The Women in His Life. Barbara Taylor BradfordЧитать онлайн книгу.
nodded solemnly. ‘I like our game, Grandmama.’
‘So do I.’ Margarete Westheim leaned back in the chair and studied her only grandchild for a moment. She loved him so much she sometimes thought her heart would break from it. The knowledge that she would have to leave him was an agony. Her only regret about dying, and die she must one day in the not-too-distant future, was that she would miss all those years of his growing up, the wonderful years. He was such a beautiful boy, full of life and laughter and mischief, and so bright, and intelligent beyond his years. She prayed to God every night that Sigmund would succeed in getting the child out of Germany. Like her son and daughter-in-law she was terribly afraid for him. A pestilence stalked this land. A shiver ran through Margarete, and she wondered where God was in this Godless nation. But then what could He do? Evil was man’s invention, not God’s.
‘Is something hurting, Gangan?’
Startled out of her brief reverie by his piping child’s voice, Margarete looked at him quickly. ‘No. Why do you ask that, darling?’
‘You have a funny look on your face, a puckery look, like you’re going to cry.’
‘I’m fine,’ she reassured him with a swift smile, suddenly aware of the worry in his child’s eyes. She opened her black beaded evening bag, reached inside, took out a small item wrapped in silver paper and handed it to him. ‘Here you are, Maxim, here is your Friday pocket money.’
‘Oh, Grandmama, thank you, thank you.’
He unwrapped the silver paper, his eyes shining as he stared down at the coins in his hand. Four marks. His Gangan always gave him four now. Last year he had received three. Next year she would give him five. She had told him that. One mark for every year he had been born. He leaned closer to her, kissed her cheek, and beamed into her face as he slipped the coins in his pocket, playing with them for a moment, liking the way they jingled.
The door opened and Maxim turned his head. When he saw his father standing in the doorway he flew to him at once, crying, ‘Papa! Papa!’
His father caught him, swung him up and kissed him, and carried him in his arms as he strode across the floor.
‘Good evening, Mother,’ Sigmund said.
‘Good evening, Sigi,’ she responded, her clear blue eyes so like his lighting up at the sight of him. He was her youngest son, the third one she had borne. His two elder brothers were both dead over twenty years now. Killed in the trenches of the Somme in the Great War when only boys. Two sons she had sacrificed for the Fatherland.
Sigmund put Maxim on the sofa, went to kiss his mother before sitting down next to his small son. He said to her, ‘I understand from Ursula that Hedy is not coming this evening, that she’s not feeling well. Nothing too serious, I hope?’
‘A cold, Sigi, that’s all.’ Frau Westheim sighed. ‘There’s always something with Hedy these days. That girl would be better off living in a warmer climate, I do believe.’
‘Wouldn’t we all,’ Sigmund murmured, and continued, ‘She’s not seemed well since she broke off her engagement to Paul.’
‘No, she hasn’t,’ Frau Westheim agreed, and turned her head, looked into the fire, a faraway expression flicking onto her face.
Watching her, Maxim thought: Gangan looks unhappy. I wonder why? He glanced up at his father, his wonderful Papa, and smiled at him adoringly.
Sigmund stared down into the small, bright face upturned to his, smiled back, and said, ‘Do you remember what I told you last Friday evening? When I was speaking to you about the standards I want you to have when you are a big boy, and when you are a man?’
‘Yes, Papa, you said a gentleman never tells a lie.’
‘That’s correct, Maxim, but now I’m afraid I must amend that statement.’
‘Oh.’ Maxim looked surprised. He was not sure what the word amend meant, but he was reluctant to admit this, so he kept silent.
‘I don’t suppose you know what amend means, do you?’ Sigmund said, as if reading his mind.
‘No.’
Sigmund took his child’s hand lovingly. ‘I thought as much. It means to change or revise. And I wish to revise what I said to you last week, change my opinion … I believe it is perfectly all right for a gentleman to tell a lie, if it is a matter of life and death … if it is to save his life. Or the lives of others, of course.’
Maxim nodded.
‘Do you understand me?’
‘I think so, Papa.’
‘Very good, Maxim. You’re a clever boy, I know that, and you are learning quickly. Now … there is something else I want to tell you, and it is this. A man must have valour, honour and nobility if he is to be of great character. I want you to remember that when you grow up.’
‘Yes, Papa, I will.’
His grandmother said, ‘Your father’s brothers Heinrich and Peter had valour … they were very courageous … they went to fight for their country in the Great War and they were not afraid. That is what valour means.’
‘The dead uncles … they were brave,’ Maxim said with a little frown.
‘Yes, the dead uncles were,’ his grandmother answered. ‘And your grandfathers were both men of honour because they never did anything that was cruel or wicked, unjust or dishonest –’
‘Dinner is ready everyone,’ Ursula announced from the doorway. ‘Marta is waiting to serve.’
‘We shall come at once, my darling,’ Sigmund said, rising immediately. ‘Now, Maxim, run along with your mother. We will follow.’ He lifted him down from the sofa, then reached into his pocket and took out a slip of paper. ‘Here you are. I have written out the new words for you, as well as their meaning.’
Maxim took it, put it safely in his pocket. He kept all of these pieces of paper which his father had been giving him for the last few weeks. ‘Thank you, Papa, and I will remember. Always.’
Sigmund gazed down at him, marvelling at the beauty and brightness of the boy. He really was exceptional, highly intelligent and articulate for his age, an extraordinary child. He smoothed his hand over Maxim’s blond head, and then went to help his mother out of the chair, escorted her slowly across the room.
Maxim ran ahead to Ursula, who stood waiting in the doorway.
She took his hand in hers and together they crossed the baronial marble entrance hall, walking in the direction of the dining room.
‘And what was Papa telling you tonight, my darling?’
‘He said that when I grow up I must be a man of valour, honour and nobility.’
Ursula said, very softly, ‘If you are, then you will be exactly like your father.’
Maxim shut his eyes tightly and listened as his mother performed the ritual of blessing the shabbat candles.
‘Baruch-ata Adonai Elohaynu, melech ha-olam asher kid’shanu b’mits-votav v’tsivanu l’hadlik nayr shel Shabbat,’ she said slowly in her light clear voice which he always loved to listen to, and most especially when she spoke Hebrew. She made the words sound like music.
‘Amen,’ he sang as she finished, joining in with everyone else. And then he opened his eyes.
They all sat down around the large table with its snow-white cloth and silver candelabra and crystal goblets which sparkled in the candlelight. Papa was at the head, Mutti at the other end facing his father, and he and Theodora sat together opposite Grandmama.
Now it was his father’s turn to perform the ritual.
He blessed the red wine in a little silver cup and said the Kiddush in Hebrew, and then he murmured another blessing, this time