Almonds and Raisins

by Maisie Mosco

  “Would you mind, David? I mean she’s got to marry somebody, hasn’t she? And you know I’ll look after her if she’ll have me.”

  The humility in his brother’s voice brought a lump to David’s throat. Sammy was prepared to be second best, to marry the girl David had discarded and would be grateful for the crumbs. “I’m not entitled to mind, am I?” he said gruffly.

  It was David who told the rest of the family and he did so in a manner which made it clear that he approved.

  “He hasn’t got her yet, David,” Sarah said to him in private. “And in some ways I’m hoping he doesn’t.”

  “You think it could cause trouble, don’t you?”

  “It couldn’t?” Sarah asked eloquently. “How will you like it to see her struggling on the wages Sammy brings home? He’ll never be a good earner.”

  “He works for me now,” David reminded her. There would be no struggling for Sammy and Miriam with David to watch over them; he had already decided that.

  But it was not yet “Sammy and Miriam.”

  Chapter 10

  When David awoke on his wedding morning, which was also his twenty-sixth birthday, his first thought was that he would not be receiving a book from Sigmund Moritz. He leapt out of bed when Nathan came into the room carrying an oblong package.

  “It was on the front doorstep, David. He must’ve got up very early to put it there before we were awake.”

  There was no doubt in their minds about what the package was, or from whom.

  “Open it, Nat.” David was too overcome with emotion to do so himself and could not speak when he saw the beautifully bound volume of Shakespeare’s complete works. On the fly leaf, a simple message was inscribed in Sigmund’s meticulous handwriting: “Good luck, David, in all you set out to do.” His old friend bore him no malice.

  “Can I come to your house and read it whenever I like?” Nathan asked excitedly. He rushed downstairs to tell the family about the latest addition to David’s library.

  David looked at the orange-box bookcase, now empty. He had packed his books with his clothes last night, ready to be taken to his new home. Bessie had asked him to move all his things before the wedding, but he had refused. The finality of it was something he wanted to put off, part of the inner rebellion he still felt. He glanced out of the window at the leaden skies. The weather matched his mood.

  Sammy was sitting on the bed, silent with sympathy. The admission of his love for Miriam had not damaged the brothers’ relationship, but had inexplicably drawn them closer. If David had suddenly taken it into his head to leave Bessie waiting at the synagogue and elope with Miriam, Sammy would have aided and abetted him, putting his own feelings aside, and David was aware of this.

  When they went downstairs the atmosphere befitted a funeral rather than a wedding. David’s attitude to his marriage, matter of fact at its best, peppered with moody outbursts at its worst, made light-headedness impossible. His parents were subdued as they dunked their bagels into their tea and Nathan and Ben munched theirs mournfully. David was not allowed any food, orthodoxy decreed a Jewish bridegroom must fast prior to the ceremony. He sat watching the others eat, feeling like the sacrificial lamb.

  “So what can you do?” Ben said expressively.

  “If anyone else says that to me today, I’ll throttle them!” David flared and got up to polish his new shoes, which did not need polishing.

  “I’m sorry for Bessie if this is how you’re going to be,” Esther said quietly. She was by the fire, nursing her baby. “Such a clever uncle you’ve got, Harry,” she told the infant. “So where’s his sense? When a person makes up their mind to do something they should make the best of it.”

  “Like you and me,” Ben said winking at her. “No use crying over spilt milk!”

  Nathan glanced at David, who had said that to him the day he finished with Miriam. But this did not concern Miriam, it concerned Bessie. “This milk isn’t spilt yet,” he reminded everyone.

  “Hush, Nat!” his mother snapped. She was only too aware that the wedding had not yet taken place and would not breathe easily until it was over.

  David stood with the polishing rag clutched in his hand. Esther’s words had echoed his own philosophy, which he had temporarily allowed himself to forget. He wasn’t the kind to change his mind once it was made up, nor would he vent his feelings on Bessie. Sooner or later the feelings would dissipate as everything did with time and meanwhile he would try to ignore them. There were plenty of other things to absorb him and reorganising the factory, now he was a partner, was number one.

  He thought about this during the marriage ceremony and when he slipped the ring on Bessie’s finger it seemed like sealing a business deal. But he would honour his side of the bargain.

  “How d’you think I look, David?” Bessie asked anxiously in the taxi which took them from the photographer’s to the reception. She was fussing with the orange blossom headdress which crowned her mousey hair and fortunately did not see David’s expression as he surveyed her.

  Her dress was of white crepe-de-chine, with the handkerchief skirt she had promised herself, but she had destroyed its simplicity by having the entire garment encrusted with silver bugle-beads which glittered and gleamed on her massive girth.

  David patted her hand and smiled, words had failed him. But she interpreted this as admiration and was content.

  The reception was at the Cheetham Assembly Rooms, which those who could afford it now hired for weddings and Bar Mitzvahs. A four-course meal was to be served by kosher caterers and Sarah thought she had come to the wrong place when she arrived and saw the size of the gathering.

  “The whole world is here!” she exclaimed to Sammy and stood fingering her brooch with a bewildered expression on her face. In the synagogue she had been too pent up to notice anything, beset by a fear that David might suddenly turn and run. “Where is your father? And Nat?” she asked Esther who had appeared at her side with baby Harry in her arms. “In a crowd like this a person could get lost. Who knows if we’ll ever find them again?”

  Sammy went to look for a seat. His leg was aching and his spirits were low. He had been his brother’s best man as he had promised to be a long time ago, but he had not known then that the ring he would hand to David beneath the marriage canopy would encircle Bessie Salaman’s finger, or that he would one day want Miriam for himself. Today David had renounced her forever, but they still loved each other and he could not rejoice, even though there was now a chance he might make her his.

  Sarah was hemmed in by guests. She could see Mrs. Kletz’s sheitel, and Mrs. Plotkin was talking to Zelda Cohen and Gittel Lipkin a few yards away, but most of the other people were strangers to her. She found herself being suddenly embraced by a large lady in a pink satin frock.

  “Mazeltov, Sarah! In shul I couldn’t get near you, so many people?”

  “Who is it, Mother?” Esther whispered, but Sarah did not have time to reply, she had only just recognized the lady herself.

  “You don’t remember your Auntie Malka Berkowitz, darling, who gave you a bed your first night in England?” She clapped her hand to her cheek as she had when the Sandbergs appeared on her doorstep and blew at the huge osprey which covered her head and was tickling her nose. “Little Esther a mother already and such a lovely baby, bless him! It was only by the red hair that I knew her. How many years is it, Sarah? Don’t tell me, I don’t want to know! So you couldn’t manage to come to my daughters’ weddings, but we haven’t fallen out with you about it, we’ve come to David’s.”

  “Without you and Chaim here it wouldn’t have been the same,” Sarah replied politely. She was as overpowered by Malka’s ripe beauty as she had been years ago. It was now over ripe, but still formidable to a stringy kittle woman garbed in modest grey taffeta and with a plain felt hat upon her silver hair. “So how are Lakie and Bella?”

  “I’m a grandmother twice over now, thank God,” Malka said with satisfaction whilst casting her eyes on the long tab
les, which were set with heavy silver and decorated with flowers. “You’ve put us to sit at the top table, I’m sure?”

  “Where else?” Sarah smiled. She had not forgotten her debt to the Berkowitzes.

  Malka surveyed the opulent room, with its crystal chandeliers and rich velvet banquettes. “Your David’s done a good thing for himself, eh Sarah?”

  “He couldn’t have found a better wife,” Sarah answered hoping it would prove to be the truth.

  “And all that money,” Malka gurgled as she pushed her way through the throng to congratulate the bride and groom.

  This was the Berkowitzes’ first visit to Manchester since their hasty move to Leeds, and Chaim, too, had gained weight.

  “You’re looking very prosperous,” Abraham said when they shook hands, observing the big cigar tucked in his landsleit’s breast pocket.

  “There’s never an ill wind, Abie. You know that one?”

  “From the Talmud it isn’t.”

  Chaim sighed. “These days I don’t have time for laughing fishes. All I have time for is arguing the toss with my staff.”

  “You’re not with your uncle the trouser maker anymore? You’ve got your own place?”

  “I have and I haven’t. Also, I’m with him but he isn’t with me.”

  “Riddles he’s telling me!”

  “My poor Uncle Hershie had a stroke, Abie. He’s paralysed, the whole of one side, we shouldn’t know of it. And he’s only got daughters, two, like me. It runs in the family. And his sons-in-law?” Chaim had to mop the perspiration from his brow at the mere mention of them. “One, he’s only busy backing the gee-gees all the time. The other? Him I won’t even talk about! My poor Auntie Lottie is worn out with the worry and with nursing Uncle night and day, so she has a chat with me. ‘Listen, take what you need for yourself and your family, Chaim,’ she says. ‘I trust you to run the business, only don’t let it slip down the drain.’ Could I say no to her? I said yes. So now we’ve got a nice house in Chapeltown.” He patted the gleaming watch chain which he had not owned when he left Manchester. “And one or two other little things also.”

  “Who’s that enormous man talking to your father?” Lou asked Nathan. “I sat next to him in shul and he smells under the arms.”

  “My family lived with him and his wife when they first came to England and I bet you won’t believe this, Lou, they had to sleep on the parlour floor.”

  “So did my parents, you shmuck! Nearly everyone had to when they first came.” Lou scratched his pimply nose thoughtfully. “It wouldn’t surprise me if half the lads in our Bar Mitzvah class were conceived on someone’s parlour floor.”

  The two boys were standing on the fringe of the gathering, resplendent in the Manchester Grammar School uniforms which singled them out as young geniuses in the eyes of the immigrant community. Nathan was glad he had been allowed to invite Lou, or he would have had nobody to talk to. They could see David having his hand wrung by guest after guest.

  “I wouldn’t go through it for a king’s ransom,” Nathan declared.

  “You mean for King Salaman’s mines, don’t you?” Lou quipped.

  Nathan blushed. It had not occurred to him that anyone outside the family had realised why David was marrying Bessie.

  Lou changed the subject, but it sounded to Nathan like a snide insult to Bessie. “Your mother looks very nice.”

  David had told Sarah that the black wool dress she wore on the Sabbath would not do and she had not argued with him, though she had worn it for Esther’s wedding. Esther’s blue crepe was new, too, but not as splendid as many of the guests’ outfits.

  “Mrs. Schneider the dressmaker’s been busy,” Esther said handing her baby to Ben and adjusting the flounce over her stomach. She was pregnant again.

  “Sigmund Moritz also,” Abraham sighed. He had just escaped from Chaim and was eyeing the array of pinstripe suits. “You can tell his cut a mile off.”

  “Why’re you bringing the Moritzes into it today?” Sarah averted her gaze from her husband’s distressed countenance. The Moritzes were the last people she wished to be reminded of. “So who are these fancy ladies and gentlemen?” she asked brushing her own distress aside. “I hardly know a soul at my own son’s wedding. Salaman must be meshugah to feed all these strangers!” She glanced at a group of men standing with drinks in their hands. “Whisky he’s giving away, too!”

  “He wanted to give his daughter a good send-off,” Abraham placated her.

  “I could think of better ways to spend so much money.”

  “And David also,” he lied diplomatically, recalling how Salaman had ranted when complaining how much the lavish celebration David had demanded would cost.

  “Most of the people you don’t recognise are customers at the factory and their wives,” Ben told Sarah with a shrewd smile. “David said he was going to invite them. He’s got his head screwed on all right, believe me!”

  “So why didn’t you tell me before?”

  “Could I get a word in?”

  Sarah began to enjoy herself. Such a good business head David had, getting on the right side of the people so they’d buy from him instead of his competitors. With personal relationships she knew he would never schmooze someone for what he could get out of them, her children hadn’t been brought up that way. But to swell your livelihood it was another matter.

  When they sat down for the meal, she smiled at the Gentile waitress who was standing behind her chair and almost tumbled off it when the girl addressed her as “madam.”

  “This I don’t believe!” Chaim Berkowitz boomed from along the table. He was gazing down at the hors d’oeuvre which had just been put before him. “Malka and me shlep all the way from Leeds to come to a wedding, and no smoked salmon!”

  “Blame David,” Bessie called to him. “It was him who decided what we were going to have.” Her father was seated beside her and was also looking at his plate. “All of a sudden you don’t like chopped liver with olives and tomato, Dad?”

  Salaman picked up his fork and began eating. But he had seen David glance at him through narrowed eyes and knew, as David had intended he should, that the absence of the expensive delicacy meant his new son-in-law had not forgiven him for the way he had treated his dead son.

  Between courses, Eli and Issie came to have a word with David and Abraham and displayed the new deference which David’s alliance had acquired for the Sandbergs. The president of Salaman’s shul came to shake Abraham’s hand, too, though he had done so twice already, and offered to co-opt him to the committee if he would like to join their congregation, which boasted many wealthy manufacturers.

  “I wouldn’t leave the Habimah for a fortune,” Abraham told him. “All my friends are there.”

  “So maybe you’ll be making new friends from now on, eh? Come, I’ll introduce you to my wife. Mrs. Sandberg, too. You haven’t met her yet.”

  “After the lemon tea I’ll come,” Sarah smiled seeing the waitresses approaching with their loaded trays. But Abraham allowed himself to be led away, with a bemused look on his face.

  Bessie had gone to fuss with her appearance before the speeches began, which gave Sarah a few moments of privacy with David.

  “Money talks,” she whispered to him. The prestige aspect of her son’s marriage was just seeping through to her.

  “News you’re telling me.” David cracked his knuckles and stared at the tablecloth.

  Sarah scanned his impassive expression. “Try to be happy, David,” she pleaded.

  “Since when does it buy happiness?” he said with an abrupt laugh and went to join his wife, who had paused on her way back from the cloakroom to speak to a relative and was beckoning to him.

  Sarah watched Bessie link her arm through David’s and smile up at him. Marriage drew a man and a woman together, how could it not? Children came along and acted like cement. A family was happiness and David would have that. Without the poverty his parents had known, which love could not always withstand. She ate
some grapes from the large basket of fruit adorning the top table and comforted herself with her own homespun wisdom.

  There was nothing except his new status as a businessman to comfort David, but when Rabbi Lensky, who had been accorded the honour of toasting the bride and groom, rose to make his address, he played his part and slipped his arm around Bessie’s shoulders. It reminded him that tonight he would have to steel himself to do much more.

  “What a lovely way to start a honeymoon,” Bessie grumbled while they waited for a tram to take them to the boarding house in Blackpool.

  Rain was pounding down on them and they could see the huge breakers leaping wildly over the sea wall.

  “The last time I saw waves like that was when we came from Russia,” David recalled. “And I haven’t set eyes on the sea since.”

  Bessie had never seen the sea at all. “I wish we’d got married in the summertime,” she shivered.

  “What does it matter?” David replied and she smiled thinking he meant all that counted was them being together.

  “Everyone says the air’s like wine here,” she told him.

  But David felt the need of something stronger to boost his morale. “We should’ve brought a bottle of booze with us,” he joked half-heartedly.

  Bessie looked alarmed. There was a heavy drinker in her family and she had seen David take a couple of whiskies at the wedding reception. “I won’t let you,” she warned.

  “Won’t let me what?”

  “Get like my Uncle Aaron.”

  “What’re you talking about, Bessie?” David could not remember which of her several uncles this was.

  “A fine time my Auntie Rivka has with him!” she declared.

  Bessie had the kind of mentality which turns molehills into mountains. She could also put together a chain of imaginary events and confound or bewilder whoever had unwittingly provided her with the first link, as she had just done with David. He felt tired and empty. Despite having fasted all morning, he had not eaten much at the wedding, but the emptiness was not just lack of food, it engulfed his whole being.