The Two Hearts of Eliza Bloom

by Beth Miller

  ‘No, Zaida,’ Dov said, giving me a look, as if it had been my idea. I shook my head at him. Zaida’s keyworker Paulina, a large Polish woman who conversed with him in a mix of Polish, Yiddish and English, came over to ask if we’d like tea.

  ‘I certainly would,’ said Zaida indignantly, ‘I haven’t had any all day.’

  Paulina stroked Zaida’s hair, and he put his arm round her ample waist. ‘Have you met my new lady friend?’ he said, and they both laughed. But Dov and I were shocked beyond speech. We’d never before seen Zaida touch a woman, outside of his family.

  Later, as Dov and I walked back to the tube together, he said, ‘Does your husband know you’re coming here?’ At least this time I knew which husband was being referred to, though it was no less shocking coming from Dov than from Zaida. This was the first time in two weeks of nearly daily meetings that he’d even acknowledged the existence of Alex.

  ‘Not yet. I’ll tell him at some point. He knows he’s not exactly the most popular person with my family, so he’d feel pretty awkward that I’m back in touch with some of you.’

  ‘Joel got married,’ Dov said.

  I whirled round. ‘When? Seriously? You’re kidding!’

  Joel had held out on marriage even longer than me, though of course, that was more OK for a boy than a girl. My brother got married, and I wasn’t there! I wasn’t invited. I wasn’t even told.

  ‘Back in March. Nice girl, Malka Levine, do you remember her? She was a couple of years below you at school.’

  I conjured up a fleeting image of Malka, walking along the corridor at our school, her eyes down. A quiet, studious girl with masses of dark curls. ‘I can’t believe I didn’t know that.’

  We walked down the steps of the station.

  ‘She’s expecting,’ Dov said.

  ‘Already?!’

  Dov said, so quietly I wasn’t sure I heard him right, ‘How is your marriage going?’

  A train pulled in and people swirled round us, rushing here and there. We squeezed on and stood close together near the door. I was near enough to Dov to look right into his eyes, to see the little blemish that he and I alone shared, the small black spot on the brown iris of the left eye. It made us look as if we had a double pupil. Alex called it my eye’s beauty spot.

  ‘Good,’ I said. ‘Really good. Great.’

  ‘I’d like to meet your husband some time,’ Dov said.

  ‘You would?’

  ‘I’ve been thinking…’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I need to think some more before I say it.’

  ‘Go on, you might as well spit it out.’

  ‘Funny expression!’

  ‘I’ve picked up a lot of weird phrases out here,’ I said. But he wouldn’t be drawn.

  ‘I’ll text you when I’ve thought about it,’ he said.

  Dov had taken to the technology like a, well like a typical eighteen-year-old. And he’d managed to keep the phone secret from Dad.

  At Euston we got out, and hugged at the top of the escalator where we had to go in different directions. He looked at his watch, and hurried away. I knew he had to study, that Dad would be expecting him home. It felt strange, all at once, that Dad wasn’t expecting me home any more. Wouldn’t expect me ever again.

  I headed to my platform, and got on to another hot, packed train. I wondered what Dov was plotting in that funny head of his. I smiled to myself. Things were still far from perfect, but to have him and Zaida back in my life, to get hold of Dov at the end of a phone whenever I wanted, made a huge difference to my state of mind. I felt light and breezy when I got out at Brixton, as if I could float home. I stopped off at the Turkish store to buy lamb chops (non-kosher, of course). I would make Alex a really nice supper. I knew he liked chops, and I resolved that tonight I would try them myself. I bought asparagus, potatoes and a handful of fresh mint, and a bunch of flowers too, cut-price gerberas that had wilted in the heat but looked like they would revive.

  I was startled when I let myself into the flat, to find Alex already home, more than two hours before his usual time. I dropped the shopping bag on the floor.

  ‘Is everything OK, Al?’

  ‘We got down-sized,’ he said.

  ‘What does that mean?’

  ‘Some bloke with a clipboard was marching round the office. He said the council training department was twice the size it should be. He offered redundancies around like sweets.’

  ‘What did you do?’

  ‘It’s voluntary redundancy at this stage. Five people took it. Alan and Liz, three others. It was so weird. They cleared their desks and went.’

  ‘Did you take it?’

  ‘No. He said everyone who stayed would go on part-time hours. They’ve got me and Katy doing a job-share. She wanted Tuesdays, so I came home.’

  ‘My god, that’s all so fast. Are you OK?’

  We sat down, and I put my hands round his.

  ‘I’m all right, I guess. Could have been worse. I was thinking on the way home, maybe this is a chance for me to do freelance training on the other two-and-a-half days. That pays pretty well. And I’ll be around at home more, which will be nice.’

  ‘Mmm.’

  ‘We can do stuff together on my home days, till you go back to work in September.’

  I felt my precious freedom slipping away. Two and a half days each week of my precious freedom, to be precise.

  ‘I texted you when I left work,’ Alex said. ‘Didn’t you get it?’

  I pulled my phone out of my bag and saw that there were two texts: one from Alex and a later one, from Dov. The first few words of Dov’s message made me catch my breath, but I couldn’t look at it now. ‘The sound was off, I’m sorry.’

  He sat back in his chair and scrutinised me with a raised eyebrow. ‘You know, you remind me of a woman I used to know, very religious. Aliza Bloom, she was called. I don’t suppose you know her? Conservatively dressed. But hot stuff in the sack.’

  I’d been working out what to say while he told me about his work. ‘This shirt is actually nice and cool in the heat. And my other skirts were dirty.’

  ‘And the headscarf?’

  ‘I didn’t get time to wash my hair this morning.’

  He looked so sceptical I wondered if he thought I was having an affair. A weird, kinky sort of affair that required me to wear my frum clothes. I decided to tell some of the truth, leaving out Dov, because I figured Alex would find that far too close to my father and Uri for comfort.

  ‘I heard from Deborah that my Zaida is in a care home,’ I said. That at least was true. One point for truthfulness. ‘And today I went to see him.’ Two points. No need to mention the other times I’d been to see him. ‘He’s not doing so great.’ Three points. I was doing very well.

  ‘I’m so sorry, Eliza,’ Alex said, his eyes concerned. ‘Why didn’t you tell me before? Here I am, going on about work.’ He put his hands back on mine. ‘Is he ill?’

  ‘Not exactly. He’s losing his memory, quite fast I think. The care home say it’s a kind of dementia, multi-infarct or something?’

  ‘My great-aunt had that. Just awful. So does he recognise you?’

  ‘Yes, thank heavens. He’s always so pleased to see me.’

  ‘Always?’

  Gah! I needed to slow down, think what I was saying. ‘Yes, I mean he always was, and today he was delighted.’ All true. I made that a grand total of four truthfulness points.

  ‘So I still don’t get it, why are you dressed as a frummer?’

  ‘To show respect to the home.’ Minus a point. ‘It’s a very religious place.’ Point back. I didn’t need to mention the numerous relatives who wore modern clothes.

  ‘And so your family have no idea that you saw him?’

  ‘My parents have no idea at all,’ I said, earning another point.

  ‘Shall I come with you next time?’ Alex said.

  ‘Maybe. I don’t know when I’ll go again. It was pretty upsetting.’

 
He got up and stood behind me, put his arms round me. I closed my eyes and breathed in his familiar, lovely scent.

  ‘Are you all right?’ he said gently.

  ‘Are you all right?’ I replied. ‘You’re the one whose job’s suddenly been halved.’

  ‘Ah, fuck it,’ he said. ‘We’ll just not spend so much on wine for a bit.’ He kissed my neck. ‘Talking of which, I’ll go get a bottle of fizz to celebrate my exciting new career possibilities. And we can raise a glass to the hopefully lasting health of your Zaida.’

  Alex loved fizzy wine, believed it made anything ordinary into an occasion. I smiled broadly till the front door slammed, then grabbed my phone and read Dov’s text.

  Wedding photo of you and Nathan. What do you think? Too weird? My friend can do a good Photoshop one. Be lovely for Zaida. What do you think about pretending you married Nathan? To make Zaida feel better?

  I put the chops under the grill, and got down two champagne flutes. When Alex came back, I was ready. I raised my glass, and made a toast.

  ‘To Zaida. May his last days be happy ones.’

  Alex’s Exes

  Joanne 1. First kiss, when I was eleven. She was a head taller than me. I remember stretching up, but not the kiss.

  Beverley. Went out for three weeks when I was thirteen. (I didn’t know how much detail you wanted.) Going out just meant sitting together at school. Then she started going out/sitting next to Darren Clarkson.

  Lisa, Simone, Alison, Nina, Julia. Girlfriends between ages of fourteen and sixteen. Lost my virginity with Simone. Her mother was French and she (Simone) smoked French cigarettes. She was two years older than me. I thought I was in Jules & Jim. NB Must add that to the film list. She dumped me and broke my heart . Went out with Alison on the rebound. She wouldn’t sleep with me and chucked me when she realised it was all I ever wanted to talk about. Served me right.

  Joanne 2. Everyone was called Joanne in the 1980s. We went out for about six months when I was sixteen. She was a very jealous sort of person.

  Emily. First serious girlfriend (and first Jewish one!). We went out from when I was seventeen until I was nineteen. Split up while I was in my first year at university.

  Jackie + wild times. Most memorable girl at Liverpool was Jackie, we went out for about four months. But there were quite a few others, much shorter-term things. Most interesting were these two friends, Lisa and Andrea… maybe that’s a story for another time.

  Rachel. We met in ’91 in my last year at university. Bought the flat together in 1993, split in 1995 because she felt I wasn’t ready to settle down. She was probably right.

  Helena. Had a few one-night stands after Rachel and thought Helena would be one of those, but she was great fun and we stayed together for a couple of years. Yes, she moved in. In fact, that’s what finished us off, she turned out to be a bit difficult to live with… She moved out more than a year before I met you.

  Seventeen

  March 2016

  My school finishes earlier than Leah’s for the Easter holidays, so I decide to surprise her, take her out for a treat. I haven’t had a chance to talk to her yet about what she said on Saturday, about Alex not being her dad. She got back late on Sunday, having persuaded Macy’s mother to let her stay with them till almost bedtime and, claiming exhaustion, went straight upstairs. Monday, I was back to work and she was back to school, and what with her numerous after-school clubs – piano, drama, circus skills – there was never a spare moment.

  That doesn’t mean I haven’t thought about what she said. I’ve thought about it a lot. I almost called Dov, to tell him that his son’s been spreading malicious tales. But I need to talk to Leah first.

  I lean against the wall outside her school, the only parent there. I used to enjoy picking her up from primary school back in the day, but that all ends once they go to big school. Their lives become increasingly detached from you, until you have no more idea what they’re thinking and feeling than you do about the man in the corner shop. Less, in fact, because when I ask Mr Patel how he’s feeling, he tells me, which Leah never does.

  Kids start pouring out. Some of them look too small to be at secondary school; they are smaller than the ten-year-olds I teach. Students stream around me as though I was invisible, which I suppose I am, to them. A group of boys pass me, talking animatedly about light years and planets. It’s incredible, the amount they learn, the things Leah knows about. Makes me realise how little I was taught at my own school about the world, and also how little I myself knew when I first became a teacher in my late teens.

  I recognise a few of Leah’s mates, and then there she is, in the centre of a group, laughing and talking. At the exact moment Leah sees me and her face falls, I realise how stupendously embarrassing it might be for your mum to pick you up from school when you’re fourteen. Without hesitation I whip up a lie, so that by the time she reluctantly strolls over to me, trailed by her friends, I’m ready.

  Before she can open her mouth, I say, ‘I’m so sorry to meet you like this, Leah, but your grandma’s very ill.’ Too late, I spot Ethan in the group and remember that we used that excuse on him just a couple of weeks ago. ‘More ill even than before,’ I add hastily.

  ‘Oh no,’ kind-hearted Macy says, ‘that’s awful.’ I’ve always liked Macy.

  ‘You OK, Leah?’ Ethan asks, his puppy eyes full of concern. I’ve always liked Ethan.

  ‘Come on, guys,’ a girl called Omega says, ‘let’s go to the mall. Catch you later, Leah.’ I’ve never liked Omega. Stupid name, too. And who says ‘mall’ in this country?

  The kids disperse. When they’re out of earshot, I say, ‘Leah, don’t panic, Grandma is fine.’

  ‘I know,’ she says. ‘You’re a terrible liar, and you only have one lie.’

  I laugh. I’m relieved she thinks there’s only one. ‘I just wanted to hang out with you.’

  ‘You’re a terrible role model, Mother, lying to get what you want.’ She drapes an arm amiably around my shoulder. She is in a good mood. Her skirt is ridiculously short and she has a line of holes on the inner seam of her tights, all down the thigh. She sees me glance at them and says, ‘Got another demerit for my skirt today.’

  ‘I’m not entirely surprised.’

  ‘Can we go into town? I think I should get some new skirts.’

  ‘Yes, great idea, and some new tights. Though what if we see your friends? They’ll know I am a lying mother.’

  ‘Let’s go to Brent Cross. We could go to Shipwreck Sushi.’ This is Leah’s favourite restaurant. It’s the one place where I don’t worry she’s getting an eating disorder. On the other hand, I have to take out a second mortgage to pay for her meal. Nevertheless, I’m so delighted she’s being nice I will say yes to anything.

  She spends the car journey tapping on her phone, and I heroically don’t tell her not to. At Brent Cross, just up the road from the first cinema I ever went to, she takes me into Marks & Spencer, a shop I didn’t think was on her radar. We both rummage through the racks, but when I turn to her with four school skirts in my hand, all above knee-length, she is holding one which is almost as long as the ankle-length skirt I lent her last weekend for shul.

  Uh-oh.

  ‘What about these?’ I say brightly.

  ‘I like this one.’ She takes it into the changing room and I wait, expecting her to show me, but a few minutes later she comes out in her old skirt and says, ‘It’s fine. Can I get two more the same?’

  ‘I was hoping to see it.’

  ‘There’s nothing to see, OK? It’s just a skirt.’

  ‘It’s a bit longer than you usually like.’

  ‘Thought you’d be pleased. You’re always going on about how short mine are.’ She strides over to the rack and finds two more long grey ones.

  ‘These are the sort of skirts your cousins wear. Chanah and Devora.’

  ‘Can I have them or not?’

  We head to the tights section, where she bypasses the type she normally has, and choo
ses instead a pack of the thickest sort – 100 denier. She’s clearly going for the frum-girl look in a big way. I pay for them, then we head to the food hall at the other end of the shopping centre. She sparks up like a string of fairy lights when we go into Shipwreck Sushi, and almost before we sit down she has whipped two plates of salmon nigiri off the belt.

  ‘Starving!’

  I order miso soup, which is what I always have. I think of Alex, many years ago, trying to convince me it was like chicken soup, and smile to myself. I wait until she has eaten some more before saying casually, ‘So, you know that thing we were talking about the other day?’

  She shakes her head, no, her mouth full of food.

  ‘At Macy’s,’ I persist. ‘Gidon said something about Dad not being your dad?’

  ‘Yeah, what about it?’

  ‘Well, Leah, why did he say it? What did he mean?’ I keep my voice low, because the twenty-something couple on Leah’s other side are not talking to each other. Perhaps they’re on a first date? They both look very shy and are focusing intently on their food.

  Leah selects another plate, puts a whole California roll into her mouth, and says indistinctly, ‘You know what he means.’

  ‘I don’t, Leah.’

  ‘Did you know there’s a Leah in the Bible? The Old Testament, I mean.’

  ‘Yes, I did know that. Don’t change the subject, please. I don’t like these terrible accusations being hurled about so lightly. I’m going to have to speak to your Uncle Dov about it.’

  As soon as the words are out of my mouth I know I’ve struck the wrong tone. I can’t lay down the law with Leah like this any more. She says calmly, ‘If you talk to him, I will never tell you anything personal ever again.’

  Well, as Alex likes to say, that escalated quickly. I back down, in the interests of finding out what I need to know. ‘I’m sorry, Leah, I’m just a bit upset, it’s…’

  ‘You’re upset? How do you think I feel? To be told your mother screwed around? And everyone except you knows? To be told you’re not who you thought you were? How dare you say you’re upset.’