Heritage Read Free

shock, I was so sure that we’d all stick it out together. We were the strong ones, we agreed at the beginning, the Meisells and the Lachmanns. Now Sharon says that we were the foolish ones, and I’ve no doubt she’s right.
    â€˜Anyway,’ Ruth bounced the child on her lap, Rachel raking her tiny fingers through the fair honey-brown of her mother’s hair, ‘I suggested to Samuel that we should try to get out too. Sharon’s given me the contact for the false papers.’
    â€˜Excellent,’ Mannie agreed enthusiastically. ‘I’ll pick them up for you. I’ll do whatever I can …’
    She interrupted him. ‘Samuel won’t go.’
    â€˜Why?’ he asked, but she wasn’t listening.
    â€˜He would have, years ago when you said that we should. Samuel would have listened to you, Mannie. But he stayed because of my stubbornness. No,’ she corrected herself with a rueful raise of her eyebrows, ‘my selfishness. My determination to live on in my father’s home, regardless of the danger to my husband and child. And now Samuel’s the one who refuses to leave.’ She disentangled the child’s fingers from her hair and put Rachel down on the floor. The child toddled over to Mannie to tug at his trouser legs.
    â€˜Samuel says that “the tide has turned”,’ she continued. ‘He says that it’s only a matter of time before Germany is defeated, and we must “weather the storm”.’ Ruth smiled as she imitated her husband. ‘You know Samuel, Mannie – the constant optimist, and how he does love a cliché when he’s being dramatic.’ A humorous twinkle returned to her eyes as she fought to lighten the moment. Besides, she realised, she did feel better now that she had admitted her guilt, and to the person to whom her admission was most important. ‘He always thinks if he says something passionately, and often, it will come true.’
    Mannie remained silent, but he nodded.
    â€˜So we shall “weather the storm” together. Who am I, having demanded we remain in the first place, to now decide otherwise? Then he said he was off to earn some money and we were to have fresh chicken soup. I told him if anyone should risk going out to work it should be me. He looks so damn Jewish!’ She shrugged, refusing to admit to the fear she had felt all afternoon, and her laugh was one of loving exasperation.
    Ruth’s laughter was normally contagious, but this time Mannie didn’t join in. ‘I’ll speak to him, Ruth. I’ll convince him.’
    â€˜Speak to me about what? Convince me about what? No, no, don’t tell me. You’re going to read me the riot act.’
    Mannie rose, and Samuel, a towel around his neck, his black hair wet and tousled, gathered his friend in a boisterous hug. ‘No lectures until after the soup, though, Mannie, we’re dining early – I haven’t eaten since breakfast and I’m starving.’
    â€˜Someone has to talk sense to you, for God’s sake …’ Mannie began as soon as he could extricate himself from the embrace.
    â€˜After the soup!’ Samuel had picked up Rachel and was whirling her about, the child squealing excitedly. ‘No lectures until after the soup, promise me.’
    â€˜All right, all right,’ Mannie agreed. ‘When Rachel’s gone to bed.’
    â€˜Read story, Mannie, read story,’ the little girl called at the mention of bedtime.
    â€˜After the soup.’ It was Ruth giving the orders, as she rose and crossed into the kitchen.
    Mannie followed with the bag of groceries, unpacking the bread, the powdered eggs, several tins, and producing, with a flourish, a precious small brown paper bag.
    â€˜Coffee!’ Ruth exclaimed delightedly upon opening it. ‘How on earth did you manage that?’
    â€˜We lawyers have excellent black-market connections.’ He grinned,