Rachel died a few days later, with the lilt of a Viennese waltz carrying her softly through to the other life and her husband and children beside her.
It was early in the morning and Sarah had shared the night vigil with the family, but left them alone in the room as the end drew near. Abraham and Sammy were with her in the kitchen when the others came downstairs and the emptiness Sigmund had felt in his heart when he finally accepted the inevitable echoed through the house.
“Fetch David,” Sarah instructed Sammy. “Esther, too.” She put the kettle on to boil and busied herself getting teacups out of the cupboard. “David will make the arrangements with the shul.” She took a loaf of bread from the enamel bin and began to slice it for breakfast. “We must also think of the living,” she sighed. “It will be a long day.”
The funeral was arranged for that afternoon, in accordance with the Jewish tradition of burying their dead immediately, and all the children were told to go to Bessie’s house after school, where Lizzie would give them their meal. It was not customary for children to be present.
Nathan had left for the university when his father went home to tell him the news and at lunchtime David was sent to fetch him. He had never had cause to go there before and entered the quadrangle with mixed feelings.
The ambience of learning and carefree undergraduate life, which rarefies such establishments for those not privileged to attend them, was all about him and he stood for a moment gazing up at the archway through which he had once hoped to pass as a student.
Lads with scarves slung around their necks and books tucked beneath their arms were standing in groups talking together. They were all wearing blazers and he smiled wryly, remembering how he had wondered naively if his Bar Mitzvah suit would still fit him when the time came for him to start college. But for him the time had not come and the full realisation of what he had missed now struck him forcibly. The pleasure of sharpening his intellect against others just as sharp. The exchange of ideas and carefully acquired knowledge. The chance to extend his mind and personality, which bore no relation to becoming a solicitor and lining his pocket. All this had been snatched away from him, relegating him to the bread and butter echelon which was now his lot.
“What’re you doing here?” Lou’s surprised voice issued from across the quadrangle emphasising that this was not David’s world.
“Looking for Nat,” he replied collecting himself as Lou ambled to his side with Reuben and a Gentile boy.
“Reuben you know. This is Paul Latimer, a friend of ours. Meet Nat’s brother, Paul.”
David shook hands with the burly youth, who looked like a rugby player, but somehow reminded him of Jim Forrest. The same subtle quality emanated from him and David recalled wanting to acquire it when he had been at school with Jim. He had not known then that it was something a person had to be born with, the product of their breeding.
“Why’re you looking for Nat?” Lou asked. “Your father’s not ill I hope?” Abraham’s persistent cough was by now chronic bronchitis and everyone was accustomed to seeing him spitting into his handkerchief.
“It’s Mrs. Moritz,” David said and needed to say no more. “So where is Nat?”
Lou and Reuben exchanged a surreptitious glance.
“He usually eats his sandwiches in Whitworth Park on fine days,” Paul told David.
“Oh I don’t think he’ll be there today,” Lou said hastily.
“Nor do I,” Reuben echoed, his reddish complexion suddenly more so.
“Perhaps you’d help me to look for him in the college, then?”
“He won’t be there, Mr. Sandberg,” Paul smiled, but stopped smiling when he felt Lou’s foot on his toe.
“We’ll find him for you, David, and tell him to go home right away,” Lou offered eagerly.
“Yes, leave it to us,” Reuben urged.
“Unless I take him in the car he won’t get there in time. I’ll chance him being in the park.”
Why had Lou and Reuben behaved so oddly? David pondered. As if they didn’t want him to go to the park, though Paul had seemed certain Nat would be there. A sense of foreboding overtook him as he parked the car and entered the quiet enclosure. He had already surmised that Nathan’s Gentile girlfriend was probably a nurse and the Royal Infirmary was not far away. He steeled himself for the encounter.
He cut across the grass to save time and heard Mary’s laughter before he came upon them. The bench on which they were seated was shielded from his view by a clump of bushes and he did not see his brother until he stepped onto the path.
Mary’s laughter petered out as she turned around to see what had arrested Nathan’s attention. David had halted abruptly and seemed to be riveting Nathan with a frigid stare.
“Who is it?” she asked apprehensively. The expression on her lover’s face was a mixture of rebellion and fear.
“My big brother,” Nathan said tersely. He got up and walked to where David stood. “Why’re you spying on me?”
“I came to tell you Rachel’s dead. Unless you want to miss the funeral you’d better come with me.” David turned on his heel and strode off along the path, a picture of the girl’s pretty, bewildered face floating before his eyes.
“I thought you were a united family,” Mary said in a strained voice when Nathan returned to her.
“That’s the trouble!”
She played with a corner of her starched apron thoughtfully for a moment, then looked up at him. “It’s me, isn’t it?”
Nathan averted his eyes.
“I’m the trouble.”
He picked up his attaché-case from the bench without looking at her. “I’ve got to go, love. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
Mary watched him run to join his brother as if he were being pulled by invisible strings back to the mysterious and powerful unit which dominated his life. The knowledge that this was so had dawned upon her gradually as her relationship with Nathan had deepened.
He could never see her on Saturday afternoons, or take her with him to the weekly gathering of the clan. Her Christianity prohibited it. Friday nights were struck out of the week, too. But she did not need these twice-weekly reminders of her enemy, as she had begun to think of it. Its power and presence hung like a protective pall around the man she loved, even when he held her in his arms.
How the power was wielded she could not fathom and doubted if anyone who was not Jewish ever could. Lately, she had felt Nathan fighting to free himself, but had said nothing to lend support. It had to be his decision, she did not want to be blamed if later he felt it had been the wrong one.
She got up and began walking slowly towards the park gate, numbed by intuition that Nathan would never be free, even if he alienated himself from the tribe and married her. The invisible strings would still exert their age-old pull on him. But she would give him all the love she had, to compensate.
David did not speak to Nathan when he got into the car. He was waiting for the apology he did not receive.
Both brothers stared tensely through the windscreen as though the other were not there, in a silence thick with animosity. Then David fumbled for the packet of Gold Flake in his pocket, thrust a cigarette between his lips and lit it.
“A nice day to bury someone you love!” he said roughly as he started the engine. The sun was shining through the glass into his eyes. “I can’t believe Rachel’s gone. It’s like a light going out that’s always been there.”
A sense of loss briefly replaced Nathan’s anger, then he saw his brother’s set expression and could not resist playing with fire. “You almost had her for your mother-in-law, didn’t you?”
David’s hands tightened on the wheel. “Almost is a very common word.”
He’s telling me nothing’s absolute until it’s actually happened, Nathan thought. Warning me, but still skirting around the subject, even though he’s seen me with Mary. “Why don’t you say what you really mean, David?”
“You might not forgive me if I do. In your present state.”
“I’m not going to finish with her.”
“Oh aren’t you?” David was trying to control himself, but it was not easy. Was the young fool going to bring disgrace on himself and all of them, after what had been sacrificed to elevate him to a position of respect? “What’s she got that’s different from the kind of girls you’ve been brought up with? Except that it’s not kosher?”
“Stop the car!”
“What for?”
“I’d rather walk.”
“And miss the funeral of a woman who was like your second mother? You would, wouldn’t you? Nothing matters to you right now except what you’ve got between your legs!” David put his foot down hard on the accelerator and the car shot forward suddenly as his temper rose. “Believe me, it makes no difference where you put it! And you’re hearing it from one who knows!”
His words shocked Nathan into silence. Crudeness was foreign to David’s character. What had happened to make him reduce love between a man and a woman to nothing more than that?
“In a few years’ time you’ll be able to look at her and she’ll be just another girl to you.”
“If what you’re talking about was all I saw in her.”
“It wasn’t all I saw in Miriam, either. But time’s a great healer.”
“Don’t give me platitudes!”
“That one’s worthy of remembering. I’ve proved it. When I see Miriam now, she’s someone I still care about, but not in the way I did. I’m married to Bessie and Miriam’s just my sister-in-law, our Sammy’s wife.”
“You couldn’t have loved her the way I love Mary.”
“I loved her so much I’d have gone to the ends of the earth for her. But if I’d married her she’d have destroyed me. Just like in another way marrying this girl would destroy you.”
“I’ve made up my mind to.”
They had just turned from the main road into Heywood Street and David pulled up the car. “You ungrateful little bastard! Just because you’re the youngest you’ve had everything poured into you, the blood, sweat and tears of the whole family. I won’t let you do it!”
Nathan recoiled from his livid expression. When had he first begun to hate David? The sudden knowledge that he did was like a physical blow, knocking the strength from him. How could you hate the person who’d done everything for you? Even though you hadn’t wanted some of the things he’d done. “I’m not giving her up,” he heard himself say, but his voice sounded a long way off.
David looked at the fine-boned face and the new lines of pain beside the mouth which had a trace of weakness about it, and recalled the boy Nathan had been trying to comfort him after he ended his affair with Miriam. “You once said you’d do anything for me, Nat. Here’s your chance.”
“Not this. I can’t.”
“Haven’t I told you there’s no such word as can’t?” Fury and desperation caused the blood to rush to David’s head. Somehow he must stop Nat from committing the terrible sin he was contemplating. “I had to swallow that pill because you were born!”
“What do you mean?”
“Why d’you think I had to leave school? It wasn’t just poverty, they’d’ve kept me there somehow. But it was out of the question when Mother got pregnant with you. My earnings were needed to help to support the new baby. I’m still supporting him, aren’t I? And the way to repay your debt to your family, Nat, is to bring them pleasure not heartache!”
He hated David because he gave with one hand and took back with the other, always demanded a price. “I’ll never forgive you for what you’ve done to me, David.”
“I thought that about you when you were a child.”
“A child isn’t responsible for the effect it has on people’s lives. A man is.”
“I hope you’re responsible enough to do what you have to,” David said brusquely, starting the engine. “Unless you want to put Mother where Rachel’s going.”
The price of David’s bounty was obligation. The everlasting family trap.
Marianne had guessed Bobbie Rachel was going to die last night. Martin was put to bed with her brothers and a scary feeling hung about the house after Auntie Miriam brought him and went away.
She had wished she needn’t sleep in her little room alone, though usually she didn’t mind. Being on your own let you think about things and most nights she lay making up stories until she fell asleep. But last night she’d thought about death and it reminded her of her friend Marjorie who had died a few weeks ago.
“I don’t want to go to Auntie Bessie’s for tea,” she said to Martin as they trudged along Bellott Street after school.
“They call it supper at Auntie Bessie’s house.”
“So did we used to, but Mam says it’s our tea now, like the Christian neighbours call it.”
“Auntie Bessie won’t be there, will she?” Martin pointed out.
“I don’t like her house, either.”
Lizzie was waiting for them on the doorstep. “Trust you two ter lag be’ind t’others!” she chided them. “They all came straight ’ome, like good bairns.”
“Could me and Marianne go to the park for a bit, Lizzie?” Martin asked her.
“I should think not! Playin’ out’n mekkin’ a show o’ yerselves wi’ a family burial goin’ on!”
“We’ll just sit down and talk,” Marianne promised.
“Please let us, Lizzie,” Martin pleaded.
The kind-hearted girl was touched by his expression and remembered that he was the one who had lost his grandmother, though all the other children had adopted her as theirs, too. “All right,” she nodded. “But don’t go mekkin’ a muck o’ our Shirley’s frock, Marianne, mind!”
Marianne’s navy-blue smocked dress was one of Shirley’s castoffs. She always protested to her mother about having to wear them, but Esther’s pride was in accordance with her pocket and Marianne was told to think herself lucky she had a cousin several sizes bigger than her, who owned a different dress for every day of the week.
“I wear your Arnold’s things, don’t I?” Martin said to comfort her as she tramped by his side to the park.
“That’s different,” she replied. She could not have explained why, but knew he understood.
There were many things Marianne could not explain, because they were just feelings which made her happy or sad. And sometimes they frightened her, like the time she had seen her father’s shoes drying in the hearth, with gaping holes in them. She was too young to realise he could not afford to have them mended, but the sight of them somehow made her feel afraid.
She cared for her father differently from the way she loved her mother. Mam was the one who told them what to do and made sure they did it. She cooked lovely meals and saw that Marianne always looked nice, but never hugged her as she did the boys. Daddy didn’t make a fuss of Harry and Arnold, but liked to kiss his little girl and once, when she had wakened in the night with toothache, crying because it hurt so badly, he had appeared magically in her room and rubbed her gum gently with his little finger until she fell asleep. They always had a special smile for each other and she felt upset when he came home very tired, looking as if he had a lot to worry about.
She had not mentioned the holes in his shoes, something had told her he would not want her to, but she still thought about them sometimes and a tenderness would well up inside her. Not until many years later would the incident fall into place in the full context of her childhood memories and cause her to weep.
“You’re very quiet,” Martin said as they squatted on the grass beneath their favourite tree.
She had been thinking about the shoes again, but was unable to share the thought even with him. “So’re you,” she replied watching him select a blade of grass which looked juicy enough to chew. “I wonder if there’ll be blancmange for tea, like we have at Shirley’s birthday parties.”
“Uggh!” he shuddered.
Shirley’s parties were their yearly torture and not just because they loathed blancmange. Their cousin always ordered everyone around even more than usual and nobody could object as she was the birthday-girl. Some of the other guests were the children of Auntie Bessie’s friends, who went to a private school and seemed to think it made them better than those who did not.
“I don’t care what we have for tea,” Martin declared. “I want to tell you about my dream.”
“When did you dream it?”
“Last night.”
“Why did you wait so long to tell it to me?”
Martin chewed the blade of grass thoughtfully. “I’ve been thinking it over.”
Marianne smiled with anticipation. “I hope it’s as good as your last one.”
“It’s better. You know how people go to Heaven when they die, Marianne?”
“Of course I do.” She looked up at the clouds. “I expect Bobbie Rachel’ll be there by now. I wonder if she’s met Marjorie yet? I miss Marjorie, Martin. She was my very best friend, why did she have to get the diphtheria and die?”
“I don’t know. I miss Billie Higgs and Johnny Watson.”
“Bobbie Sarah says they got it because Christians don’t eat tsimmes and kefulte fish to make them strong.”
“But Andrew Lensky got it as well.”
“Perhaps he always left his on his plate.”
“Anyway, Marjorie’s in the Christian Heaven, isn’t she, Marianne? So Bobbie Rachel won’t be able to see her. I dreamt about our Heaven, the one we’ll go to when we die.”
“Hurry up and tell me what it was like!” She had not expected to find out until she went there.
“Very, very beautiful.”
Marianne felt comforted to hear this.
“The buildings were made of flowers, and music like Zaidie Sigmund plays on his gramophone was playing all the time.”
“Did you see God?”
“He had His back to me, but I knew it was Him because He was sitting on a big golden throne wearing a very long tallith. And listen to this, Marianne. All the angels were eating Sachertorte.”
“Perhaps the one who does the cooking made it because she knew Bobbie Rachel was coming today.” Marianne’s eyes shone with excitement. The dream was as real to her as it was to him.
“If you had lovely dreams you’d want to fall asleep quickly, instead of lying making up horrid stories.” Martin dreamed often, but Marianne never did. “Why don’t you make up nice ones, instead?”
“Horrid ones are more exciting. I like to see everyone’s face when I tell them,” she giggled.
“You shouldn’t be laughing today,” he said solemnly.
“Why not? If Bobbie Rachel’s gone to such a beautiful place? You ought to tell Zaidie Sigmund about it, then he won’t worry about her.”
“I’ll tell him tonight, when we go to see him,” Martin promised as Harry came to fetch them for their meal.
Usually, Martin would not eat fish unless it had been filleted, but he ate the fried plaice which Lizzie gave them for their tea. Marianne thought it was because he was not worried about choking on a bone anymore, now he knew Heaven was such a nice place.