Caroline #2
Beneath the shroud that had imprisoned her for all these years, she was as beautiful as she’d always been.
It was still there, if only she could set it free.
FOR THE REMAINDER OF the day, the Balmoral trip dominated her thoughts, and it wasn’t until she walked home from the Underground station that her mind turned to a far more difficult task.
How was she to tell Frank?
Surely he couldn’t stop her from leaving, not if it was her job?
Cautiously, she let herself into the house.
As she entered, the smell of something decaying engulfed her senses, but otherwise, all was as normal.
The radio blared out commentary from the races, ‘Coronation Magic is nosing ahead of Taylor Tom, into the last furlong . . .’
Frank was in his armchair, his finger to his lips, just in case she made the error of trying to converse. His eyes were glued to the newspaper, a cigarette smouldering close to the butt in one hand.
She crept past him, following the vile smell into the dining room. There, on the table, were three big old cardboard boxes, ripped and bulging at the seams.
Tentatively, she bent forward and opened the loose flap.
The stench of unwashed clothes mixed with something putrid sprung from inside, making her choke.
Breathing through her mouth, she pulled out an old-fashioned dress.
The seams were gaping with holes, deep stains visible on the dark material, the smell intoxicating.
Delving quickly through, she saw that all the boxes were full of items like these, old sweaters and skirts, nothing folded, just a jumble of worn, filthy and torn articles – the ones that no one else could possibly want.
After the race was over, she turned to Frank. ‘What are these?’
‘It’s my new moneymaking idea.’ He got up and came over to her. ‘One of my locksmith jobs brought me to the home of a deceased woman, and the son asked if I wanted a box of old clothes, completely free of charge. I thought you could clean them up, sell them to a secondhand shop.’
She pulled out a shred of old material, probably used for cleaning. ‘They’re nothing but rags.’
As soon as she said it, his eyes darkened, and she knew there’d be a price to pay. She prayed it wouldn’t be the Balmoral trip. How stupid she’d been. How thoughtless to stand up to him when she had so much to lose.
His lip curled into a snarl and his voice flattened menacingly. ‘You seem to have a lot of free time these days, taking Annabel out for a whole day last weekend. I thought you wouldn’t mind doing something for the family for a change.’
Of course. Now it all fit into place.
These boxes were her penance for her day out, her punishment for going against him.
Over the years, Frank had perfected the art of vindictiveness. He knew precisely how to make her pay for disobeying him.
She eyed the box wearily. Instead of her usual unflagging patience, a sense of injustice rose up inside her. Was that all she was worth, a servant to clean disgusting old clothes to get him an extra few shillings?
But as she opened her mouth to fight back, she stopped.
She had to tread carefully. All he had to do was make sure she was needed at home for some pressing reason, or he could simply feign illness, and that would be the end of her trip.
It would be impossible for her to leave if he was rushed to the hospital clutching his stomach, after all.
Briskly, she reopened the box. ‘Well, I’ll need to get started on these tonight. The palace needs me to go to Balmoral for a few days next week, so I have to get them finished before I leave.’
His face scrunched in aversion. ‘You’re going where?’
‘Balmoral Castle, the queen’s Scottish residence.
It’s just for two nights.’ She tried to keep her voice light, her pulse galloping beneath her calm facade.
‘The head dresser can’t make it, so I have to cover for her.
It’s all a bit of a nuisance, but I can’t say no.
I told you when I took the position that I’d have to travel every so often. ’
‘What about Annabel? Who’s going to look after her?’
‘Betty and Miranda are having her.’
‘And what about me? Who’s going to cook my meals?’ He glowered at her, his eyes wide with accusation. ‘What kind of a wife leaves her husband to fend for himself?’
‘It’ll only be for a few days,’ she said in her most consoling voice. ‘And I’ll make your dinners ahead of time. All you’ll have to do is heat them up.’
He took a step toward her. ‘Everyone else might be taken in by your miss-goody-two-shoes ways, but I know the fallen woman you are, how I was the one who picked you up, covered your tracks. Do you know how easy it would be for me to expose your disgrace for the world to see?’
At this point, she knew she was going to have to beg.
Without more ado, she fell into line, pleading, ‘I’m so very sorry.
I truly don’t deserve such a lovely, generous man as you.
But it’s part of my job. I need to go.’ Carefully, she began to stroke his hand.
‘Don’t you remember, we talked about me having to go away from time to time?
You said you’d put up with it because of the extra pay. ’
Something in his demeanour shifted. ‘Do you get more money for it?’
With a smile, she nodded – of course money would win him around. She should have known.
But a new worry crept into her mind: if he was so broke, surely he would ask to use some of her inheritance money?
He wouldn’t spend it without her permission, would he?
He’d promised not to touch it. But as she was about to ask him, she bit her lip.
He’d only use the accusation to force her to stay.
And whatever happened, she couldn’t risk Balmoral and her job.
‘I’ll have more than an extra day’s pay, I expect.
Maybe two.’ She wasn’t sure of this, but she’d find a way to even up the money herself if need be.
She’d never have dared messing with the money before; that was Frank’s territory.
But Betty’s words kept weaving through her mind, that she was more clever than she believed.
Maybe it was Frank telling her she was stupid every other day – had she started to believe him?
Frank’s eyes narrowed as they met hers, and for a long moment, she knew it could go either way. In the end, he muttered, ‘If you get those boxes done, then I’ll think about it.’
‘I’ll start straightaway.’ Caroline darted back to the old clothes, not even bothering to breathe through her mouth. ‘Some of these will need a good soak.’
‘Do a thorough job, mind. We need to get a good price.’
His tone had changed, the mood of the room shifting, and she looked up to see him standing above her, a strange look in his eyes – anxiety, maybe, distrustfulness?
Was he putting two and two together? Had the word Balmoral reminded him of a Scots Guard from all those years ago?
She felt the machinations of his mind at work.
‘Look, love, come and sit down.’ Sounding lighter, kinder, he went to the sofa, patting the seat beside him.
What did he have up his sleeve this time?
Dropping the stained trousers she was holding, she went over and perched down.
‘There’s something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about.
’ His voice was unusually gentle, and her heart fell in trepidation.
‘You see, with all the money problems, I feel so incredibly useless. I hate it that you have to work such long hours – I hate that you have to work at all. As a good husband, I should be able to keep you, give you everything you want.’ He smiled eerily, and she could only thank goodness her job gave her an escape from home.
‘You have no idea how much I want us to be a happy, loving family.’
Unsure where this was heading, she put on her appeasing face. ‘Please don’t worry, Frank.’
‘I haven’t told you the worst part, love. You see, to make up for what I haven’t been able to earn, I’ve been trying to win it on the races.’ With this, he buried his face in his hands.
This wasn’t news to her, but it was worrying that he was feigning tears. ‘Shh, it can’t be that bad.’ Could it?
‘Only, I haven’t been winning. I did at the start – it felt like I couldn’t lose.
But then I kept placing bets, and the more I lost, the more I wanted to get back to the wins.
And then’ – he swallowed – ‘I borrowed some money from a lender down in the market, and he wants it back. He was threatening to send in the heavies, so I had to give him something.’
In the pit of her stomach, she felt a dull pain. ‘You didn’t give him my inheritance money, did you?’
He shook his head. ‘No, of course not, love. I’d never do that. I used the beach fund, that’s all. Your inheritance money is for the future, safe in the bank.’
She breathed out. If he’d gambled away her uncle’s money, it would break her. It was her passage to freedom, her safety net, even if she couldn’t get her hands on it quite yet.
Collecting herself, she replied, ‘The beach money? We were looking forward to that, Frank, but I suppose we can build it up again.’ She knew what he was doing, using the Balmoral trip to confess his new debt. She couldn’t make a fuss about it or else he’d stop her from going.
She felt unsettled, a war inside her, the ground continually shifting under her feet.
He reached forward to take her hands in his. ‘I’ve been good to you all these years, love, overlooking your disgrace, all your stupid mistakes, taking another man’s child into my house.’
But then his demeanour changed, his eyes narrowing, his voice lowering, threatening. ‘I’ve found it within myself to forgive you, and now it’s your turn to do the same for me.’
Afraid, she tried to pull her hands away.
But he grasped them tighter, yanking her toward him as he growled, ‘Annabel’s my child too, you know.
My name’s right there on her birth certificate.
If you ever think about leaving, she’ll be staying here, with her legal, rightful father.
’ His face, suddenly dark and vengeful, contorted into a sneer. ‘You’ll never see her again.’
Frantically pulling away, she fell back into the chair terrified, her heart pounding.
He’d never threatened to take Annabel – even though she knew he could. Divorce laws gave men all the rights. He didn’t want her, of course, but Caroline knew he would keep the girl just to control her, to make sure she paid for her disobedience.
Of all the things he could threaten, taking Annabel was the one he knew she couldn’t risk.
Quickly, she calmed herself down. She had to pretend she had no intention of leaving him, and to do that she had to pass over it, ignore it.
‘Don’t worry about your gambling. We’re a family, and families work together to get through problems, don’t they?’ She took his hand. ‘I’ve heard that gambling can get out of hand, especially if you need to win your money back.’
He nodded, assuaged. ‘That’s the problem, love. I need to stop, and I need you to help me. With these boxes of clothes, we should be able to finish the payments to the lender.’
She sat forward. ‘Of course, I’ll do them straightaway.’
As he took her into his arms, she felt her world subside. Any dreams of escape faded into oblivion.
She’d made her bed, and now she had to downright stay in it.
A sound came from the front door, and her heart lifted as she heard Annabel’s voice.
Caroline leapt away from Frank and ran – sprinted, even – to the door, pulling her daughter into such a firm hug that Annabel said, ‘Mum, you’re squeezing me!’ Then, wrinkling her nose, she said, ‘What’s that smell?’
‘Your father has a new plan, to wash secondhand clothes for resale. It’ll bring in a few extra pounds.’
‘What a stink!’ Annabel laughed.
With a huff, Frank grunted derisively and patted his pockets, only to find he was out of cigarettes. ‘Pop down to the shops and get me a pack, would you, love?’ he said as he scooped up the Racing Times.
Suddenly, something inside her snapped. How much did she have to do for this vile man? As calmly as she could, she opened her hands apologetically. ‘I can’t, I’m afraid. Not if you want me to get on with these boxes of clothes.’
She expected a retort from him, a reprise. But he just read his newspaper, and without even looking up, he said, ‘Annabel, you heard your mother, off you go.’ He pointed at an ashtray brimming with butts. ‘And empty that while you’re at it.’
And without a word, the girl put down her schoolbag to do his bidding.
For a fraction of a moment, Caroline froze, as if seeing it with new eyes. Her precious daughter, pandering to this bully, just as Caroline herself had been doing all these years.
She followed Annabel into the kitchen, taking the ashtray from her to empty it herself. ‘You shouldn’t let him order you around,’ she whispered. ‘I’ll go to the shops. You go upstairs and start your homework.’
But Annabel’s hand kept hold of the ashtray. ‘We both know how bad he gets.’ She shrugged. ‘Isn’t it safer just to do what he says, like you do?’
And there it was.
The world seemed to stop, the clock the only sound, ticking her life away – both of their lives away.
In the back of her mind, she’d always known this time would come, that living under Frank’s control and seeing Caroline’s own timid fear would impact Annabel in some way.
But this? To hear that Annabel had somehow learned to be submissive, going against her natural bravery to allow this man to dominate her? It was more than Caroline could bear.
Yet, with the Balmoral trip at stake, Caroline knew she had to let Frank win this particular battle.
And so she took the ashtray from Annabel and pasted a smile on her face as she fetched her coat to go to the shop.
Regardless of whether she was up all night washing a dead woman’s clothes, she was still alive and going to Balmoral.
And as she hurried through the dusk, holding her arms around herself, she imagined she was already there, galloping through the heather, up and up into the mountains, until she was lost forever.