Turn Us Again (20 page)

“You don't know anything about the lower classes. You're so innocent and stupid to think you'll fit in. They'll see you as … as a Jew!”

“And most Jews, of course, are rich lawyers. Is that the package you thought you were getting? Are you angry because a miserable Jew shouldn't have such high-falutin' principles?”

“I'm angry because you're a fool, without the slightest understanding of the life you are starting, chucking away the type of life you know.”

She watched the tic beginning on his forehead, the way his eyes protruded when he was angry. Yet he spoke calmly enough.

“And you are the martyr shackled to this fool. Not irretrievably shackled, you know. We've been in this predicament before.”

Madelyn marched out of the room and buried herself in the bedclothes. How dare he refer to a tragedy of his doing, which in the event was so unnecessary?

His bags were stacked by the door the next morning. Madelyn wondered if he were going to leave without saying goodbye. She felt a sudden fear that he would disappear and she would be left alone with her burden. Should she go and give him a hug? At least ask him how long he'd be gone, so she would know? It was imperative to get married as soon as possible, before it began to show.

She hovered by the door, reluctant to make the first move towards reconciliation when she felt justified in her anger, yet painfully aware of her greater need for reconciliation. The ringing phone filled her with vague annoyance. Sam never answered phones and had convinced her that they were annoying instruments. From a person who once loved chatting on the phone, she soon began to feel irritated, glancing at her watch and reflecting on the impossibility of anyone phoning at a convenient time. To her surprise, she heard Sam pick up the receiver. Within minutes she caught the anger in his tone and sidled closer to hear the words.

“The decision has nothing to do with you, Mother. I'm sorry you're so angry about it, but I cannot spend my days doing something I hate just to please you.”

Oh, thought Madelyn, we are on the same side at last, dear mother-in-law.

‘Dear mother-in-law' must have had more to say on the subject than Madelyn, because there was silence for some time. Then, “That's not true, Mother. However, if you don't want to hear or see me until I've ‘seen reason,' then I assume we won't be in contact for quite a while. Give my love to Dad.”

Sam slammed the phone down, and Madelyn scuttled away from the door just as he emerged. She looked at him, waiting for him to say something, but he shouldered his bags in silence.

“You do remember that I'm pregnant,” she said in desperation as he opened the door and walked out into the street.

He paused without looking around. “Yes?”

“We need to get married as soon as possible.”

“I will be back in a month or two. Meanwhile, I expect you to be much better when I return. A bigger person.”

She watched him march down the road, top-heavy like some grotesque animal. ‘I hope I will be bigger,' she thought. ‘I hope I will grow like a vine so you can't uproot me, you sadistic bastard, playing with me like a cat with a mouse.'

SIXTEEN

I
t was a small wedding since Sam insisted that her family could not come because his family would not. In the end Madelyn cabled:

Sam and I eloping! Prefer mystery and intrigue! Will visit soon. Lots of love and kisses.

Standing to one side of the grilled window in the post office so people could pass her, she read the cable again and again. It was a lie and therefore seemed to scream deceit. She did not prefer bloody mystery and intrigue, and even if she did there was nothing mysterious about Sam's black and white plans for a registry marriage. She felt cheated of her day. Still, there was joy and pride in cabling of her marriage and a silent rebuke to her parents for their previous opinion of Sam. He had not been exploiting her without intending to marry her. He was as honourable as any English gentleman, and a Cambridge graduate with an assuredly successful future to boot (barring his current aberration with the forestry profession).

Hoping the exclamation marks would convey sufficient enthusiasm, she stepped up to the grilled window and sent the cable, repressing an unbidden vision of its reception — Mary and Eddie sitting side by side in front of the fire with the cable dangling from their hands, gloomily wondering why she had married ‘that bloody Jew.'

Then Sam decided that no friends should attend the wedding either, except the requisite two witnesses — the photographer and one other. Madelyn wanted to invite Louise, but Sam said a man was required to fulfill the role of best man. He suggested Philip, but Madelyn resisted that idea so adamantly that he did not know whether to be pleased or suspicious. In the end, he invited another mutual acquaintance, called Troy, whom neither of them knew well, but such detachment seemed appropriate to the general atmosphere of the ceremony.

Sam was in a state of intense excitement during the few days preceding the wedding, which did much to allay Madelyn's annoyance with his muted treatment of the details. The week before she had almost erupted when he had handed her a pound and advised her to buy a utility gold ring for the marriage ceremony. Her look of outrage was interpreted by him as a request to participate in the purchase, so together they marched to various shops, with Sam evincing such amazement at the quantity of ‘spiffing gold rings' that one could buy for a pound (to the amusement of the shopkeepers) that Madelyn was caught up in the pleasure of the thing and forgot her dreams of diamonds.

The night before the wedding, Sam's excitement reached a peak. He kept grabbing Madelyn and kissing her, in between a flow of excited talk about the beauties of the little cottage they would soon be living in (which he hadn't yet seen) near his new forestry job. The delights of the country (compared to the crowded pollution of the city) and her happiness (once the benefits of the fresh air waxed effective) were described evocatively. Madelyn bravely smiled and nodded, wishing the forestry lark was over already. She suspected there had been problems in Scotland, though she did not reveal her suspicions to Sam for fear they would infuriate him. His foreman at work had phoned one evening in order to ask if Sam was a Jew. He asked as though it was a straight-forward question, and she was seized with a sudden tremor of fear, wishing she could be in Scotland to protect him. How he would have hated that!

When he came home he did not mention anything about anti-Semitism. He simply reminded her that the job had only been offered to him for a few months, and then launched into a description of the physical difficulties of the work and how strong and in shape he felt. However, he no longer rhapsodized quite so much about salt-of-the-earth and the superiority of the common man. Madelyn guessed that at best he had had nothing in common with his colleagues, at worst they had shunned him. She hoped the latter was not the case, and that the foreman's phone call was a matter of ignorant curiosity, unrevealed to Sam himself in his innocence. At other times she wished that at least a vague sense of his ostracism had penetrated — not enough to hurt him (the very thought created an ache in her chest) — but enough to bring him to earth and a return to law.

But this longed-for event was obviously not yet imminent, and she was to be banished to the country in distant Evercreech while he launched himself into a new forestry job. Despite herself, Madelyn began to feel optimistic as she listened to Sam's buoyant predictions of their future country life.

Sam leapt to his feet as the doorbell sounded and rushed precipitately to the door, Madelyn close on his heels.

“Daniel! Bernhard and Rachel! How nice of you to come!”

“You won't be so pleased when you know why we've come,” Daniel answered.

Sam turned to Madelyn, “Bernhard is my cousin, Rachel his lovely wife. Come in for a celebratory drink.” His face changed imperceptibly as he ushered them through the door and took their coats. It always took him a second or two to register meanings when they contradicted his assumptions.

“Not come to wish me well on my wedding eve, then? How typical.”

Daniel gave Madelyn a cold nod and directed his words at Sam, “It would be much better if she could pop out for a bit.”

“Oh for God's sake. Sorry about this, Madelyn.”

Again, she was baffled by the strange influence Sam's family had over him. How could he allow Daniel to march in their house and ‘order' her out on their wedding eve? It was incomprehensible.

Instead of going to the pub and solacing herself with a nice drink, she strode up and down the street, freezing to death and filled with bitterness at this manner of spending her wedding eve. The rain drove in her face, soaking her within minutes. She hoped she would be sick, so Sam would be filled with contrition.

After an hour of martyrish musings she couldn't bear the cold any longer and stomped defiantly back to the apartment. As she turned her key in the lock she heard Sam say, “Madelyn is back. That's your cue to get out.”

They passed Madelyn in much the same manner as they had passed her coming in. Bernhard and Rachel looked straight ahead, Daniel acknowledged her presence with a small nod.

Sam was sitting on the couch with his head in his hands, in an attitude of dejection. She sat beside him and put her arms around him, but he shook her off.

“I hate it when you push me away like that. It's so rude.”

“Oh for God's sake,” Sam said for the second time that evening, and he sounded so unhappy her anger dispersed.

“Don't let him upset you, Sam. What does it matter what they say?”

“I'm going to bed.”

She followed him into the bedroom, desperate to know the gist of the conversation.

“Anything new?” she ventured, “anything I should know about?”

Sam waved his hand dismissively. “Same old thing. That our marriage will kill Mum, she'll have a coronary.”

“Coronaries can't be ordered from a catalogue, I'm afraid, so unless she's already in the hospital it's a bit silly to threaten.”

“She would stop the marriage if she could. She says I am ruining her life with my marriage and my career choices.”

“It's not her life. It's yours.” What type of hold did Sam's mother have over him? Why did he allow her to influence him so much? It was so strange.

Sam was subdued the next morning, but Madelyn felt jubilant. She looked nice in a wine-coloured woolen dress, a little black feathered hat and a corsage. Maybe not the white fairy-tale dress she had dreamed of but new and attractive, as well as reusable ad infinitum. Sam wore a carnation and maintained a solemn gravity throughout the little ceremony in the registry office.

Afterwards there were lots of delicious little cakes and bountiful champagne, arranged by Sam. Madelyn had been unsure whether there would be any type of celebration at all, and she was touched by his efforts to make it a special day. The two witnesses waxed merry and showered them with attention, and she felt proud and happy to be married.

After the cakes and champagne they went to the theatre. This was another surprise for Madelyn, who could count the number of professional productions she had seen on one hand. It was a posh theatre, and Sam inevitably whispered the price of the tickets in her ear as they took their seats. Madelyn settled back in her comfortable seat, intending to enjoy the experience.

It was a Gilbert and Sullivan comedy. The rich costumes and voices filled her with joy. She sat perched on the edge of her seat, glancing at the rapt faces of the audience and thinking, I am married. I am a bride today.

During the interval Sam managed to plough his way out in front of the rest of the audience and was waiting with two beers when Madelyn got to him.

“It's a rotten play, let's go home.”

She was surprised, and could not help thinking of the cost of the tickets. “Oh no! I'm enjoying it!”

Sam tipped back his head and drained his glass, barely swallowing as the liquid slid down his throat. Madelyn had once found this ability to drink without swallowing remarkable, but now she associated it with the uncontrollable series of burps which seized him afterwards and felt her disgust in advance. Maybe she had a certain expression on her face when Sam came back up for air. At any rate, he leaned towards her and said conversationally. “We'll see who wears the pants in this family.”

He brought her her coat and hat and they left the theatre.

Thank God I am going home alone tomorrow
—
I need to think about how I shall handle Sam now we are married. He insisted we leave the theatre today, even though I was enjoying the comedy. He said, “We'll see who wears the pants in this family.” It took me a second to register what he meant. While he was getting the coats, I thought about refusing to leave. What could he do, drag me out by force? Besides, it seemed such a challenge: “We'll see who wears the pants in this family.” I am almost ashamed to admit it, but there is a frisson of pleasure when Sam acts like a beast. As though I have married a dangerous man, and must determine the best way to train him. I have several advantages on my side: he loves me so much
—
more than I love him. I do love him, but he cannot do without me. Also I can control myself, unlike him. If I refuse to talk to him or make love, he will suffer. I intended to punish him like that tonight, but somehow when he curled around my back and touched my breasts timidly I wanted him. I didn't show it
—
I will never let Sam know when I want him physically. There was only reluctance as I allowed him to unfurl my body and spread my legs, and of course he put much effort into it, to dispel my reluctance, and it was all very nice. I feel so naughty writing these things! Maybe the trick with strong men is to let them feel they are wearing the pants, when in fact you are controlling everything. Like tonight, when he thought he wanted something that in fact I wanted more. We will see what we will see. I am a married woman!