All Good Women (48 page)

‘You awake?' He opened one eye.

‘Yes, it's seven o'clock already,' she said absentmindedly, realizing she would have to get her own watch repaired now that she was leaving Reuben. She had wanted him to bear the temporal responsibility in their relationship. Temporal. Spatial. This would be so different tomorrow. Could space invade time? The past? Which was worse, being far apart or being long apart?

‘Then you must be ready for breakfast.'

‘Breakfast?' She felt the full impact of her hangover. Who was he, the mad chef?

‘Yes, I made pastries yesterday afternoon. And I managed to get some of your favorite coffee from Emilio's.'

‘Coffee would be terrific,' she said, noticing how American she sounded already. ‘I just don't know if I could do justice to your baking right now.'

‘I suspected that would be the case, so I wrapped some for the sailing.'

Where did all the good will come from, she wondered. Had he always carried the cheer for them as well as the watch?

By the time he had prepared coffee, she was ready to leave. She forced herself to sit down and drink the cup of coffee with milk and cinnamon. It did revive her. She knew she should linger, and she should at least give him the chance to eat his own pastry, but she had no room for consideration. She was worried about Leah and felt an irrational need to get going.

‘You don't have to drive me, you know. The tube will get me home in half an hour and what will you do waiting around for me all morning while I pack?'

‘Watch.' He smiled.

‘Hmmmm.' Watch her sorting through the final threads of her London life? Watch her cry as she said good-bye to Mrs MacDonald and Mark? She knew he was being romantic; she knew he was being kind. Surely this must be more terrible for him. Why was she so angry? Was it that she couldn't admit it to herself that she wanted to be alone this morning, that she would actually prefer to ride the tube in solitude and have one last walk in Finsbury Park? He wanted to spend the morning with her for the same reasons she wanted to spend it alone. He wanted to catch last glimpses, to preserve last moments of their time together.

‘OK.' She shrugged her shoulders, for there was no satisfactory solution. ‘You win. Come along for the picture show.'

The street was alive with horns and screeches. Anna kept staring out of the car window, startled by the clog of automobiles and lorries and taxis. She had never been driven through rush hour before. She had always taken the underground. How different the city was up here. She didn't like the sensation of everyone segregated by automotive steel. At least on the tube, you could look around and see the colors of people's shoes and the weave of their coats. Here, she felt like part of a carnival ride, closed off with Reuben in their little seats, imminently risking collision. Still, it was fascinating to see the journey directly: Covent Garden to Holborn to Euston to Camden Town to Hackney. Elegant buildings next to blackened holes.

Ahead of them a crowd of people walked into the street because the pavement was cordoned off. Anna watched one woman trying to pick her way through the broken concrete and twisting her foot. She stood against a building, holding her ankle. Anna could feel the sharp pain and turned to Reuben to ask if they might stop and offer the woman a lift. He was completely absorbed in the obstacle course ahead. Behind, a bus driver leaned on his horn. Anna decided to leave the woman to other good neighbors. She knew she would remember this incident for years even though it was neither tragic nor dramatic. Here was London crystalized: the arduousness of daily movement; the resourcefulness of the people; the ways strangers helped and confounded each other; the individual picking her personal direction through confusion. Anna recalled newsreels she had seen of London before her arrival — pictures of the Blitz and of the crowded hospital corridors. This had led her to expect a grand and bloody theatre. Instead she found the challenge more prosaic: navigating the way to work; juggling rations of clothing and food; negotiating the electricity shortages; worrying about the children; communicating with people back home; living on the edge; trying not to look over the edge.

‘How are you?' Reuben was more relaxed now that he had escaped the bus and was driving twenty miles an hour up the Holloway Road.

‘Just lost in thought,' she smiled.

‘That sort of day.'

Why was he so damned understanding? Where was the old, feisty Reuben? This cool was his way of coping with the departure. And he was no fool; he knew he was making her feel guilty.

‘How are
you
?'
She played with the handle of her handbag.

‘Sad. But fine,' he said and then concentrated on the traffic ahead. Seven Sisters Road was congested with shoppers and people rushing to work. ‘Almost home.'

Home. She realized how much she would miss this respite. How much she had looked forward to returning to this creaky Victorian house. As a child, home was alternately a nest and a prison. Stockton Street was fun and fulfilling and a place for coming into her own. This house had been her refuge, the only place in London she felt safe. How she would miss the long walk from the tube, the lilac that bloomed in the Irish woman's yard each spring and the kids who skipped rope beneath her own window.

Reuben pulled up to the house. Before Anna could open the car door, Leah came dashing into the street. ‘Mummy! Mummy! We're taking a ship today.'

Behind her, Mark followed, a frown on his tired face, his hair touseled and his bathrobe hanging loosely over his pajamas. He had lost a lot of weight these last two months from overwork. Anna knew she should have badgered him more. What would happen when she was gone? More to the point, what had happened to him this morning?

Reuben raised his hand in greeting. Anna was pleased, as ever, by the friendliness between the two men who were quite alike in their bluff sensitivity.

‘Has she been keeping you up dancing all night?' Anna inquired.

‘Oh, no,' Mark said sleepily. ‘Mrs MacDonald got an emergency call from the Red Cross yesterday, so she asked if I could keep an eye on her until you returned.'

‘We've been playing ship!' Leah was delighted in the spotlight. ‘We've been playing shuffleboard and watching for albatrosses.'

‘Albatrosses?!' exclaimed Anna.

‘Well, it was early and I'm not much of a sailor,' squinted Mark. ‘Albatrosses were all I could think of.'

They walked into the house. Anna shook her head at Leah's exuberance and patted the girl's jittery shoulders. Did the ocean seem vaster to a child? Certainly the journey would be longer since she didn't know what was on the other side.

‘Tea?' Mark asked Reuben.
‘Why
don't you come into the kitchen for tea while the ladies pack.'

‘Ladies!' squealed Leah.

‘You've won her heart,' Anna laughed. ‘She won't want to leave you next thing we know.'

‘You mean you don't want me coming along?'

‘Say,' Reuben coughed, ‘I believe I should have first shot at that.'

‘You can both come,' Leah laughed. ‘I'd like two daddies.'

Surprised by the blush crossing her own forehead, Anna said, ‘Enough! You're all trying to confuse me because I'm tired. Speaking of which, Miss Muffet, when did you go to bed?'

Leah's eyes rolled toward Mark.

He answered. ‘Well, I figured it would be her last chance to hear the BBC. Then we got to talking. I'm afraid it was rather late; one might even say early.'

Anna shook her head. ‘Men! Come on, Queen Leah, let's leave them to their teapot.'

Anna followed Leah. Where did the girl find such energy? How had Mama kept up? A heaviness gathered in Anna's chest; she had been moving with Mama all day.

Leah waited at the top of the stairs, her hands on her hips, exasperation lightly tracing her lips, as if the day — and certainly her mother — were moving too slowly.

‘I'm right here, honey,' she called. ‘Now did you pack your toys in that box?' Anna caught up with Leah. She opened the door and wanted to shut it immediately because the room was so spare. It hadn't looked like this since the spring day when Mrs MacDonald asked, ‘Will this do?'

‘Yes,' Leah said, almost inaudibly, speaking lines from another stage. ‘I did it all before we told ghost stories. Mark said I had to follow your orders.'

‘Then maybe you could help me by, uh, by sweeping. Go get a broom from the kitchen, sweetheart.'

She could hear Leah bounding down the stairs. Then the men's voices greeted her. And the laughter. Such a charmer. Anna looked around the room again, at the stacks of boxes piled in the corner — the open suitcases; the cleared closet. All that was left, really, was moving their clothes from the drawers. How would that fill four hours? She'd been crazy to start so early. She hadn't been this manic when she moved from Stockton Street because, of course, she had much less to bring. Little could she have imagined returning with a daughter. And these first editions of novels and strips of lace and fragments of jewelry from the street markets. Why had she collected so much?

‘Mummy.' Leah stood with one hand on her hip and the other holding the broom like a lance. ‘I'm back.'

‘So you are, my inspiration. Why don't you start over there, in that corner, and then work your way across the room?'

The broom was really too large. Anna pictured the girl dancing with Ichabod Crane. Still, it was good for her to have a sense of purpose, good for the men to have some time alone downstairs, good for her to have company here. Now where to begin — the underwear or the sweaters? She stood, staring at the bureau. What was wrong with her, did she expect them to get up and move of their own accord? She opened a drawer, lifted a pile of — yes, nightgowns — and laid them in the suitcase. Then the slips and …

‘Doorbell, Mummy, may I answer it?'

‘Yes, love, but don't race down those stairs. You'll break your …' Mama again, well, it was fitting.

‘Anna, Anna.'
The breathless voice
was Esther's. ‘I'm so glad.' She entered the room, holding a box tied with a red ribbon. ‘I was so afraid I had the time wrong, that you'd be gone. I still don't want to believe you're leaving.'

Anna watched Esther's nervous eyes. This was so unlike the collected Esther who supervised her trials with Reuben and her anxieties about Leah.

‘Perhaps we're not. I seem to be paralyzed between the sweaters and the socks. We could miss the ship at this rate.'

‘Oh, Mummy, no, let me help, we can't miss the ship.'

‘All right, sweetheart. Enough from you for the moment, why don't you run down to the shop and buy yourself a drink? Wouldn't you like that?'

‘Yes, I, I, I guess so. But promise me we'll make it to the ship. Promise me you'll finish packing.' She looked at Esther accusingly. ‘You'll let her pack, won't you?'

Anna didn't know whether to be amused or annoyed. ‘Off now. I guarantee we'll make the ship. Let Esther and me say good-bye.'

As the girl bounced down to the front door, Anna turned to her friend and surprised them both by weeping. ‘Esther, I'll miss you. What will I do without you?'

‘Eat sweets for a while,' she grinned, extending the box.

‘Thank you, Esther, it's lovely.'

The two women embraced and then, embarrassed, they moved apart and regarded each other in silence.

Finally Esther said, ‘Here, we've always worked well together. You do the socks. I'll take care of the sweaters.'

Esther and Mark helped load
the car. Reuben invited them to come: people could squeeze; laps could be sat upon. No, they both declined, insisting it was better for Reuben to see them off alone. Esther sniffed into a pink handkerchief. Mark bent down and made funny faces at Leah. Finally Reuben started the car. And so they left Chester Court, Anna sitting in the front seat holding a box of books and Leah in the back with her ragged bear. Anna checked her turquoise hat in the rearview mirror. This would have been the perfect outfit for Moira's wedding. Leah turned and waved to Esther and Mark, long after they were out of sight.

They were silent until the bridge. Reuben cleared his throat. Leah tried singing. Finally, Anna spoke. ‘It was kind of them.'

‘Yes.' Reuben nodded.

‘What?' demanded Leah, ‘What was kind of who?'

‘Oh, everything,' said Anna, ‘Esther and Mark helping us pack, saying good-bye …' she trailed off. ‘Leah, honey, will you sing that song again?' Time seemed to dissolve.

When they reached the dock, Reuben couldn't figure out where to park. Anna was overwhelmed by the crowds, by the colors and racket. She hadn't considered how packed the ship would be even though she knew that thousands of people were leaving for the States these days. Leah fretted, ‘We're not going to miss the ship; we're not going to miss the ship, are we?'

‘No.' Reuben's temper broke. ‘Be quiet, Leah, we've got an hour before sailing.' He recovered a softer voice. ‘Now help me by keeping your eyes open.'

We've got an hour before sailing, thought Anna.

A uniformed man led them
down the grey metal stairs toward their cabin, then down more stairs, and more. Anna grew more claustrophobic with each step. She felt the fringe of a headache on the right side and cracked her neck to loosen the tension. Well, Mama and Papa had travelled in steerage, so this would be OK; they would be OK. Mama, are you still with me?

‘Mummy?'

Anna blinked and looked around. Where was Leah? Her heart pounded. Where was the child? ‘Reuben,' her voice was alarmed, ‘Where, where …'

‘Don't panic,' he said, nodding at the stairwell below. ‘There's Captain Hook.'

‘Mummy, I've found it, 20B. Our number. Our cabin.' She dashed ahead.