Days of Winter (15 page)

Martin was waiting when Nathan and Sara got home, all the color drained from his face.

“Sir, Miss Deborah just called …”

Nathan was confused. They had just dropped Deborah off, less than fifteen minutes ago. “Yes, Martin …”

“She asks that you and Madam come at once. …”

In the limousine, Sara prayed. Oh, dearest God, let me not question your divine judgment …Give me strength to accept your will. She tried not to weep.

The door was opened by the butler. Quietly they went upstairs to Deborah’s room. She did not speak as they approached the bed. Sara took Deborah’s fragile hand in hers as Nathan looked down at her suffering eyes.

“I’m so sorry … to disturb you …When I got home I found a telegram from the War Office …It had been delivered shortly after I left …” She handed it to Sara. “The Lords of the admiralty regret to inform you that Captain Leon Hack is missing in action. The survivors have not all been accounted for …You will be …” Sara could not continue, the tears blinded her.

“Oh dear God, Nathan, do you think we might get more information from Maurice?” She was trembling; the telegram shook in her hand. Nathan held her in his arms. “Of course, my dearest, of course. You must not allow yourself to stop believing that he will be all right …You must believe that …We must all trust in the Almighty …If we don’t, then we’ve lost our faith. And when we do that, we have nowhere left to go …” He looked closely at them, then added, “I think it would be best if we did not tell Rubin … for the time being. I will write him, Deborah. …”

She nodded, unable to speak.

M
AGDA SAT IN THE
drawing room with Solange. It was dusk. Twilight was her favorite time of day. The French called it
l’heure bleu
, that hour when daylight is first struck through with the blue of evening.

Solange watched Magda’s ashen face, locked into stillness with the strain of events. “I think you have conducted yourself well. It’s a tribute to your—”

“Dignity?”

“Yes …”

“Wise Solange, it had nothing to do with dignity. I feel like screaming, like tearing the world apart. How dare that German bastard sit in his palace and decide our lives. Rubin gone. Leon missing …I’m going to have a baby whose father may never live to see him …”

“Magda, don’t …”

“Don’t what …? Be realistic?” She took a sip of port. “You see, Solange, nothing is ever really forgotten. We pretend, we try to fool ourselves that we’ve changed, that life is kind after all—”

“Please, Magda, try not to be bitter.”

“And why not? There’s supposed to be a deity who makes everything for the better. That’s the worst lie of them all. Life makes us …
helpless
.”

“Don’t, Magda—”

“Why
not
? I’m having a child I don’t want because of a situation that was forced on me … us. …”

“You owed that much to Rubin.”

“
Owe
? I hate that word. You shouldn’t have a child because you
owe
.”

“Magda, you’re saying a great many things I know you don’t mean.”

“I mean every word.”

“You can’t say that. If there hadn’t been a war, Rubin would still have wanted a child.”

“That doesn’t mean I’d have obliged him.”

“You’re too upset to know what you’re saying.”

“Solange … the one thing I’m not is stupid …Don’t offer me fairy tales—”

“When the baby’s born you’ll feel differently.”

“And how do you know?”

“Because it’s natural for a woman to become a mother.”

“You didn’t …Do you miss not having a child?”

Solange stifled the cry that filled her throat. It was choking her. When she was finally able to speak, she said, “Yes … I miss my child. I would give my life to have him now.”

Magda was stunned. “You didn’t tell me.”

“It isn’t something I like to talk about … not because he was born of shame, but because I couldn’t keep him. Illegitimacy is frowned upon, you know.”

Magda went to Solange and knelt in front of her. Dear Solange, my dear Solange, as usual I think only of myself …And softly she said aloud, “So you won’t think me as wicked as you thought, let me tell you why I don’t want a baby … I’m not an innocent, as you know, Solange. I’ve seen too much ugliness …The thought of bringing a child into this world. …”

Solange sighed. “Come sit beside me,
cherie
… closer …You must forget what the world is like. You have Rubin, and with the help of God, when he comes back—and I know he will—the world will be better for all of us. All that will matter will be your husband and child.”

The worldly Magda had become the child. “Oh, Solange, what would I have done without you?”

“Survive …You’re a survivor, Magda. …”

Four months had passed. Magda began to show. She felt it with her hand … imagine, she was carrying a life inside her …If only Rubin were here to share it.

But Rubin was kneeling in a rain-drenched hole, his legs coated with mud. They called it a trench. To Rubin it looked like a grave that hadn’t been covered over. If he lived a hundred years, he’d never stop hearing the sound of cannon shells exploding …One minute a man was alive, the next he lay bloody and lifeless. He should have listened to Leon …There are no heroes in trenches, they said, and they were right.

In his first action, Rubin was terrified, but when the Germans came at them, somehow he had managed to squeeze the trigger. Looking down at the youth, his dead blue eyes still open, his helmet askew, the blood already dried and matted on his body, Rubin vomited. The sour stench of death, mingled with the smoke of gunfire, made him double up in pain. He wanted to run, but a soldier shouted …“Move …Move out, you bloody fool, or you’ll be blown to bits. …”

After the battle, Rubin crawled back into his trench and leaned against the now frozen earth. His bones ached …His mind was filled with the memory of dead bodies. There must have been hundreds. Were some of them alive? Who had time to find out …? Why was
he
still alive …? That was the question that plagued him …Who made those decisions?

Presumably the same deity who had decreed he was to be a father, and perhaps it did all somehow equal out. Perhaps … but in this stinking hell it was difficult to believe.

Winter had come to London, and with it a depression Magda couldn’t shake off. There had been no letter from Rubin in more than six weeks …At least Deborah knew where Leon was. His ship had been torpedoed by a submarine, but Leon had survived, floating for three days on a raft. When he was finally found and picked up, unconscious, it was by the Germans. But Leon didn’t know that. He awoke one morning on a cot in a German prison camp. But at least he was alive, and that was more than Magda knew for certain about Rubin.

She was thinner than before her pregnancy. Except for the bulging stomach, no one would have suspected she was pregnant. As the freezing London weather peaked, Magda became distraught. She called Nathan almost every day. “Can’t you do something to find out where Rubin is? I’m beside myself.”

“I know, Magda. Please try, if you can, to keep a good thought,” he answered evenly. But of course his apprehension was as great as hers. The whereabouts of Rubin Hack was unknown.

She had to get out of the apartment …She had to get away from the gloom that hung over the house, even if only for a few hours.

She phoned Deborah.

“Has there been any word about Rubin?” asked Deborah.

“None. It’s really too much, Deborah.”

“I know …How well I know.”

“But at least you got a letter from Leon last week.”

“Hardly a letter … most of it was censored. I don’t know how he’s being treated.”

At least he’s alive, Magda thought. “Deborah, I’ve got to get out of here. Solange is driving me crazy …”

“She’s worried about your condition, Magda, especially after your cold.”

“I know, but I hate being smothered. …”

“Tell you what, come to lunch.”

“Deborah, you’re such an angel.”

“Thank you, darling …Just be careful. It’s seven above. I’ll send the car around.”

“Please don’t bother, I’ll take a cab.”

“I don’t think you should.”

“What about the petrol?”

“We have enough. The car is seldom used.”

Before leaving, Magda knocked on Solange’s door. “And where do you think you’re going in this weather?” Solange asked.

“Out.”

“But where?”

“Lunch with my lover. You’re always so full of curiosity.”

“I’m trying to be civil, which is a great deal more than you’ve been the last week or so. One would think this war was only a problem for you.”

“Well, I’m included.” Her voice was at a dangerous level.

“So am I,” Solange answered.

Magda suddenly felt like crying. Calming herself, she said, more softly, “I know I’ve been difficult and sullen—”

“Impossible is more like it.”

“You’re right, I’ve been impossible. When I get into one of my moods, I do and say things I don’t really mean. Everything gets on my nerves. If I knew how Rubin was, I’d feel better.” Going to Solange, she put her head on her shoulder. “I’m sorry, Solange. No matter how hard I try … Magda is … just … Magda.”

Solange stroked her hair. “I don’t know why I put up with you. I suppose it’s because you’re going to be the mother of my grand-nephew.”

Magda smiled. “Are you sure it’s going to be a grand-nephew?”

“Beyond a doubt Rubin’s first could only be a boy. Now take off that coat, it’s too light …Use my sable. At least it will keep your knees from shaking. And where
are
you going?”

“To Deborah’s. I’ll give her your love. …”

Magda sat facing Deborah as she reclined against the large pillows. Except for a delicate tint of lipstick, her face was colorless and hollow-eyed, but she refused to be treated like an invalid. She spoke softly and slowly, as though measuring each word.

She had dismissed the nurse. The two women were alone, trying to comfort each other’s miseries.

“Motherhood becomes you, Magda,” Deborah said, without jealousy or bitterness.

“Thank you. If being big counts, I suppose I’m beautiful.”

“You are, my dear. Imagine, it’s only four months away. Unbelievable, how fast the time has gone.”

An eternity, thought Magda, but she said, “It has gone fast. That dinner last November when I made my grand announcement seems like yesterday.”

“I suppose all your shopping is done?”

“What shopping?”

“The layette.”

“I haven’t bought a thing.”

“Really? I’d have thought you’d be through by now.”

Magda wanted to say, I think of nothing but Rubin, but she didn’t. “Now I am going to get started.”

“Well, don’t tax yourself too much, my dear. You have Solange to help you, and then there’s always Mother Hack. I wish I were well enough, it would be such a joy to shop for this baby. Leon writes, and I agree, that she’s almost ours.”

Magda smiled. “You said
she
.”

“Did I? Well somehow I can see Rubin with a daughter.”

Interesting, Magda thought. Earlier Solange had been sure Rubin would only have a boy. And now Deborah was seeing him the father of a girl …Rubin, the father …And what about her, the mother? How did they see
her
? Sometimes, it seemed, even the most friendly of Rubin’s family forgot who was having this baby …Deborah, she noted, was getting very tired. She stood up and put on her sable coat “Deborah, thank you. You’ve been so good to me. You’ve restored my spirits.”

“Don’t wait for an invitation. You’re welcome any time …”

Magda bent over and kissed her fragile sister-in-law, saying she’d phone the minute there was news of Rubin.

Halfway down the winding staircase Magda paused. The front door was being opened by the maid.

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Hack. May I take your coat?”

Magda had stopped. She looked down into the large foyer. She could only see the top of a wide beaver hat, but not the face of whoever was wearing it. The woman walked regally across the foyer. About to ascend the stairs, she raised her head. Her mouth dropped. Magda knew the face from Rubin’s description. And Sylvia Hack had no doubt whatsoever of Magda’s identity. She glared at Magda with contempt. For the sake of this trollop, she’d been denied the chairmanship of the tea and the ball …Because of this whore she’d been dropped from the Orchid Society …Because of this foreign bitch Maurice was served formal notice that his membership would not be renewed in a club he had belonged to for years. Harry Sassoon had seen to that and Sylvia didn’t blame him. She would have done the same, painful though it might have been. Furthermore, she would never forgive Rubin. Never! If Deborah wasn’t so ill—and a Mayer, daughter of a distinguished mother and father—Sylvia would have turned around and gone home. The way Deborah had defended this …
woman
…But she was, she reminded herself, a woman of compassion, which was why she was here now, to ask about Deborah’s health, and spend a few moments cheering her up. Maurice had also been kind in visiting Deborah, which took a very big man indeed—especially considering the way Leon had defended Rubin’s marriage to this … this prostitute.

Without further ado, Sylvia raised herself to her fullest height and walked slowly, sedately, up the stairs, ignoring Magda, as though she weren’t there at all. Magda placed her hand on the banister, blocking the way, and stared. Blatantly stared. Sylvia was furious. How dare this
scum
of the earth dare to look at her that way? She eyed Magda up and down, then through clenched teeth said, “Get out of my
way
… you … you—”

“Mrs. Rubin Hack … Magda Hack.”

“Not as far as I’m concerned.
How dare you—
”

She took Magda’s hand, squeezing it hard, off the banister. “You’re not fit to bear that name, much less be received in a decent home such as this. You should stay in the gutter, where you naturally belong. After all, it’s where you came from—”

Recovering from the barrage, Magda slapped Sylvia’s face with all the strength she had, almost losing her balance. But she steadied herself quickly and walked triumphantly down the stairs, across the marble foyer and out of the house, slamming the door behind her.