Scattered Seed by Maisie Mosco

Author:Maisie Mosco [Mosco, Maisie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Classica Libris
Published: 2018-12-25T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter 5

The telephone rang whilst Sarah was in the cellar mangling her laundry, filling her with foreboding as its strident summons always did these days. She left Abraham’s woollen underpants dangling from the machine in a cascade of water and went to answer it, rebuking herself for always expecting the worst. But how could she not, with three of her grandsons fighting in the war?

She wiped her damp hands on her apron and heard the sound of sobbing the moment she lifted the receiver. Was it Esther or Miriam? She didn’t need a crystal ball to tell her it was one of them. In the old days, when they’d lived close by and she hadn’t had this ugly, black contraption on her kitchen wall, they’d have come running to her and she’d have taken them in her arms, but you couldn’t comfort someone over a stretch of wire.

“What is it? For God’s sake tell me,” she said, with her heart pounding. But the sobbing went on and on. Then she heard a gulp, as if whoever was weeping was trying to control it.

A convulsive, “Oh Mother–” told her it was her daughter. Miriam called her Ma.

“Is it Harry, or Arnold?” Sarah made herself ask.

Another bout of weeping preceded the reply. “Harry.”

A picture of her eldest grandchild flashed before Sarah’s eyes, not as he had looked in his uniform the last time she saw him, but the long-ago memory of an eight-day-old infant, with Ben’s face in miniature and tendrils of silky dark hair peeping from beneath the little white yamulke he had worn when the mohel circumcised him. The cap, and his cambric gown, had been worn by his Sandberg uncles for their Brith and by every male child in the family since.

“The telegram says he’s missing in Italy, Mother.”

A great wave of relief engulfed Sarah, weakening her legs. She leaned heavily against the wall, thinking of the Brith garments carefully stored in tissue paper and lavender in readiness for her future great-grandsons. Missing was not necessarily dead; there was still a chance that a son of Harry’s would one day wear them.

“Ben’s shut the shop,” Esther said. “He hasn’t spoken a word since the boy handed him the envelope. David’s here, sitting with him and he said I wasn’t to tell you and Father. But I had to, didn’t I? You will tell David I had to?”

For the first time, Sarah became conscious of an element of fear in her other children’s regard for their elder brother. She’d heard the same apprehensive note in Sammy’s and Nat’s voices when they had done something of which David might not approve.

“I don’t know what to do,” Esther said tremulously. “David made Ben get into bed and I feel so alone.”

Sarah pulled herself together. “You’ll do what my neighbour Mrs. Watson’s daughter did. When she got the telegram about their Albert, who afterwards turned up as a prisoner-of-war. You’ll carry on, Esther. Go and open the shop and put a smile on your face for the customers.

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