The Ruby Slippers (21 page)

For this was the other thing, in the city there was always men go round like dogs in packs – the police go one way round, the Nazis go the other, and though they do not have proper authority, they behave like they own the city, checking identities, noticing when you do not speak good German, asking where you came from and where is your family. And this while they are looking at you up and down and leering to each other, making filthy remarks in the belief that a young Latvian girl cannot possibly understand what they are saying
.

In many ways I enjoyed the life that we had, and it was nothing to sleep on a park bench or on the floor of a friend of a friend, but finding work grew not so easy, because people were not going out so much in the restaurants. It all changed when my girlfriend, whose name was Elena, all of a sudden she finds a man – one who mends shoes and is not rich, but always there is leather to stitch and heels to mend. And then, just as quick, she is gone with him to set up home and for all I know to marry. So now this is a totally different proposition, alone in the city, the winter coming and myself a good-looking woman. I did not mention this before but I was pretty since a child and fine of figure, and always my mother and father doted on me and everyone visiting and saying what a beautiful girl she is. But never I liked this because Magda, who was my elder, was not particularly good-looking and I did not wish to hurt her or make her feel inferior
.

So now I am alone and, with the bad atmosphere that was growing, without comfort or protection. There was a man of my own country, I think it was the boyfriend of Elena who introduces us, and this comes at not the best of times when loneliness drives a person to foolish things and makes attraction when normally there would be none. His name was Felikss and he had a van, a small truck, though at this time it was parked in the street because the gas was sometimes impossible to find. He was a carrier, taking things for people place to place, and he knew everyone in the docks of Hamburg. This is where he had a small apartment, which was poor to look at but a home. And therefore I fell in with him and came to live in this place, sharing in a life that was hard but not terrible, and there were good people living in that quarter and no Nazis going round flying their flags and shouting, ‘Zieg Heil’. Also he was not unpleasant to look at and was a hard-working man who survived on his wit, though one day working and one day not, for the reason of the fuel. Like me, he was intoxicated with the idea of America, especially because he had a brother there. So we would lie in bed and talk about how, if we ever got there, we would walk along Fifth Avenue and go to see Fred Astaire on Broadway, and look down from the top of the Empire State Building
.

Misfortune as I write before, it seemed to follow me, for now I learn that Felikss was half-Jew by birth, and this was exactly at the moment that the Nazis start to make reprisal against all Jews, vandalizing their stores and places of worship, gangs of thugs beating men and women in the street. And so many vile rumours and stories circulating about how the Jews are responsible for all privations we face day to day. At first we believe that Felikss is safe because he is only partly of the race, but then there is no leaving this to risk. The feeling is that worse things will come, so it is decided we must go. He has managed to have a full tank of gas at this time, which means he can travel 300 miles, which makes the decision very simple: we will find our way to Holland. That Felikss is in the docks and has genuine trade is the one piece of luck for us, because all he needs is papers and a reason to be travelling across the border. And this is where Felikss was so smart, because he now buys up with good money a whole consignment of rubber boots, a thousand pairs which, so he tells me, they cry out for in Holland but have so many in Hamburg. He finds a man in Amsterdam who is importer, and he offers to sell these boots at so low a price that the man cannot refuse. Thus the deal is struck and the man then supplies the details to the authorities and all is above board. Of course he discusses with me if I wish to go with him, but I was never in a position to say no. Felikss was my security, and in a way I was his, and we believed that if we could live free somewhere, maybe all would be good for us together. For me, besides, to remain in Hamburg was to place myself in loneliness and danger, for after the Jews, who would be next, and who knows what would wait around the corner?

It is true that sometimes good luck comes disguised as bad. And this, then, is what happened to me. I was six months away from home by now. Despite that the circumstance was fearful, the leaving of Hamburg seemed so simple it was absurd, and the weight on our shoulders seemed to fall away with each mile on the speedometer. Felikss was relaxed and happy and not in a race at all to make the drive. When I expressed to him the fear that they would stop us at the border, he showed no concern. The export papers were authentic, and if it meant that one more Jew slipped out the back door that would only be good riddance. And he was right; the border police stopped us and stood imposing with their guns and uniforms, their faces like hungry dogs, but it came down simply to bureaucracy. They saw passports, they saw papers, they went to the back of the truck and saw rubber boots. They let us through and on we drove in silence. And after we were in Holland ten minutes on the road, suddenly Felikss pulls over and we both burst out into laughter, and then into tears from the realization that we were free to go wherever we wish. We went then to nearest town that was called Groningen, and in the best restaurant we ordered champagne and ate a fabulous meal
.

■ ♦ ■

It is a warm April day and the library is practically deserted, everyone gone to soak up the sun – on benches, beneath trees, beside waters – anywhere out in the fresh air. At lunchtime, having had a peaceful morning, James heads out himself. He goes around the corner to Frankie’s and queues up to get himself a sandwich. Turning to go, he discovers Jack waiting a few places behind him in the line, and when he asks to join him James can hardly refuse.

They walk to the Park and sit there eating and looking out over the flat haze of the reservoir, not saying a lot until Jack strikes up, apropos of nothing, ‘Did you find it after all? That special something?’ Seeing James look perplexed, he clarifies: ‘For Paolo – you were looking for something to remember him by. You told me in Woody’s that night, after the funeral.’

‘Ah,’ says James, a little guarded. ‘No, no, I still haven’t made up my mind . . .’ He eyes his new-found friend a little coldly, unable to remember having discussed this with him or indeed anybody. Jack, though, has plenty to say on the subject: ‘I remember when my Aunty Norah died and my Uncle Benny didn’t know where to scatter the ashes, and that was two years ago and they’re still sitting on his mantelpiece.’ He swallows the last of his chicken focaccia. ‘That was good,’ he pronounces, throwing the crust to the ducks. ‘No, something will come, something will present itself, don’t you worry.’

■ ♦ ■

A chatter of girls comes swirling out of the high-school entrance, their final examination done. Not allowing herself to get carried away with it all, Rain walks along, calm and collected in their midst. But she stops dead in her tracks all the same when, walking up to her out of nowhere comes Harrison, the boy from the Tabernacle, the boy from the night – she still isn’t sure which he is. All wired and staring, he looks as her friends stream around him and away, glancing, coy and curious, behind them. She is far from easy about it, the way he just came up on her like that. Despite her annoyance, she is forced to be polite at least: ‘Hi, how are you? What are you doing here?’

‘I knew you went to this school. I didn’t wanna go to the Tabernacle again, with everyone, like, staring in on us all the time.’

‘Sorry? I don’t see—’

‘I have to see you.’

‘I hardly know you.’

‘Then listen to me; let me tell you . . .’ And then, for reasons she cannot comprehend, he tells her. There in the street, beneath a plane tree, with sunshine falling like splashing water through the new leaves, he tells her about himself, unpacks his whole life: how he was abandoned and then taken in; and then was young and good and then was older and no good, and is now what she sees: a washed-up individual. But still she cannot see the point: ‘Why are you telling me all this?’ she demands.

‘Because you are a good person, and I really, truly like you.’ And because maybe you can save me from myself, he thinks.

‘So, what am I supposed to do about any of this?’

‘Nuthin’, I just want you to know what I am.’

‘So don’t tell me; tell God.’

‘You sayin’ you would maybe wanna know me if I did all those things, like gave up on stuff and just went and fell into the arms of Jesus?’

‘It’s an idea. His arms are open.’

‘But you’re prettier than Jesus and I wanna be with you.’

‘Now I know you’re crazy,’ she says, shaking her head and turning to catch up with her distant friends.

‘Please, please, let me see you!’ he calls after her.

‘This is crazy. Don’t follow me, please!’ she insists, and with that she walks away, leaving him there. Rain leaves Harrison where he is, scared and stranded on the island in the ocean between his dreams and hers.

■ ♦ ■

At four o’clock, when he would normally stay on to go through the daily tally, James takes himself off home: he will do a spring-clean while he has the energy, and at last clear those two unwashed cups from the table, then he will sit there in spring sunshine and eat a salad all alone.

As he walks along, James has no idea he is far from alone at the present time. For the moment James set foot outside the library, Jack, who had been working his way along the shelves, sauntered to the door and set out after him at a safe distance. He followed James all of a mile to Greenacres and 52
^nd
, where he watched him go in the entrance to the block overlooking the little park. Marking enough time for James to climb the stairs, set down his bag, take out his keys and turn them in the lock, Jack then crossed the street and entered the building.

■ ♦ ■

Hauling himself up the last flight, James catches sight of a jazzy jacket in the darkness, sees her sitting slumped at the top of the stairs. For all of a microsecond the thought flashes in his head, Oh no, not again. He advances, wary of step, seeing her curled there, a sleeping animal, or so it seems until she leaps up, raging, ‘I hate you! Hate you!’ It is actually scary, here on the quiet landing, a figure flailing out of the darkness, shrieking at him like a banshee. ‘How could you? How could you do this to me!’ He glances around at the neighbouring doors and frantically beckons her into the apartment, ‘Get inside!’ he hisses. But she cannot stop herself; hell-bent on shedding herself of every last ounce of her toxic burden.

‘Get inside! Please!’

‘Ignorant, selfish . . .!’ Seeing she will not stop her raving, he grabs her wrist and drags her inside, noticing that she offers no resistance, but at his touch disintegrates, her sobs coming in fierce convulsions. ‘Sit down, honey, please,’ he says, gently steering her into a chair, then giving her time, allowing for the crying and hyperventilating to stop. Satisfied she is calming down, he brings her a glass of water, but she thrusts his hand away, snarling, ‘You didn’t call me!’

‘Yes I did!’

‘You did not!’

‘Siobhan, honey, I called.’

‘You did not! You did not!’ He assures her that if she cared to check she would see it, but she only demands to know why he failed to keep his word, and calls him ‘useless father’ and even ‘worthless piece of shit’. And he tells her that it is deeply shocking to hear her use such words at her age, and that she should be grown-up enough to know that there are other things in his life, tricky things, complicated things and projects he must deal with. But she is far from pacified: ‘Projects!’ she wails. ‘What about me? I should be your project. Just tell me this, you were my daddy and you loved my mommy and you loved me and I loved you, so how come you just woke up one day and went off and never came back? Tell me, please, how did that come about?’

For James, this is, as it happens, the 64,000-dollar question. ‘Listen . . . it happened; I don’t know how. I’m not sure that these are things you would understand right now. I’m not even sure I understand. People change. The truth is I can’t fully explain what it was. I mean, a thing like this, it wasn’t just like choosing what shirt to wear. I guess, deep down, I was gay all my life, only I wasn’t ever able to face up to it, even to myself – not with my dad on my case, that was never gonna happen.’

‘But you married her, and that should be for love.’

‘It was. I did love her – totally. You’ve no idea, Shibby, your momma was an amazing woman; she was wild and free and beautiful and always standing up for what was right. I loved her in every possible way. But you have to understand that there came a time when the spark went out of it – for her as much as for me. In the end, I think, because your mom was so true to herself, it helped me finally to be true to myself.’

‘So then you just got up and went.’

‘No, no, no. It didn’t happen like that. That’s the point. You couldn’t know it because you were small and had to be protected from these things. But the fact is your mother took violently against me when I came out. For someone who was supposedly tolerant of things, she took it out on me like it was personal, like I had found her wanting as a woman. It was none of that, but she got the idea in her head, and I tell you she was
deranged
about it at the time. Believe me, if your mother wants to be, she can be very, very scary.’

‘That I had kind of noticed,’ says Siobhan, planting one tiny seed of humour in among the thorny ground.

‘Anyway, that was it; I was sent away. I was the leper. First there was a restraining order, then the custody hearing, which, no surprise, I lost. It was decided I was never to come near her again, or you – especially you.’