by Jos
Papa put his arms around her and hugged her close. He smelled of wood and sawdust. His wet beard brushed her face. “Shhh, don’t cry, Becky,” he whispered gently, trying to calm her, “don’t cry.”
She looked up. Was his face wet with tears? Couldn’t be. Must be the snow melting down his face, she thought.
“We must go home. I’ll speak to the foreman.” Moments later he came out, carrying a clean sack which he draped round Becky’s shoulders.
“This’ll help to keep you dry,” he said, keeping his arm round her.
They struggled along, heads bent low against the driving snow. Becky suddenly realised that Papa hadn’t been angry. In fact he’d been kind and gentle after her outburst. He couldn’t really have shouted at her when she was in such a state. Maybe she’d be in for it when they got home. She didn’t care anymore. After all this time, she’d finally had her say.
Once inside the building, they passed their own door and went on upstairs.
“Where we going?” Becky asked, surprised.
“To Mrs Lazarus. I think she wanted to see you. Is that okay?”
Becky was too tired, too cold and too wet to answer.
Mrs Lazarus took one look at them dripping on the doorstep and threw up her hands in horror.
“Oy vey! Just look at you both!” she gasped. “You poor things! You must be frozen! Quick, quick, come inside. Take off your boots and wet things. Hershel,” she called out, “put some more coal on the fire. Mirrie, get me some towels. Let me dry your hair, Becky. The tea’ll be ready in a minute.”
Later, when Becky was warm and dry, she looked around the room. Papa was sitting, like her, in stockinged feet, sipping hot tea and munching biscuits. He was talking quietly to Hershel. Had they met before? There was another curious thing too. Papa seemed, well, sort of comfortable, just as if he was at home. She couldn’t make it out.
Mirrie’s eyes were sparkling as if she was bursting with news. Well, if it’s about your mother and Hershel, Becky thought bitterly, I don’t want to know. I wish he’d never come. She bent down to examine a hole in her stocking. She sat up with a start when Hershel spoke to her.
“I feel I know you already, Becky,” he smiled. “I’ve heard so much about you from Hannah and Mirrie.”
Becky blushed. She didn’t know where to look.
“We have you to thank, Becky,” Hershel went on, “for making us all so very happy. Your father must be very proud of you.”
“Proud of me? Papa? I…I…don’t understand,” she frowned.
“I wouldn’t have missed this happy occasion for the world,” Hershel beamed. “I’ve just written to my wife to tell her the good news.”
“Your wife?” Becky mouthed the words. Her voice didn’t seem to be working.
“Oh, Hershel,” Mrs Lazarus interrupted quickly, “you’re confusing the poor girl. Let me explain my dear,” she said, taking Becky’s hands in hers.
“I came down to speak to you earlier on, but you’d gone out. Your Papa agreed that I should tell you and he has kept his word,” she said, smiling at him. “Becky, your Papa and I are going to get married and…and I…we hope you’ll be happy for us,” she beamed.
“Hershel thought I’d already spoken to you,” she went on, “so I can’t blame him, but he’s quite right, Becky,” she said sweetly, “we do have you to thank for bringing us together! Switching the cholents was a brilliant idea!” she laughed.
Becky’s mouth dropped open and stayed that way. She looked from one to the other in amazement. They looked so happy, it must be true, she thought.
“But, but…” she gasped.
“No buts, Becky, my very own matchmaker!” Papa laughed as he hugged her. This time there really were tears in his eyes. Tears of joy. “There really are no buts at all!”
Flat 74 Rothschild Buildings,
Brick Lane,
Whitechapel,
London.
Sunday 27th December 1908
Dear Mama,
At long last all my dreams have come true! Papa and Mrs Lazarus are going to get married! I just couldn’t believe it at first, but it’s true. We’ve all been laughing and talking, especially Mirrie and me.
Papa and Mrs Lazarus got to know each other after I’d introduced them and during all those weeks when I was ill. Mrs Lazarus used to come here every day and Papa too when he could.
Trust me to get everything wrong! I thought Hershel wanted to marry Mrs Lazarus. I knew they were old friends, but I didn’t know he was married! He came over to see her and brought some insurance money, whatever that means. I think her husband paid into some fund and when he died the money was left to her.
Then I made two big mistakes. Papa met Abe Klein to tell him he was going to marry Mrs Lazarus, not Mrs Haffner! The second was about Rabbi Meyer, who asked Papa to help find a job for the father of a poor Jewish family who had just arrived from Russia. It had nothing to do with wedding plans between Papa and Mrs Haffner!
Mrs Lazarus wants me to call her ‘Hannah.’ She seemed to know that I couldn’t call her Mama. She said that a stepmother can never be the same as a real mother, but she will love Yossie and me like her own son and daughter. We just hugged and kissed each other and cried a bit too.
We had a little party here this afternoon. Hannah looked radiant. (A Miss Bennet word). She had her hair done up in coils on either side of her head. Mrs Kaminsky, Auntie Essie and Hester have been mad busy baking. Bubbe helped a bit too. Mirrie and I borrowed plates and glasses from the neighbours and Meg came to help us.
“What’s that everyone keeps sayin’?” she asked me.
“Mazel tov. That means congratulations,” I told her. So she went round to everyone and wished them mazel tov. Meg’s such good fun – a real godsend!
Papa and Hannah are getting married soon, before Hershel goes back to America. They want him to be one of the two witnesses at the wedding ceremony. The best news is that Hester is going to make new dresses for Mirrie and me. She’s got some ladies’ fashion magazines and we can choose the style! And guess what? We’re going to have our very first pair of shoes! Well, we can’t go to a wedding wearing boots can we? We’re so excited. Yossie’s happy too. Uncle Joe will make him a new jacket and trousers and Hannah has found him a very nice Hebrew teacher, so he doesn’t have to go to that awful cheder any more.
Hannah wants to use some of her insurance money to rent a house. That way she’ll have more room for her dinner customers. Mirrie and I will share one room, Yossie will have his own room and Bubbe will have one downstairs because of her bad legs.
I plucked up courage and decided to tell Hannah all about the hole in the herring barrel, ‘cos it’s always been on my mind. She asked me very nicely to apologise to Mrs Haffner, although it was a long time ago. I didn’t want to, but I couldn’t say no could I?
Mrs Haffner was very nice about it. She forgave me on the spot and immediately started to shovel some biscuits in a bag for Mirrie and me. She leaned over the counter and whispered: “At last Abe Klein’s got me a good match. He had to go all the way to Manchester to find Morris. He’s a widower from a good family. He’s going to sell his shop and run this one for me.”
We wished her mazel tov and just as we were going out of the door, she called out. “I’ve just got a new barrel of herrings in, Mrs Lazarus. Do you want some? For you they’re half price!” Mirrie and I just managed to get out of the shop before we burst out laughing. Hannah said she was very pleased for Mrs Haffner, she hopes Abe Klein gets well rewarded for his trouble. He’s earned it.
Now – for the Secrets Of My Heart. I’m not mad or anything like that, in fact I’m very happy, but isn’t it just typical that the way things worked out with Papa and Hannah, I was the last to know!
God bless, Mama.
Yours faithfully,
Becky Feldman.