Chocolate Girls (42 page)

‘So you are Mrs Weale,’ she said. She did not rush to release Edie’s hand.

‘Pleased to meet you,’ Edie said. She felt the woman candidly scrutinizing her, but she saw sympathy in her eyes.

‘And this must be David.’ She took his hand, seeming to do so with a special carefulness, and her eyes lingered on his face, but she said no more then.

‘Now – please come in. Everything is ready. I have been waiting for you.’ She led them into their sitting-room, a rather grand parlour with a marble fireplace and long windows overlooking the garden. Once again the floor was covered by a luxurious carpet, mossy green this time, and the mirror over the mantlepiece, the tables and glass front of the china cabinet all gave off the shine of loving elbow grease. She settled them on brocade chairs. ‘What took you such a long time, Joe?’

Mr Leishmann shrugged. ‘Nadia.’

Esther Leishmann looked fondly at him over the teacups and made a scornful sound. ‘You will never learn how to handle that woman. You know—’ She turned to Edie and the others. ‘He is really like a child when it comes to business.’

‘But you make very beautiful clothes,’ Frances said. ‘Your suit – did you make that yourself? It’s very fine.’

‘You like it?’ Esther Leishmann stood up and turned round to show her. ‘It’s very easy when you know how.’ She gave a conspiratorial smile. ‘From one of the new Dior patterns. I can make one for you if you like.’

‘Oh, I think I’m a bit old to keep up with fashion,’ Frances laughed.

‘No—’ Esther Leishmann looked appraisingly at her. ‘You have style. You know how to dress. I can see that.’

Frances raised her eyebrows at this directness. ‘It’s nice of you to say so. I have always rather enjoyed clothes,’ she admitted.

‘Of course – why not? Now – let us take tea.’ Esther buzzed around energetically, pouring tea into bone china cups on the low table in front of them. There were platters loaded with pastries and cakes, and little plates and cake forks.

‘Come,’ she commanded David. ‘You are much too thin. You must eat. Some of these I made, some are from Drucker’s cake shop.’

They settled with their tea and Esther pressed cakes on them. Edie had a delicious slice of spiced apple sponge. She enjoyed sitting in the splendid room with its long brocade curtains, the cabinet full of china figurines and its view out to the garden. But as they talked for a time about the Leishmanns’ business, David’s schooling and her own job at Cadbury’s, Edie began to wonder how on earth they were going to get round to the subject they had really come to talk about. She hoped Frances would take the lead for her.

But there was no problem. Edie admired the Leish-manns’ directness, because as soon as tea was cleared to one side, Mr Leishmann sat forward in his chair and said gently to David, ‘So – I understand that you have come to us to discover something of your mother?’

David blushed, but Edie was moved as he sat up straighter and said, as if he had rehearsed it, ‘The only mother I have ever known is here.’ He gestured towards her. ‘But I’d very much like to learn about my blood relatives and where they came from.’

Tears came to Edie’s eyes and, agitated, she looked down to hide them. How grown up Davey was!

The Leishmanns both smiled at the reply, and Mr Leishmann said, ‘
Gut.
Well – we can give you a little help, and perhaps it will be possible to discover more.’ He spoke carefully. ‘Esther and I remember your mother, David. In fact we also remember you, as a small baby. Now – let me see, where do I begin, Esther?’

‘You should tell the boy first about his mother,’ Esther sat composedly, feet together in her smart black shoes. ‘That is what he wants to know.’

‘Well – firstly, Esther and I were involved with the Social Club for Refugees at Singers Hill Synagogue. Of course many of the refugees also went to the Central Synagogue. We had left Germany ourselves . . . Ah, but that is another story. At that time, more and more accounts were coming out about how bad things were for the Jewish people. Sometimes as the war went on we could not even believe our ears . . .’ He stopped, shaking his head. ‘We could not accept such things we were hearing . . .’

‘You are wandering, Joe,’ Esther reproached him.

‘Well, one story is always part of another story. Your mother, David, she was a young teacher from Berlin. I can’t pretend I knew her very well, but we first met her when she arrived in the autumn of 1939. I think she was about twenty-four or twenty-five years old. Her husband had sent her away from Berlin, they had somehow procured a student permit for her. Things in Germany were very bad and by the time she left she was also expecting a child – you.’ He laid his hand on David’s knee for a second. ‘He wanted her to be safe even though he could not leave himself. She said he was a chemist, an employee of the government?’ He looked at Esther, who nodded. ‘She was a quiet, demure girl. Very kind, very intelligent. You have her look, David. Now, from what I remember she had been in England a few months . . .’

‘She was in London,’ Esther said. She gesticulated with her hands as she talked. ‘She told me she had first obtained work as a housemaid. They treated her like a slave – very bad food, working, working all hours of the day and night. And very harsh and rude. Of course she was getting big—’ She held her hands out in front of her body. ‘With the baby, and she was very unhappy. Then she met a social worker who helped her and I think sent her to Birmingham – to the home of your friend . . .’ She nodded at Frances. ‘She said the people were Quakers and they were kind to her – even though her English was poor and she had a baby coming. She was very affected by the kindness she received, from Mrs Bowles, I remember that.’

‘When she came here,’ Joe Leishmann went on, ‘she came to Singers Hill and met with others like herself. I have to say it was hard for them – not everyone was so welcoming. I am ashamed to say that our community did not always greet them with its arms open. But of course some people were very kind. And we owe a special debt to the Quakers, and to the Christadelphians – those communities took in many people. Anyway, her life here was not so bad. We did what was possible, they came to
Shul
, there were social evenings and the religious festivals and we gave them whatever help we could. After all, it is not so long ago that Esther and I arrived on these shores and we know that everyone needs a little help.’

Edie watched David. He was completely rapt, waiting for details to fall from Mr Leishmann’s lips like a dog waiting for scraps.

Joe Leishmann’s brow wrinkled. ‘I wish I had more to tell you. You know your mother’s name was Gerda Mayer? She was a sweet girl. Once you were born she brought you to Singers Hill and they arranged your circumcision. But more than that, I don’t think we know anything else, do we, Esther?’

‘Yes, yes, Joe, I talked with her more than you. I know that her husband’s name was Hermann and he had been a chemistry student, but Gerda did not mention to me where he was working. Or if she did I don’t remember. And they attended the Fasenenstrasse Synagogue in Berlin, off Kurfürstendamm. She had taught for two years in one of the Jewish schools and she and her husband had not been married for many months. She wanted to stay with him, but then the pogrom came on 9 November 1938, the night the Nazis called
Kristallnacht
. They make it sound something pretty, no? They attacked the Jewish businesses, smashed the windows, and set fire to the Fasenenstrasse Synagogue. The roof was all burned, it was basically destroyed. So, of course, everyone was
very
frightened. After that they hurried to make arrangements for her to leave. Perhaps he hoped to join her here, I don’t know.’

There was a silence, then David said, ‘And my father?’

Esther Leishmann’s face tightened as if she had dreaded the question. ‘I’m sorry, David. We do not know what happened to him.’

Gently, Mr Leishmann said, ‘It is possible that he survived – even if he went to one of the camps. Possible – he was a young man. But you have to understand it may not be so. So many thousands were taken from Berlin, and so many were lost. You know, it may be possible that we can try to find out, if that is what you would like.’

David nodded, hesitantly.

‘You need a little time to think,
ja
?’

Frances leaned forward. ‘Were you from Berlin yourselves?’

‘No,’ Esther Leishmann said. ‘We are from Hamburg. So unfortunately we do not know well the Jewish community in Berlin. We left Hamburg and came here in 1934 – we could see the direction in which things were going, the laws being passed. Already our children faced restrictions in which schools they could attend. We did not want this for our son and daughters. Just months after we left, the Nuremberg Laws took away the German citizenship of all Jews. We did not know then so clearly as we know it now – but we were saving all our lives when we came here.’

Edie shook her head slowly. Her own fears and feelings seemed petty at that moment against the enormity of what had happened to David’s family. She felt Esther Leishmann’s hand on her arm.

‘This must be a difficult thing for you. We understand that – that you have loved David as your own. You have been a mother to him – and see, what a fine boy he has turned out to be.’

Edie accepted the proferred comfort with a smile. ‘I just want him to be happy – to be settled in his mind.’

‘We can help him,’ Esther told her. ‘And you must not worry. He may find the remnants of a new family. It does not mean he wishes to give up his old one.’

When they showed Edie and the others out later that afternoon, the Leishmanns parted from them with great warmth.

‘You are welcome any time, any time,’ Joe Leishmann said, shaking their hands. ‘And David, you must come . . . Call in at the shop soon and see us.’ Still holding his hand, he pulled David a little closer. ‘And I will find an address for you. I think I know to where we should write.’

One weekend the following January, David made his way to Leishmanns’ Tailors along snow-covered pavements, his coat collar turned up against the freezing wind. He stamped the snow from his shoes on the icy step. Hearing that gentle ‘ting’ as he pushed open the door, he felt his usual mixture of anticipation and slight nervousness at spending time with the Leishmanns – a result almost entirely of his shyness – a young lad with two middle-aged people. Even their son Sam, whom David had met several times, was ten years old than him. At sixteen, feeling his way into adulthood, David often felt gauche and awkward.

Mostly, however, meeting the Leishmanns had been one of the greatest experiences of his life. Closing the door behind him now, he could hear Mr Leishmann’s voice carrying from behind the inner door, then some sharp retort from Nadia. He smiled to himself. The sparring matches between the two of them were a fact of life at Leishmanns’. While he had been a little alarmed at the ferocity of the first disagreement he had seen, he knew that this loud conflict was routine, and that if a chill silence fell over the workroom, that was something far more disturbing.

‘Shalom, shalom!’ Joe Leishmann’s head appeared gleefully round the door. ‘Nearly finished. Then we can go home and have tea!’

‘Tell him to come in here. I want to have a look at him!’ Nadia’s voice boomed from behind him. ‘See if he’s putting any flesh on those bones!’

Mr Leishmann winked. ‘You’re not going to get away today!’

The Leishmanns invited him over now on a regular basis for Sunday tea, after Mr Leishmann was finishing up for the afternoon. With the shop closed on Saturday, their Sunday morning was often busy, though in the afternoon customers were only admitted by appointment, and it was a time when they tried to catch up on the work. David could have gone straight to the house, but he loved to call in at the shop. There was always a sense of something going on – it was so different from home and the quiet gentility of Bournville. It had colour. That was what it was. Somehow he had walked into a more colourful life.

Nadia was standing unrolling a bolt of navy cloth with a thin white pinstripe through it. She wore a swinging black skirt with a tight scarlet jumper tucked into it, a wide black belt accentuating her waist. David was mesmerized for a moment by the sight of her large breasts straining out under the woollen garment and he blushed and tore his eyes away.

‘’Ello there, sunshine!’ Nadia greeted him. ‘Oh, isn’t he a lovely boy? He’s going to have the girls swarming round!’

David blushed even more deeply, though he was getting used to Nadia’s earthy observations. He had learned that she was in her mid-thirties, had married an English soldier she met in Italy during the war, and that she was not a woman of hidden depths. She said more or less whatever came into her head, very often at high volume. She was haughty, hot-tempered and warm-hearted all at once, and despite all their disagreements, she told David that no one could hold a candle to Joe Leishmann for tailoring.

‘But don’t you go telling him I said so!’ she added threateningly.

As Mr Leishmann tidied up his work area, Nadia announced petulantly that she had a home to go to as well and would be leaving at the same time. They locked up the shop and headed out into the snow. The house felt cosy inside, and Esther Leishmann greeted them with the usual spread laid out for tea. David had barely missed a week coming here over the last two months. And he thought about it a great deal of the time. He had begun to find a whole new dimension to his life, to who he was.