Bells of Bournville Green (38 page)

He was evidently not thinking the same. As Edie sat down with a fresh pot of tea, he turned to Greta and said frankly, ‘I don’t think I would have recognized you, to tell you the truth. You have changed a lot since I was last here.’

‘Well it was nearly twelve years ago,’ Edie pointed out. Though she and Anatoli had visited Israel regularly, David had not been home in all that time. ‘She was still in short socks when you left, weren’t you, Gret?’

He had been scarcely aware of her existence then, she knew, and she had always felt far more than five years his junior.

‘Yes, I suppose so,’ David said. He looked perturbed for a moment, then laughed, looking down at his teacup, shyly, it seemed. ‘Somehow you forget things change when you’re not there. I can’t get over the size of Peter these days!’

‘Where’s your wife?’ Greta asked, trying to be friendly.

‘She and Anatoli and Francesca are all fast asleep,’ Edie said. ‘So David and I thought we’d come in here and have a natter.’

‘Gila is still very tired,’ David said. ‘And the journey has taken it out of her.’

‘Poor thing,’ Greta said. ‘She must feel terrible.’ Then to her embarrassment she realized that she had alluded to Shimon’s death without meaning to, but had also not included David in the grief of it. ‘I mean both of you,’ she said stumblingly, her cheeks reddening. ‘I’m ever so sorry – about what’s happened.’

She was overcome by her own clumsiness. She hadn’t meant to bring it all up and throw it in his face like that.

But David gave a wan smile. ‘Thanks,’ was all he said. ‘Yes, it’s been a very bad time.’

‘Well at least you’re here now for a bit,’ Edie’s eyes were wide with sorrow for him. ‘Perhaps a change of scene will perk Gila up a bit.’

‘Oh, I expect so,’ David said lightly, obviously not wanting to discuss it further.

There was a moment’s pause, then he sat up straighter in his chair. ‘So – what news of everyone? How about Dr Ferris and his family?’

Greta still felt very young in relation to David, as if he was infinitely older and more mature. There was he, far away in Israel living his difficult and dangerous life of medical school, family, the army, while she was here in the safe nest of his family with her quiet little life. He must find her so uninteresting, she thought! She had done nothing, been nowhere except America, and that was dictated by her mother. She felt very awkward after meeting him, though he was perfectly friendly and polite.

But with Gila it was far worse.

She did not appear until it was nearly time for tea. Peter and Francesca had already had their food and were at their most boisterous. Peter had a pile of cushions on the floor in the hall and was hurling himself on to them from higher and higher up the stairs while Francesca giggled ecstatically and tried to copy him from lower down. Greta was keeping an eye on them both.

‘No, Peter – don’t jump when Francesca’s below you!’ she called to him. ‘She’s going to have her jump – wheeeee! There!’ Francesca landed in a gurgling heap on the cushions. ‘Come on, babby, out the way and let Peter have his go.’

But as she looked up, Gila appeared on the stairs behind Peter. She was also dressed in one of Edie’s knitted presents, a soft pink sweater with a loose roll neck which looked very pretty set against her black hair and fine features. But she still seemed to be freezing cold and was standing with her arms folded. Greta’s heart went out to her. She didn’t think she had ever seen anyone look so lost and miserable. ‘Peter, wait! Gila’s behind you – she needs to come down.’

She could tell by the way Peter stood back, pressing against the banister to let Gila pass, that he found her rather forbidding.

‘Thank you,’ she said to him, with a thin smile which did not reach her eyes. When she reached the bottom of the stairs, Greta was holding Francesca in her arms, a smile on her lips, ready to give her a friendly greeting. But Gila, arms still folded, walked straight past her, staring down at her feet as if there was no one else there. Greta watched her thin back disappearing into the front room. She could feel the extent of the misery contained in that thin frame, with her bony shoulders and numb, expressionless face. Gila seemed locked right away somewhere that no one could reach and that she didn’t want anyone to reach. Greta could not imagine how any of them were going to try and talk to her.

Of course the best person was Anatoli.

Though he was not feeling at his best that day, he was determined to come and eat with them all. Greta offered to help him get ready and found him sitting on the stool in front of Edie’s dressing table as if gathering his strength for the journey downstairs. Near his elbow were Edie’s bottles of moisturizer and perfume, Nivea cream and a little wooden jewellery box.

‘I’m afraid I have been sleeping the afternoon away – which is not very polite or hospitable, is it?’

‘Don’t be silly,’ Greta said. He allowed her to comb his hair. Even raising his arms was exhausting for him. ‘Anyway, Gila has been asleep as well.’

‘How is the poor girl?’ Anatoli asked. He had already gone up for his nap when they arrived.

‘I don’t know,’ Greta said carefully. ‘I‘ve barely seen her.’

Anatoli gave her a quizzical look which said,
You’re not speaking your mind
.

Greta smiled in surrender. She was behind Anatoli, looking at him in the long oval mirror.

‘She seemed . . . cold. I mean huddled up in a jumper, but not just that. As if she was cold all the way through. To be honest she walked straight past me without saying a word.’

‘Poor child,’ Anatoli said, his eyes full of sadness. ‘Rachel weeping for her children, she will not be comforted, for they are no more . . .’

Greta frowned. ‘What’s that?’

‘The Holy Bible. Jeremiah, I think. Now – we had better see if I can get myself down the stairs.’

Once they had achieved the slow descent to the back room, to Greta’s surprise David and Gila were already at the table with Francesca in her high chair. She had already had her tea but was allowed to sit with them. Gila was sitting beside Peter, her head bent towards him and, in her broken English, she seemed to be talking to him, smiling a little. Greta was encouraged. How would she feel if she lost Francesca? Life would be unbearable without her little girl’s chatter, her plump, clinging arms. It would be terrible to be near someone else’s little girl, but comforting as well to be able to hold and cuddle her when your whole being ached for that. Maybe Gila found Peter a comfort.

They both got up to greet Anatoli and Gila managed a smile. Greta could see she was fond of him – how could anyone not be? She seemed to thaw a little.

‘It’s very good to see you,’ David said as they hugged. If David was shocked by Anatoli’s thinness he did a good job of disguising it. But then he was a doctor, she thought.

Immediately Anatoli was there, the atmosphere seemed easier and he asked David and Gila questions about their journey and how they were. It was David who did all the talking, but Gila did not go off into her own world, the way she had seemed to before. She was obviously listening and managed to smile a little at times.

‘Ah – you’re all here,’ Edie said, carrying in a big pot of stew with lots of carrots shining in the gravy. Greta went out and carried in a dish of potatoes.

‘Goodness, it’s a long time since I’ve had a meal like this,’ David said enthusiastically.

‘Your mother’s a fine cook,’ Anatoli agreed. ‘And some of us look as if we could do with feeding up.’

He smiled at Gila with rueful fellow feeling.

‘Yes, she’s all skin and bone, poor love,’ Edie said, touching her shoulder.

Gila looked a bit bewildered, and Greta realized she had not really understood what was being said. She nodded politely as Edie served her a plate of food. Anatoli managed to draw her out a little, asking her about her dental training, her work, about the apartment they had moved to in Jerusalem, and Gila answered as best she could. She was certainly more responsive with Anatoli than with anyone else.

Later though, after they’d eaten and were moving into the front room, Greta was taking Francesca up to bed and in the hall she heard Gila say to Edie, ‘I think I go to bed now.’ Once again she had her cold, distant look, her arms tightly folded.

‘Already?’ Edie looked concerned. ‘Are you sure? It’s only half past eight. Wouldn’t you like to come and sit with us for a while?’

Gila shook her head. ‘I like to sleep.’

‘Well, all right, love, if you’re sure. I’m sure David will be up soon. Is there anything you want?’

Gila shook her head and followed Greta up the stairs. Greta saw her disappear into their room and shut the door silently behind her.

Chapter Fifty-Three

‘I don’t know how I’m going to stand it,’ Greta confessed to Pat after a few days.

All the time she was at home she felt twisted inside by all the emotion around her, as well as not being very comfortable with the visitors. David was by far the easier of the two. He was sad and preoccupied with his problems, but he was friendly towards her. She found him easy to get on with and they usually had a chat when they met each other in the house. He was always very sweet with Francesca and she knew Edie loved him being there. Even she had begun to enjoy hearing his gentle voice around the place. But the terrible sadness in him weighed on her almost as if it was her own. She found herself thinking about him when she was at work, worrying about how he was. As for Gila, the combination of her bad English, her foreignness and her stony, unreachable grief meant that she could never seem to find a way of getting along with her.

‘I feel so sorry for her. I can’t think of anything worse. But it’s ever so awkward at home with them there. You never know what mood Gila’s going to be in and she just won’t make an effort to talk to anyone. I just don’t know where to put myself when she’s there. And poor David – he’s the one doing everything and making all the effort when he must be heartbroken as well. It’s ever so hard.’

‘Well come and see me more then,’ Pat said. ‘You know you’re always welcome.’

‘I know,’ Greta said guiltily. Pat was forever on at her to come round and for them to do things together, but Greta tended to find excuses. By the time she had got Francesca down she was usually ready for a quiet evening, and the truth was, up until now she had loved being at home with Edie and Anatoli. She knew she had neglected her friend.

‘All right, I will,’ she said. ‘That’d be nice.’

Suddenly going out seemed much more attractive. Maybe Anatoli was right – she had buried herself away too much. After all, she wasn’t short of offers. There was a young man called John Foreman at the factory who had asked her several times to go out. He was a friendly bloke, and in a band, but she’d turned him down. David and Gila weren’t sure how long they were staying apparently. Edie thought it would be almost a month because then it would be time for David to go back to medical school. But however long it was, Greta knew she had to get out of the house.

So, once or twice a week now, she started arranging to see Pat and sometimes one or two of her other friends later on in the evening. With Christmas coming up there was a festive feel to work. She and a group of her friends went carol-singing in town again, in the square outside the cathedral, and some of them went in to Selly Oak hospital to sing for the patients and add a bit of cheer to the place. They went out to see
Bonnie and Clyde
and
The Jungle Book.
And at other times they just sat by the gas fire in Pat’s little sitting room and drank tea and cocoa and chatted the evening away.

And when Ruby said, ‘I hope I’m going to see a bit more of my granddaughter at Christmas this year,’ Greta agreed to spend Christmas Day, or at least some of it, at her Mom’s. Before she had popped in for a little while, when Trevor and Marleen were round at the Biddles, then scooted back to the Bristol Road as soon as she could.

I ought to see my family, she realized. Try and make it up with Marleen. She knew that as well as the arrival of David and Gila, she was having to prepare herself too for when Anatoli was no longer there. The cosy nest she had been taking refuge in all this time was never going to be the same. She couldn’t hide there for ever.

When Greta came home from work now she was so affected by Gila’s intense, withdrawn presence that she would take Francesca off and play with her upstairs, sometimes taking her in to see Anatoli if he had not come down. Week by week he seemed more poorly and it wrung her heart to watch it. She wanted to spend all the time she could with him while he was still with them, yet she didn’t like the way she felt as if she was spending her time hiding at home now.

But one afternoon just before Christmas she got home and found the house quiet. Edie was sitting near the fire with her knitting, with Francesca and her toys.

‘Oh!’ Greta said, as she put her head round the door. ‘On your own?’

‘Yes—’ Edie smiled, but Greta could sense the worry behind her cheerfulness. ‘They’ve gone into town for a bit. David went to see Dr Ferris this morning . . .’

Greta was startled by how hard her heart started to thud, by her rush of tender concern for him. What on earth had got into her? She perched on the chair opposite. ‘There’s nothing wrong is there?’

‘Oh, no! Not – I mean he’s not ill. He just . . . Oh bother it, look – I’ve dropped two stitches . . .’ Distractedly she put her knitting down.

‘I’m happy really – very . . .’ Edie’s eyes filled with tears and she wiped them away, smiling at the same time. Greta waited. What on earth? Maybe Gila was expecting another baby. Perhaps that was why there had been a visit to the doctor.

‘It’s what I’ve wanted, all this time, but it still feels a bit of a shock . . . Especially with Gila being as she is, poor lamb . . . Things aren’t easy between them.’

‘Aren’t they?’ Greta asked. She hadn’t been sure with David and Gila. She knew they were grieving over their son’s death, that things did not seem warm between them, but as they spoke to each other in Hebrew she never understood their conversations.