The Marrying of Chani Kaufman (22 page)

July 2008 – London

The Kaufmans approached the Levys' house, Chani sardined between her parents. Mrs Kaufman moved at a ponderous pace forcing daughter and husband to a crawl. Chani itched to propel her mother's bulk up the drive. They had parked a few streets away because Mrs Kaufman was ashamed of the family's dilapidated Volvo Estate.

‘Hurry up, Mum. We're going to be late. We were supposed to be there ten minutes ago.'

Mrs Kaufman panted in reply. Her husband spoke for her. ‘Just a moment Chani, your mother needs a rest.'

Chani rolled her eyes. Her mother was puffing and blowing like a sperm whale. Her father's shabby jacket and creased shirt made her heart sink. He hadn't even combed his beard and now it resembled tangled vermicelli.

Her mother waddled across the gravel with purpose as the front door came into view. The house loomed ahead making even Mrs Kaufman feel small. Suddenly white light blazed down on them. Rabbi Kaufman looked around him excitedly in the hope of a divine visitation. The door opened and there stood the Levys, immaculate in their Shabbes best although it was only Wednesday. Baruch towered over his parents, an Orthodox giraffe in black and white. He beamed at Chani but she could only see his silhouette.

The Kaufmans blinked stupidly like rabbits in headlights. Mrs Kaufman shuffled closer to Chani for comfort. Her father shook hands with Mr Levy.

‘Ah, welcome. Come in,' cried Mr Levy heartily pumping Rabbi Kaufman's hand. Rabbi Kaufman winced.

Mrs Levy's painted lips were stretched into a wide smile.

‘Hello Mrs Kaufman. Hello Chani. How wonderful to meet you at last,' she cooed. As her eyes met Chani's, she quickly looked away.

‘Baruch HaShem, yes thank you, Mrs Levy,' gasped Mrs Kaufman.

‘Ah so this must be Baruch. You're very tall, aren't you?' said Rabbi Kaufman.

‘Yes Sir. Sorry about that,' grinned Baruch amiably.

Her parents touched and kissed the chunky gold mezuzah as they crossed the threshold. Chani did likewise, for now more than ever she needed HaShem's protection. Baruch hung back to hover at her side. They exchanged shy little grimaces.

The Levys led them through the glossy hall into the lounge. Mrs Kaufman paused in the doorway to gaze at the oceans of cream carpet and white leather furniture set before her. Chani gave her mother a nudge. Mrs Kaufman moved on.

Once they were all comfortably seated, drinks were offered.

‘A sherry would be lovely, thank you, Mr Levy,' said Mrs Kaufman. Chani eyed her mother warily. Mrs Kaufman was known to get tiddly easily but she was too busy scrutinising Mrs Levy's sheitel and stilettos to remember to take a sip. Mrs Levy was trying to estimate how much Mrs Kaufman weighed. It was a miracle that such a large woman had produced such a shnippsy daughter. But perhaps this meant that Chani would balloon in later life?

Mr Levy was worried that Rabbi Kaufman had noticed that he had taken a swig of whisky before blessing it. But Rabbi Kaufman was in a world of his own, chattering inanely in a nervous attempt to be sociable. Chani groaned inwardly.

‘This is most pleasant. What a lovely room. Where did you say this whisky comes from, Mr Levy?'

There seemed to be nothing to talk about. The obvious topic of conversation was being clumsily side stepped. Mrs Levy twitched. Her husband growled jovially. Baruch perched on the wing of his parents' sofa and tried not to stare at Chani. The Kaufmans sat squashed together on the opposite sofa. Then to Mrs Kaufman's enormous relief, the home help announced that dinner was ready.

 

The vast dining room table was covered in peach cloth. Matching napkins sprouted from wine glasses. A gilded chandelier cast a pearlescent glow on proceedings. Chani felt as if she had been trapped in blancmange. Her mother's maroon jacket resembled an ominous bloodstain.

‘Oh how lovely,' breathed Mrs Kaufman, sinking into a chair pulled out for her by the home help. She noted the girl's tight jeans, low cut top and large gold cross that swung between her tanned bosoms and wondered what Mrs Levy must be thinking allowing such impropriety in her house. In front of Baruch too!

Noting her guest's look of disapproval Mrs Levy felt the need to clarify: ‘Oh yes, this is Ava – our wonderful Polish help. What would we do without her, I just don't know. The right help is indispensable one finds these days – wouldn't you agree, Mrs Kaufman?'

‘That is, if one finds that one needs help. Generally we manage just fine, Mrs Levy,' retorted Mrs Kaufman. She would not be cowed by Mrs Levy's ostentatiousness. The woman had a nerve.

An uneasy silence fell. Baruch and Chani stared at their plates in desperation. Their parents were making a hash of things already. Two aproned minions arrived and began to place steaming dishes on the table. Mrs Kaufman raised an eyebrow as Mrs Levy ordered them about.

‘Usually I use Hermolis when I need caterers but they were fully booked, so I had to use Esti Finkelbaum's people today instead – such a shame because Hermolis does exquisite chopped liver.'

Rabbi Kaufman blessed the food and they tucked in. For a while all that could be heard was the squelch and clamp of masticating jaws and clinking cutlery. Baruch pushed his food around his plate and Chani did the same.

‘So it seems our son has taken a shine to your lovely daughter,' boomed Mr Levy suddenly. His wife simpered and reached for her wine glass. Baruch bowed his head and wished his parents' triple pile carpet would swallow him up.

‘Yes – we are delighted! And he's an Or Yerushaliyim student to boot. Marvellous, just marvellous. He starts next year, if I am correct?' enthused Rabbi Kaufman.

‘And Chani appears to be a fine, healthy young lady – a good haimisher girl it seems.'

‘Oh indeed, Mr Levy. My Chani-leh is as fit as a fiddle. Hardly ever ill.'

And so the grown-ups proceeded to discuss their children as if they were not there. The dishes came and went and Mrs Kaufman's eyes bulged with every passing delicacy. Carrot and coriander soup was followed by lamb with chopped apricots and prunes served with heaps of hot, fluffy couscous. As Mrs Kaufman reached for her third helping of honey-glazed parsnips her daughter asked to be excused.

‘If you head up the stairs on your right, you'll find the guest bathroom,' trilled Mrs Levy. Her husband momentarily wondered why his wife had not directed Chani to the downstairs lavatory but his doubt was quelled by the arrival of dessert, a splendid lokshen pudding – his favourite.

‘And if they were to marry, we would prefer the reception to take place at the Watford Hilton – obviously if you have no preference of your own, Rabbi Kaufman,' declared Mr Levy as a mound of glistening noodles was dumped on his plate.

‘Dad,' groaned Baruch. ‘Please – not now.' His ears glowed crimson. He hadn't even proposed yet and here they were blithely discussing wedding venues. Mrs Levy had half risen, making as if to leave the table but tarried to hear the Rabbi's response. Rabbi Kaufman blotted his perspiring brow and carefully considered his answer. The Hilton. He would be ruined. He glanced at his wife and saw that she had stopped chewing in shock. Oh hurry up your dithering old fool, willed Mrs Levy. Chani would be at the top of the stairs by now.

‘We – er – my wife and I that is, have always found the Gateway Inn on the North Circular perfectly adequate for all our daughters' London-based, er, nuptials.'

‘Oh no, no, nooo, that just won't do – I mean, we would prefer the meal and the dancing to take place somewhere a little more upmarket – ' shrilled Mrs Levy. The Gateway was a shabby little motorway motel. Never in a hundred years would she deem to set foot in such a hovel.

Mrs Kaufman choked gently into her peach napkin. Rabbi Kaufman reached for the sparkling water and poured himself a glass, completely unaware of his wife's discomfort.

‘Don't worry, Rabbi Kaufman. I will ease things considerably for you,' gloated Mr Levy, patting his pocket where he kept his wallet. ‘Our children deserve the very best, don't they?'

Rabbi Kaufman nodded glumly. He couldn't face his pudding. In need of sugary comfort, Mrs Kaufman launched her spoon into his plate.

Matters resolved, Mrs Levy jumped up and making her excuses, fled upstairs.

The thought of being related to those people! Mrs Kaufman – a Zeppelin in maroon and her feeble-minded husband in his threadbare suit. So unkempt. So undignified. No; it would not do at all. Mrs Levy leapt up the stairs, hell-bent on one final desperate attempt at sabotage.

Now where was the girl?

Upstairs the house was quiet and gloomy. All doors onto the corridor were shut to prevent light fading the gilded wallpaper. Chani wandered through the dimness, gently pushing at doors as she tried to locate the toilet. Mrs Levy stopped on the landing and held her breath watching Chani's progress. Then she began mincing towards her, the carpet deadening her footfall.

Just as Chani was about to push open the right door, Mrs Levy called her name. The girl flinched and wheeled round to face her. Chani could not see Mrs Levy's expression; she was a velvet silhouette. All she could make out was the wavy bouffant of her sheitel.

‘Yes, Mrs Levy? I've just managed to find it – '

‘Yes, of course dear, I was just coming to check you were all right.'

There was something in Mrs Levy's tone that lent itself to suspicion. Chani wanted to get away from the woman as quickly as possible but good manners prevented her from disappearing immediately.

‘Oh, yes, I'm fine. Your house is lovely, Mrs Levy.'

‘Indeed.'

An awkward pause ensued. The woman seemed to be waiting for something but Chani could wait no longer. She pushed open the door and stepped inside.

‘Do excuse me, Mrs Levy. I won't be a moment,' she said.

As she was about to shut the door, her hostess's foot shot out, preventing closure. Chani stared down at Mrs Levy's pointed shiny toe. She did not know what to do next.

‘Before you go, I'd like a word,' hissed Mrs Levy through the gap. The menace in her voice was unmistakable.

‘What about?' chirped Chani. Her hand had gone clammy around the door handle.

‘You know very well. Let's drop the pretence, shall we, Chani? I was wondering if you'd had an opportunity to reconsider out little chat the other day?'

‘What little chat?' Her mind raced. How long could they spend up here before someone noticed their absence?

‘Don't make this any more difficult than it is already,' said Mrs Levy. She could make out the whites of Chani's eyes in the darkness. The lemon pinafore dress the girl wore glowed in the shadows. She looked about twelve years old.

‘I'm not the one making it difficult,' said Chani. She sounded resolute but inside she was shaking.

‘Let me make this easy for you,' breathed Mrs Levy, leaning closer. Chani could smell her heavy, sweet perfume and the garlic from the couscous on her breath. ‘There are plenty of other nice, young men out there. I'll help you find one if you like. As long as you steer well clear of my Baruch.'

So this is what it had come to.

‘I haven't changed my mind, Mrs Levy. And I don't need your help.'

‘I see,' said Mrs Levy icily.

‘I do sincerely hope so, Mrs Levy.' The woman's foot had not budged. ‘Now if you'd just excuse me – '

Mrs Levy remained where she was.

‘Mrs Levy, I wouldn't want to be put in a position where I felt I had to disclose any of our little chats.' As she uttered the words, Chani gently but firmly increased her pressure on the door, squeezing Mrs Levy's expensive shoe against the frame.

Mrs Levy inhaled sharply but bore the strain. Chani leant against the door.

‘Ow!' yelped Mrs Levy, retrieving her foot just as the door slammed. She pounded on the door but it remained closed.

‘Chani!' she hissed through the keyhole. ‘Come out right this second! I haven't finished!'

‘Mrs Levy, I think I've made things very clear. One more word from you is all it will take. I will see you downstairs in a moment.'

Mrs Levy was trumped. If her husband were to find out about her deviousness, he would never forgive her – not to mention the strain it would place on her relationship with her son. Damn the girl for her insolence.

‘And who do you think my husband and my son will believe – you or me?' said Mrs Levy in desperation. She was now kneeling outside the bathroom, fervently hoping no-one would come upstairs and discover her.

‘We'll find out soon enough, Mrs Levy,' Chani said. The strangeness of the situation made her head spin. She had never thought she would have to blackmail her way into marriage.

Mrs Levy was silent as she considered her next move. But there was nowhere left to go.

‘I understand. We shall have to make every effort to get on, I suppose.' It hurt her to say it.

‘Quite right, Mrs Levy. That would be for the best, I feel.'

‘Im yirtzeh HaShem.'

‘Im yirtzeh HaShem, Mrs Levy.'

Chani waited until the soft tread of Mrs Levy's footsteps had become inaudible. Then she slumped against the cool tiles, waiting for her heart to still.

 

Mrs Levy plodded downstairs, pausing on the half-landing to collect herself and smooth down her sheitel. She had always been a poor loser. Alas, she thought, needs must. Exposure was unthinkable. No one would want her for a mother-in-law and she still had two daughters to marry off. For their sake she bitterly conceded defeat, an horrific, yet unavoidable prospect. Steeling herself, she re-entered the dining room.

‘Hello my dears,' she twinkled. ‘Everything ok?'

‘Just fine, Mrs Levy,' murmured Rabbi Kaufman, still looking as if someone had hit him over the head.

Her husband looked at her quizzically. She had been gone rather a long time.

'Rabbi and Mrs Kaufman, isn't your daughter wonderful?' said Mrs Levy in a voice that was not quite her own.