The Running Years

by Claire Rayner

  Now Hannah had to move. Dreams sometimes ran away with themselves, always had, even from her earliest days when she had first learned how to comfort herself with the splendour inside her own head, but this was going too far.

  ’Daniel,’ she said, her voice husky again. ‘Daniel, please stop this. And take me home.’

  ‘You can’t. You heard what your father said. You can’t. Anyway, I’ve got other plans.’

  She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. ‘Take me home, please.’

  ‘You heard her, Daniel' Albert said. He moved across the hall towards them, and set one hand on Daniel’s shoulder. He spoke more softly now, so that the other couldn’t hear him. ‘Do me a favour, son. Go, will you? We’ve got too much to do here to cope with, and your mother is in one of her … I'll be home later, we'll talk then.’ He looked at Hannah, and managed a small smile. ‘You look done in, girl. This son of mine, you must forgive him. H doesn’t always let his head take charge of what he’s doing or saying. You must be upset about Mary too. You worked for her a long time.’

  ‘Yes,’ she said. Yes. A long time.

  ‘So, Daniel, on your way. I'll be home tonight, after we’ve settled everything here. I'll talk to you then. Only do me a favour - keep out of your mother’s way for a bit. Go on.’ To Hannah’s intense relief Daniel obeyed. At the front door, he stopped for a moment, and said carefully, ‘Uncle Emmanuel, I wish you long life.’

  Emmanuel, who had started to go back upstairs, looked back at him. ‘What? Oh, yes.’ He went on walking with a very straight back and a certain spring in his step.

  He’s glad she’s dead, Hannah thought. He’s glad. Mrs Chantry, I suppose. Oh, Mrs Mary, I did love you so much. And I never said it properly. Momma, I want you, Mrs Mary -

  She was weeping by the time they reached the foot of the steps outside, great sobs tightening her chest so that she could hardly breathe. Daniel increased his grip on her and waved down a passing hansom cab, for his carriage had gone, and almost lifted her into it and shouted something up at the driver before tucking himself alongside her to put both arms around her and hold her close, letting her weep herself to a state of peace.

  By the time the cab drew up with a jingle of harness at its destination she was in control again. Her eyes were red, but she was calm.

  ‘Where are we?’ she asked.

  ‘The Cavendish. In Jermyn Street' He jumped down and paid the driver and then helped her out. ‘Come on.’

  ‘But I want to go home.’ she said. Please, Daniel. I must go home.

  ‘Later, perhaps.’ He led her up the steps into the hallway of the hotel, a small and very elegant one, and she said no more. This was a new Daniel. There was nothing smooth about him, nothing obliging; he seemed to have a new power in him and she was grateful for it, for she was very tired, now. The past few weeks of her life had been enervating; the loss of her comfort with Mary, the grinding slog at her Uncle Isaac’s factory, and now two deaths so close together that tragedy was almost overwhelmed by absurdity. There was a lassitude in her that welcomed this new and unexpected strength in Daniel, and she yielded to them both.

  ‘Cor stone the bleedin' crows, and what the ‘ell ‘ave we got ‘ere? Looks like somethin' the cat dragged in and was ashamed to drag it out again. What ho, young Lammeck! How’s your old Dad then? And that ‘orse racin' uncle o' yours - what’s ‘is name - Alfred?’

  ‘Very well, thank you, Rosa. That is to say we’ve had a death in the family and everything’s a bit at sixes and sevens. Thought you might be able to hep me.’

  ‘Will if I can, I s'pose.’ She was a tall woman wearing very fashionable clothes over a handsome figure, and she had a handsome face, too. She looked at Hannah with a considering expression, then grinned. ‘Gawd, girl, if you don’t sit down yer goin' to fall down, ain’t yer? Come on. I don’t know what e’s' bin up to but I'll find out soon enough.’ She turned and let the way to the wide staircase. Daniel followed, his arm still around Hannah.

  ‘'Ad a death, ‘ave yer? Bad luck, that. Anyone I know?

  ‘My Aunty Mary.’

  She sniffed, ‘Oh, that one. Emmanuel’s missus , poor cow. Well, I don’t suppose ‘e'll cry for long over ‘er, not with Nellie Chantry to keep ‘im comfortable.’

  ‘Ye Gods, Rosa, is there anything you don’t know?’

  ‘Not much. Not when it’s got to do with the nobs, and your lot’s nobs, ain’t they? Friends o' the King, an' all that, and got more of the ready than’s good for any man. Still, they're not a bad lot, a some of you Jews go. Civilized like. I’ve known a few, I can tell you. ‘Ere you are. Tuck ‘er up in ‘ere, and I'll send up a bit o' something to eat later on.’

  She led them into a large bedroom decorated in soft blues and greens. Hannah registered mirrors decorated with great curving carved lilies on the frames and cabinets with similar curves and swathes of curtains and patterned wallpaper. It looked and smelled like a haven of comfort.

  ‘Who’s that?’ Hannah said when Rosa ad gone, more out of shyness than because she really wanted to know. It felt odd to be here, in a bedroom, with Daniel.

  She turned away to the window, pulling her shawl off her head as she went. ‘Rosa Lewis? Don’t you know her? No. I don’t suppose you do.’

  Daniel didn’t seem at all shy, standing beside the fireplace. After a moment he bent and set a flame to the prepared paper from a box of Vestas in his pocket. Soon the cheerful crackle of burning wood filled the room.

  ‘She’s a great character. Best cook in the world - does all my mother’s parties and nearly everyone else’s besides. Runs this place, too, very select, very distinguished, and very easy going. If Rosa likes you, she doesn’t ask questions.’

  ‘And if she doesn’t?’

  ‘You don’t get over the threshold. Hannah, come and sit down. Rosa was right. You do look done in. Come and rest, my dear child, and - ’

  ‘I am not your dear child.’ She said it in a tight little voice.

  ‘No, I'm sorry. it’s just that you look at the moment like - ’

  ‘Nor am I … nor are you going to … ‘ She stopped and he laughed.

  ‘Marry you? but I am. I’ve set my mind to it.’

  She turned ad looked at him then, still in the window embrasure so that her face was in shadow. He looked very sure of himself standing there with one arm resting on the mantelshelf, and the firelight lifting his cheeks to peaks and shadows.

  ‘You're supposed to be engaged to Leontine. You told me. There was a notice in The Times.’

  ‘What’s that got to do with anything? I did it to please my mother. There seemed no reason not to. You’d gone, and it was all too boring and anyway, she nagged so. And Leontine’s harmless enough, you know. Pretty girl, and all that. So I thought, why not?’

  ‘And now your thinking, why not me, is that it?’

  He was silent for a moment and the he held out his hands to her.

  ‘No. Its not as easy as that. I … it seemed so right, you see. When mother was going on and on, I suddenly realized that that was what I wanted. I’ve never gone in for thinking much, Hannah, never had to, you see. I mean, there was always everything there. Mama can be so, well, she’s a very organized person, usually gets what she wants. So she told me what I wanted and I believed her. I’s easier that way. But then you seemed to change, when I came to Aunt Mary’s. You were different. That was why I came so often Didn’t you know?’

  ’Don’t be stupid.’ Her voice was a little unsteady. ‘How could I known anything? Your aunt’s servant.’

  ‘Oh, don’t start that nonsense again,’ he said impatiently. ‘It’s boring. Hannah, I truly love you, you know that? You … oh, I don’t know what it is. You make me feel good. That’s why I told them I was gong to marry you. Please, don’t make a liar of me.’ He smiled, but he looked anxious.

  ‘It’s crazy,’ she said. ‘Quite crazy. I'm just - who am I to marry you?’

  ‘A nice Jewish girl, he said, and grinned. ‘B
elieve me, my mother'll come round. She was always worried that I might marry out of the religion. I think that was why she got so set on Leontine in the first place. Someone safe. you know. That and her money, of course.’

  ‘I’ve no money,’ she said, and wanted to giggle. ‘I could ask my father, I suppose. Good father are supposed to find a dowry for their children, aren’t they? He might manage a couple of bagels … ’

  Daniel grinned even more widely. ‘That’s better,’ he said softly. ‘That’s much better. Come, Hannah, admit that you like me. You do, don’t you? That’s why I first noticed you, I think. You used to sit there with your sewing in your lap sending out messages.’

  ‘Messages? I? I did no such thing!’

  ‘But you did, my little love, you truly did! You sat there thinking I was marvellous, didn’t you? You can’t deny it - I used to feel it. Thats why I first noticed you, you see. It’s why I love you now.’

  You can make things happen just by wanting them, she thought, and stared at him in the firelight. You can make thing real by making them false first. You jut sit and ream, and make pictures in your head and if you do it with enough power and wanting the dreams get solid and move out of your head and into real life. Suddenly she was frightened. She loved him and she was frightened. She wanted Mary, she wanted Momma …

  Again she was crying and this time he came and picked her up and carried her across the room to put her on the bed, then sat beside her stroking her as she wept and wept, soaking the silken coverlet with her tears, and somewhere deep inside herself, almost bursting with excitement.

  32

  It was inevitable, of course. Her highly emotional state and fatigue, and his excitement and enormous self esteem at having successfully imposed his will on his mother, and the blue-green room in its firelight, with its sensuous curves and rich fabrics, were too much for them. They were too close together on that bed for it to be otherwise.

  He was kissing he wet face, and kissing her again and again, and she was responding with a warmth she didn’t know she had in her. She had never explored the sexual possibilities of her own body, had never let herself dream about love making; in all her years of fantasizing about handsome shadow-faced loves and sumptuous weddings she had always left herself and her dream partners at the bedroom door. She had shrunk from ever allowing herself to think what physical love might be like. Now she knew why she had been so circumspect.

  It was because she had a vast reserve of sensuous response in her. His mouth slipping against her own wet mouth made her head sing. His tongue against hers started sensations in her belly she would never have imagined possible. His hands against her breasts as he pulled away the black mourning bodice were like a fire against her skin. Her nipples contracted so hard that they hurt and she whimpered a little with the pain of it when his lips touched them and that seemed to galvanize him. He tugged at her clothes and at his own with such speed that she had no time to think, even if she had wanted to, and then were were rolling on the silken counterpane in a welter of torn fabric and slippery skin as the firelight in the grate and the sensations leaped in her groin to an even higher peak. The hurting went on as he thrust at her, and it was marvellous and she raised her hips to him, wanting to suffer and relishing it. Somewhe at the back of her mind she felt she was assuaging her guilt for Bloomah and Mary; hurting like this meant she burned out some of the distress she had suffered at their loss. She needed the pain, and the fact that it was such pleasurable pain did not diminish its value.

  Someone tapped the door, twice, but neither of them paid any attention. The fire burned down as the wood was consumed and the few coals that had been piled on it fell in with a soft crash to make red embers, and at last they lay there breathless and entwined. After a while she shivered, and tried to pull one of he scattered garments over her bare breasts.

  He laughed softly. ‘Now you'll have to marry me,’ he said. "I’ve deflowered you! I’ve ruined you. No decent man will have you. You'll have to marry me.’

  ‘Silly,’ she murmured, and turned her head so that she could look into his face.

  ‘You're quite a fiery lady, aren’t you, Hannah?’ he said lazily, and moved his head so that he could kiss her face, nuzzling against her cheek like a baby. ‘I thought you so modest, so shy, and you turn out to be a man-eater.’

  Am I?’ She stared at him, pulling her head back a little to get him into focus. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Don’t you know?’ He laughed again, and rolled over. ‘Sweetheart, you're the most passionate woman I’ve ever come across.’

  ‘Oh,’ she said and went silent for a moment. ‘Then there’ve been … I mean, other times? Like this? Other people?’

  ‘Darling girl, I'm twenty-seven, you know!’ He looked amused. "Not exactly a baby, after all.’

  ‘No,’ she said, and shivered again ‘I'm cold. I want to get dressed.’

  ‘All right,’ he said, and made no move.

  ‘Please, Daniel, go away and leave me alone, will you? I want to get dressed.’ Again he laughed. ‘After all we’ve done, you're shy? Oh, come on, Hannah!’

  ‘I'm not twenty-seven,’ she said with all the dignity she could. ‘I'm eighteen. And I’ve never been - I’ve got no experience. Not like you.’

  He put his arm across her, and began to nuzzle her cheek again. ‘Sweetheart, please, don’t fret yourself. We're getting married, remember? It’s all right.’

  ‘Is it?’ She turned her head to look at him, and her eyes were opaque. ‘Really?’

  ‘Really, I told you. I’ve made up my mind.’ He rolled off the crumpled bed and padded to the door to bring in the tray of tea and toast and small cakes that had been left there, along with a white silk wrapper.

  ‘She’s a discreet lady, our Rosa,’ he said. ‘Knows when to keep out of a man’s way.’ He looked at her in the dull light of the December afternoon, at the way her shape curved against the line of the window, and said suddenly, ‘It’s going to be marvellous, being us, Hannah. Isn’t it?’

  She stood very still for a moment and then smiled, slowly. She felt comfortable now, languorous and relaxed, though a ghost a pain still lingered. ‘Yes,’ she said, and he smiled too, a wide boyish grin, and for a moment their roles were reversed and she was reassuring him.

  The next few hours were, for Hannah, the most precious she was ever to know with him. They pulled the curved chaise longue over to the fireplace, and Daniel replenished the grate until the flames leapt again, and they sat curled up together, drinking their cold tea and eating their leathery toast. The afternoon drifted into an early evening and the widow turned lilac, then violet and at last indigo before Daniel yawned and sat up.

  ‘Darling Hannah,’ he said. ‘We have things to do. I must go and tell them at home, and find out what’s happening about Aunt Mary’s funeral and the shivah.’

  ‘Poppa,’ she said, and the afternoon’s fragile joy shattered. ‘The boys. I’ve got to go back, Daniel. I must.’

  He was silent for a while, and then he said. ‘Listen, Hannah, I think - I mean, I know he’s your father and you know him best, but I think I’d better go and see him first, don’t you? He’s entitled to know from me what our plans are. Let me go and see him. I'll arrange with Rosa for you to stay here, and I'll come back as soon as possible. If you go and he chooses to go on being angry, it could be unpleasant for you. And I don’t want that.’

  There was enough fatigue in her to make her agree. She knew, somewhere at a deep level, that she ought to go herself to face Nathan, to tell him that she was to be married, to explain, to ask him to forgive her for leaving when she had. But she was tired, and it had been, to say the least, an extraordinary afternoon. So she nodded and let him go.

  It was of course the wrong decision. Nathan had been angry when Hannah had chosen to go to Mary, but it had not been a complete anger. He had been performing somewhat, showing the world how a bereaved man ought to feel and behave when faced with a lack of daughterly complaisance.
But now he was genuinely angry. When Daniel came back, chastened, from the East End he brought with him all Hannah’s meagre possessions.

  ‘There was nothing I could do,’ he said, as she stood there looking at the plaited straw bag dangling from his hand. ‘When I told him, he just said nothing, and then he went and took these things and put them in the bag, and walked out of the room. I’d have gone after him, but your brother Jake said I shouldn’t. And I think he was right.’

  ‘I see,’ she said dull after a while. ‘I see.’

  It was over for nathan and her; in truth it had been over almost eight years ago when he had given her to Mary. He had, in giving her to Mary, stolen something of Bloomah from her, while not giving her all of Mary. She had had a half life with both of them, and now they were both dead, and Nathan had turned his back on her. And it didn’t seem to matter, all that much. She was tired.

  ’The boys,’ she said the, in the same small dull voice. ‘What did the boys say?’ 'Jake says he wishes us happiness,’ Daniel said, not looking at her, and she knew he lied.

  ‘He didn’t say anything, did he?’

  There was a small silence and hen Daniel said, ‘I'm sorry.

  ‘He was too startled, I think, really.’ Daniel did his best, wanting to help her, but not knowing quite how. ‘And your other brother is very young, of course, I don’t think he quite understood.’

  ‘Solly?’ She managed a small grin at that, a tight little grimace. ‘Solly not understand? You’ve got a lot to find out about Solly.’

  ‘Yes,’ he said, and after a moment went over and put the straw bag on the blue-green counterpane.

  Suddenly she was very frightened. In the muggy warmth of the luxurious room that had felt so sensual now seemed like a trap. She was aware of the cold air outside pressing against the windows. She felt she could see the serried rows of sooty roofs and chimneystacks stretching towards her from far away in the east where her only home lay, and she was afraid that the bubble in which she stood would burst, leaving her alone and cold and friendless in a bitter world. She shook inside, her courage crumbling within her.