Wha…? Oyyyy! Oww…! What the…? My God no!!… hey! I can't...!
Help! Oy…! Started from nothing till the damn thing swallowed me
up. Can't be! You're due October 14th like we fixed – still three weeks
to go. I told the doctor I said listen Doctor I can tell you the exact date
even the time of day to the minute. He looked at his calendar reckoned
it would be October, around the fourteenth. Well I… it's like a cramp, a
total cramp… a labor pain! Never had anything like that, nearly killed
me it did. But for the life of me I don't know what's your hurry. Damn
and I only get that cot in two weeks. Phone her - maybe she can let me
have it now. I tell you, you are… well…! Eight fifteen, dark outside.
They're all gone – left me to my own devices. With the first birth, it says,
the pains can sometimes go on a whole day so we've got time. Drizzling
outside I hear it on the window. How people can leave a house when
it's dark and raining…!? Sometimes even snowing can you imagine!
And frost. But that's what they do every morning. Get up go out. Barmy
I call it. And your grandfather with that cough. And her with her arthritis
standing on her feet all day in that shoeshop. And your uncle Syd stuck
in the traffic. With a bit of gumption they could have had it a lot easier.
A lot. But they don't have it that's the trouble.
Mmmm… Nice… comfy, soft. Now listen Maurice, before we go any
further with this there's a few things I have to tell you. Because once
you're here you'll be surrounded by people who will fill your head with
rubbish. Even though I think I can trust your judgement – you'll know
what to ditch and what to keep. See, going by cousin Sarah in Tel Aviv
you've gotta be a genius. Not just a genius, she said, in fact he may
be the messiah. Maybe it's him'll bring peace to humanity. Between
Jews and Palestinians and whoever – the whole world. Goodwill to all
men. The one who'll get the wolf to lie down with the lamb. I swearthat's what she said. So being the genius you are you'll easily see the
difference between what counts and what's rubbish. And if you want to
know how the messiah comes into it, how come a genius I'll tell you.
Because – how did she say it? She said only a genius could come out
of a mother with one disfunctional ovary and a father that's ninety-five
percent impotent. When I told her that to my amazement I'd joined the
club she literally fell off her chair –no kidding. But who cares – genius,
messiah, Nobel prize – the thing is I love you. I do. Love you to death.
I mean it. Ohhh… oyy… Help! Yo-o-o… wait wait… the Book! Where's
that damn book? Forget it… can't be bothered. It says there - I remember
- to breathe in from the lower abdomen slow as you can. How can
anyone with a pain like that be expected to get their breathing straight?
Before I drop off – God only knows why I'm so sleepy today – there's
another thing I should tell you: When you open your eyes first time six
o'clock tomorrow morning the latest don't be disappointed because
you won't see nothing. And you know what? You ain't missed nothing.
Because outside it'll be dark probably raining. Maybe foggy. Welcome
to northern England. But you need to know, Maurice, where you come
from they don't have this kind of weather. Because you come from Tel
Aviv.The Mediterranean. Another thing I need to explain that I don't
suppose you'll notice at first: folks here in Liverpool stay indoors in their
little houses, keep themselves to themselves. Not like there – cafes in
the sun on every corner doing good business from morning through the
night. Though even here it's not as bad as before. Today a house is a
house –three and a half rooms. Central heating too if you don't mind.
We don't want to pollute the air with coal soot in our cleaned up city.
Lucky you didn't get here before our Syd bought this house. It was just
the two rooms – one up one down. Imagine four normal people living
like that without a bath and with the toilet outside. It happens. Different
nowadays. You can go for a ten-minute walk without getting your shirt
black from soot on the way. Hey maybe we'll do that – a little stroll before
going off. By twelve your grandpa should be home he can take us in his
van. You don't know what a grandad you've got – do anything for me.
I had a very nice one too, Zaide Moishe. Kindest soul that ever walked
this earth. That's how you come to be called Maurice oh God here's
another! Draw in down to the belly - takes practice… and pfffff… Listen,
that wasn't funny. Kicking's one thing but downright sadism! I mean…
Ah… lovely lovely. Nice and warm – reminds me of Jerusalem. You know
there they sleep under a blanket even in summer. I loved Jerusalem the
holy city which makes me a bit of an exception because I love Tel Aviv
too. A town that never stops. I moved there from Jerusalem. People who
live in Jerusalem are crazy about that holy city you've no idea. The Tel
Aviv lot just don't get it, can't stand Jerusalem. And there you are – I fell
in love with them both. You see, you have an exceptional mother. And
don't imagine I'm the only one that's exceptional in the family. Only –
how can I tell you? – just that I don't understand them. Specially when
it comes to you and me. They were always so nice. Take Auntie Hetty.
Couldn't do enough. Like "Stay for supper, Angie dear, sleep over, stay
as long as you like." And "What about this silk blouse that I got in the
sales? Just your size. Take it, wear it in good health! Oh and you've got
to have this fox fur, genuine Siberian fox. Solly brought me another one.
You have this, it'll keep you warm." Then it all changed. O-ho here's
another one! Oyyy! Fill up threefourfivesixseveneight nineteneleventwelvethir-
and - let it out. I was so shocked, couldn't believe it. That she
should do that to me! Write me that horrible letter –to Tel Aviv. She loves
me really cares for me etcetera but it would be best for all if I stayed
where I was in Tel Aviv and tried to manage the way I did since I'd left
home because, quote – to come back home like that without the baby's
father would put your mother in her grave – unquote. I told cousin Sara
straight I said listen Sara I said, I don't care either way, if they don't want
me in Liverpool let them keep me here in Tel Aviv. God if she doesn't
come to see us with flowers in the maternity ward I'll kill her.
And what about your folks in Jerusalem, Sara's mum and dad? Are they
any better? When they heard the glad news they made some brilliant
suggestions. Like Sara's dad, uncle Barney, who said I should give it
up for adoption. "It"! or "Why not take it to a kibbutz?" Other brilliant
ideas the relations came up with I'd rather not repeat. God help us!
You'd be surprised how many women are ready to pay money for that
disgusting operation. You shouldn't know of such horrors. The funniest
was cousin Sara herself, the one who says you're the messiah. What
does she do? In the heat of the summer she takes a day off work and
goes up to Tiberias to visit Leon's parents. Fancied she could persuade
them to get their son to go the Rabbinate, get us married there. At least
there should be a Ketuba – that's what she had in mind all the time. It's
like for her the Ketuba is something holy. She did that for you – only
told me after the fact – said it was for the child's sake. Not for me God
forbid. Come on where are you living? Like I said, she told me about the
whole thing only afterwards. Boy, was I mad! I really lost it. I told her
that if she'd asked me first I'd have said she was wasting her time. And
you know what – she did more harm than good. She came to their bed
and breakfast place in Tiberias and broke the news – that God willing
they were going to be grandparents. She talks very nice our cousin, very
refined. But your grandmother just kicked her down the stairs – didn't
want to know. So Sara takes the next bus back to Tel Aviv. All in all it
was a nice day out, lovely ride. You pass alongside the Sea of Galilee
as the road winds around the mountain – it would have been spring.
Looking down from the road you see it shiny blue then it disappears as
the bus goes round the bend then suddenly it's in front of you again, and
the blue sky above. Little boats, some little dots swimming. Date palms
along the edges. He'd already warned me that if I dared tell his folks
about you that would be it. Not a penny from him. Thing is he didn't
want to upset the damned bitch. So sweet she was at our engagement,
saccharine is not the word. All about money of course. She thought
any girl coming from England even if she's dressed in other peoples'
cast-offs must have a father a millionaire. Robert Maxwell at least. In
the end I did get some money out of him – five hundred dollars for the
air ticket, then get lost. He'd promised me a thousand and I bet his dad
gave him that but he must have pocketed the other five hundred for
himself. Fancy. Made a nice profit on us, son-of-a-bitch. Why all the
hoo-ha? Because of the shame, you see, the embarassment. I should be
ashamed! Ashamed of you? I'm proud of you genius! Adoption? What, are they dumb or something?! Go through all that and then give up the
cherry on the whipped cream? They must be bonkers! And then one day
some kid tells you that the woman you always thought was your mum
is really not her. So go look for your mother when your real mother has
been searching for you all her life! Orphans I can understand, but you?
Look who you've got. Aside from me. First of all your uncle Syd who
loves you nearly as much as I do. And the others? And don't forget not
everyone has a great uncle and aunt who actually live in the holy city.
And last but not least – what about your loving grandpa and grandma
we're living with. Grandpa Izzy is what you'd call a real mensh. He has
only one failing, bless him. He came to the conclusion as a kid that the
only way to achieve financial stability – as he calls it – is through poker
and horses. And it's that inspiration that still keeps him going. Apart from
his stall at the market. Your grandmother, I'm afraid, is unfortunately a
primitive woman. Not that her life has been a bed of roses. At fifty when
all the Jewish grandmothers are knitting babyclothes and basking in the
sun when it comes out – she goes and gets a job in a shoe-shop. Eight
in the morning till eight at night. With a short break for shopping at
noon. Whereas up till then her life had been cleaning, washing, ironing
and cooking. At her age old habits die hard - she still does the same
plus going out to work. Doesn't believe in washing machines, sends
the bed-linen to the laundry and does the rest by hand. She'll leave it
all soaking in the bathtub Saturday night and wash it Sunday morning.
I said if there's one thing I don't intend to give up on when the baby
comes it's a washing machine. I hope Syd got the message. Hoy! Brea-
t-h e in… and o u t… You know what, till nine months ago I never
slept on my back always on my front. Till I got used to it! Till I get into
the right position! Very nice of him to move into the box-room and give
me this, right? Good room, big window. Look Syd I said you can see for
yourself the box-room's not big enough for me and the child. And he
saw. Agreed to swap rooms. Pity about him really he could have been
manager. He's got the makings of a manager. No one knows gent's
outfitting like he does. Would be nice to have had a brother a manager
of a big clothes store like that. His problem is zero push. But he'll get there one day. Tall, handsome. The girls are all after him but he doesn't
bring them home. Not since that one time when She had something
to say. Not under this roof! He wouldn't want a rich woman, wouldn't
suit him, not his style. Too bad. Maybe a little music… O that? No. No
thank you not today.
Pip pip pip pip pip pip This is the BBC Home Service. Here is the ten
o'clock news read by Merryl O'Keefe. The investigation of the Pan-
Am 103 airline disaster at Lockerbie last week has indicated that the
explosion that claimed two hundred and seventy lives was caused by a
time-bomb planted in the plane by a Libyan extremist group associated
with… Look at that. You plan a trip, save up your pounds shillings and
pence, buy a ticket to fly wherever, then out of the blue – Boom! All
gone up in smoke. Not for us Maurice. We only travel EL AL, darling.
The day you turn two we pack our bags and fly back to Tel Aviv. You'll
go to a nursery school there and I'll go back to my old kind of job as a
child minder for rich people who want their kids to know English. I'm
good with kids which makes you the luckiest kid alive. He wanted me
out, vamoos. But sooner or later, he'll want to see you, you bet he will.
He's something, that Leon. Not bad looking, thick wavy hair, big body,
broad-shoulders, strong. He could pick me up with one hand and throw
me in the air like a toy. But from the first minute I could tell there was
something amiss. And if I say I could tell believe me your mother knows
what she's talking about. She's used to all types. A free woman all right
but I do have my principles, and with me it's a matter of principle. To
my way of thinking there's nothing meaner than turning a man on and
leaving him hanging in mid-air. If I'm in the mood I'll go all the way. If
not – it's good night and good luck. I'll spare you your father's clinical
details, Maurice, but he turned out to have an Oedipus complex, a bad
one. If he had Sofia Loren for a mother I could understand. But that
cow? Do me a favor! All the same it was a challenge for a girl like me,
thought I may be able to help him. In the end it worked and - Voila!
Know what he said when he left next morning, very chuffed: "What a
lark if I got you in the pudding club!" Ha-ha. I laughed too because I knew it was impossible. The doctors told me long ago I'd never have
children. One of my ovaries had got infected and the other one was
damaged in a car accident. Fact, for years I've been a free bird and
nothing happened.
You'll be surprised to know that even after we broke off the engagement
I didn't mind him coming over now and again. Even though he's a piece
of you know what. We met only twice after I found out it had happened.
First time I said he'd better marry me or else, and he said over his dead
body. He didn't think he was old enough to be a father. He had only
one suggestion for me – and I won't say what it was, God forbid - we're
talking about his own flesh and blood don't forget. I told him he'd better
reconsider about the marriage otherwise I'd get my lawyers on him.
Like talking to the wall, so in the end we agreed that he'd pay me so
much for expenses. I tell you, Maurice, that was a close shave getting
out of that marriage. Well of course I never saw a red cent. Till the next
time we met – after plenty of phone calls and threats - that was when
he brought me the five hundred dollars for the ticket. Didn't even come
to say goodbye when we left, the dogsbody.
I shouldn't really be going on about him like this, after all, it says thou
shouldst honor thy mother and thy father - even if he's a dogsbody. Oh no!
Another! Oh pain! Breathe deep! Too hard! I'm in pieces breakininpieces!
Ayyy… That's that. Once every fifteen minutes, right? Another ten minutes
in bed then we'll go down for breakfast. Always leaves it ready on the
table for me with a note. That I just have to heat the porridge and make a
couple of slices of toast. After all these years she still doesn't understand
I don't have any appetite in the morning, especially for porridge. How
she used to run after me in the street with that porridge – "Get this
down you or I'll murder you!" One thing she taught me: Never force a
child to eat. What the hell!?... God almighty I've wet the...! Oh no! The
new matress she'll kill me! Wet the bed at twenty-five! Can't be! Oh
no it isn't that it's the… ! Quick to the bathroom! Gallons! Wow this
is something- what a laugh! Who to phone now? – they're all at work.
Never mind, he should be here at twelve, he'll take us to Maternity for delivery. Natural childbirth don't forget. Just check to see everything's
here. Baby clothes, hand-knitted blanket from cousin Sara. Oh the crib.
Phone Gloria – Nine four three four six O… no reply. Thursday – she'll
be at the hairdressers. Other little things you'll get next week all being
well when they do the little operation but not to worry – you'll have
the best man in the business, I got his phone number. For Angie's boy
only the best. Listen, it's nothing. A little snip and it's done – then they
push a bit of gauze dipped in wine into your yowling mouth, you suck
on that and doze off. Open your eyes after a little sleep and behold
you are a Jew! Look no hands! Wonder if they'll make the blessings
and have a schnapps at the synagogue… raise a glass for the new boy.
About the father? Your uncle Syd will know how to deal with that. Not
our problem.
Ten past twelve and he's not here! Where the devil…! God I forgot. The
betting shop. Out of communication while he's weighing up which horse
to put his money on. Smart family. Stick to you like glue till you need
them. Let's see if I have... Not enough for a taxi. We'll take the bus then.
Just the bloody drip. It says in that case the birth mustn't be delayed,
contamination could set in. Like what happened with poor Sara, never
had kids. Not for us sweetheart. Look at that… my hair falling out. All
your fault, little bugger. Did my teeth in too. And here's me drinking a
pint of milk a day for all the good it did me.
Do up my eyes a bit – a girl should always look her best, right? Specs.
Take the Woman to read while we wait. Social Security card, doctor's
letter and the form, slippers, pyjamas, chewing gum…chewing gum OK.
Hat. Smile please. Water water. By the waters of Babylon… Ambulance,
you say? There you go, genius! Good thinking! - I'll call them right away.
If I forget thee Oh Jerusalem… Don't worry Jerusalem, we shall not
forget thee.