by Beth Miller
‘I find that hard to believe, Dov. His family have been friends with ours for ever. You were pretty matey with him back in the day.’
‘Yes, but since you and he… well, look, I haven’t seen him for years. I didn’t even know he was married until Mum told me. She’s still friendly with his mum.’
There is a silence, and I know the same thought has occurred to both of us. Mum.
‘Do you think…’ Dov says.
‘Yes, I bloody do.’
‘But why would she?’
‘That is something I intend to ask her,’ I say firmly, ‘once I have brought my daughter home. But for now, I am merely going to ask her for the address.’
I call Mum, and after some prompting she reads out Nathan’s address, slowly and clearly, spelling all the words, even ‘Avenue’. She doesn’t ask why I want it. When I ask if she has already given it to Leah, she becomes a bit less clear.
‘Oh, I don’t know, Aliza.’
I relay this to Dov, and he laughs. ‘Classic Mum, going a bit vague when she realises she shouldn’t have done something.’
‘What’s going on?’ Mum asks. ‘Is Dov with you?’ She must have heard him laughing.
‘Yes, Mum. We’re heading to Gateshead to see Nathan.’
‘Oh, that’s nice. Say hello from me.’
‘Mum, I’m afraid I’ve got some worrying news. Leah’s run away.’
‘Oh no, oh no…’
‘I’m going to have to get the police involved,’ I lie.
‘The police! Ay-ay-ay-ayy!’ I can practically hear her clutching her heart over the phone.
‘Well, you know, Leah’s never travelled further on her own than to see you in Hackney. I’m very worried. But before I call the police, it would be useful to know if she might have gone to visit Nathan.’
‘Oh, I remember now! My memory, honestly. I think she did ask for the address. Let me think… oh yes, she did! Lucky you reminded me.’
‘Thanks, Mum.’ I hang up, and even though I’m worried about Leah, I have to laugh. Partly with relief that my hunch was right, and partly at the bizarre machinations of my mother’s mind.
‘Well played,’ Dov says. ‘She is an outrageous meddler. Look at what she was like at Gidon’s bar mitzvah last year. She moved all the place cards round so she could prevent our family from mixing with Ilana’s.’
Mum has a long-standing but mysterious feud with Ilana’s mother which dates back to the 1960s. It makes me laugh that even though Dov did the right thing and married young into a good Jewish family, Mum still isn’t satisfied. Without Dad around to express displeasure in a more obvious manner, it’s far clearer that she is a person of strong opinions herself.
‘You weren’t above moving place cards yourself, once,’ I remind him, thinking of us sitting together at Ezra’s bar mitzvah. I start laughing, remembering Esther’s mum’s face when she discovered she was sitting next to Uncle Ben – slightly smelly and prone to inappropriate jokes and gestures. Him, not her. Though actually I found her fairly inappropriate too.
I tell Dov, and he starts laughing too. ‘And what about Esther when Ben stood up,’ he says, ‘and started to give a speech to Ezra about the natural urges of young manhood!’ We both giggle again, thinking how quickly Uri had rushed to Uncle Ben’s side, urging him forcefully back into his seat.
‘Well, that was very naughty, Dov. You’re in no position to judge Mum,’ I say primly, half-laughing.
‘Ah, that was only one swap, though,’ he says. ‘Mum rearranged the entire seating plan.’
‘I suppose she’s bored now most of us have left home. And Dad’s not there to fight with any more.’
My eyes are heavy, and I’d love to lie on one of the two back seats in this crazy-big car and shut everything out, not think about stuff for a while. But I have too much marching about in my head, a whole colony of ants. I think back to other times Mum’s meddled in our lives, in her quiet way. Perhaps all those years ago, when she encouraged me – insisted, really – to make breakfast for Nathan every morning. I haven’t thought about that for a long time. And I need to put it aside now, while I find out just how Mum-like Dov’s involvement in this whole business has been.
‘OK, Dov, I have to ask.’ I fold my hands tightly together. ‘How did Gidon get the idea that Nathan might be Leah’s father?’
‘I don’t know. He has a very inquiring mind,’ Dov says.
Nice try, Dov. ‘I thought there were only two people who knew that Nathan and I had, uh, had relations.’ I have reverted to coy language in front of my upstanding little brother. ‘Me, and Nathan. I never told anyone. But somehow, a rumour clearly started. And now it’s blown up in my face. So, are you going to tell me, or do I have to give you a Jewish burn?’
There’s a silence, and I think he’s not going to talk, and I start trying to remember how you do a Jewish burn. Do you twist the skin in two different directions?
But then he says, ‘Nathan told me.’
‘NATHAN told you?!’
‘There’s an echo in here.’
‘But he – but he—’ I can barely get my brain to articulate the thought. ‘He was furious with me. And it was completely taboo to him, he was disgusted by what we’d done.’
Dov’s ears are red, and he is very much focusing on the road in front of him. It may not be possible to grip the steering wheel any tighter than he is right now.
‘Sorry. Dov. Too much information, as Leah would say.’
‘I don’t know about furious, or disgusted. But he was certainly completely miserable. He thought he’d got a second chance, and then you left him again for Alex.’
‘How come you never told me he spoke to you?’
He laughs. ‘Do you have any idea how taboo the word “Nathan” was for you? Even a few weeks ago, you went white as a sheet when Mum mentioned he’d got married.’
Fair enough. ‘Go on, then. What happened?’
‘It was a few days before Ezra’s bar mitzvah. Nathan was in a bit of a state. He told me that he’d asked you to marry him again, and you’d said no, again, but he thought the signals were a bit mixed. He asked if I thought he should try again, said he kept thinking, “third time lucky”. He said did I think it was over between you and Alex, that he didn’t care about being second best. He was sure you could come to love him.’
‘Good god!’ After our terrible love-making, and after I’d already turned him down twice. I couldn’t decide if he was astonishingly brave, or supremely arrogant. ‘What did you say?’
‘That I believed you really loved Alex,’ Dov said, ‘and I was pretty sure you would go back to him. I also pointed out that, given your nature, you probably wouldn’t make Nathan a terrific Jewish wife.’
I was so moved that Dov, young as he was then, would have stood up for me in that way. I blinked hard, and said, ‘I think I would be an excellent Jewish wife, you cheeky so-and-so.’
‘You wouldn’t, and you know it. Could you imagine being like Mum? Martyring yourself? Thinking about the next meal all the time? Stuck with a difficult, violent man, not feeling you could leave?’
‘That’s not Jewish wifehood, that’s Mum. Ilana’s not like that. Deborah’s not.’
‘I know. Though I do think Nathan would have been more like Uri and Dad than, say, me or Michael. But anyway, there was still Halacha, all the laws. Even when you were tiny, Uri said, you were always asking why, why, why, and breaking every rule you could.’
‘A questioning attitude is not incompatible with being a Jewish wife.’
‘This is irrelevant,’ he says, flicking on the indicator and moving into the exit lane for Gateshead. ‘You chose not to be a Jewish wife, and we have all finally got used to that. Anyway, do you want to know the really interesting thing Nathan said, back then?’
‘Of course I do.’
‘He told me he was going to fight for you. He was going to go after you, and tell you that it was a mistake going back to Alex.’
‘Serio
usly?’ I couldn’t imagine Nathan even thinking such a thing, let alone saying it out loud. Not after our final conversation. Brave, romantic, over-confident Nathan! I conjure up his earnest expression, and then Alex’s smile flashes into my mind. Poor old Nathan; such a grand gesture would have made no difference at all.
Dov slows down at a roundabout. ‘So, to finish the story, and answer your question, which was so long ago you’ve probably forgotten. Nathan was halfway out the door, thinking he would be dashing after you, so I told him you were pregnant. For his sake, as much as yours.’
‘Hey, hang on a minute! How did you know? I didn’t realise myself till the evening of Ez’s bar mitzvah.’
‘Becca told me.’
‘Christ, how did she know?’
‘Well, she shared a room with you. She said, er, she had seen you when you were undressed.’
I suppose Becca always was the most worldly one of us sisters, despite me being the one who emigrated to the Real World. We were never particularly close but I have a sudden urge to see her, though she and her family live inconveniently far away, in Bournemouth.
‘God, I really was in denial back then.’
‘Just back then?’
‘Ah shut up, Dov. So go on, back to Nathan. You told him I was pregnant – wow, you were brave. And what did he say?’
Dov coughs. ‘He looked like he was going to faint. He stared at me, and sat down on a chair like he had fallen on to it. At first I thought he was shocked because you were pregnant and separated from your husband.’
‘Oh god.’
‘Then he said, “But how can she know so soon? We only made love two days ago.”’
‘Oh, god.’
So that’s how Dov found out I’d slept with Nathan. Poor Dov. He was only eighteen. He had to process the fact that his sister had slept with the fiancé she’d previously jilted, while pregnant by her gentile husband. And then he had to explain to her ex-fiancé that her gentile husband was in fact the father of the baby, not him.
The embarrassment of it all hits me like a freight train, fifteen years too late, and I cover my face, making wincing noises.
‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I owe you one, Dov. God, how awful.’
I realise that Nathan must have packed his bags and returned to the yeshiva the next day. I’d always assumed he left because we’d made love and I’d rejected him, but there was even more to it than that. What a big, stinking mess I made back then. And how lucky I had my little brother to clear up after me.
Hang on, a minute, though… I uncover my face, as Nathan follows the satnav instructions to turn left, then take the second right. ‘So only you knew. How come Gidon found out?’
‘This is the point at which you realise you don’t owe me one after all,’ Dov says. ‘Gosh, Gateshead is bigger than I thought.’
‘You told Gidon?’
‘Of course not! But…’ Dov coughs, ‘he might have overhead me saying something to Ilana. We were discussing it after we heard that Nathan was getting married.’
‘Ilana knows about me and Nathan too?’
‘Yes, we don’t have any secrets from each other.’
‘You mean I don’t have any secrets from Ilana!’
So that’s why she’s always been so weird with me. Now I just need to find out that Dov has told Vicky too, and all the strange relationships I have with my sisters-in-law will be completely explained.
It doesn’t take long to find Nathan’s house, but when we knock on the door, my heart in my mouth, it is a woman who answers. She’s younger than I expected, and pretty, an attractive scarf framing her face. Lucky Nathan, at last. She holds a baby in her arms, and has a pregnant tummy heralding the next one.
When Dov asks if we can see Nathan, she says with a nervous smile, ‘Everyone is looking for him today.’
‘A young girl?’ I ask. ‘Tall, long dark hair?’
‘Yes,’ she says. ‘About an hour ago. She told me she might be his daughter. Is she? He never said anything to me about a daughter.’ Now I see that her eyes are red, her face tense. Her settled, safe world has the potential, all at once, to be turned upside down.
‘She is definitely not his daughter,’ I say.
‘I told her he would be at the yeshiva. I hope that was all right.’
We thank her, then Dov drives us to the yeshiva, a large redbrick building stretching across a part of one street and into another. I wonder how Leah will find it from Nathan’s house. Dov thinks they’re about two miles apart, and I look out for her all the way there, but don’t see her.
With Dov doing the talking, it takes only a couple of minutes to pass the security checks at the yeshiva and be admitted through the gates, into a reception area. I sit while Dov goes up to ask if we can speak to Nathan. The man at the desk asks some questions that I can’t hear, and nor do I catch Dov’s quiet answers, but whatever he says works because finally the man picks up a phone and mumbles into it. Minutes later, a door behind the reception desk opens and a man walks towards us, a man with a familiar face, his hair a bit thinner on top but otherwise recognisably himself. When I stand up to greet him, I am short of breath. He hugs Dov and they slap each other’s backs.
‘Dov, it’s been too long,’ he says. When they release each other, he looks at me, and nods. ‘Aliza,’ he says. ‘You look well.’
‘So do you.’ We look each other in the eye, and I remember anew that we are almost exactly the same height. ‘We met your wife,’ I say, quickly, so he doesn’t think I’m here for another go at him. ‘She’s beautiful.’
‘Thank you. She is. So,’ he looks at Dov, ‘what can I do for you?’
Dov invites him to sit with us, and he quietly explains about Leah ‘getting the wrong end of the stick’. As it dawns on Nathan what Dov means, his face darkens. He glares at me.
‘Why can’t you just leave me alone?’
Well, the social niceties didn’t last long.
‘Nathan, I’m sorry, it wasn’t—’
‘I can’t believe this! At last I’ve managed to find peace in my life, I have a lovely wife and a child, and you burst in again. What is it with you? Why do you have to keep bothering me?’
I haven’t anything to say to this. I would rather be anywhere but here, bothering him. I stare at my lap, and am distantly surprised to see a tear splash on to my skirt. Belatedly I realise that the skirt ends shortly above my knee, and is thus utterly unsuitable to be seen in a yeshiva. Thank Ha-Shem I remembered to put a scarf over my head before coming in here.
Dov puts his hand on mine.
‘If it is anyone’s fault, Nathan, it is mine,’ he says. For the first time I notice that Dov has lines round his eyes. He looks tired.
‘You’re always covering for her.’ Nathan stands up. ‘The dutiful younger brother.’ He almost spits these words out, and points a shaking finger at me. ‘You are taken in by her, Dov. She is not a good woman, she tempts people into doing the wrong thing. Your family were wrong to let her back into the fold, she is wanton and a liar and…’
Wanton?!
‘Nathan, listen,’ Dov says, and he stands too. ‘It’s my fault we’re here. It’s because of me that Aliza’s daughter gained the misunderstanding. I was guilty of gossiping to my wife. My boy heard something, and he passed it on to Leah.’
‘Still covering, Dov. It’s admirable, but so foolish, too.’ Nathan shakes his head. ‘I hoped I would never have to see you again, Aliza.’
‘I’m very sorry,’ I say, wiping my eyes. ‘But here I am.’
All these years, while I have been getting on with my life, my mostly happy life, Nathan has been nursing a grudge. Is he wrong to have done so? I don’t suppose I will ever know how much I hurt him. But I sure as hell need to stop hurting him now.
In as steady a voice as I can manage, I say, ‘I hope you won’t take it the wrong way, Nathan, if I say that I didn’t want to see you again, either. But my daughter has become convinced that you are connected to her, and she clea
rly hasn’t let anything like sense or logistics stop her from doing what she wants.’
‘Well, with a lack of sense, at least we know for definite that she’s your daughter,’ Nathan says.
I remember what a sharp tongue Nathan always had. And I also remember how to deal with it. ‘Very good, Nathan,’ I say. ‘Touché.’
The man on reception calls Nathan over, and tells him there is a girl outside asking for him.
‘I’m so popular today,’ Nathan says drily. ‘No visitors for two years, then three in one day.’
‘That must be Leah,’ Dov says, redundantly.
‘Unless I have any other would-be children turning up today,’ Nathan says. He nods to the man to let Leah in, and something about the portentous way he does it makes me think: you know what? He is slightly enjoying the drama of it all.
‘Thank god she’s all right,’ I say. Dov puts his arm round me, and I hide my face against his shoulder. I’m ashamed of crying so much, and in front of Nathan, too.
I jump to my feet as I get my first glimpse of Leah. She is escorted by a huge security guard and looks childishly tiny next to him, tiny and exhausted. She’s been travelling all day, had to find her way on to the right train or coach, then she must have despaired when she got to Nathan’s house, expecting it to be the end of the road, only to have to move on again. How did she get here from Nathan’s house, I wonder? She’s pale, with black smudges of eyeliner and tiredness under her eyes, but she goes another shade paler on seeing me and Dov. She hesitates, but when I hold out my arms she runs into them.
Once she has stopped crying all over me – and me her – we sit. Nathan pulls his chair round so he’s directly opposite her. She looks at him in silence, her eyes great big question marks.
‘Leah, I know you’ve come here to find me,’ he says. I’m astonished by how gentle his voice is, and impressed by how quickly he gets to the point. ‘But I’m not your dad.’
‘Are you sure?’ she asks, in her smallest voice.
‘I’m willing to do a DNA test if you wish, but it would be a waste of time. You look exactly like your father. You don’t look like me.’
