Chocolate Girls (43 page)

On his first visit without Frances and Edie, he had felt uneasy, disloyal to them. Not that the visit was a secret. But it was the extent to which he
wanted
to go that bothered him. He could hardly contain his excitement all week at the prospect of being back with these people again. He didn’t want Edie or Frances to know how he felt for fear of hurting their feelings. He knew Edie was struggling to be brave about it. Had she expected him to find out the few crumbs of information available about his past, then walk away? None of them could have predicted the strength of his attraction to what he had found, and as the weeks went by this became even more powerful than his feelings of guilt or disloyalty.

That first time they were alone, Esther Leishmann was very direct with him. As they sat with their cups of tea and the cakes with seams of nuts and cinnamon running through them, she sat up straight in her perfectly fitting suit, placed her feet tidily together and said, ‘So, David. You know a little about your mother. You know that she was Jewish. When your mother is Jewish, that makes you Jewish. You understand that, don’t you? You are a Jewish boy.’

The way she said it made David feel as if he had found himself a member of an exclusive, magical club. He felt proud, chosen, at that moment, because these people seemed to want him to feel proud of what he had discovered about himself.

That day, also, she said to him, ‘You know, I did not want to say this in front of your . . . mother. In front of Edith. But your real mother, she called you by a different name. You want to know, David, what is your name?’

Heart pounding, almost as if something terrible was about to be revealed, he nodded.

‘You were called Rudi. I do not remember if she chose a second name for you – perhaps after your father, Hermann. But your name for the first year of your life was Rudi Mayer.’

David swallowed. Rudi Mayer. ‘Do you know when I was born?’ he asked.

Esther stirred her tea, considering. ‘Not for sure – Joe, do you have any idea about this?’

Joe Leishmann shrugged. ‘I’m afraid women remember these things better.’

‘Let’s see,’ Esther mused. ‘1939 . . . Ah, now, yes! At the time of Hanukkah she had you with her. You were not newborn then – you were perhaps six weeks, two months old? I don’t clearly remember. As I told you, I didn’t know her so well.’

Since then, David felt as if he was living a secret life inside his head. If Hanukkah was early December he must have been born some time in October. What day though? That night when he was alone in his room, he sat at his desk in a small pool of light from his lamp and wrote over and over again on a sheet of paper,
Rudi Mayer, Rudi Mayer, Rudi Hermann Mayer
. He wrote the names of his parents, Gerda Mayer, Hermann Mayer. He stared at the frayed edges of the lampshade in front of him on the desk. Who am I? he thought. David Weale felt like one person, and Rudi Mayer quite another. David Weale was born on 19 November 1940. It felt as if Rudi Mayer had been born that day, last October, 1955, when he had first met the Leishmanns, leaping into the world fully grown yet utterly bewildered. The conflict burned inside him through those weeks, a combination of acute pain and pleasure which sometimes made him weep in the privacy of his bedroom.

This afternoon, sitting in the cosy room as the wind rattled the windows, Mr Leishmann looked at David over his glasses, with unusual solemnity.

‘I have some news to tell you, David. One moment.’ He got up and left the room for a moment, returning with a letter, which he held up solemnly and said, ‘From Berlin.’

He sat down beside David on the couch, and exchanged the spectacles he was wearing for his half-moon reading glasses, tucking the others into the breast pocket of his jacket. David’s heart began to thump so hard he laid his hand over it. Mr Leishmann had been given the address of a rabbi who had, as a young man, survived the camp at Theresienstadt and returned to Berlin. Few Jews had stayed in ruined Berlin, but the rabbi was one who decided to remain and help unite the remaining community, and to answer just such inquiries as theirs from scattered survivors. David had asked Mr Leishmann to write to him. Although he was quite good at German, he felt Mr Leishmann would do a better job of addressing a rabbi. He had not truly expected a reply though. People said that six million Jews had been killed during those years, as well as all the upheaval and deportations. How could they possibly expect to find one man? And Mr Leishmann had written the letter nearly three months ago. It seemed like a dream that there should be a real rabbi in Germany who might know something about his father!

‘Now,’ Joe Leishmann said gently. Esther sat still, watching David’s face with a kind of knowing protectiveness. ‘Rabbi Litthauer has written to us. I will read it to you, eh?’ He laid a hand reassuringly on David’s thigh for a moment. Haltingly, translating as he went along, he read:

David’s pulse began to race as Joe Leishmann read the letter and by the end he felt he was going to burst from the mingled feelings inside him. But he contained himself and listened with absolute attention.

‘So—’ Joe Leishmann folded the letter and handed it to him. ‘This is yours now. You know what it means, to make
aliyah
?’

David shook his head. He knew nothing about anything. He was a complete ignoramus!

‘It is when a Jewish person makes the journey to live in Israel, to the land of our fathers. All of our ancestors, David, yours and mine. And now, that is to where your father has gone.’

Unexpectedly, and to his enormous embarrassment, David burst into tears.

Ruby was to leave the country at the end of January. All through the months before, she was full of nothing else, as were the girls. Marleen though, having nearly given up on getting David to take any notice of her, was indignant at his complete lack of interest in the new life ahead of them.

Edie, whose mind was also elsewhere, preoccupied with David, found Ruby’s one-track obsession rather trying, especially as she was the one being left behind – by everyone, it seemed.

‘You can come out and visit us,’ Ruby told her, during one of the dinner breaks at work. Some of the other girls in the factory were all agog to hear Ruby was moving to America. But then they weren’t going to miss her as much as Edie. Especially as they were working together for the time being, putting Milk Tray chocolates in with the Easter eggs. Ruby’s job was to slip the eggs into their bright display cartons. ‘You’ve got to come. I want you to meet Carl and you’ll love America!’

‘Oh I don’t know about that . . .’ To Edie, the thought of flying across the Atlantic was almost beyond her imagination.

‘Go on with yer! You can save up the fare and come and see me and the girls. Course—’ Ruby stood up, brushing down her overall, ‘Carl’s paying for me and the girls. He might be able to pay for you as well, later on.’

Edie went back to work, heavy-hearted. She couldn’t help resenting this Carl Christie whom Ruby thought so much of, for taking her friend away from her, however much Ruby seemed happy.

What’s up with me? she thought. I don’t like the way I’m carrying on at the moment. I can’t seem to find a good word for anyone. She could barely admit to herself how jealous she was of the Leishmanns and all the time David was spending with them, especially that dressed-up mannequin Esther Leishmann. She knew perfectly well Esther Leishmann was a kind-hearted person. And they had been so good to Davey. But they had started taking him off to the synagogue on Saturdays as well as his visits to their house every week. And he seemed so excited, so full of life these days. He talked very little about it though, she couldn’t draw him out on the subject, and she felt excluded and angry. What was it the Leishmanns could give David that she never could? And now here was Ruby full of her new start. Edie was feeling insecure and jealous. And now these emotions even extended to Frances!

A few days ago, a letter had come from Janet from Ibabongo. They had been intending to come home ‘“for a furlough” as the missionaries call it’, Janet wrote. ‘But Martin is so busy, and there is so much to be done that we still can’t see how we can get away for a break of more than a few days.’ Both of them were working flat out, with the maternity wing, the leprosy hospital, the school. Would Frances perhaps consider coming out to visit them in the Congo instead?

Edie’s first reaction was to think this a preposterous idea. From Janet’s descriptions of the journeys she and Martin had made to reach the village, how did she think Frances could possibly manage at her age? But Frances seemed quite taken with the idea.

‘I think I could cope,’ she said. ‘I shouldn’t want to have to walk for hours at a time, but I don’t imagine I should have to. It would be marvellous to see them and the work they’re doing, and it doesn’t sound as if they’re going to manage a trip here.’

So even Frances was making plans for a future which didn’t include her! Oh, I’m so silly, Edie thought, hating the bitter feelings which rose up in her. A few days before, she had met one of the volunteers from the WVS whom she ran into from time to time.

‘Still here, are you?’ she’d said. ‘Still in the same place?’ The words seemed to taunt her.

The night before Ruby’s departure with Marleen and Greta, they all gathered at her house in Glover Road. Her suitcases were already packed and lined up in the back room and the house looked bare and rather sad. Ethel and Lionel were there and they all drank Ruby’s health and wished her luck.

‘You get yerself settled in, bab, and I’ll be over!’ Tearfully Ethel grinned round the room. ‘We’re not letting a chance like that slip by us, are we, Lionel?’

As they left that night, Edie and Ruby hugged each other tight.

‘I wish you weren’t going,’ Edie said miserably. ‘I really do. I wish everything could stay as it was.’

Ruby laughed through her tears, holding Edie tight. ‘You can’t ask the world to stop turning, Edie. You have to move with it. Now you get yourself a passport and get over to see us, eh?’

With final kisses and good wishes they left for home. Walking up Oak Tree Lane with Frances and David, Edie went on ahead of them in the winter night, lit by a slice of moon. Even the night air felt suddenly different, as if she was breathing in the scent of change. She had thought things would just go on, year after year. She had clung to the security of Frances and the home she had offered them while she was bringing up David. She had thought the three of them would always work at Cadbury’s, always be there together. That she and Ruby would always be Ginger and Cocoa. And in months it had all changed. Her friends were scattering and she had watched her son fall in love in front of her eyes with something she could barely understand. He was moving ahead in his life. She was the one who had stayed still.

She was full of poignant thoughts that evening. How many years would Frances live for? How long would David be at home? All this time she had lived in the comfortable certainty of other people, barely looking at her own life. Still here. Yes – still here. So what do I do now? she thought, as they reached the brow of the hill in the moonlight. What can I do with my life now?

‘So – have you got everything, d’you think?’

They stood in the front room of Frances’s house, David’s suitcase and shoulder-bag waiting by the door.

‘You’ll never manage with just that, will you? What about that jersey – did you put it in?’

David tutted fondly, shrugging into his coat. ‘Yes I did – I know Israel’s cold in January. But I’m only going for a few months – not for ever!’

That was not how it felt to Edie.

‘You will be all right, won’t you?’

He came up and put his hands on her shoulders. Her long, thin boy, much taller than her now. How she loved him! They had eaten a farewell meal together last night, just the three of them, and it had felt so good-natured, so close at last, after all the turmoil they had passed through.

‘I will. Don’t fuss. And I’ll write very often. You know I like writing letters. I’ll miss you, but I’ll be back very soon.’ Seeing the tears welling in Edie’s eyes, he hugged her. ‘Look . . . Mom. It’ll be OK.’