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So Far Divided

Page 3

by Paul Kelly


  I made sure of that at the school before I came here,” he said “and besides, you and I have a little conversation to get through before I leave here and that shouldn’t take us very long, if you are a good girl.”

  “I am not a girl, “I shouted at him, “I am a middle aged woman and I want you to get out of here NOW,”

  Martin sniffed and crossed his legs as his eyes narrowed and he glared at me, “You are just a little girl to me and always will be and I am attracted to little girls… always have been even before I married your bloody auntie, so come here and do as I tell you.”

  Martin’s last comment made me stare at him in anger as I could see my noble UNCLE in a very different light to what I had seen before. Had he been taking a delight in what he knew of my past? Was he a pervert and did Sarah know about this side of his character and was this the reason why he said she didn’t want him near her anymore. Well not in the ‘bedroom department’ at least . . .

  Was I learning more in this last few moments than I had ever known in my entire life before? My mind took on a very different picture of what my uncle was and I went into the kitchen to make him a cup of tea . . . with very uncharitable and evil thoughts in my mind as I reached into a cupboard above the kitchen sink and took out a little bottle of pills. I looked at my wrist watch. . .It was nearly nine o’clock and Jane would not be home for some time yet and as I studied the pills, I knew only too well what they were and what effect they would have. . . Martin followed me into the kitchen and I smiled at him as I hid the pills in my skirt pocket.

  “I’ll bring the tea into the lounge,” I told him, “and we can enjoy a cup together whilst we talk,” but Martin ignored my suggestion as he slipped his arms around my waist and reached up to my bosom.

  “We can have a little comfort here before that,” he snarled and wrenched my blouse from my shoulders, but I slapped him hard and he stood back for a moment.

  “Oh, we are a little snappy this evening,” he said and thrust his tongue into my mouth before I could say another word, but I knew I would have to wait my chance. . . to wait for that moment when he would drink his tea and I hoped when he had done that, that I would be able to drag him to the front door and throw him out onto the pavement. He turned me round and pushed himself up against me, “You would make a lovely fuck,” he moaned and I felt he was going into one of his fantasies as I pulled away from him and turned round to kick him in the groin.

  He doubled up and screwed his face up in agony, but there was a grin there too. . . a grin of pure pleasure with thoughts that were entirely his own.

  “I think we should have a cup of tea before we think of anything else,” I said and I felt sure he thought I had changed my mind from the calm way I suggested we have a drink and he went back into the lounge.

  “Good idea,” he said, “Nothing like a nice cup of tea . . .nice cuppa to steady the nerves before action,” he smirked and I smiled as I made the tea and put my pills into his cup, He was sitting quite comfortably on the settee when I came into the lounge with his tea and he sighed contentedly as I handed him the cup and waited for him to drink.

  “Aren’t you gonna join me,” he asked and I told him I would only be a few moments before I would join him as I had to get some more milk from the fridge, but when I returned with my own cup, I sat opposite him and watched. . . . He drank and threw his head back as if satisfied with the brew and I sipped mine, waiting for him to finish his. Within a few seconds his head fell forward and I grabbed his cup before it fell to the floor. I looked at my watch again before I went to the telephone and rang for an ambulance, knowing that I would say my dear uncle had called to see me but had taken suddenly ill where he fainted and I didn’t know what to do, thinking he might be seriously ill and might require hospital treatment and my plan worked. I used my ‘excited and tearful’ voice on the phone and within ten minutes the ambulance had arrived and taken my ‘dear uncle’ to the hospital. What they found when he got there, didn’t interest me. He could well have taken the drug himself . . .couldn’t he . . .it was well known as an aphrodisiac as well as a powerful means of making you sleep and drugs were always dangerous unless you knew exactly what you were doing . . . and having a cup of tea was a very simple act . . . wasn’t it?

  Jane came home about 11.30 to tell me that she had met her brother Karl in town and that he would be coming to the flat to visit her the next day before he returned home to Canada and we retired for the night and I never gave another thought to any hospital visits that someone might expect.

  Chapier Six

  The following morning, Jane and I had just sat down to enjoy our usual light breakfast of toast and marmalade with coffee when the phone rang and I went to answer it.

  “Hello, hello” an agitated female voice came through, “Is that O207 555 3426?” I looked across at Jane who was munching contentedly to ask her if the number was correct as I had never any need to query this number and she nodded as she continued to munch.

  “Yes that is the correct number, may I ask who is speaking?” I said softly as I felt sure that I recognised the voice, but the voice did not answer my question as she asked one of her own.

  “Does Miss Cohen, Miss Stephanie Cohen live there, can you tell me please.”

  “Yes Aunt Sarah, this is Stephanie and what to you want at this unearthly hour?”

  I could see Jane looking at me with curiosity in her eyes as she went across to the sink to wash her breakfast dishes, but I put up my hand to assure her that everything was alright.

  “How did you manage to get this telephone number Sarah?

  “Oh dear, I spoke to the secretary at the school and she told me, but she is rather sharp in her manners don’t you think Steph and rather rude speaking for the job of a secretary wouldn’t you say?”

  “Well it is rather early to be ringing the school Sarah, what do you want anyway?”

  “Oh darling, I am rather worried. You see Martin hasn’t been home all night and I can’t think where he might be. He does stay out some nights, but he usually phones me on his mobile to let me know he is O.K. and when he will be home, but I haven’t had a word from him.

  Would you have any idea where he might be?”

  I held my breath for a few seconds, not knowing what to say to Sarah, even if I knew that Martin would probably still be in hospital, otherwise he would have phoned Sarah to let her know he would be home soon.

  “No Sarah. I don’t know where he might be. Well how would I know? I haven’t seen Martin since I came into this flat and by the way Sarah, I would rather you didn’t ring this number again as the flat is not mine.

  It belongs to my headmistress at the school and she knows nothing about my private affairs, NOTHING . . . Do you hear?”

  I felt I had said enough to Sarah to let her know how I felt and as I had no intention of telling her anything about Martin’s whereabouts, I put the phone down and got ready to go to school.

  Jane was sitting in her car waiting for me and I explained as best I could about my devoted Auntie who had phoned to enquire about my health and she seemed satisfied with my answer when she told me to invite any of my relatives to the flat at any time I wanted and she reminded me that her brother, Karl was coming to see her today . . . just a short visit before he returned to Canada.

  In school that morning, the teacher who booked all the children into school was absent due to some illness or other and Jane asked me if I would do ‘the necessary’ which I was happy to oblige as I sat down at the interview desk and waited for the children to come in. Those who were regulars just came in and went to their respective classes, but one young lady appeared with what I imagined to be her young daughter, although both the mother and the daughter looked extremely young to be thinking of ‘schooling’ nevertheless, I asked the mother her name and she replied, “ANDERSON” . . . The father’s name, I asked, but I got no
reply and I turned to the little girl and asked her what her daddy’s name was and she looked blankly at me before the mother spoke again, “I don’t know who the father was, so how the hell would she know,” she snapped and shrugged her shoulders.

  I didn’t know what else to do and Jane came to the desk when she guessed there might be some trouble, but she got the same reply and the interview ended with the young mother telling us to ‘get stuffed’ as there was too many ‘bloody’ questions and she couldn’t understand what all the fuckin’ fuss was about.

  Needless to say we had one less child on the school register that day, but as I was closing the daily register I happened to see that one of our little girls was diagnosed with ‘Gender Dysphoria’ and I was interested to know what this was and thought I might look the little girl out in her class, but as I read on, I saw that the family had moved three months before to Cyprus . . . however everything else went on smoothly until it was time for us to go home and this is where Jane became very excited as she guessed that her brother would be at the flat when we arrived home and she left school earlier than the rest of the staff which meant I had to take a bus ride home. . . but not before I could see little Adam’s dad at the school door where he was waiting to pick his son up to take him home. I smiled at him and he bowed . . . which I thought was a peculiar thing to do for any man, but Adam’s dad smiled back at me and asked me how his little son was getting along. I told him Adam was fine and I asked about his wife, but the smile left his face, which made me realize I should ask no more questions. It seemed that day from the experience I had that marriage was not the most popular subject of the moment and I jumped on the bus.

  Chapter Seven

  I could hear lots of laughter coming from the lounge as I went into the flat and a young man came out to meet me. “You must be Stephanie, yes?” he called out as he put out his hand to shake mine and I guessed it must be Karl from the Canadian accent with a slight blend of Scots . . . “Glad to meet you, Steph. Come and have a drink of champagne with Jane and me in the lounge.”

  For the rest of the evening we sat chatting about what Karl was doing in Canada and I was pleased to hear that he was a medical doctor in one of the larger hospitals in Quebec. He looked very tanned and what I noticed most of all was that he would probably break all the hospital nurses hearts as he was strikingly good looking. Jane kept drinking her champagne with delight and I could see how proud she was of Karl as she kept looking from him to me for my appraisal.

  We danced and waltzed around before we sat down happily exhausted and drank more champagne and I knew it was time to stop and excuse myself from the party when I could feel my head getting dizzy and I knew it was time to get to bed.

  Karl took my hand and kissed it before he said ‘Goodnight’ assuring me that he would be sure to see me the following morning before he flew off home to Canada and strangely enough, as I would never ever have thought I would feel this way, I knew I would be sorry to miss him. He was so happy and jolly . . . and seemed to bring more ‘life’ into the flat, but perhaps it was the champagne that was talking, I don’t know. The following morning after a deep, deep sound sleep, I awoke to find everything ready for me on the breakfast table when I came down to the lounge after my shower; the toast with the whisky marmalade and the delicious coffee and best of all, a hug from Karl. It was a hug that said, “Hello . . . how are you this morning . . . I had a lovely evening last night, thanks to you and Janey here . . .” It was a hug that was pure friendship and without the least sign of sexual suggestion. . . so unlike my last encounter with my shameful uncle, whose hugs disgusted me and I was even more pleasantly surprised when Jane suggested we should have the day off school to see Karl board his plane for Canada.

  I learned that Karl had qualified as a doctor only in the last two years and that he was anxious to train as a surgeon which gave Jane Templeton great delight. Jane told me that her father had been a famous surgeon in Glasgow and of course that the father’s son wanted to follow in his father’s footsteps was something wonderful for the whole Templeton family, but it was sad that the father had died in the last few years whilst Jane was living and teaching in Glasgow and her mother had died four years before.

  Jane had one other sister besides Karl and she seemed happily married and living in Glasgow. She was younger than Jane, but whenever Jane spoke about her younger sister there was a certain “hesitancy” in her voice and I gathered there may be a problem there that was not to be mentioned. . .

  The day came and went when we saw Karl leave London for Canada and Jane and I returned to the flat, a little more sad after his departure and with hopes that he might come back again soon.

  “Steph,” I could hear Jane calling out as she went into the kitchen and I followed her from the lounge. “Steph,” she repeated “Would you say that my brother was a . . . well, rather handsome young man . . . don’t you think?” and I assured her that I thought he was indeed very handsome and a target for many of the nurses at the hospital where he worked. “Would you consider him to be husband material?” Jane continued to ask and her question surprised me when she added that I was still single.

  “Oh Jane, I think your brother is a lovely handsome man and any girl would consider him . . . well ‘top notch’ if he asked her to marry him.”

  There was a long silence before Jane spoke again and her next words shook the living daylights out of me when she asked me if I might consider marrying Karl myself and I nearly put my foot in it when I replied, “Jane, my dear friend, I could be Karl’s . . .” and I was going to say mother but I stopped myself suddenly when I considered the implications of my response. . . MOTHER . . .MOTHER . . .There was no way I wanted to say any more when I told Jane that I had no intentions of marrying anyone and she looked very disappointed but she looked down and I thought seemed rather sad in what she said next.

  “Steph . . . Steph . . .” Jane hesitated and coughed twice before she cleared her throat and started again. “Karl is very interested in another doctor at the hospital where he works, but I am very worried about that.”

  I watched Jane as she put the kettle on for tea and I asked her why she should be so worried when Karl was marriage material and what could be better than if he had fallen in love with another doctor, but Jane took her handkerchief from her pocket and began to sob. I put my arms around her and tried to console but she pulled away and told me that the ‘love affair’ that Karl had was not at all a good or a wise one which again surprised me.

  “But why not,” I asked, “if this other doctor is at the same hospital and they must be working closely together, surely that would help any relationship?”

  Jane dried her eyes and asked me to sit down in the lounge where we took a cup of coffee in with us.

  “Steph, this other doctor is fifty-one years of age, married and divorced with three grown up children . . . how could that be a suitable arrangement for any marriage, I ask you? . . . Only a fool could be attracted to a woman like that, surely?”

  I began to realize the difficulty and how Jane must be feeling, but I could not give her any advice. If there was love in this relationship I felt that it could be good, but thinking how Jane was feeling, I could not comprehend a young handsome virile man falling in love with a woman who could well be his mother . . . and with children that were not his own?

  I was very pleased that Jane should take me into her trust regarding her family history, but as she waited for me to give her my opinion of her dilemma, I just wished I could have told her about my own problem, but there was no way I could put words to how I felt and after a little while of silent thought, she looked at me in a peculiar way as she asked her next question.

  “I remember from your application form that you stated you are Jewish. Is that correct?”

  I didn’t think this was anything to do with Karl’s predicament, but I told her I was and waited to hear what she was going to s
ay next. She swayed a little.

  “Steph, I have told you not once, but several times that we all think you have found your vocation in the work you are able to do here in the school, but . . .”

  “Yes . . . and I do appreciate that and I am very happy. Would my being a Jew make any difference?” I asked and she shook her head.

  “No, not at all, but we have another teacher here, Miss Johanson. You know here, don’t you?”

  “Yes, I have worked with Miss Johanson in her class. Has she complained about me?”

  “No, not at all but she was in here the other day and she was surprised that a Jewish person could do the work that is expected of us here at the school.”

  “But . . . but I am a human being and I want to help other human beings who are less fortunate than I am, that’s all.” Jane looked down at her coffee, “Not like the events of the concentration camps in Germany during the war then. They never considered any kindness or assistance to those human beings, did they . . . Not when they persecuted the Jews.”

  For a moment I felt ashamed when I thought of what Jane had said. She was right . . . There was no mercy shown to many Jews in that time, with torture that was unthinkable and I suppose Miss Johanson had thought that I should have been bitter in my reflection to humanity and would never have considered the interests of the children at the school, but that was not me at all. I was born a Jew because my parents were Jews; not by choice but I was not ashamed. I turned to Jane and sighed.

  “That was a time that I could do nothing about and even if I had tried, I would have failed. I do not know nor do I understand why the Jews were persecuted in such a way, but that was in the past. I am not proud of it. . . I am ashamed, but when I see little Adam Mortyn, Charlie Torrington and Karl Drayton, in the state of their lives, I want to do all I can to help them. . . and incidentally, Karl Drayton is a Jew.”

 

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