Eloquent Silence (39 page)

As luck would have it, Conrad was forced to duck off from the christening party as soon as he had eaten his lunch, keen to return to his cricket match out at Sobibor, a few miles to the west. He had only excused himself for a short while so that he could attend the christening but the cricket match was all important to him. Man had to get his priorities right. Tiresome as it was, he was a man who knew how to do the proper thing by his family.

But it was all a bit much, really, with Annie attending. He had kept right on being as civil to her as possible all the morning, (a difficult task indeed), while continuing to worry away at the knotty question of Sarah’s conception. The quandary grew and festered like a boil as he watched the baby Paul’s baptism.

He had sat at lunch quietly regarding Annie over his beer, disliking the way she had with the grown up children—
his
children. Disgusted and full of loathing, he was only too glad to be up and away after having to witness how she helped Sarah and Gordon with the entertaining, nursed the baby, kissed his son,
his son
. His only son, David.

He seemed to love his mother, David did, but then he didn’t really know what or who  she was. Neither did Ruth, acting all disgusted each time he had tried to tell her the truth, the
real
truth as only he knew it.

And as for Sarah, one day she would have to be told the truth, that even though she wasn’t his child he had loved and cherished her. He had provided generously for her, paid her mother $5 a week maintenance for her until she started work. Then Sarah would realize what he, Conrad, had put up with for so long. Just a martyr to the family, he was, then and now. Different wife and kids, same martyring.

He thought about the day Annie had left him, of how she had sent the girls to stay with her parents the night before. Then early the next morning before he was awake, she had taken David and gone to her parents’ house. She had left the little boy there and returned to the house with that rotten cousin of hers, all before he had woken up.

That obnoxious cousin, all dressed up like a dog’s dinner, had handed him a solicitor’s letter—something about if there was any further violence, he would be in trouble. Huh! Trouble! That was Annie’s middle name. Huh! Violence? What was that about? Bit of a touch up here and there never hurt any woman that he knew of.

Then the cousin, Adam Goldman, had taken her away. Later, Adam had gone back to Ouswich while Annie, her mother and the children had done a bunk somewhere in separate cars. She had rung him from a public phone and told him to go to see a solicitor.

He had said, (and Annie had remarked on it in her half-smart way later on),

‘You bring my bloody car back.’

Not ‘Come back’ or ‘Bring my children back.’ Just ‘Bring my bloody car back.’

It was expensive, that car, and money didn’t grow on trees. Who knew that better than Conrad did? Man can always get another woman and some more kids, but another car, well, that had cost a pretty packet to buy brand spanking new.

Of course the first thing he had done after that phone call and as soon as the bank was open was to go down to the bank and take all the money out of the joint account. $6,000. Funny that Annie hadn’t already taken it out when she knew she was leaving, preparing for weeks he would say on looking back. Funny person, Annie. Could never fathom her. What made her tick? Why didn’t she clean the bank account out? Why did she fly the coop with the precious station wagon and the three kids and $50?

Yes, a strange girl and she had grown into a funny woman. But he had loved her and even now she had far more effect on him than she should have had, what with being married to Girda and all, lovely Girda, cream of society.

Why had Annie taken to that Jacob Blumberg jerk, er, Bloomberg, tall, thin with black curly hair and dark brown eyes, olive skin like some kind of Arab. Jew boy, even. David knows all about it now. Everyone does. Well, not quite everyone. Sarah and Annie need to be told but curiosity will take care of that where Ruth and David are concerned. Just a matter of time now until they all wipe Annie. Have dropped the facts in and now I’ll only have to let it stew until it’s cooked. Finally let the cat out of the bag. Jolly good show.

Sarah has straight blonde hair, blue eyes, white skin. Still she could have been a throwback. Yes, probably a throwback. But was she alive when all that took place? I think she was, but I’m not real sure of that. I don’t think she was, now I come to sort it out. Won’t matter. No one will know the difference after all these years if I don’t tell them. Certainly not that stupid Annie. She wouldn’t know her arse from her elbow, so to speak. If I rant on and I’m intimidating enough, they’ll all believe whatever I say. I’ve got a way with words.

He thought about how he and Annie had become quite friendly on the night of David’s twenty-first birthday party, or was it Stephanie’s? He had felt quite sentimental and played old records from the time of his marriage to Annie. Lilli had played some songs on the electronic organ and they’d done a bit of singing and some reminiscing, even got a little teary. Annie looked as embarrassed as hell, but they’d had some good times. No one could deny that.

Stirred Girda up, that did. Boy, did she give him a serve after that efisode. That’s the way it’s pronounced even though everyone else says ‘episode’ and they’ve told me for years that I’m wrong. I had a private boarding school education, so I know what’s correct and what’s not.

Got to sort this out once and for all. Can’t have Girda thinking I class Annie as anything but a scarlet woman. Got to think clearly. All going round and round in my head. Mind’s like a windmill. How to clear it?  But I’m not the one that’s confused, oh, boy, no. Not this little hero.

––––––––

T
he time came when push finally came to shove and Ruth could no longer stand the defamation of her mother without giving her a chance to defend herself.

She rang Annie. ‘Mum, there’s something I want to talk to you about. I’ll be around to see you later.’

Suddenly Annie’s throat was as dry as cotton wool. There was something amiss, trouble in the wind, she could feel it, had felt it for some time. Why was she still having to pay the price for their life with Conrad Himmlar?

‘That’s fine, dear,’ Annie told her warmly, aware there was cause for concern but absolutely unable to put her finger on it.

Ruth arrived looking agitated, glum, rubbing her left hand through her long brown hair and looking at her mother sadly.

‘Mum,’ Ruth began, making a concerted effort to stay logical and calm as Annie put the kettle on to boil for a cup of coffee. ‘Dad says you had an affair early in your marriage.’

She petered out lamely, waiting for her mother to deny the assertion so that all the ugly accusations could be forgotten. Annie had the sensation of the rug being rudely whipped out from beneath her.

‘Does he, indeed, Ruth?’ Annie answered after looking thoughtfully at her daughter for a while, all thoughts of coffee forgotten.

‘Yes, he does. David and I don’t believe him and we told him so. Still he keeps on and on about it every time we see him so I thought I’d ask you and set the matter straight,’ Ruth said. She found herself staring miserably at Annie who had sat down at the table and was deeply preoccupied.

‘He’s right, Ruthie. I did have an affair,’ she finally replied quietly. Annie’s stomach did a sickening flip. So even now after all these years he’s still as treacherous as ever, still trying to reduce my in the eyes of my children, destroy me if possible. No wonder I’ve put up layers of defensiveness, walls of self protection or I’d never have survived all these years, damaged but still battling on.

What went on in his own deep dark past with all the absent nights while he was away working and lack of explanation as to why he stayed out till early morning when he went to town for machinery parts? Lipstick on the collar? People hanging up in my ear from the other end of the phone?

‘Well, that’s your business and we can all totally understand what your reasons were for being unhappy enough to do that. David and I didn’t believe him because you’ve always talked freely to us but you never mentioned an affair,’ said Ruth, totally bewildered.

‘No, I chose not to mention it because I thought and hoped and prayed that you children would never find out that I had feet of clay. I was far from proud of myself about it but at that stage my marriage to your father was over as far as I was concerned. You girls were only toddlers and it was such a long time ago. I hoped that I’d be able to put it behind me when your father and I decided to reconcile. I didn’t want to reconcile at any cost but I was persuaded to. You might even say forced to,’ Annie told her quietly.

Ruth could hear the agony of her mother’s distress and knew the futility of trying to convince her father of anything he didn’t want to believe.

‘Ruth, he was never sure of me even when we were only teenagers and the last thing on my mind was to step out of line in any way. I could never reassure him that there was no one else. It was as if he was wishing to destroy the relationship by dragging it through the mud.

‘He was clutching and possessive, suspicious and bad-minded always. It was as if he wanted me to step out of line so that he would have cause to torment me about it for the rest of my life. And he thought I would never have the intestinal fortitude to leave him so I would always be there to be his scapegoat even until we were old and gray.

‘Often the interminable rows we had seemed to be about nothing but they went to the very heart of the relationship. Because he was never sure of himself he dragged us both to hell and back trying to justify his dreadful behavior. Ill treating me for drummed up reasons that had no foundation in truth, droning on and on into the night until I was almost beyond reason with the sound of his voice.’ Annie was still suffering severely from this long drawn out association that would have finished years ago if they had not shared a family.

The silence was so deep that Annie could hear her heart pounding.

Ruth quaked inwardly but was determined to discuss the matter fully with her mother.

‘But Mum, that’s not the worst of it,’ she said slowly. ‘Dad said he thinks Sarah’s not his. He thinks she belongs to that man, Jacob Blumberg, so he says. Or I think that’s what he’s trying to say. He mumbles and rambles, half shot with drink as he is most of the time when we go out there.’ Ruth’s voice was soft with pity for her mother.

‘But how could he think that?’ Annie asked in astonishment. ‘There was never any question of that. It simply wasn’t possible. I’d never even met the man when Sarah was conceived. I was stuck out in the country for those early years, waking up with a sickening dread of each day stretching endlessly before me, just tending to you two dear little girls. Hardly saw another human being let alone a man I would have had an affair with. Heavens, Ruth. He’s lost the plot.’

‘He says that Sarah’s not like any one in the family. She’s taller than you and me and thin like the man was.’ Ruth felt as though she were walking on eggshells, wanting to discuss the matter with her mother without upsetting her.

Annie’s heart had begun to hammer so violently that she was feeling as though it would burst from her chest.

‘My God, your father’s bitterness and venom and foul-mindedness never cease to amaze me,’ she whispered. ‘He’s held onto the information about the affair for all these years and now he’s brought it out all twisted, just like he always does. He could never deal with the truth or even get his facts straight. He had to embroider it beyond all recognition.’

She sat on the chair, her head in her hands. Ruth went to stand beside her to give what comfort she could. Annie felt herself to be a ruined woman once again, her agony gaining momentum even as she sat there tortured more than fifteen years after parting from the man who had been determined to drive her to insanity.

‘Look, it doesn’t matter, Mum, none of it matters a rap. It’s not worth upsetting yourself over. But for Heaven’s sake just don’t tell Sarah. She would be devastated.’

‘No, but I’ll talk to him about it. Maybe I can settle him down a bit,’ Annie said, dissolving into tears.

‘Do whatever you think best, Mum,’ Ruth told her sadly, embracing her warmly. ‘Just don’t let Sarah hear a word about it. That’s crucial. It would destroy her.’

Annie spent the rest of the day in a total daze of bewilderment and anxiety. The fact that Conrad had finally taken it upon himself to inform their children of her ancient affair didn’t surprise her when she thought about it. She had always felt that one day, purely as an act of spite and in a final effort to split her from her children, he would do so. At that moment she wondered why she had not been forewarned and told her children the story of the marriage breakdown and the affair herself, years ago.

But she was completely taken aback at the information he had given regarding Sarah’s paternity. She reflected on the early days of their marriage, the first clout across the mouth after being married for one month. Then slightly later, when she had told Conrad that she was expecting their second child with Ruth only a few months old.

How he had said, ‘It’s not my brat. Couldn’t be mine. You’ve only just had one kid and we were using those pessaries. It couldn’t be mine. You’ve played up on me and run around.’

Tiny Ruth, premature and only a few weeks out of hospital had taken all of Annie’s devoted mothering. As well, they lived on an isolated farm where Annie never saw another soul except Conrad’s relations for weeks on end. How was it possible, Annie wondered as she was destined to do a million times? Who’s baby was Sarah supposed to be?

The time frame for Conrad Blumberg was way out of reality as Sarah had been eighteen months old at that time. Where had Conrad’s flight of fancy taken him some twenty-five years down the line? God alone knew what Conrad, stout, heavy and red-faced with bad temper written all over him, had concluded. Mind addled from regular bouts of heavy drinking and daily steady quenching of his thirst. Constantly having mind-altering substances like alcohol fogging up the brain must have unfortunate effects on a person’s thinking, Annie reasoned.