Almonds and Raisins

by Maisie Mosco

  “If you paid a bit more attention to Nat and a bit less to Sammy they’d both be better off.”

  David stiffened. “What do you mean?”

  Didn’t he realise how cold he was to his little brother? And the way he went on with Sammy! “Sammy doesn’t have to sit at home just because he’s lame, does he?”

  “I wouldn’t let him. But how can I bring him to a dance to perch on a chair watching everyone else waltz past him?”

  “It’s no different from seeing other people walk without a limp,” Miriam said bluntly. “And Sammy doesn’t need bringing, he can go anywhere he wants to by himself. You’re stupid, David.”

  David let go of her hand abruptly and the delicious excitement with which she had awakened that morning disappeared. “Why did you have to spoil things?” she said resentfully.

  They stopped walking and looked at each other across the barrier which had inexplicably risen between them.

  Miriam could see Helga and Saul waiting for them on the corner. “My sister’s lucky having a boyfriend who never upsets her. I’ve been looking forward to tonight for ages, to wearing my new dress and everything and now you’ve ruined it all!”

  “Who has? What am I supposed to’ve done!”

  “What does it matter? You’ve done it now, haven’t you?” Miriam’s eyes blazed like twin emeralds as her temper rose. “And you’re glaring at me as if it’s my fault!”

  “You’re doing your share of the glaring, love! I had something important to finish off at the factory tonight, but I left it until tomorrow to take you dancing and this is what I get for it!”

  “You and the factory!”

  “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

  “The way you stay late every night. Anyone’d think your father owned it, not Saul’s!”

  “I happen to be the kind of person who takes his job seriously.” A bitter note entered David’s voice. “Even if it’s a job I don’t enjoy. It’s the only way to get on.”

  “That’s all you think about! Getting on!” Miriam flashed. “Well go and finish whatever you were doing, then. You don’t have to take me to the dance, I’m going home!” She burst into angry tears and fled back along the street, her cloak billowing out behind her.

  David stood reeling with bewilderment, as if he had received a short, sharp blow to the chin. He could not think of anything he had said or done to provoke such a furious onslaught.

  Helga and Saul had retraced their footsteps. “What did you do to upset her?” Helga asked reproachfully, halting beside him.

  He laughed shakily. “What makes you think it wasn’t the opposite way round?”

  They heard Miriam cry out as she slipped on the ice and lost her balance. “Don’t you come near me, David!” she sobbed as they hastened to her assistance.

  David stopped in his tracks and watched Saul and Helga lift her to her feet and steer her along the treacherous pavement. Why was she treating him like a leper? Confusion churned within him again as he turned and walked away.

  He spent a sleepless night thinking about it, but was no less confused the next morning.

  “What was all that about?” Saul inquired in the workroom.

  “You tell me! She just let fly at me out of nowhere.”

  “Miriam’s always been what they call temperamental, hasn’t she?” Saul reminded him.

  “Sure. But not with me.”

  Saul shrugged. “So for once you got a dose of what everyone else gets when she feels like giving it to them. She went straight to bed last night, without even explaining anything to her parents. I suppose they thought she’d come back because she fell on the ice.”

  “And where did they think I was? In hospital with a broken leg?”

  “You know the Moritzes. They don’t ask questions.”

  “With her for a daughter, it’s as well they don’t!” David flared.

  Saul looked upset. “It isn’t off between you two, is it? Helga couldn’t get a word out of her.”

  “How do I know? When I’ve no idea what I’ve done.” David kept his voice steady, but the prospect his friend’s question had conjured up made him tremble. The outburst had occurred when he’d been talking about Sammy. Was Miriam jealous of his concern for his brother? Fed tip with the way he often brought him along and took it for granted she wouldn’t mind?

  “You’re not feeling well?” Salaman asked when he saw him staring morosely into space.

  “I’m fine,” David said tersely. What right had she to get him into this state! He tried to concentrate on the stock list he was compiling, but anxiety alternated with anger throughout the day. All he could think of was Miriam.

  “I’d have it out with her if I were you,” Saul advised when he was putting on his coat to go home.

  “Don’t worry, I will!”

  By the time he reached the Moritzes’ house the anger had cooled and all that was left was the anxiety. He was glad it was Helga who opened the door. Miriam might not have let him in.

  She was in the kitchen with her parents, who behaved no differently from usual. Except that Sigmund suddenly found he had something to do in his workroom. And Rachel asked Helga to go upstairs with her to look for something she had mislaid. The Moritzes were the essence of tact, not like Sarah Sandberg who would have wanted to know what was going on, David thought dryly.

  Miriam continued to stare into the fire, which she had been doing since he entered the room.

  “About last night,” he said in his direct way.

  “Let’s not talk about it,” she replied.

  “Look at me, Miriam!”

  She lifted her head but did not meet his eyes.

  “I want to know why you suddenly lost your temper with me. It’s got something to do with Sammy, hasn’t it? Only you always used to care about him the way I do. What’s happened?”

  “Nothing’s happened!”

  David could see a pulse throbbing in her neck as she strove to remain calm. “But suddenly he gets on your nerves and you don’t want him to go out with us anymore. Is that it?”

  “I didn’t say that, David.” You’re the one who gets on my nerves, she wanted to tell him. Treating Sammy as if he’s different from other people, just because he’s lame.

  David rose from his chair and went to stand beside her at the hearth. “Get whatever it is off your chest and have done with it,” he said tensely.

  The strong face she knew so well was contorted with emotion as his eyes searched hers questioningly. How dear he was to her. How much a part of her life. But one word too many and he might not be anymore. Last night she’d spoken her mind impulsively and this frightening confrontation was the result. He wouldn’t take kindly to being told what he couldn’t see for himself. She had always sensed this and been careful not to risk it. Now she had proved it and must try to be even more careful in the future.

  He saw the secret thoughts flickering in her expression. “Well?”

  “I don’t know what came over me.” She took his hand and held it against her cheek, staring into the fire again to avoid his gaze because she had lied to him. “Let’s pretend it didn’t happen. I want us to be happy and never have another quarrel.”

  Relief that he had not lost her surged over David. Everything’s all right, he thought gratefully. There was a good deal he could not see for himself in those days.

  Chapter 2

  “If I have to look at just one more khaki garment!” Abraham exclaimed as he tripped over a pile of them in the kitchen.

  Sarah and Esther raised their eyes from their sewing, then their fingers flew fast again.

  “We see enough of those buttons being sewn on in the factory,” David told them.

  The war was only a few weeks old, but orders from the military had started pouring in months before it began. The workroom could not cope with them all and in company with other manufacturers Salaman was handing out sewing for the women and young girls to do at home. The extra earnings were a godsend to the immigr
ant families, but a sense of satisfaction was present, too. They were helping England to win the war.

  “I bumped into Lazar Lensky and Berel Halpern today,” David said. “They’re home on leave.”

  “Their poor mothers haven’t had a night’s sleep since they joined up.” Sarah began sewing on another button. “Hannah Lensky looked dreadful when I met her in Radinsky’s. I just hope the war’ll be over before they start calling boys up, then you won’t have to go, David.”

  “A nice way for a Jewish person to talk! What would the goyim think if they heard you?” Abraham chided her.

  “They feel the same, you think they’re made of stone? Mr. Pickles is dreading his grandson going, he said so last Shabbos when he came to stoke the fire.” Sarah looked at Abraham accusingly. “You want your son to get killed, God forbid?”

  Abraham looked at David and shuddered.

  “Lazar and Berel were marching down Bury New Road as if they owned it,” David said. “Showing off their uniforms.”

  Sammy looked envious. “So would I if I was a soldier.”

  A lame leg has its compensations, Sarah thought. Sammy would never have to be one.

  “I’d love to wear a uniform,” Nathan piped up.

  “Me too,” Sammy sighed.

  “Well I wouldn’t!” David declared vehemently. “Though it’s on the cards I’ll have to. Nat’s only a kid, Sammy, but you’re fourteen, you should have more sense. Remember the Cossacks?”

  “Don’t mention those barbarians!” Abraham said with another shudder.

  “Why not, Father? We’re talking about wearing uniform and killing’s what it’s all about.”

  Nathan looked shocked. “Will Lazar and Berel have to kill people?”

  “If they’re told to,” David replied grimly. “They’re in the Infantry and I could be put in it, too, because we came from Russia and the Russians are England’s allies in the war. If Carl gets called up, he won’t have to stick a bayonet in anyone, he’ll get put in a Labour Battalion because he’s from Austria so they won’t let him carry a weapon.”

  “Why should they treat him differently?” Abraham asked. “His father is naturalised, like me.”

  “I don’t know why, but they do. Maybe they think if it came to it he’d help the Germans and Austrians.”

  “He won’t help anybody, because they won’t make him a soldier, he’s got bad eyes,” Sarah said practically as she fastened off a stitch.

  “Would all a person’s blood come spurting out if someone stuck a bayonet in them, David?” Nathan asked looking sick.

  “What do you think?”

  Abraham looked sick, too. “A nice appetite my sons are giving me for supper! You’ve had time to cook something, Sarah?”

  “Since when did my family not come first?” she retorted biting off the thread and putting down her needle. But the chance to boost their income could not be neglected, either.

  Esther looked at her father reproachfully. “You know Mother gets up an hour before the rest of us to prepare something for supper.”

  “All right, so I shouldn’t have said it! Let’s eat already.”

  Sarah went to the oven to take out the big stew which had simmered all day whilst she sewed. These days there was more meat in it, as there was in all the ghetto stewpots, but how hard everyone had to work for it. She was not surprised that her husband was irritable when he came home from the factory at night, he had only two extra pressers to help with his much-increased load.

  Salaman had raised his employees’ wages to encourage greater effort, a piece of astuteness which had not passed for generosity in their minds. The cash he must by now have in the bank was the subject of constant conjecture, but it was never discussed in the Sandbergs’ home; Abraham would not allow it. He was the only one who did not begrudge Salaman his wealth. What else did the poor fellow have? Counting his blessings as the family ate their meal together in the cosy room, he was not envious. “You’re going back to the factory tonight, David?” he asked and sighed when David nodded. His son had a dynamo inside him which would not let him rest.

  “If my boots are dry enough to put on!” David joked. He had taken them off when he came home and could see them steaming in the hearth. “I could do with a new pair, Mother,” he said with his mouth full. “We can afford to buy them, now.”

  “And the money won’t be there when we need it later,” Sarah replied.

  David stopped chewing and looked at her. Lately, he had worked such long hours he had not had time to think. It occurred to him now that despite their increased income, the family’s standard of living had not changed. Other families had bought new clothes and some were refurbishing their homes. The Sandbergs still had only one mirror in the house. What was his mother saving so carefully for?

  Sarah saw the unspoken question in his eyes. “Nobody should know what we’ll need money for better than you, David,” she said quietly.

  Nathan was eating his meal, but listening to every word and sensitive to the atmosphere, which had suddenly grown tense. Sammy and Ester had put down their forks and were watching David.

  Abraham gave his wife a warning glance, but she did not heed it.

  “What happened to my eldest son won’t happen to my youngest,” she declared with feeling. The thought of what David might have been, had his education not been cut short, still taunted her.

  “What happened to you, David?” Nathan asked apprehensively.

  “Be quiet, Nat!” Sarah snapped.

  “I’m your youngest son, I want to know what might happen to me.”

  “To you we won’t let it, don’t worry.”

  The child was not convinced and became hysterical, kicking and screaming. “Tell me, David! I want to know!”

  David’s face had gone chalky white.

  “Such a highly strung this little one is, bless him. A genius he’ll be,” he heard his mother say as she went to comfort Nathan. But her voice sounded far away and a mist was floating before his eyes. He got up and left the room.

  “Don’t be upset, David!” Sammy called from the foot of the stairs, but he ignored him and flung himself on his bed, the resentment kindled in him four years ago, which he had tried to stamp out, flaring anew. His mother’s words had brought everything back to him, the happiness of his Bar Mitzvah day and the way it had ended. He looked up and saw Nathan standing in the bedroom doorway.

  “Mother says she’ll keep your supper hot for you,” Nathan said in a subdued voice. He gazed at David appealingly, as if he was begging forgiveness for upsetting him.

  David did not reply and the child went away, dejectedly.

  His chance of becoming a solicitor had been lost due to Nat’s birth and now his mother had revealed that most of what he earned at the factory was being hoarded for Nat’s education. He lay back on the bed trying to make himself accept it. It went against the grain to let his mother do this to him, but what was the alternative? Leaving home? A split in the family? He would probably have to leave soon enough to join the army. Going for any other reason, apart from marriage, couldn’t be contemplated.

  He sat up and rubbed his unshod feet, which felt like blocks of ice. He could never be a solicitor now, no matter what. Why had it meant so much to him? Because there was a special status attached to it, as well as money. Money to buy his way out of the ghetto, to a life like the Forrests lived. His mind began racing, reasoning it all out. The status of a professional man he could never have, but money was within anyone’s grasp if they had the brains to acquire it. The shrewdness and industry. The will to make what it could buy theirs. All these things he had and nobody could take them from him. Not even his mother, whom he loved in spite of everything. He would prove what was in him, to her and everyone else. When she cut the ground from under his feet she’d said life was doing it to him and this was true. It was wrong to blame her, she was just life’s instrument. Wrong to blame Nat.

  A kaleidoscope of scenes in which he had hurt or ignored his li
ttle brother shimmered into his mind and settled into shame. He had made the child suffer for something which was not his fault. The eroding resentment left him and something positive sprang into its place; he would make it up to Nat, help to give him his chance. Everything would be different from now on.

  He did not return to the factory that evening, but undressed and got into bed and fell asleep immediately. Nobody detected the change in him the next day, it revealed itself gradually. His feelings about Nathan had softened, but his attitude to life had hardened irretrievably.

  Chapter 3

  “Nobody’s got a succah as nice as ours!” Nathan exclaimed excitedly to his mother.

  “Except us,” his friend Lou contested. “Nat and me’ve been round peeping in everyone’s backyard, Mrs. Sandberg.”

  Sarah was in the kitchen, making her honey cakes for Succoth. It was the first Harvest festival of the war and ingredients were still obtainable in the shops. “When I was a little girl in Russia, we had a garden and my father used to build a succah big enough for the family to live in, the whole seven days, like you’re supposed to,” she told the two children.

  “Will God forgive us for not living in ours?” Nathan asked her.

  Sarah glanced through the window at the small lean-to David and Sammy had erected to commemorate the departure from Egypt, as Jewish families did all over the world, every year. She smiled at Nathan. “God doesn’t expect the impossible.”

  “The big one at shul, where we have a nosh after the service, is beautiful,” Lou declared.

  “It should be! Your mother and me and the other ladies spent two evenings getting it ready.”

  Sarah’s next-door-neighbour, Mrs. Plotkin, waddled into the yard and peered into the succah.

  “You like it?” Sarah called through the window.

  Mrs. Plotkin came into the kitchen and eased her weight into a chair. “Mine has red apples and also a bunch of grapes,” she replied.

  “But no oranges,” Nathan said triumphantly.

  “A competition it isn’t.”

  Sarah laughed. “But who would know it? So how’s by you, Mrs. Plotkin?”