by Diana Finley
She cannot settle; she is compelled to drift from room to room, yearning for something nameless, something vague and nebulous. She is not even sure she would recognise it if she were to find it. She has forgotten why she set off on this search in the first place, if ever she knew. She treads softly, on tiptoes, as though afraid of disturbing another occupant of the house. Yet she knows she is alone.
She opens the door to Ben’s room. The air is warm and stuffy. His travel bags are stuffed behind a chair, clothes scattered like autumn leaves across the room. She picks up a pair of jeans and smoothes them over the back of the chair. She takes a T-shirt from a heap on the floor, caresses it for a moment and folds it on the rumpled bed. In a few more days he will be gone, back to his flat and post-graduate studies in Cambridge.
She moves to the window and pushes back the curtains, still half-closed. Light pours into the room. She gazes out onto the garden. The grass needs cutting. Guilt surges through her. Sam wouldn’t have let it get so long. Maybe Ben will have time to cut it before he goes, or Shimon, or Eve. Anna retraces her steps to the door and out onto the landing.
She moves to Eve’s room. The walls and curtains are as Eve chose them six or seven years before, when they first came to the house, her love of sunshine and warmth expressed in the shades of yellow colour scheme. Anna strokes the wallpaper and smiles. Eve’s room is considerably tidier than Ben’s. The curtains are open; the bed is neat. Clothes are draped over the back of the chair. Despite the wild-child image Eve likes to cultivate, Anna knows she needs the security of order. Like her father.
Anna breathes in deeply. Eve too will soon be gone. Back to a temporary shared flat in Notting Hill. Shared with a motley group of people about whom Anna knows little and has not enquired too closely, but whom she knows Sam would have called ‘dubious’. She has learned not to question her daughter about her friends, or her life. Eve says she might take up her offer of a university place in the autumn; she can’t commit herself at this stage. She is impatient when Anna reminds her she has only two or three weeks in which to make up her mind.
Anna steps out across the landing again. The polished wooden floorboards near the stairwell creak, just as they always have. She runs her hand along the top banister, feeling its smoothness, and opens the door to the guest room, now neatly prepared for Shimon’s imminent arrival. It is the smallest bedroom, homely and comfortable. Every need has been thought of: a spare blanket folded at the foot of the bed, a selection of books and magazines on the bedside cabinet, fresh towels and flannels by the basin, flowers on the table. Yet it exudes the drab anonymity of a hotel room. Shimon will occupy this room, be part of their lives for a week, and then move on to meet with academic colleagues in Cambridge. He too is a temporary visitor. All her children, now transient guests in her house. She is the only permanent occupant. They will go; she will remain, alone.
From downstairs, Anna hears the sounds of arrival – footsteps on the front path, keys jangling, a door opening and shutting, voices and laughter. Then, Shimon’s call: ‘Anna!’
She stands and clutches a handful of the fabric of her blouse to her chest, her heart beating through the flimsy material. As always, she is terrified Shimon will inadvertently let slip their true relationship, before she is ready. Recently, when they have been alone together, he has been calling her ‘Mamma’ more readily, more spontaneously. She shakes her head faintly at the irony. Just at a time when Shimon is starting to feel at ease using ‘Mamma’ – privately of course – her two younger children are beginning to feel less comfortable with it. Both Ben and Eve sometimes test out calling her ‘Anna’, but are hesitant and self-conscious about it. Ben in particular sometimes mumbles an incomprehensible mixture of ‘Anna’, ‘Mum’ and ‘Mamma’, and often avoids calling her anything at all.
‘I’m here!’ She clears her throat. ‘I’m coming!’
The three young faces watch her as she slowly descends the stairs. Even before she reaches the bottom, Shimon steps forward and envelops her in his embrace. He holds her tight, rocking gently, absorbing her sorrow.
‘Anna. I’m so, so sorry about dear Sam, and I’m sorry we couldn’t be here with you for the funeral.’ He murmurs into the hollow of her neck.
‘Don’t apologise, Shimon. Sam wouldn’t want you to reproach yourself. He wouldn’t have wanted Rachel to be at risk. We all know she couldn’t possibly travel right now. It’s just a pity Boston is so far away. Is she quite all right again?’ She steps back to look at him.
‘Really, she’s fine. It was just a bit scary at the time. Apparently slight bleeding at this stage isn’t unusual, but it really freaked us out. She had a few days resting, the bleeding stopped and she felt great again. She sends her love to all of you. And Mom does too of course, everybody does.’
‘What a relief. Now come, you must be exhausted after the journey. Let’s all sit down and have a cup of coffee. I want to hear about all the family. You can unpack later and we’ll have some lunch.’
‘I’ll bring the coffee in,’ says Eve.
‘Thank you, darling. It’s all ready on the trolley.’
Anna resists the urge to sit next to Shimon on the sofa, where she can touch him, and instead sits on the chair opposite. She studies her son. He looks tired, but fit and content. Fatherhood is suiting him.
‘Tell me about little Eva. Is she talking much?’
‘Oh yes, she never stops! She deals mainly in commands and questions. “Why doggie bark?” “Mommy sit here!” “Daddy play!” She’s a miniature tyrant. Rules the house.’
‘Well, quite clearly, you thrive on it.’
‘I’ve some photos to show you in my case.’
Eve wheels the trolley in and parks it next to her mother. Anna pours coffee into the cups and hands one to Eve. Eve passes it to Shimon.
‘Did you call her Eva after me? I’ve always wondered.’
‘I guess, in a way. We liked the name, but we also wanted something that would … link our families, keep up the continuity.’
‘So I’ll expect Benjamin for the new baby, right?’ says Ben with a grin. Shimon laughs.
‘Might not be so appropriate if it’s another girl. We’ve got a few ideas, but we’ll have to see what he or she looks like. We did think maybe Samuel for a boy.’ He looks questioningly at Anna. She glances at Ben, who is stirring his coffee with concentration.
‘What a lovely idea.’ Anna takes out her handkerchief and blows her nose.
‘Daddy would have been very pleased, don’t you think, Ben?’ she says.
‘Well, maybe he would. We can’t really know that.’
* * *
In the park Anna links arms with Shimon and adjusts her step to his. Eve has gone to see a former school friend, and Ben says he has a paper to read at home. Anna is glad of the time alone with Shimon.
‘You must miss Sam very much, Mamma.’
‘I can’t tell you how much I miss him. I can hardly comprehend the reality. Sam gone? How can it be – my Sam not here? Sometimes I think of all the possible years ahead, and I wonder if I can really bear to live them without him. But what can I do? I have to live without him, unless I throw myself under a bus. I have no choice.’
‘I didn’t know him for very many years, but he was one of the most lovable human beings I have ever encountered, a very special man.’
‘Yes he was. Oh God, Shimon – “was”. How I hate talking about him in the past tense!’
‘What will you do?’
‘Do? I really don’t know. Sam gave meaning to everything I did. Without him … nothing really seems to matter to me. I’m still giving conversation lessons at the high school of course – that’s been an important routine. I like the children, though they’re terrors, some of them. Also, right now, with Ben and Eve at home, there’s always something to do, something to think about. Just practical things: wash clothes, shop for food, cook meals, make some favourite cake to please one of them. But soon, what will I do?’
T
hey pause, watching a squirrel nibbling a remnant of sandwich next to the pathway. It notices them and hurriedly stuffs the last corner into its mouth before scampering up a tree.
‘For some people, their faith gives them great comfort and strength, but I’m not a religious woman. In time, I may develop some new interests, but at the moment it’s hard to feel motivated to do anything. I can’t seem to concentrate on anything.’
‘You know you have an open invitation to come and stay with Mom, and with Rachel and me, whenever you want, and for as long as you want.’
‘That’s very sweet and I’ll certainly come, after a while. I’d love to meet Eva, and the new little one when he or she comes. I am so blessed with loved ones over there: Esther and Reuben and the girls, you and Rachel, Yael and Hal. Yes, it would be wonderful to spend some time in Boston again. But right now, I think I need to be here. I want to be available for Ben and Eve. They’re both going through a difficult time themselves, of course. I do so want to see Eve settled, to have a direction. Study, work, marriage, whatever. I feel she’s a bit of a lost soul at the moment. She doesn’t know what she wants, except that she doesn’t want to live here at home, with me.’
‘I can’t bear to think of you being on your own and lonely in the house.’
‘The house is fine. Sam and I loved it, but we thought we’d have longer in it together, much longer. Without him I’ll be lonely anywhere. It’s not as though I haven’t got company; Ben and Eve won’t be far away, and I have some good friends. People here have been very kind – and you know dear old Della is coming to stay for a fortnight soon.’
They sit side by side on a bench and stare at the ducks and swans drifting on the pond. ‘Also, you wouldn’t believe how much there is to do, all the business to complete when someone dies. I absolutely detest it, but I suppose it keeps me occupied.’
‘If there’s any way I can help you with the business, or anything else, just let me know.’
‘Thank you, my darling. I’ve got a good solicitor. Sam’s brother Humphrey recommended him. He’s very kind and supportive.’ She pauses and turns to him. ‘There is something you can help me with though, something I’ve been thinking about for some time.’
‘Oh?’
‘Shimon, the time has come to tell Ben and Eve the truth, the whole truth. Of course it has. I know you felt I should have told them years ago, and perhaps you were right. I’m not sure I managed the partial revelations very well the last time. They were both very angry with me. This time I want us to speak to them together. You and me.’
‘Really? Are you sure this is the right time? You said yourself this is a difficult time for them. They’re both still pretty raw about losing Sam.’
‘I’m not sure there’ll ever be a perfect time. I already indicated to Eve that I have important things to tell her. I didn’t really mean to, but it just slipped out. I can’t go on putting it off for ever.’ She grasps his arm and pulls him round to face her. ‘Surely this is exactly the time when they would both benefit from having an older brother?’
‘However you want to handle it, I’ll do my best to help.’
* * *
After supper, they remain sitting around the dining table, talking and drinking wine. Shimon’s presence has changed the dynamics in the family; the atmosphere is more relaxed. Ben, Eve and Shimon are discussing music, laughing as they tease one another, each denigrating the musical tastes of the others. Anna watches them silently for a time, gathering courage to introduce a very different topic of conversation, not wanting the light spirit of the evening to be totally destroyed.
‘I need to tell you something,’ she suddenly blurts out, her voice raised above theirs. All three faces turn towards her. ‘It is something I hinted at to Eve the other day.’
No one speaks; they watch her. She feels a knot gather and churn in her stomach and her hands begin to tremble, but there is no going back now.
‘About six years ago, I took you two out for a meal. You will remember how I told you something of what had happened to me, many years ago as a young woman.’ She pauses, a heavy silence descending. Then, as if they might need clarification, she adds: ‘I told you how I had a baby and gave him up for adoption. At the time, you found it difficult to hear that news. I think you were angry with me for revealing faults, and angry that I had not told you about them sooner. Children do not always want to hear about their parents’ frailties and imperfections. Perhaps I shattered some of your illusions.’
‘Mum,’ Ben interrupts her, ‘what an idiot I was at the time …’ Anna raises her hand to stop him.
‘You were still very young,’ she continues. ‘I hope that over the years, you have both come to terms with what I told you, and feel that it was at least right that I told you. Now that you are older and more experienced yourselves, you may have learned greater insights into the complexities of human relationships, and into what happened to me … and some of the reasons why.’
Ben looks around at all those seated at the table, his face betraying a struggle with puzzlement and uncertainty. ‘So did you tell Shimon all about it too?’
‘Shimon has known about the baby … for a long time. In fact, I want to tell you more about that time and that baby, and I have specially asked Shimon to be here with us today.’
Both Ben and Eve look from Anna to Shimon, their faces clouded with anxiety, and perhaps the beginnings of suspicion.
‘As you know, my first son was born in 1935, and for reasons I have already described to you, he was immediately removed from me and taken to his adoptive parents. What I did not tell you before is that those adoptive parents were your Aunt Esther and Uncle Reuben.’
Ben and Eve stare at Anna. Ben looks white. Eve gasps and covers her mouth with her hand. Tears flood her eyes and roll down her cheeks, leaving trails of mascara. Ben clasps his hands together in his lap and looks down at them, frowning.
‘You see, the baby I gave birth to, was … is … Shimon.’
There is the sound of another gasp, an intake of breath, a soft sob, followed by a long silence. Shimon reaches out to hold Anna’s hand. After a few moments, Ben, his eyes glistening, says quietly, ‘So Shimon is … our brother?’
‘Yes, he is your brother. Or strictly, he is your half-brother.’
‘So why the pretence? Why the secrets? Why did you pretend he was our cousin?’ Eve is barely in control of her voice.
Anna shakes her head, and looks at Eve beseechingly. ‘You may well ask. The timing seemed so important to me … now I wonder if the pretence and concealment was pointless. Perhaps I was terribly wrong.’
Shimon reaches out his hand and opens his mouth to speak. Anna raises her hand to stop him and nods slowly.
‘It was very difficult to know when to tell you, how to tell you. I had only outwardly acknowledged Shimon as my child in 1957, remember, after my stay in hospital at Ellwangen. You have to realise, Sam knew nothing about him until then. Once I told him, it was Sam who helped give me the strength and confidence to make contact with Esther again, and with Shimon.’ Anna presses a handkerchief to her eyes.
‘You were both still very young. Ben was getting used to boarding school … being apart from the family. I did not feel you could deal with the knowledge then. Later, when I told you part of the story, you were teenagers. We had not long moved to a completely new environment in England. Eve, you hadn’t really settled at school – you didn’t know quite who you were and where you belonged. I was afraid the sudden entry of a brother into your lives was more than you could cope with at that time, either of you. The last thing I wanted was for you to feel … displaced.’
Ben looks steadily at Shimon.
‘Had we been displaced?’
‘Not at all. If anything, finding Shimon again, after burying him inside me for all those years, intensified my love for you. It was as though a part of my heart that had almost been frozen was freed, was thawed. Of course, I have always loved both of you more than I can say. From the
moment you were each born, you brought me – and Sam – indescribable joy. Yet, at the back of my mind was always the knowledge of another child. I can’t pretend otherwise. I longed for that child; I yearned for him. Perhaps that longing sometimes inhibited my relationship with you, but I never, never loved you any the less, not when you were children and not now.’
Ben stands up and walks unsteadily around the table. He opens the curtain and presses his forehead against the cool glass of the window.
‘I think … I think there is a part of me that has known this for some time,’ he says slowly, his back to the room, ‘or at least, has sensed it. Not the details, and maybe not consciously … but it just feels like … a kind of confirmation.’ He turns and looks at the gathering. Shimon stands and pushes his chair back. He strides towards Ben, his hand outstretched. They clasp hands and then pull each other close, into an embrace. Eve gets up too and touching her mother’s arm with her fingertips, she draws her hand gently around her shoulder and then approaches her brothers. They open their arms to include her in the embrace. Anna watches them, crying softly.
In turn, each of her children return to the table, hug and kiss Anna and sit down again. Ben picks up the bottle of wine, still half full, and offers it to the room.
‘Shit, Ben, I could do with something stronger than that. How about the rest of you?’ Shimon mops his face with his napkin.
‘Not for me,’ says Anna, ‘but there’s a bottle of Sam’s whisky in the sideboard.’
They talk for hours, pausing only to move to the armchairs after a while. By two in the morning all are exhausted and variously drunk. For once, the debris from the dinner table is left unwashed and ignored.