Bromley, London.
Rebecca listened to the ringtone and knew that it would be Naomi. Her sister was waiting for her to pick up. She’d rehearsed what to say when they spoke next: that she didn’t want to get involved. What was the point? The Greeks weren’t going to give the Jewish population their belongings back. She hovered, hesitated, and finally picked up. The call had timed out.
Why was all this happening now? Rebecca was six weeks pregnant for the first time in her life. At the clinic, they told her all the signs were good. Each day, each hour, was lived on the knife edge of hope. She decided to tell Fritz the brilliant news that evening, unable to keep it from him any longer.
The phone rang again. She picked up immediately.
‘Rebecca, please don’t hang up,’ Naomi said breathlessly, nerves still apparent in her voice. ‘The court case has been brought forward. We’ve only got a short time left to prepare. Please say you’ll come over.’
‘Naomi, it’s difficult.’ She paused for a beat. ‘I don’t think—’
‘I realise I’m asking a lot after all that happened,’ Naomi interrupted. ‘I understand that, but this is very important, not only to us, but to the entire diaspora of the Rhodes Juderia. People are coming from all over the world – Canada, Australia, Israel – in the hope they will get their property back.’
Rebecca hesitated.
‘And Bubba’s desperate to make peace with you. Rebecca, I don’t know anything about your life. You’ve probably got kids, and it’s school-term time.’ Naomi’s words sliced through Rebecca like a knife. ‘Perhaps you have a job and it’s difficult to get leave. I understand all that. I’ve been there myself, but a lot of people are depending on the result of this case. It will set a precedent for the thousands that were mercilessly robbed, not only of their loved ones, but also of every stick of their possessions.’
‘I want to help, Naomi, I really do, but—’
‘Please, Rebecca. I’m begging you,’ Naomi said. ‘What could be more important?’
‘I, oh, Naomi . . .’ Rebecca choked on rising tears. ‘There’s a lot you don’t know.’
She heard Naomi gasp. ‘Good God, Rebecca! What’s the matter? What’s going on?’
Rebecca swallowed hard and found herself lost for words. Silence hung between them.
Naomi tried again. ‘Tell me, Rebecca. Something’s awfully wrong . . . I feel it. I’m sorry; I always imagined your life in London was how you always wanted it.’
Too anguished to speak, Rebecca took a breath. ‘I can’t talk about it right now.’ Suddenly, she wished Naomi was with her. She wanted to explain everything to her sister. Ten years of trying to conceive. The pain and the heartbreak of her miscarriages. The hope and the fragility of her current situation.
Naomi would understand. Again, she faltered, telling herself to keep calm. Breathe. ‘I’ll speak to Fritz and give you a definite answer tomorrow morning,’ she said before ending the call. She made a mental note to ask Naomi for her email address next time they spoke.
She decided to nail Fritz down, tell him she was pregnant at last. He seemed to be avoiding her, or was her imagination working overtime? Her hormones were all over the place, and he was still up to his eyes in the business. Things would calm down soon, he had promised, and then she hoped they’d take a holiday together.
Rebecca needed time alone with him, although if she were honest, she didn’t see a vacation happening in the near future. She had to tell Fritz, but it was like a jinx. She feared that when she told him, she would miscarry. There was no logical reason for her to think that way, but she couldn’t help it.
Her home life had become chaotic. She couldn’t concentrate. Each day she remained pregnant was an achievement and strengthened her chances of going full term, but also multiplied her anxiety. Her superstitions reached new heights. She wouldn’t open the nursery door or glance at the window of a Mothercare shop. Visiting the bathroom was an anxious necessity; she checked for signs of a miscarriage on every occasion.
Mealtimes became disastrous. Unable to concentrate on the simplest food, she double salted potatoes, or forgot the salt altogether. She had taken up yoga, spent hours doing gentle exercises, walking, or resting. Everything was connected to her state of health and her pregnancy.
To make life easier, she ordered meals online and had them delivered. She set the table with her best china, added a centrepiece of red roses, and made an effort with her hair and makeup.
Fritz arrived home that night with stress written all over him. Things hadn’t gone well at the office. His mood worsened when he discovered she hadn’t collected his suits from the cleaners.
‘Make sure you get them in the morning,’ he said at the dinner table. ‘We’ve got the reception to launch our advertising campaign tomorrow afternoon.’
‘Reception?’ Rebecca cried. ‘Oh Fritz, I’d forgotten!’
‘Rebecca, I just don’t believe it. You’ve nothing to do all day. I depend on you to take care of a few simple things,’ he said angrily as she served him Marks & Spencer’s moussaka.
‘Fritz, I’m sorry, really. The thing is . . .’ she hesitated, watched his eyes. He was bound to be thrilled. She blurted her news out, breathless and excited. ‘The thing is I’m pregnant, six weeks, and for some insane reason I can’t concentrate on anything.’
‘Pregnant?’ He dropped his cutlery and stared across the table, his anger giving way to disbelief. ‘What? I don’t understand. How did that happen?’
He didn’t appear thrilled at all.
She tried to talk about it but the right words escaped her and eventually she cried, ‘You’re always too busy . . . You’ve no idea how painful those hormone injections were, and everything was set up at the IVF, but you’re too busy to spend a little time with me these days. You couldn’t even spare me one hour of your precious life for such an important thing as having our own baby.’
He continued to stare at her. ‘But, we haven’t . . . Who’s the father?’
She tutted and huffed. ‘You’re not serious?! You’re the father, of course. You banked sperm, remember? Or is your head so full of the company merger that it slipped your mind?’ Her voice was corrosive and, too late, she regretted the sarcasm.
‘Rebecca, stop it,’ he cried. ‘You have no idea how impossible you’ve become! You’re obsessed with having a baby. The woman I married was fun to be with. She was glamorous, adventurous. She kicked off her heels and danced all night. People loved to come here, to dinner. You were the perfect host.’ He pushed his plate away. ‘Yesterday, a colleague asked if we’re still together. Can you believe that? It made me realise how much we’ve changed. It’s like we’re leading separate lives.’
‘But I’m six weeks pregnant, Fritz. Listen to me. You’re supposed to be thrilled and still, all you can do is talk about work! You don’t realise how much you’ve changed either.’
He put his elbows on the table and dropped his head into his hands. ‘How can I be thrilled when I’m afraid to come home because your dreams might have ended? How can I get excited when I dread the thought of you crying all night after you’ve miscarried?
‘Since we started the IVF treatment I’ve done everything I can to make life run smoothly for you. I’ve done my best to remove every element of stress from your day. I don’t know what else I can do. Yet all the time, that terrible feeling of failure is hanging over me. The fear that you will go through the trauma of a miscarriage again simply breaks me up, Rebecca. It’s more than I can bear. And I’ll tell you now: I’m never setting foot in that fucking IVF clinic again!’
Rebecca’s heart shattered. She couldn’t speak for the pain. Where had all this anger come from? ‘But our plans, a family, our children,’ she whispered. ‘What happened, Fritz? We were so happy.’
‘I’m sorry, Rebecca, I really am, but I just can’t do this anymore.’ He pushed his blond hair back, shook his head, and then dropped it into his hands again. After a long silence, he said, ‘I wasn’t going to tell you this yet, but I must go to America for a month, soon. I was planning on taking you with me, but I think it might be good for us to spend a little time apart. Decide on our priorities, what we want most out of life.’
‘Fritz! Fritz, what are you saying? Are you asking for a separation? Is there somebody else?’ Horrified, she stared at him. He didn’t answer. ‘Please, don’t do this to me, please. I love you. I’m pregnant. I’m having our baby!’
A pained look spread over his face. ‘No, of course I don’t want us to be apart, Rebecca. I love you too, more than you know. But I think we need a little time to consider our life goals.’ He turned away, staring into the distance. ‘I have to go on this trip anyway, so perhaps now’s the best moment for some breathing space.’
‘But I’m pregnant, Fritz.’
‘How many times have you said that? I’ve come to hate those words because they always lead to heartache. I can only believe the worst. You’re going to lose it again and it will tear you apart. I never want to see you so emotionally wrecked as you were last time, Rebecca. I can’t stand being so helpless while you go through hell.’ He sighed and looked her in the eyes. ‘I want to give up the idea of having children. Think about it while I’m away. Learn to accept it.’
Rebecca felt hollow and cold. He simply wasn’t getting it. She was pregnant, but he was devoid of joy or excitement, or even the hope that she would go full term. She hadn’t realised what she’d put him through, or how badly the IVF and her distress had affected him.
‘Actually, Naomi’s been calling from Greece,’ she said quietly. ‘She wants me to go home for a week or two.’
Fritz looked up. ‘Naomi? Your sister?’ His face hardened.
Rebecca glanced towards the window, longing to be in the garden. ‘Yes, Bubba’s had a stroke, and there’s a court case coming up about our family property in the city.’
‘Can I do anything? We have a great legal team.’
Rebecca shook her head. ‘Thank you. Considering how they treated you, it’s noble to offer, but I doubt it. She wants me beside her for the case.’
Fritz stood behind Rebecca’s chair and massaged her shoulders. ‘A stroke? I am sorry. How is she?’
‘I don’t know, but I’m worried. We didn’t part on the best of terms.’ Suddenly, she didn’t want him touching her and shrugged from under his hands, instantly regretting it. How could she explain? Whatever happened to Bubba’s family wasn’t Fritz’s fault; it all happened before he was even born. Nor was there any proof that his father or grandfather was an evil Nazi involved in the extermination of the Jews of Rhodes, or any Jews for that matter. Bubba’s accusations were a figment of her imagination. She needed to place blame, but had no right to pick on the man Rebecca loved.
‘In my opinion, you should go to Rhodes, darling. We both need a break – think things through. You can’t put our lives on hold every time you might be pregnant.’
Calmer now, she considered his suggestion. ‘Perhaps. You do mean it though, don’t you, Fritz? You do still love me? You’re my world. I didn’t realise all this had been so difficult for you. I’m terribly sorry.’ Rebecca stood, and moved into his arms. ‘I do love you, Fritz. I could never love anyone the way I love you.’ She kissed him.
‘And I love you, darling,’ he murmured, pulling her to him, and then he kissed her passionately and slid his hands up the inside of her sweater, cupping her bare breasts.
She struggled from his arms. ‘I can’t, Fritz. I don’t want to take a chance.’
‘For God’s sake, Rebecca! I’m a man. It’s been almost two months!’
‘I’m sorry, I know, but . . .’ Her emotions welled up and tears broke free. ‘I’m sorry, so sorry, darling.’
He sighed. ‘Me too,’ he said softly, taking her into his arms again. ‘Like I say, we’ve become obsessed. I’m as much to blame. Let’s try and get back to how we were, shall we?’
She nodded and pressed against his chest. ‘I’ll go to Rhodes,’ she said. ‘Naomi’s been sending me Bubba’s diaries from the war. They’re fascinating, and tragic.’
‘Really.’ His voice hardened again. ‘Your grandmother still believes my family’s personally responsible for the murder of her family and millions of other Jews? Even if they were, she’s grossly unfair pinning that on me.’
Rebecca thought about what she’d read in the diary. ‘You’d understand if you knew what happened to her. That’s why she sent me the gun.’
‘Gun?! What gun?’
‘Those parcels, they weren’t car parts. It was a gun, Bubba’s pistol.’
‘Good God! What do you mean, Bubba’s gun?’
‘She was a freedom fighter, an assassin, in the war.’
‘Bubba, the old lady?’
Rebecca nodded.
After a moment, Fritz said, ‘Can I read the diary?’
‘That’s the exact reaction they hoped to get from me when they sent the weapon,’ Rebecca said.