Ishmael's Oranges

by Claire Hajaj

  ‘Yallah, Mazen,’ he called back over his shoulder, and Salim saw his old friend flinch at the command.

  Mazen paused for an instant, turning around towards the huddled Al-Ishmaelis. Salim saw his hand move outwards towards him, the fleshy palm open. And the thought came that the boy he’d known was still there, trying to reach beyond all this with an apology.

  But the hand kept rising, and as Mazen touched his finger to his forehead Salim recognized the salute at once. It was the obeisance that a worker gives his master, the grateful thanks when the wages were handed over. And as Mazen’s smile broke out, more confident now, Salim knew that the boyhood jokes had finally become real. He was the fellah with his hand out, and his masters had just given him his last payment.

  The envelope and its pitiful contents nestled in Tareq’s briefcase on the long, slow journey home, along with the now useless title deeds. Tareq talked during their weary drive, working hard against the persistent silence in the car. He came up with solutions and strategies, court battles and cases they could put.

  Abu Hassan grunted and nodded his assent. But Salim knew it was just for show. His father had acquiesced to fate. The world would have to go on, and Salim would have to find a new place in it.

  As they pulled up into the little, dark garage Salim was overwhelmed with a desire to see his mother, to feel her soothing hand on his forehead. He raced up the dim flights of stairs, through the sweaty heaps of dust, and burst into the flat calling, ‘Mama! We’re home!’

  Nadia came rushing out of the kitchen, a wet cloth in her hands. She was holding it in a strange way. ‘Hey,’ he said. ‘Where’s Mama?’ She did not reply. A disconnected part of his brain realized that she held a wet tissue, and not a dishcloth at all. Her body and face seemed wrong too. Her eyes were red and her face bloated. She reached out her hands to him but he backed away, suddenly terrified.

  Turning around, he ran into his mother’s bedroom shouting, ‘Mama! Mama!’ The room was dark, with the curtains closed. But even in the dim light Salim could see the gaping holes of open, empty cupboards where once clothes had hung.

  He pushed past Nadia’s reaching hand, tearing into the bedroom he shared with Rafan. The small box of Rafan’s clothes was gone. The blanket they’d shared for all these years was missing too, along with the old duffel bag that Salim had brought from Jaffa.

  His legs gave way and he fell onto Rafan’s stinking mattress, nausea filling his throat. Now I understand you, Mama. She had known how it would go. She had known they would fail. After years of pretending to belong to them, she had left at last.

  ‌

  ‌1959

  Returning from Shul one afternoon, Dora called her husband and daughters together to make a grand announcement.

  ‘Judit’s going to have a Batmitzvah!’ she said triumphantly, one manicured hand reaching down to pinch Judith’s chin. ‘I talked to the Rebbe and he agrees completely. Hymie and Martha’s girl had one last week, and there are at least three more planned this year.’

  Gertie clapped her hands, and Jack said, ‘Okay, well, if you think so, why not? She has a year to get ready, after all.’

  Judith stood stock still in horror. Her eleventh birthday had come and gone almost unnoticed, to her great relief. The thought of reading the Torah in front of dozens – maybe hundreds – of Doras and their yarmulked husbands sent a chill of fear down her spine.

  ‘But Mummy, everyone will be looking at me,’ she said. ‘I can’t read in front of all those people.’

  ‘Of course everyone will look at you,’ was Dora’s breezy reply. ‘And why shouldn’t they look, a smart young lady like you? Think of your Bubby, how proud she’ll be! And your sister too, who never got to do such a thing.’

  She swept away into the kitchen. ‘We can make all the arrangements later, Jack,’ she called cheerfully. ‘It won’t be a big thing, nothing like the shindig that brother of yours put on for Tony. Just family and a few friends, you know.’

  Judith looked helplessly at her father and Gertie, who gave her a kind smile and a ‘what can you do?’ shrug.

  ‘Do I have to?’ she whispered.

  ‘Oh Judit, love, it’s a wonderful thing.’ Her sister was beaming through the dark-rimmed glasses pressed around her round face like a cage. She straightened them with one hand and touched Judith’s cheek with the other, fingers soft as warm bread. Outside of Dora’s hearing range, Jack leaned over to whisper, ‘These Batmitzvahs – I don’t know why girls should bother, to be honest. But it’s an innovation, and your mother’s a real innovator, God bless her.’

  Rebecca also thought it was a fine idea.

  ‘In my day, people would have laughed at a coming-of-age for girls,’ she said, rubbing the back of Judith’s neck. ‘All we knew is that when you got your bleeding, you were old enough to marry.’ Judith blushed – Dora had sat her down for the excruciating ‘talk’ just a week or so before. ‘Barmitzvahs were only for the boys. I never had this privilege, nor did Gertie, nor did your mama. So times have changed for the better, mommellah.’

  ‘I don’t see why it’s better,’ pleaded Judith. ‘What if I can’t learn all the verses, and I get it wrong?’

  Rebecca smiled. Her faded red hair peeped out of her blue scarf and her deep green eyes were full of life.

  ‘Don’t worry, my little love,’ she said. ‘Every child is frightened of growing up somehow. Even the goyim children are afraid. But you are luckier than them, because now you know exactly on which day you can stop being afraid – the day you put down the Torah scrolls and the Rebbe blesses you as an adult.’ She leaned forward and took Judith’s face in her hand, as frail as a butterfly, and squeezed gently.

  ‘This is a special honour, my Judit. It means you take your place as a woman among your people. So chin up, little one, and be brave. Be a mensch!’

  Kath was all disbelief at Wearside. ‘It sounds mad, Judy-Rudy!’ she said as they lined up for Mr Hick’s whistle, against the echoing clamour and splash of the pool. ‘I’d be wetting me pants. But why didn’t you tell your mam about the bloomin’ Tryouts? You’re the best in the Club, you’ll make the Juniors for sure.’

  Being chosen for Sunderland’s North-East Junior Swim Team seemed a far higher honour to Judith than being chosen by God. Wearside’s Tryouts were coming up fast and Judith was practising to exhaustion, coming home late with wet hair and sore eyes to avoid Gertie’s questions; she was burning through the Club’s target times. The Junior Team was her secret hope, a desire so fierce it frightened her. After her last race Mr Hicks had nodded as she emerged gasping from the water, saying, ‘You’ll do.’

  She squeezed Kath’s arm, sad to think that after this summer they would never sit in the same classroom again. The Eleven-Plus was looming; Jack and Dora had their hearts set on Bede’s Grammar School. Kathleen’s mother had never even heard of it, and Kath was as likely to qualify as to fly to the moon. But they’d promised to stay friends. Blood pact, Kath said, as they’d cut the tips of their forefingers with Molly’s razor and pressed the red beads together.

  ‘Stop gassing, you two,’ Mr Hicks yelled. ‘First time trial for Group One. On my mark. Remember, I want flying fish, not beached bloody whales.’

  Judith stepped forward, her toes curling over the slick tiles of the pool edge, feeling the pull of the water below. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Kath blush and wave at someone. She just had time to see a tall red swimming cap and ice blue eyes a head above her, before the whistle sent her into the water.

  Instantly the world faded into the silence of blue bubbles, the blissful cool flying past against her skin, the extraordinary rush linking her disconnected limbs, heart and legs and breath pounding out the same rhythm. Go on! someone was shouting, and between the beats of breath she felt the words rather than heard them. Go on, Judith! Fight for it! The wall loomed ahead and she reached with all her heart; her fingers touched the edge and she burst to the surface – but as she gulped in her first full breath she
saw blue eyes smiling down at her, and realized the tall girl was already taking off her red cap. As Judith floated there, flushed and swallowing down air, the girl leaned over to whisper, ‘Sorry, dolly,’ before pulling her long body out of the pool and setting off towards the changing rooms.

  ‘Never mind,’ said Kath as they dried themselves later. ‘You’ll still be in the first Tryout group. They’re taking two from the first.’ Judith looked down. She had expected to win the first group; she’d been depending on it.

  Kath nudged her arm. ‘Look, Judy – she’s coming. She’s so cool, I promise.’

  Without the cap, Judith recognized her instantly: Margaret Smailes – or Peggy S as she called herself, like the Buddy song. An outbreak of tonsillitis at school had made Peggy Kath’s new deskmate two weeks ago, and Kath was already smitten.

  Peggy was a head taller than the rest of the class, with straight, strong legs under a shorter than regulation skirt. At school she was always trailed like a comet by giggling girls. Now her white ponytail hung long and wet down her back and her fingers glowed with varnish. Judith could see gold draped in a chain around her neck.

  Peggy pointed a white finger at her. ‘So Kitty K, this is your other friend, right?’

  Kathleen grinned and said, ‘Right, this is Judy.’

  Judith shifted awkwardly, hotly aware of her bunches and brown socks.

  ‘Who’s Kitty K?’ she asked.

  Peggy laughed. ‘Can’t you guess? It’s Kitty Kallen, from the movies.’ Peggy reached out to Kathleen’s wild hair. ‘She’s sooo gorgeous with all those lovely brown curls. My mother says that she can’t be a great actress because she’s just a cheap American. But I think who cares if you’re that glamorous, right?’ Her white shirt was open revealing damp patches on a budding cleavage and a heart-shaped pendant sticking to her skin. Judith thought she saw the lace of a bra, and found she was nodding her head along with Kathleen.

  ‘So you’re Judy, right?’ Peggy peppered her sentences with ‘rights’ like bullets; it was impossible to do anything other than agree with her. ‘Judy’s not your real name, though, right? I saw it on the register. You’re Judith, aren’t you? You’re one of the Jewish girls. It’s okay, you can tell me.’ Her voice was warm and friendly but Judith felt a cold wind. No one had ever called her a Jewish girl before, except for Dora. She glanced at Kathleen, who smiled and said, ‘She is, but she’s super cool. My best friend, aren’t you, Judy?’

  ‘All right then. Well, I think we can do better than Judith, for such a cutie, right, Kitty K? I don’t think you look like a Judy. What about Jude? You could be a Jude, right?’

  ‘That’s a boy’s name,’ said Judith automatically.

  ‘What, that’s so hip. Don’t you want to be hip, Jude? You’re already such a dolly with those blonde little bunches.’ Peggy was looking at her, head on one side with a perfect, white smile. Suddenly Judith’s spirits lifted, her nerves ebbing away like a kite taking to the air.

  ‘Okay, I like it,’ she said.

  ‘Great!’ Peggy gyrated her hips like she was doing the twist on Crackerjack, her head up to the sky and eyes closed. ‘Kitty K and Jude, super swimming pals!’ And she squeezed Judith’s arm affectionately, as Judith blushed and giggled back.

  For the next few weeks, Judith felt like she’d fallen in love. Peggy was the single most fascinating person Judith had ever met. At twelve she was already the kind of person Judith dreamed of becoming when she grew up. She knew how to wear their school uniform to make boys turn their heads when she walked by – how to be sweet and mean in just the right balance. She knew other things too, things they hadn’t yet imagined. She knew ‘all about’ men; she had a boyfriend, a secret she whispered to them, who was sophisticated and gave her beautiful presents like the diamond pendant lying over a red mark on her throat. A hickie, she said. Her only flaw was on her nails – red, bitten cuticles that she covered with varnish.

  Under the bright glare of Peggy’s self-assurance, the shadow of Judith’s own anxiety began to retreat. Peggy taught her not to care about anything, not even the Eleven-Plus. She was going to private school next year regardless of her results – and promised to write a letter every week for them to read. ‘I told Daddy that I wanted to go to one for debutantes in London, but he said he just can’t bear to be so far away from me,’ she sighed, fingering her necklace. When Judith suggested they might go to visit her, Peggy doubled over with laughter, her skirt riding up her legs.

  ‘Oh, Jude, what a card! You’re going to come to my school! I’ll leave a note on the door to make sure they let you in, right? Ha ha ha.’ And she howled again, Judith joining in with the rest even through a little pain inside. Peggy was funny like that; when Judith had slipped at the poolside yesterday and fallen splayed into the water Peggy had started calling her Jude the Jellyfish.

  She talked to cousin Tony about it when he came up for Passover dinner. ‘She’s my best friend,’ Judith told him. ‘She’s pretty and lots of fun.’

  ‘Is this the one your mother calls a shiksa goddess-in-waiting?’

  ‘They only saw her once at parents’ evening, so she doesn’t know what she’s talking about.’

  ‘And have you met her family?’

  ‘No,’ Judith hesitated. ‘They’re rich, I think, like you.’

  Tony laughed. ‘Listen, being rich doesn’t make you one of the fellas, particularly if you’re a jay ee double-you. They don’t let our sort into country clubs, you know. I got my share of grief at school too.’

  You don’t understand, Jude thought. None of them did. To them she was just a little Jewish dumpling, shaped by Mama and Papa to be swallowed up one day by Jewish mouths. But to Peggy she was someone else. Someone in her own right.

  The week before the Junior Tryouts, Judith finally got Dora’s grudging go-ahead to miss half an hour of Hebrew class. Peggy was excited, Kath oddly morose. Peggy had taken to hugging Judith and saying, ‘I’m SO thrilled we’ll be swim teammates next year, little Jude.’ She knew they were the first and second place in the class, that Kath must be jealous, but still she couldn’t help her own triumph shining through. She was on the cusp of something sweetly, truly hers – an evolution of her half-formed self into a fullness she couldn’t explain but longed for with all her heart.

  The Tryouts were on Monday. Judith was prepared for her world to change forever. Even the threat of the Batmitzvah faded in the brightness of her excitement.

  On Friday Peggy S gathered them all by the school fence at lunchtime and told them she would be hosting a pre-Tryout party for her special friends.

  ‘I’m going to miss you all soooo much next year!’ she said, putting her chin into her hand like a movie star, her mouth pink and open. ‘Daddy’s printing special invitations for all of you. There’s only one rule – everyone has to come as someone glamorous. Kitty K, that should be no problem for you, right?’ Kathleen grinned and squirmed as Peggy reached out and stroked her wild black hair. Her other hand took hold of Judith’s, her palm as smooth as a china plate.

  ‘And what about my little Jude? Can you come as someone glamorous too?’

  ‘Who should I come as?’ asked Judith anxiously. She was the only one without a Peggy name from the world of music or film.

  ‘Goodness, Jude, it’s not for me to say. Just make it up! Right? Be your own person!’ She squeezed Judith’s hand and turned to her other acolytes, leaving Judith to worry about who her own person could be.

  Peggy’s father drove to the school in a silver Jaguar to drop off invitations for all the girls, and Peggy distributed them on Friday at school. Judith’s had Jude written on the front of the card, with a dark swirl of balloons and hearts underneath.

  Inside it read: Sunday 12 noon. Judith’s Hebrew class was at noon too, she remembered. She was struggling with the readings and the Rebbe had said she needed extra help. Could Dora be persuaded to let her skip it just this once?

  At the end of class, Peggy was packing up her desk with Kath
leen’s help. She flashed Judith a bright smile as she approached, hesitant. ‘What’s up, little Jude?’

  ‘Peggy, can I come late to the party?’

  ‘Why on earth would you do that?’

  ‘It’s at the same time as my Hebrew class. My mother already said yes to the Tryouts, she’ll never agree to this too.’ Judith heard a couple of giggles behind her. Peggy looked aslant at Kathleen and Judith thought she saw Kath give a small, secretive smile back.

  Peggy was looking at her now with the half-smile still on her face.

  ‘Hebrew class! Wow. Exciting. We wouldn’t want you to miss that, right? If you’d rather go to that, I don’t mind at all.’

  ‘No, no,’ said Judith. ‘I want to come to yours, but…’ she tailed off as Peggy slung her bag onto her shoulder and started walking out of the door. The tall, sharp line of her back was like an exclamation mark. In the doorway, she paused, the ponytail bobbing by itself for a second, before she turned to look over her shoulder.

  ‘If you want to come, then come, Jude,’ she said. ‘Be your own person. I so hope you do.’

  Judith watched Peggy leave the room. Kath was still pushing books into her bag. Judith tried to catch her eye, but Kath’s blue ones seemed determinedly downcast. ‘They’re a posh crowd, Judith,’ she said all of a sudden, squaring her shoulders as she yanked up her bag. ‘Maybe it’s for the best if you’ve got other things on.’

  At Sabbath dinner Judith broached the subject of missing Hebrew school for Peggy’s party.

  ‘Absolutely not,’ Dora said. ‘Twice in one week, forget it. Don’t you know your Batmitzvah is coming up? Rebbe Geshen says you’re already behind with your reading. First this swimming and now partying – what’s got into you?’

  ‘I’ll do even more next week, I promise,’ Judith begged. ‘Please, Dad?’ But Jack just shook his head and said, ‘Listen to your mother, pet.’