“You look all washed out, Becky. What’s up?” Meg asked, sweeping up the ashes in the hearth.
“Bubbe kept me awake half the night, moaning in her sleep,” Becky yawned, rubbing her eyes.
“I keeps tellin’ you. That bedroom’s too cold for ‘er, damp too, I shouldn’t wonder. Right then, let’s get ‘er in ‘ere,” Meg said, pointing to the alcove.
“What?”
“If she’s got arthritis, she ‘as to be kept warm. I knows all about it, ‘cos me grandad was bad with it. I’ll warm the beddin’.”
She pulled back the alcove curtain, stripped the blankets from the bed and hung them over the fire-guard in front of the fire. Becky looked at the empty bed. It hadn’t been used since her mama was ill. She turned away quickly and started rummaging in the dresser.
“We’ve got a spare sheet somewhere,” she muttered, pulling one out of the bottom drawer. “Will this do?”
“Yeah. ‘Ave you got a hot water bottle?”
Becky fetched the stone bottle from the kitchen, filled it with hot water from the samovar and wrapped it in a cloth.
“Give it me,” Meg said putting it under the blankets. “She’ll be warm and cosy in ‘ere. Come on, let’s go and get ‘er.”
Slowly and carefully, they led Bubbe to the alcove bed.
“There now,” Meg said, plumping up the pillows. “You’ll be much better off in ‘ere, Mrs Feldman. Cup of tea?”
Bubbe nodded. She pulled her shawl round her shoulders.
“Aaah,” she sighed. “That’s good, it was so cold in there. Becky, thank Meg and see what you can find to give her.”
“D’you want some breakfast, Bubbe?” Becky asked when Meg had gone.
“I’m not hungry, just very tired. You’re such good girls, both of you, looking after me so well,” she tried to smile.
Breakfast was eaten quietly so as not to disturb her. Only the rustling of Papa’s newspaper and the fire crackling in the grate broke the silence. Papa leaned across the table.
“Becky, you’d better stay home with Bubbe,” he whispered. “Are you ready, Yossie? Come, we’re late.”
The minute the door closed, she remembered – Mrs. Haffner’s Invitation!!
“Too late, too late!” she muttered. Stupid, stupid girl! she told herself. I forgot to remind Papa. I can’t leave Bubbe but I don’t want to miss it all. I’ve just got to see Papa’s face when he eats Mrs Haffner’s dried up cholent. She sat gazing into the glowing embers of the fire, not knowing what to do.
There was a gentle tap on the door. Becky looked up and watched it opening slowly. A hand appeared holding a pair of boots, followed by a grinning face.
“’Ow’s your grandmother?” Meg asked.
“Shhh! Meg! What are you doing here? I thought you’d gone home ages ago. Come in quick and shut the door, you’re letting the cold in.”
Meg padded softly across the room and sat down next to Becky.
“I’ve just finished cleaning up for Mrs Lazarus,” she said quietly. “Look what she gave me,” she said, holding up the boots. “They used to belong to Mr Kaminsky. He died a while back. They’re too big for me, so I stuffed them with newspaper and they’re fine now. D’you know what Mrs Lazarus told me?”
“Was it about Hershel?”
“Oh yeah, she’s told me a lot about her American friend. It’s not that though. She’s going to start making dinners for them young men and a few others too when word gets round. She’ll charge them, y’know, about four pence each, I think she said. That way she’ll be able to save up and rent somewhere bigger and start a little catering business. She wants me to come in and ‘elp ‘er,” Meg said proudly. “I’ll be earning a bit extra so me Mam’ll be pleased.”
“I don’t suppose they’re still at home?” Becky asked anxiously.
“You’ve missed ‘em. They went out half an hour since.”
Becky was getting desperate.
“Have you got to go home now?” she asked.
Meg shrugged. “Dunno, why?”
“We’ve been invited to eat cholent with some people after shul and Bubbe’s not well enough to go.”
“Damn right she isn’t! She’ll catch ‘er death of cold if she goes out in this weather. I’ll stay with ‘er, don’t worry, I won’t be missed at ‘ome.”
“Thanks Meg, that’ll be such a help. Look, here’s the cholent tag. Can you go down to the bakers for it while I get a few things ready? You and Bubbe can have an early dinner.”
“I’ve never heard of cholent,” Meg looked puzzled,” I didn’t know the baker sold it.”
“He doesn’t. Every Friday Bubbe prepares the cholent, a sort of beef stew, and I take it to the baker who puts it in his big oven to cook slowly overnight. We can’t cook it here because we can’t keep the fire going on Shabbos.”
“Like I keep on saying, Becky, you’re a grand little teacher! I shan’t be long.”
By the time Meg returned, Bubbe was awake. She looked pale and drawn with pain. Meg was right, she was too ill to go out.
“Becky dear,” she winced. “Tell Mrs Haffner that I’ve got one of my bad days. She’s a good woman, she’ll understand. You’ll meet all the children and enjoy yourselves there.”
“I’m sure I will,” Becky coughed. “I’d better be going now. Meg’ll look after the fire and keep the cholent hot until you’re ready to eat it.”
“Wrap up warm Becky, it’s terrible out there,” Meg warned her. “Don’t worry about your grandmother, I’ll look after her. I’m looking forward to the cholent!”
It’ll be much, much nicer than the one I’m going to eat, Becky thought.
“Thanks for everything, Meg.”
It was bitterly cold and damp and a thick fog had wrapped itself tightly around the buildings like a dark grey blanket. Becky could hardly see her hand when she held it up in front of her. It was eerie and strangely quiet. Everyday sounds were muffled. People appeared suddenly like ghostly shapes, then vanished just as quickly. She walked slowly, stopping every now and then to peer ahead, looking for familiar landmarks. Suddenly, without warning, she felt a horse’s hot breath on the back of her head. She must have strayed on to the road. Quick as a flash, she leapt out of its way. She stood trembling with fear, her heart pounding. She groped her way to a wall and leant against it until she felt calmer.
She set off again, trailing her fingers along the railings of the tenement buildings to guide her. Then she felt a knot of panic in the pit of her stomach. Papa thinks I’m at home with Bubbe and he doesn’t know I’m coming. Suppose I miss him? Suppose I get lost trying to find the Haffner’s place? She stopped again and took a deep breath. “Pull yourself together right now, Becky Feldman,” she told herself sternly. “You know the way perfectly well – why you could find it blindfolded!” Which was just what it felt like.
Soon after, she made out the familiar outline of the synagogue building against the dark sky. I couldn’t have timed it better, she thought, as the great doors swung open at the end of the service. There were no big crowds today and even the gossips were in a hurry to get home, as it was too cold to hang about. Only a brief “Good Shabbos,” to one another before family groups were quickly swallowed up in the fog.
At last Becky saw Papa and Yossie. She was just explaining to Papa about Meg staying with Bubbe when Abe Klein appeared, as if from nowhere.
“Good Shabbos. What do you think of this pea-souper, eh Yossie?”
“What’s a pea-souper?”
“Does your Bubbe make you pea soup?”
“Sometimes.”
“Is it very thick?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, as you can see, so is this fog,” Abe Klein laughed. “Follow me. I know the way.”
It was easier said than done. One moment Becky could see the back of him, the next he had disappeared. Nagging thoughts crossed her mind as they struggled to keep up with him. She should have guessed that Abe Klein knew about Mrs Herring’s invitation. Perhaps he’d arranged it. After all, wasn’t that part of his job?
“I can’t breathe properly in this pea-soup fog, or whatever it’s called,” Yossie whimpered, coughing and choking. “Are we nearly there, Becky? I’m starving.”
“It’s not far now, I’m sure it’s just round the next corner.” She tucked his arm through hers and gave his hand a big squeeze. You’ll be hungry enough to eat anything, she smiled to herself.
Mrs Haffner was waiting for them at the side entrance – a great relief to Becky, who dreaded having to go through the shop.
“Good Shabbos, good Shabbos. What a terrible day!” she fussed.” Come in and get warm.”
A fine lace cloth covered the large dining room table. Becky was impressed with the way the candlesticks shone like burnished gold. Much better than her efforts, she had to admit. Large framed photographs of fierce-looking Haffner relatives decorated the walls. Whenever she looked up they seemed to be glaring down at her, their eyes following her around the room. The Haffner children were scrubbed, sullen and silent. Becky could tell they’d been warned, or bribed, to be on their best behaviour. Dora gave her a shy smile. Sol scowled as he stood back to allow the guests to get near the fire. They must be hating us as much as I’m hating them, she thought to herself.
Mrs Haffner opened a cupboard in the large dresser and took out some glasses and a bottle of whisky.
“Y’know, my late husband, God rest his soul, used to say that there’s nothing quite like a little drop of whisky to keep out the cold,” she smiled, pouring out a drink for the two men.
“Thank you, Mrs Haffner.” Abe Klein took his glass and emptied it in one swallow. “Aah, good stuff! Just what the doctor ordered!” He laughed loudly at his own joke.
Becky watched her father sipping his drink in silence. He doesn’t look as if he’s enjoying himself, she thought, more like it was something he’d rather get over and done with.
“God bless you and your wonderful children, Mrs Haffner. They are a real credit to you,” Abe Klein shmoozed. “Now I…”
“Thank you, Mr Klein,” she interrupted, “it’s good of you to say so. I’m very proud of Sol and Mat, they’re such good boys. I don’t know what I’d do without my lovely girls, Sophie, Bessy and Dora. They’re always ready to help me out in the shop when I’m busy,” she babbled on. Becky’s heart sank. She dreaded what was sure to come next.
“And what d’you think of Jacob’s marvellous children, eh?” Abe Klein asked. He put a heavy hand on Yossie’s shoulder, making him squirm. “Yossie’s going to be a rabbi when he grows up, aren’t you my boy?”
Becky managed a warning look at Yossie. What was that awful man going to say next, she wondered, cringing inside.
“Everyone in the Rothschild Buildings knows what a great help Becky is to her Bubbe,” Abe Klein went on. “And what a clever girl! Top of the class in English and trying for a scholarship next year. She…”
To Becky’s great relief, Abe Klein was stopped from making any more embarrassing remarks when Mrs Haffner announced: “Come and sit down everyone, the dinner’s ready. You must all be very hungry.”
Flat 74 Rothschild Buildings,
Brick Lane,
Whitechapel,
London.
Saturday 21st November 1908
Dear Mama,
The Secrets Of My Heart! Mrs Haffner’s cholent was absolutely delicious!! I couldn’t believe it at first. The meat was tender with lots of gravy and Papa’s favourite dumplings. Everything was just as if you had made it yourself. I had to sit there and watch Papa enjoy every mouthful, he even smiled at Mrs Haffner when she gave him a second helping. I couldn’t eat mine, it stuck in my throat.
I sobbed my heart out when I got home. I’ll never call Mrs Herring ‘mama.’ I can’t imagine ever wanting to kiss and hug her. She’s the kind of woman who’ll be saying, “No buts, Becky” all the time. I’m in despair.
All my love Mama. God bless.
Yours faithfully,
Rebecca Feldman.
