Forever Torn

C15: The Late 30's (2/2)

WAR.

1939 continued much as the latter part of 1938 had. Harry was enjoying the sense of working and living his own life as an adult. He still firmly identified himself as Jewish but had been moving more and more away from the strict rules of his childhood, enforced when Booba was still alive and observed out of respect even if he had stretched a few, like working on Saturdays and going to football and cricket without his grandparents knowledge at times he wasn't supposed to.

He still maintained a more relaxed version of the old rules around family and out of respect for his grandfather who was the most orthodox of his remaining relatives. However his life was expanding – he was exposed to more outside influences and went to places which were not the traditional Jewish hangouts, like when he went dancing and there were a fairly mixed crowd, although socially he still stuck to almost exclusively Jewish people with the odd exception.

One day he did something that he knew he would definitely never mention to his grandfather under any circumstances. He had tried certain non kosher foods before and liked them but one day he was passing a caff and his mouth started to water so he went in and his nose led him to the counter. He saw what was cooking and it smelled delicious so he ordered and enjoyed his first bacon sandwich – it was a major step in one way but as Harry saw it, he was Jewish in religion but he had his own life which was separate and he wasn't bound by the stricter rules that he had always been a little resentful of.

He continued to accompany his grandfather to synagogue on the major occasions and on many ordinary Sabbaths if he wasn't working and felt like it. Synagogue was another place to meet girls, different from the dance halls but social just the same and he was still more advanced in his knowledge of Hebrew and Yiddish than a lot of the regular shul goers who had been born and bred in the East End.

He had lost his Lithuanian though, not having spoken it since he learned English and in fact having deliberately attempted to exorcise his accent to the extent of going to elocution lessons and by the time he heard war on Germany had been declared his accent was very slight and improving day by day – at night he would slowly enunciate words from the newspaper and by this method he had eliminated his old accent completely by 1940 when he sounded smooth and English.

He tried to sound as much like a BBC announcer or well spoken politician as he could, reading the word's of Chamberlain to his family over dinner on the night of September 3rd 1939:

'I am speaking to you from the cabinet room of 10 Downing Street. This morning the British Ambassador in Berlin handed the German Government a final note stating that, unless we heard from them by 11 o'clock that they were prepared at once to withdraw their troops from Poland, a state of war would exist between us. I have to tell you now that no such undertaking has been received, and that consequently this country is at war with Germany.'

After that he translated the statement into Yiddish as closely as he could for the benefit of Smeras.

The old man shook his head. 'Gevalt, the terrible things I hear they are doing to us out there.'

The stories had been trickling in over the last four or five years about how the Jews of Germany were being treated. Before moving to Rushmore Road, Smeras had discussed and debated the terrible rumours with his old friends in the East End and there had been newcomers, refugees who had confirmed that something evil was going on over there, but they didn't hear about it so much these days, not being in the old neighbourhood anymore where gossip and information was available every day.

The local Jewish community in Clapton was not so well informed as all their old cronies in the East End had been but Smeras still heard things when he spoke with people after synagogue or when he sat playing checkers in Springfield park with other old men he knew.

'Poland, it is not so far from Lithuania,' he announced shaking his head, 'Mark my words, if it's Poland already, then our old home will soon have them with their jackboots trampling all over, like they did in the last war. It's a mitzvah that we ...' he opened his arms to express the family sat around Janey's table.

'... are all out of it and safe.'

Janey shuddered at the thought even though none of the family still remained in Linkuva, but then she caught on to an idea. 'Can you imagine, Harry, if you and your brother had not come to London, if you had stayed ... it doesn't bear thinking about.'

Harry frowned at the mention of his brother – he hadn't thought of him for ... how long? Ten months maybe or more? But the mention brought back a sharp image of Frade sitting knitting in their old rooms in Hunton Court and his resentments flared up again for a moment before he calmed himself. Luckily he had said nothing so Zaida and the others had no idea about his feelings.

After all Cyril alone was not to blame ... nor his adoptive parents in fact. They surely had not for-seen his Booba's heart break at not being invited to the Barmitzvah ... they could scarcely have imagined she would sicken and die because of that heartbreak. No, it had been the situation but still ...

He couldn't help thinking that his brother had grabbed what was offered with both hands, had seen a rich, easy life in front of him and leapt forwards at the opportunity, never looking back, never caring ... it had been Booba's stone setting just over a month ago and Cyril hadn't come nor was there a note or letter of condolences from the Watermans. For that, he could rightly feel resentful.

His mind stretched back even further. Just after Solly had become Cyril and had gone away, his Zaida had come to him with the news that he too might have to be given up – to go to Norwood House and be an orphan boy. Zaida was upset at the thought but cheered brightly a week or so later when he came and told his remaining grandson that another couple had come forward and approached him about adopting Harry. Zaida had told him these people were rich and he could have everything Cyril had, more even.

He had cried and refused and threatened to run away and so he had remained with his grandparents. He had said no to a good life and yes to family and that was something he could be proud of, a real mensch (a man of character/worthy of respect). So when the thought came into his mind that maybe he should go to Evering Road and see Cyril again, it was soon washed over with these other thoughts and he knew he was still angry at Cyril and he knew why he still held that anger in his heart. Someday he might once again think of renewing contact but today was not that day.