Clarissa was used to being dismissed or dispatched and knew when a conversation was over so as she turned, was surprised when Mother added, ‘And please, Clarissa. This is a family affair, and you mustn’t go telling your friends. We all know what the posters say, don’t we. Careless talk costs lives. And we can’t have that.’
Registering the stern look, Clarissa simply nodded and fled to her room where she lay on her bed, thinking of Eleonora. Even at nine, Clarissa understood why her parents were cross, because she was too. Then again, Mother was right, and sacrifices had to be made. By the time the bell rang for lunch, Clarissa had rallied and was determined to wait patiently for news from London, in a letter Eleonora had promised to write.
By November Clarissa had given up checking the post. She was hurt beyond belief that Eleonora had let her down despite Mother’s assurances that it was due to the secret nature of her work. Clarissa had no concept of what ‘secret war work’ entailed and, in the end, had no other option than to trust her elders. After all, the soldiers at the front probably didn’t get to send letters home every five minutes, so wherever Eleonora was, the same applied.
Which was why Clarissa got on with it. Just like everyone else. Tried to understand what was going on outside Chamberlain Manor in a world ravaged by war. She listened to the radio and read Father’s newspaper once he’d finished with it. Looking for news, a clue to where Eleonora was. In the meantime she waited and prayed.
* * *
Clarissa was exhausted and parched. Desperately needed a cup of tea and a break from her memories. It was time to curtail her stroll down memory lane. She was, however, expecting Penny’s question when it came during the lull.
‘So Eleonora never came back?’
Clarissa merely shook her head and allowed her guest to fill in the gaps.
‘I think she joined SOE, Special Operations Executive and was sent to France as a spy or to work with the Resistance. Could Eleonora speak French?’
‘Oh yes, extremely well. The benefit of a governess and boarding school. Before the war we holidayed with Mother’s cousin in Cannes.’
‘That’ll be it then. I suspect she was captured by the Nazis and…’ Penny glanced sideways then fell silent, as if realising how painful her next words could be.
Clarissa was grateful for pause and patted Penny’s knee, chivvying her along. ‘Well I think that’s quite enough for now. Shall we hunt down some refreshments and then I will tell you all about my forefather’s contribution to the Industrial Revolution. It’s a fine day and I’m sure Terry will be chomping at the bit to explore the grounds with that fancy camera of his.’
Penny followed Clarissa’s lead. ‘Of course, that would be lovely. And thank you so much for sharing Eleonora’s story with me, and I promise to consult you about the content of the film. I won’t mention anything about her without your approval.’
For this, Penny received a smile and then a request. ‘Marvellous. Now, I don’t suppose you could heave me up? These old bones won’t do as they are told these days.’
Within minutes they were heading downstairs. Penny on foot, sent to find Jennifer, while Clarissa descended slowly on her chair.
As she passed, Clarissa looked each one of her ancestors in the eye, sure to that day that they were privy to the secrets her parents kept and the lies she was convinced they had told. At the time she’d been too young to fathom it all but with the passing of time Clarissa had questioned her version and memory of events.
She was still no nearer to the truth, though.
* * *
One week before Christmas 1940, Clarissa had spotted a new pile of correspondence on the little table by the fireplace in the drawing room. It was where Kingsley left Mother’s mail each day. There had been a raft of jolly festive cards that adorned the surfaces of the room and still daring to hope that Eleonora might get in touch, Clarissa sneaked a peep.
It lay almost at the bottom of the pile, addressed to her parents, but Clarissa would have recognised her sister’s handwriting amongst thousands. It was with utter glee that she ran from the room and after taking the stairs two at a time she burst into Mother’s bedroom giving her a start.
‘Mother look. It’s from Eleonora! I knew she would write I knew it. Open it please, quickly.’
Infuriatingly, Mother slowly took the envelope that shook in her pale manicured hands. Clarissa saw this as a sign that Mother was excited too and waited, her heart pounding, eager for news. And then the unexpected.
‘Perhaps we should wait for your father. Let him open it.’
‘But mother that’syourjob, silly. Father says so and you always open cards and this one is from our dear Eleonora. Please open it. Father won’t be back until dinner, and I can’t wait that long.’
Clarissa saw Mother swallow and with trembling fingers she silently opened the envelope, slowly sliding the card from inside. On the front, a red candle surrounded by holly and ivy, the wordsseason’s greetingsin a swirling decorative font. Mother stared and Clarissa grew impatient. Without thinking, in her excitement perhaps, Clarissa plucked the card from Mother’s hands, raced to the window to catch the light, and flipped the cover.
‘Clarissa how dare you? Give it to me at once.’ But Mother’s words fell on deaf ears so engrossed was Clarissa in the words which read.
Mother, Father, and my beloved Clarissa.
I am thinking of you all and wish I could be there with you.
My greatest hope is that one day we will be reunited and that I may return home.
Please stay safe.
