and kissed her full on the mouth for the first time in months. Clara froze.

  When he pulled away, she saw the desire flicker in his eyes. He ran his hands over her body. ‘Perhaps I’ll stay a little longer,’ he murmured.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Clara croaked, ‘but I’m feeling too sick.’

  He scrutinised her. ‘You do look a bit pale,’ he conceded. ‘You must get plenty rest.’

  She nodded and he left her. Clara rushed to the basin and spat into it. She ran the water and dowsed her face, rubbing at her lips till they were sore. The very thought of him kissing her like that made her nauseous now. Listening, she heard Vinnie go back downstairs and out of the house. The car started up and he drove off. She sank back on the bed in relief. If she managed the situation well, there would be no more twice-weekly visits from Vinnie to her bed for months to come.

  At breakfast, a few days later, Clara asked Vinnie for advice.

  ‘I’m helping Willa with a spring bazaar for the veterans’ charity,’ she said as she buttered his toast for him, ‘and we need publicity. Willa wants me to write something for the papers, but—’

  ‘But what?’ Vinnie asked, slurping tea.

  ‘Well, I had to tell her you don’t want me writing anymore,’ Clara said with an apologetic look.

  ‘I never said that,’ Vinnie blustered. ‘Just don’t want you writing about things you don’t understand.’

  Clara paused. ‘So you don’t mind if I send something to the local paper?’

  ‘If it’s in a good cause,’ he relented, ‘then yes you can.’

  Dolly flicked Clara a disapproving look. ‘Which local paper? Not the Tyne Times, I hope.’

  ‘Well, they do have the biggest circulation north of the river,’ Clara pointed out, ‘and Willa says George agrees. What do you think, Vinnie?’

  ‘George approves, does he?’ Vinnie queried. Clara nodded.

  ‘But that Jellicoe!’ Dolly said in disgust.

  ‘My wife asked my permission not yours,’ Vinnie snapped at his mother, ‘and the answer’s yes.’

  Clara hid her glee. ‘Perhaps Clarkie could run me over there tomorrow?’

  Vinnie looked uncertain. ‘Just get him to drop it off for you.’

  Clara gave a disappointed look. ‘It’s always best to discuss coverage of an event in person. I might be able to persuade them to do a front-page piece — it’s the twenty-first anniversary of the Somme coming up this summer.’

  ‘Hark at her,’ Dolly said bad-temperedly, ‘blowing her own trumpet.’

  Clara ignored her. ‘I could take Willa with me,’ she suggested.

  Vinnie stood up. ‘Aye, that’s a good idea. I’ll tell Clarkie to make himself useful.’

  When he had gone, Dolly rounded on her. ‘Vinnie may have gone all soft on you ’cos of the baby, but I know you’re up to no good. What is it?’

  Clara gave her an innocent look. ‘I’m just trying to be a good wife to Vinnie,’ she answered. ‘Isn’t that what you want?’ She retreated upstairs to write her article, unable to keep the grin off her face.

  Clara lost no time in organising the visit to the Tyne Times, picking up Willa on the way. Her friend was full of excitement, never before having been inside a newspaper office. Clara dispatched Clarkie at the door, telling him to pick them up in an hour. She introduced Willa to Jellicoe, who gave them tea in his office. After they had chatted politely about the charity for a few minutes, Clara suggested Miss Holt show Willa around the printing works. Left alone with Jellicoe, she came straight to the point.

  ‘I want to start freelancing again. Will you help me?’

  He was cautious. ‘If you have your husband’s agreement.’

  Clara was impatient. ‘I wouldn’t be here if Vinnie hadn’t agreed to it.’

  ‘For this charity piece, yes,’ Jellicoe eyed her. ‘But he’ll not want you making a habit of it. And I can’t imagine you just want to cover fetes and tombolas anyway.’

  ‘I’ll cover anything just to get started again — fetes, tombolas, missing cats. I need to work, Mr Jellicoe,’ Clara said urgently.

  ‘And I need to know I’ll not have some Blackshirt biff-boy breaking my windows,’ he replied.

  ‘We all have to take a bit of risk in life,’ Clara challenged him, ‘stand up to the bullies.’

  Jellicoe snorted. ‘That’s rich coming from a fascist.’

  Clara flushed. ‘I’m not any longer.’ She glanced round nervously at the door. ‘I despise what they stand for.’

  ‘You’re still married to one,’ he said. ‘If we were
in Germany, your husband and his friends would have Miss Holt out of a job and destitute by now just for being Jewish.’

  ‘Miss Holt’s Jewish?’ Clara asked in surprise. Jellicoe nodded.

  ‘Then for her sake, have the courage to face up to them before it happens here,’ Clara urged. ‘I’ve seen how Fascism infects people like a cancer — its hatred of Jews and foreigners, of handicapped children. I’ve seen it change Vinnie and it almost ruined me. Help me to fight it. Give me work!’

  Jellicoe looked at her, baffled. ‘You know I won’t take anything too political — and it defeats me how your husband’s even allowed you to come here. He made it quite clear to me a couple of years ago that I was never to let you write for this paper again. Why has he changed his mind?’

  Clara hesitated. ‘Because I’m pregnant and that makes Vinnie happy.’

  Jellicoe let out a breath. ‘I see. Congratulations.’

  ‘No you don’t see,’ Clara said quietly. ‘If you won’t publish my articles then I’ll find someone who will. I need independence and a source of income that does not rely on my husband.’

  He frowned as he answered, ‘You’re playing a dangerous game, Clara.’

  ‘I know.’ She held his look. ‘So will you help?’

  Reluctantly, Jellicoe nodded in agreement.

  ***

  Clara was amazed at how Vinnie’s attitude to her changed over the following weeks as she visibly gained weight. He stood up for her in the face of Dolly’s carping.

  ‘She’s eating us out of house and home,’ Dolly complained.

  ‘She’s eating for two; must be a lad with an appetite like that,’ he said proudly. ‘Don’t you gan upsetting her with your sharp tongue. If you can’t manage the housekeeping, Clara will.’

  Not only did Vinnie give Clara control of the weekly shopping, but he allowed her out of the house more to pursue her charity work as long as Clarkie drove her about. He even permitted her to cover social events and interviews for the Tyne Times as long as her articles showed the Cravens and their associates as generous benefactors. She once more accompanied him to dinners and boxing matches. She blended into the background but listened attentively to private conversations. What Vinnie did not know about were the articles she wrote anonymously, detailing the infighting between the local and national BUF and criticising their support for Franco’s fascists in Spain.