She's Leaving Home Read Free Page B

the river, as it had to generations of young Merseysiders who had watched its grey-green waters surge and lap on the boards of the landing stage. Each sluggish wave would leave a dirty scum on the rotting wood. You don’t have to stay. You cango for a short while or for a lifetime; sail round the world or merely to New Brighton or Hoylake. See New York, or Cape Town, or Zanzibar. You can taste the delights of another life, more exotic, more exhilarating while others, the timid, linger and console themselves with their fear of the unknown. Let them languish, you need not. Nor need you have any fear that you will have burned your boats for ever, for I am the river and I do not change: I will always be here, should you need me, to bring you home.
    ‘Helen! You’re miles away. Your parents aren’t being difficult, are they?’
    Helen turned back to the room. ‘Yes and no. I wouldn’t be the first to have an education but I’d be the first girl. They’re so conventional and strict. My worry, Bren, is how to convince my Mum in particular – I know she’d be proud of me, but still she warns me off with comments like “Remember, boys don’t like clever girls”. It sends me spare.’
    Brenda grunted. ‘Stuff. Tell her you’ll find a clever boy. You will, too. Provided your father doesn’t interfere too much. Honestly, Helen Majinsky, I don’t know how you put up with it – all those restrictions. Can’t go into assembly in case the word “Christ” is spoken or the Lord’s Prayer is recited. Can’t eat proper food. Can’t go out Friday nights ever – I ask you! And your beady-eyed parents vet your friends for their race purity. It must be horrid, being a Jew.’
     
    ‘We have a day off tomorrow. Founder’s Day.’
    Helen rose from the table, collected the used dishes and helped her mother clear the table. The tzimmes – a sweet carroty stew – had been substantial and filling. Her father picked up the Liverpool Echo and began silently to read; Barry had speedily disappeared up to his bedroom from which warbles of Del Shannon (‘ Run run run run-awayyy !!’) soon emanated. He insisted on doing his homework to musical accompaniment, which in Helen’s view explained his poor marks. Nor did she share his taste. When it came to exams however, he sailed through. That didn’t seem quite fair: another minor example of how males were favoured in life, especially younger brothers.
    ‘Oh? D’you have any plans?’ In the back kitchen her mother swished soapy dishes in the bowl, rinsed them under the tap and laid them out in an order known only to herself on the plastic rack. This year Annie Majinsky would be forty-five. Her daughter was already an inch or two taller, for Annie was a tiny woman who ate sparingly. Her hair, formerly thick and black, had become straggly and pepper and salt in colour. The face showed fine lines and – at home at least – she wore only a little lipstick.
    ‘Well: I thought I’d spend a couple of hours in the Central Library then maybe go to Dad’s at lunchtime if he’ll let me. Later I can cadge a lift home with him. I like it when he calls at Mrs Quilter’s and the other ladies with the outwork.’
    Annie Majinsky sniffed. ‘They keep him talking.’
    ‘I won’t delay him, Mum.’
    It occurred to Helen that her mother was a little jealous. She had solely her husband Daniel’s word for it that he stopped merely to collect the bundles made ready with buttonholes or hand-turned collars, to pay for jobs done and to drop off the following week’s batch. A quick cup of tea might be shared and pleasantries exchanged as the more intricate tasks were discussed. That he was inside the shabby hallway of a divorced woman’s home, or – worse – close to a lonely widow, was enough to worry her. They were shikses , known to have fewer moral scruples.
    ‘You could come instead with me to get the chicken for shabbos dinner, if you like,’ Annie offered. ‘You haven’t been for