Sowing The Seeds Of Love Part 33

As they walked along the hot city streets towards the garden, Aoife felt a peculiar lightness. A long-forgotten, once-familiar sensation. And she realized she was happy. It crossed her mind for a second that she should feel guilty and she thought of Michael. But at that moment she knew with absolute certainty that he'd be happy for her. She smiled up at the flawless sky and, for the first time, felt forgiven by Michael and, more importantly, by herself.

When they arrived Uri was working alone. Despite the sweltering heat, he was formally clad as usual, in his s.h.i.+rtsleeves although he had undone his top b.u.t.ton.

'Grandad, Grandad!' The two children ran to him and he hoisted them both up in a ma.s.sive bear-hug.

'How was school?'

They chattered to him like a cage of budgies newly released. Then: 'Grandad. Will you tell us a story?'

'Yes, with lots of dragons in it.'

'After lunch, kids. Here, Dad. Take this drink while it's still cool. You look like you need it.'

They set out the food, laughing and talking the atmosphere pure carnival.

'Where's Mrs P?'

'She's gone to collect Lance. They're letting him out of rehab today. They'll be back soon.'

'What do you mean "they"?'

'He'll be staying here.'

'So she can keep an eye on him?'

'No. Because his house has been repossessed.'

'That's serious. So we'll have to suffer him for a while.'

'He is her son, Seth,' said Uri.

Seth kept quiet.

The sun beamed down hotter than ever. The children took their s.h.i.+rts off and protested vociferously as Aoife slathered them with sunblock. They wriggled like little wet fish in her grasp. Seth lay back on the gra.s.s and s.h.i.+elded his eyes.

'Daddy, why don't you take your T-s.h.i.+rt off if you're hot?'

'You know, I think I will.'

'Don't forget to put it back on the right way around this time.'

'I won't.'

'Mummy, why don't you take your top off too?'

'It's okay, Liam. I'm not that hot.'

'Can I take my vest off?'

'You can if you like, but you'll have to have more lotion.'

'No, thank you. Why don't you take off yours, Uri?'

'I'm too old. I might frighten you with my hairy chest. You might think I'm a bear. Grrrrr!' He held up his hands like claws and made a gruesome face. The children screamed and giggled.

Seth peeled off his top and Aoife got to see his tattoos for the second time that day.

'What are those pictures on your skin?'

'They're called tattoos, Liam.'

'Where did you get them?'

'A man gave them to me, using needles.'

'Did it hurt?'

'Only a little bit.'

'My daddy has my mammy's name tattooed on his arm. Look.' Kathy held up Seth's arm for everyone to see.

'I'm having it removed,' he whispered to Aoife.

'What's that star on your other arm?' said Liam.

'It's called a Star of David.'

'But your name isn't David.'

'I know it isn't.'

'What have you got it for, then?'

'To show that I'm proud of who I am and where I come from.'

'Stoneybatter?'

They all laughed, except Liam who was evidently confused.

'Grandad, why don't you show Liam your tattoo?'

There was a change in the atmosphere. Barely discernible, but it was there. Uri sat perfectly still. Then he unb.u.t.toned his cuff and rolled up his pure white left sleeve to the elbow. Aoife froze. It was something she'd suspected, but to see the evidence up close that was another matter.

'It's just numbers.' Liam was distinctly underwhelmed. 'Why did you want numbers on your arm?'

'I didn't.'

Liam wrinkled his nose. 'Then why do you have them?'

'Some bad men gave them to me.'

'Like baddies?'

'Yes, like baddies.'

'Where are they now?' Liam raised his eyebrows and looked slightly alarmed.

'They lived far, far away a very long time ago.'

'So they're gone now?'

'Yes.'

'Come on, Kathy. Let's play football.'

'Okay.'

They ran off in pursuit of the ball and Harriet ran after them in her own arthritic way.

The day was just the same. The sun was still as high in the sky and the sky was just as cloudless. But everything was different. The party was over and Aoife felt sick. 'I didn't know,' she said to Uri. 'I'm so sorry.'

Uri nodded and rolled down his sleeve.

'You must have been a child.'

'I was ten.'

She closed her eyes and swallowed.

'Back to work,' said Uri. He got up and walked away without looking back.

Aoife watched him go and turned to Seth. He was sitting up, his chest still bare, his elbows resting on his knees. His brow was furrowed. 'He doesn't like talking about it?' she asked.

'No.'

'What happened to his family? His parents?'

'All killed in the camps.'

'Oh, G.o.d. Where?'

'Do you mind if I tell you about it another day? I don't want him to think we're talking about him.'

'Okay. Yes. You're right.'

'Now come here.'

'Someone might see.'

'I don't care.'

It was an hour later when Lance and Mrs Prendergast came out to the garden. Lance's air was nonchalant, but in a way that was almost too studied. He examined the plants intently, looking at everything there was to look at at everything except the people. They Uri, Seth and Aoife were standing in a small circle, chatting. The talk died away when they spotted Lance.

He and his mother drew close. Greetings were exchanged. Lance seemed well, Aoife thought. He'd put on a little weight and his cheeks had filled out. He'd lost that gaunt, waxen look. He seemed more relaxed too. Less twitchy and no longer br.i.m.m.i.n.g with nervous energy. Although he was somewhat nervous. He met Uri's eyes with difficulty. Then he held out his hand. The others held their breath as they waited to see what Uri would do.

Uri took Lance's hand and shook it.

'I'm sorry,' said Lance. 'What I said to you before. It was wrong. Unforgivable. It'll never happen again.'

Uri nodded. 'Apology accepted.'

Lance's face relaxed into a relieved smile. 'Thank you,' he said. 'Thank you so very much. That means a lot.' He turned to his mother. 'I'll be up in my room if you need me.' He put his hands into his pockets and walked back to the house.

'Thank you, Uri,' said Mrs Prendergast.

Uri smiled.

'I think he's going to be all right,' she added.

44.

Along with thousands like him, Uri was sent to a displaced-persons camp in Germany. The conditions were better than they had been in the concentration camp but only just. Crucially, he was no longer in fear of his life or antic.i.p.ating a beating. But there was never enough food and it was too cramped.

He scanned every female face, every girl child. Sometimes he would get excited by the back of a head and run around to the front, but he was always disappointed. He did this for weeks. And the weeks stretched into months. His hope was fading. Then, one day, he had an idea. What if his mother and sister had gone back to their home in Berlin and were waiting for him there? There was only one way to find out. Without saying anything to anyone, he saved up three or four days' rations, packed a knapsack with what few belongings he had, and set off to find his family. It was easy to sneak out. n.o.body took much notice of an eleven-year-old boy. He knew he wasn't far from Berlin he had made some seemingly innocent enquiries and the thought that his mother might be waiting for him, just a short distance away, was too much of a temptation to resist.

It took him a week. It was summer so there was no problem with sleeping outdoors. If it was a bit chilly, he'd find a nice snug barn and fall asleep to the sound of animals breathing. He would wash in a stream in the morning, laughing as he splashed his face with icy drops. He was good at finding his way. He'd been on many camping trips with his father and grandfather before the war and they had taught him more than he had realized. He felt at home in the fields and the woods.

But it shouldn't have taken him a whole week. He must have gone wrong somewhere. But make it he did, although he didn't know it at first. Because all was changed. The house was no longer standing. It was nothing but a pile of rubble as were their neighbours' houses. There was no one around. Birdsong filled the air. Uri sat on a piece of the old kitchen wall and cried his heart out. Until then he hadn't known how strongly he'd been clinging to the hope that the house would be standing, his mother cooking in the kitchen, his sister playing in the garden. Throughout it all. Through everything that had happened to him. He'd never felt so alone. He had to face the possibility that he'd never see his family again, and it was almost too much for his little-boy heart to bear.

When he was all cried out, Uri got up and looked around the rubble, remembering where everything used to be, imagining it as it once was. Some of his parents' furniture was amazingly intact. There was the kitchen table, and his parents' bed seemed to have fallen through the roof and landed where the dining room used to be. A thousand memories of his family all together. He cried again when he found the shredded remains of a poster that used to be on his bedroom wall. He looked for signs that his mother and sister had been there before him perhaps looking for him. But there were none. He did find a teddy that Hannah had left during their hasty move to Ghetto. He remembered her crying for it one night. There was nothing his parents could do. They weren't allowed to go back. Uri hadn't understood that at the time. He saw now how they had tried to shelter him from everything. Now, less than a year later, there was so much he knew. So much he wished he didn't.

He picked up the teddy and stuffed it into his knapsack. Then he wandered down to the river behind the house. It was still there, remarkably unchanged. The same water, the same rocks. Just as he'd seen it in his dreams. He stripped off and dived in. He imagined he was a fish, quicksilver and light. Fish didn't have to worry about being Jewish. They were just fish. Or he could be an otter. He rolled, he splashed, he played. He felt nine years old again. But once he was out of the water, the familiar heaviness descended upon him and he was eleven-year-old Uri once more, with everything that he knew.

He lay on a rock until the sun had dried him off. Then he dressed and walked back to the house. His stomach was starting its eternal rumbling and he'd had an idea. He went to where his father's kitchen garden used to be. There was a small chance... yes! Just as he had hoped. The raspberry canes were laden with fruit and there was no one to eat it. No one but Uri and the birds. He gorged himself, then moved on to the gooseberries. He'd never have considered them before the war, but now... When he'd eaten his fill, he stuffed as many berries as he could into his knapsack. Then he headed back to the camp. He had nowhere else to go.

The return journey took him four days. His raids on abandoned kitchen gardens sustained him as he went. He thought a lot as he walked, mostly about his family. By the time he reached the camp, he'd come to a decision. The next day, he approached one of the teachers at the camp's makes.h.i.+ft school.

'What is it, Uri?'

'My father has family in Ireland. Will you help me get a letter to them?'