Days of Winter Read online

  “What’s wrong, Rubin?”

  “Germany is at war with France …”

  She sat in total disbelief. After recovering from the shock, she said, “Solange said nothing about trouble in Paris … in France …”

  “All of Europe may be affected, Magda. England may be next.”

  Magda was close to tears …Why did countries have to fight? Why did a stupid war have to spoil her happiness, just when everything was going so well …?

  “My Niko was killed in 1912 …” she said. “There was a war then. There has always been a war …My God, Rubin, won’t it ever stop?”

  Rubin told her of the Archduke’s assassination, and what had happened since. It broke his heart to see her so unhappy.

  “The Archduke’s blood was more important than Niko’s,” Magda said bitterly, drying her eyes on a napkin. “He gave his life for nothing …Just a body to be used for fodder. We didn’t even have a chance to bury him …His body was never found.”

  “I wish I could spare you this, Magda.”

  The world was falling apart, and he wanted to shield her. Indeed, today she did take a long look at Rubin. How tender and good he was … “Will Solange have to go back?”

  “No. She must stay. I want her to stay.”

  “Rubin, why did you really want her to come just at this time?”

  “Call it a premonition … whatever … If England should become involved …” He cleared his throat “… I don’t want you to … be alone.”

  “Alone …? What are you talking about?”

  “I may have to enlist, Magda.”

  Magda was stunned. She got up and paced the floor. Two days ago they had moved into their new home. My God, the plans she had …What good did it do to plan for a future. Only yesterday she had pleaded with Solange to help her become a great lady … to find a home in England …That was the most important thing in her life. But that was yesterday …Today was terrifying …How ludicrous all her ambitions seemed now, when her husband might have to go to war … and maybe die, like Niko.

  “What will happen to us, Rubin?”

  “I’ll have to join the army—”

  No, this simply can’t be happening, she thought. We haven’t even begun to know each other …Oh, God, I despise the world …I hate it …Rubin and I have done nothing worse than marry, and we are ostracized. But countries can destroy the lives of people, and that’s accepted. That is quite proper. …

  At dinner that evening Solange sat staring down at her food, unable to eat. The men of her country, of France, were being fitted for the uniforms of death. Some would never live to see the shine on their buttons turn dull … or return with the arms God gave them or the limbs to fill the legs of their trousers. …All that remained of her family’s treasures had been left behind … Whenever she went back, if she went back, what would she find? Rubble and debris. …

  “Poor Emile,” said Solange. “Will he return to France?” Her eyes filled with tears.

  “No doubt as quick as he can,” said Rubin.

  “I should have stayed, Rubin …My conscience bothers me so.”

  “Knowing you’re with us brings us great comfort,” said Rubin.

  Magda broke her silence. “I’ve lived through wars, Solange, and I’m selfish enough to pray we all three survive. Dead heroes are soon forgotten …”

  The next day all London waited. There was no hysteria, but Germany had not responded as the hours ticked away. It was now eleven, and still no reply. Crowds had gathered at 10 Downing Street.

  Finally there was a dispatch. Germany refused to yield its position.

  The British Cabinet had been in session since early morning. At precisely midnight on August 4, 1914, His Majesty’s Government and all its dominions declared war on Germany.

  Ten thousand strong, the English people stood in front of Buckingham Palace waiting for their sovereign. …A cheer went up, as the King and Queen came to the balcony with the Prince of Wales and Princess Mary, waving at their devoted subjects. It was a moment in history. In a world filled with hate and dissolution, here, at least, there was a display of union and solidarity. The English stood arm-in-arm, shoulder-to-shoulder. Every able-bodied man would come to the aid of His Majesty. …

  Magda roused herself from sleep and reached over to Rubin’s side of the bed. He was gone. Getting out of bed quickly, she called out, hoping he was in the bathroom. When she found it empty, she slipped into her robe, tied a sash around her waist, and hurried across the foyer to the drawing room, and then from room to room. When she reached the kitchen she asked the maid: “Has Mr. Hack had breakfast?”

  “No, madam. Just coffee. He didn’t want to disturb you, but left a note.”

  Magda trembled as she took it. She went into the drawing room to read it: “I’ll be back later today. I have to do a few things this morning. Eat lunch without me. Love, Rubin.”

  Quickly she went to Solange. “Where can he be, Solange? What could be so pressing it couldn’t wait …?”

  “With the war going on, Magda, I’m sure he has arrangements to make. He has to think about your security. If anything should … don’t get upset … please …He’s probably seeing his solicitor.”

  Solange was right. Rubin was making plans for Magda’s future. All monies were to be transferred to her name …Did Mr. Hack think that was wise …? Why not invest the money in United States securities? No. There wasn’t time for that …When he returned he would, he’d need the income …If on the other hand …Rubin instructed his solicitor to seek the advice of a certain firm that would wisely invest his estate.

  Leaving the office he was wished Godspeed and personally escorted down the stairs. The street was filled with milling people, going in different directions. There was no panic. London seemed quiet and strangely sober this morning.

  Rubin found a telephone and gave the operator the number. “Good morning, the Hack offices.”

  Rubin cleared his throat. “Mr. Leon Hack, please.”

  “May I ask who’s calling?”

  “Un … Mr. Emile Jonet.”

  “Will you kindly hold, sir?”

  “Yes.” Rubin’s heart beat too fast … his pulse too hard. Was Leon there?

  “Emile! How are you?”

  “It’s Rubin.”

  “Rubin …” Leon’s voice was warm but subdued. “Where are you?”

  “At the Bristol. Leon, I want to see you.”

  “Good. Where shall we meet?”

  “John’s Pub?”

  “I always liked John’s.”

  “Noon …?”

  “Noon.”

  Rubin hung up. The sound of Leon’s steady voice was like a reprieve … even a pardon. …

  Rubin arrived early and was seated in a corner. It pleased him. He and Leon had enjoyed so many quiet talks.

  He got up as he watched Leon approach …It seemed like a hundred years since he’d seen him. All Rubin’s worst fears seemed to vanish like smoke.

  They shook hands. Then Leon drew his brother to him, putting his arm around Rubin’s shoulder.

  “How good it is to see you, Rubin.”

  “And you … I’ve missed you.”

  Leon ordered a Scotch.

  “How’s Deborah?” said Rubin.

  Leon hesitated. “Not well, Rubin. We’re all concerned about her—”

  “But what’s wrong?”

  “The doctors aren’t exactly sure. They’ve given her every test imaginable. Apparently she has a rare muscle disease, almost nothing is known about it.”

  “Did it happen recently?”

  “Not really. I just wasn’t aware of it … Deborah’s always been fragile, but when I began to notice so much fatigue I got alarmed.”

  “I’m so sorry, Leon. Is she in much pain?”

  “She never speaks of it …But from time to time, the last few weeks, she can scarcely walk. They tell us she may eventually be completely bedridden.”

  “How long will it take?” Rubin
asked.

  “The doctors won’t predict.”

  “Does she know?”

  “Yes.”

  “Could you have kept the truth from her?”

  “I wanted to, but she insisted on knowing … She makes light of it all for our sakes, but I know she suffers …How are things going with you, Rubin? You got married?”

  “Yes.”

  “Tell me about your wife.”

  “Well, I love her very much. She’s everything I want … but I also love my family … I’d like to have you both.”

  Leon looked closely at his brother. “I want to be honest with you, Rubin.”

  “You always have been.”

  “It’s strange, a family grows up and lives together, we think we all know each other. Then a crisis comes along and we find we don’t.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “We have, I’m afraid, a house divided. Maurice and Phillip have done all they could to turn Mother and Father against you. And their wives have kept the pot boiling. And I can say this without feeling at all disloyal to them … they’re extreme. What you did was not so wrong … Deborah and I both feel that you at least were right not to marry someone you didn’t love. Your mistake, I suppose, was the way you did it. It should have been done with discretion. I wish you had confided in me.”

  “So do I.” Rubin spoke ruefully. “Does Father despise me?”

  “Not at all. Strangely enough, he blames himself for not taking you more seriously.”

  “Do you think they would see me, Mother and Father?”

  “Yes … I think they would.”

  “And Magda …? Is that asking too much?”

  Leon frowned. “I’m afraid so, Rubin. Father refuses to talk about it any more, but I know he would see you.”

  “Me … but not Magda … well, I can hardly blame him.”

  Leon took time out to summon the waiter. Then he shifted the subject somewhat. “At any rate, Jocelyn seems to be surviving nicely, which should give you some comfort. She does the town every night with any number of men.”

  “Tell me about her.”

  “You probably wouldn’t recognize her, she changed so much. She’s certainly not playing the part of a jilted bride …They only stayed abroad a week.”

  “Still, I did treat her shamefully. She’d be entitled to want to see me in hell—”

  “She’s had some help in that quarter. Harry Sassoon has done everything possible to harass our family.”

  “I’m truly sorry for that, Leon. I just wish he wouldn’t hold the family accountable for my mistakes.”

  “Forget it, Rubin. Now, tell me about Magda instead. Lovely name …She’s French, Father said.”

  “No, she’s Rumanian, but she lived mostly in Paris.”

  “What’s she like?”

  “Beautiful … exciting …God, I don’t know. She’s everything I want, a mistress and wife … a woman of many moods—every one of which I love. I don’t always understand her, but I assure you life is never dull.”

  “Would you do it again?”

  “Yes …”

  “I’m very happy for you, Rubin. You know, Father’s refused to take your name off the roster.”

  “You mean my name is still on the door?”

  “Yes.”

  Rubin shook his head. “Why?”

  “Because Father thinks it’s right.”

  “How remarkable he is.”

  “Yes … he is. But this war will take a toll on him.”

  “How is he?”

  “Busy. He had the cabinet meeting last night. It was a great strain.”

  “Of course,” said Rubin. “A man with four sons … I’m joining the army, Leon.”

  Leon was surprised. “Why the army? You could go into the admiralty as an officer.”

  “No, that would be rubbing salt on the wound. You and Maurice and Phillip will be attached to the navy. I’m joining the army today as a private.”

  “You’ll be in the infantry, a foot soldier—”

  “I know …”

  “Then why?”

  “Because … perhaps at least to this extent I’m my Father’s son … I think it’s right.”

  “Rubin, are you doing this to punish yourself?”

  Rubin didn’t answer. …

  “Rubin, you’ll be with those poor devils in the front line—”

  “Someone has to, you know.”

  “Yes, but not my brother. There’s no reason to put yourself in such danger.”

  “What about those who have no choice?”

  “I’m sorry for them, but they’re not you. You have an alternative. For God’s sake, war is a time to survive—”

  “I intend to do that.”

  “You’re damned stubborn, Rubin.”

  Rubin smiled and leaned closer to his brother. “Leon, I must ask you a favor …Will you look in on Magda from time to time? It would mean a great deal to me.”

  “Yes, of course, when I’m in London. Of course I will …”

  “God bless you, Leon … my dear brother … my dearest friend …”

  He wondered if they would ever see each other again.

  It was six o’clock that night when Martin opened the door of the Hack mansion. He was on the verge of saying, “I believe you have the wrong address, sir,” when he recognized the caller.

  “Mr. Rubin! …Sir …Good evening …I’m delighted to see you.”

  “And I you, Martin.” Rubin was already in his uniform, khaki-colored, ill-fitting. His face was pale and strained.

  He looked, Martin thought, old beyond his years. …

  “Is Father in, Martin?”

  Martin coughed nervously. “Yes, sir … he’s in the study. Shall I tell him you’re here?”

  “Would you?”

  “Indeed, sir.”

  Rubin stood in the foyer, his feelings a mixture of unease and pleasure … unease about the grief he’d caused his family, and pleasure at being home once again. …

  “Your father is waiting to see you, sir.”

  Rubin followed Martin into the study.

  Nathan sat in a large chair facing the door. As Rubin approached, his father examined him with tired if friendly eyes. As his son drew close, Nathan stood, reached out and drew Rubin to him, his ingrained British reserve no match for the welcome sight of his youngest child. Backing off after a moment, hands still on his son’s arms, seeing Rubin in his uniform, the war had come home at last. It was terribly real now …And he had helped make the decision, he, Nathan Hack, perhaps only a cog in the enormous wheel called England, nonetheless helping to decide who should live and who should die by simply casting a vote …Nathan Hack, war-maker… father …

  Neither man could speak for a moment Finally Nathan released his son and sat down. “I knew you would come …”

  “I’ve wanted to, Father, for a long time.”

  “Pity, the things we deprive ourselves of. Pride is a dreadful thing, Rubin.”

  “And the fear of being rejected …”

  Nathan nodded. “We raise our children, think we know them, think we understand them, and they think they know us. But that’s not so, Rubin. All our lives we’re strangers to each other …”

  “You’re a wise man, Father. I wish your wisdom was for sale, I’d buy a gross, though I doubt they’d fit …”

  Nathan waved his hand. “I’m only your father, Rubin—”

  “Even after what I’ve done?”

  “What we have done, Rubin. I am not so noble … I made my own fatherly mistake, trying to force my son into my own mold. I confused you with me …I thought you’d react as I did simply because you’re my son …I was mistaken. You’re not merely an extension of me, you’re—”

  “But you must have detested me for what I did—”

  “No … I was disappointed, yes …Still, in the larger scheme of things, it doesn’t really seem so important. I think you know I’m a religious man. But attendance at the synagogue is n
ot the right test of that. The test is if we practice what we preach. The prodigal, after all, was more loved—”

  “Maurice and Phillip apparently don’t share your feelings.”

  “Well, they are misguided.” Nathan sighed. “They also are not the extension of myself I once thought they were …When all is said and done, at such a crisis in our lives, I wanted my sons … and their wives … to stand together as one.”

  “Except I did hurt them, Father.”

  “In the face of a world that’s about to annihilate itself, the episode becomes rather pale. At least no one was killed on that wedding day.”

  “Still, it was a painful time. And I deeply appreciate your understanding—”

  “My feelings aren’t all that fragile, Rubin. My concern is for you now. With the help of God, when this is over and sanity returns to the world, it might be easier if you lived abroad and started over.”

  “Perhaps I will, but I want my children to be English …” Rubin had come to the all-important question. “Father, would you meet her?”

  Nathan moistened his lips with a sip of sherry. Then, carefully, he said, “Perhaps, Rubin, in time.”

  “But I may be away …I know I have no right, but I ask you to meet her, Father …She’s had a very difficult life …She’s motherless and fatherless, and she isn’t, after all, to blame for my behavior—”

  Martin entered then with a tray, which he set down on the table in front of them. “Don’t bother, Martin,” said Nathan. “I’ll take care of this, thank you.” Nathan poured the tea, and Rubin held his breath.

  Finally …“Yes, Rubin. Your mother and I will see … your wife …Not here, however.”

  “Why not, Father?”

  “It simply would be too awkward—for her, and all concerned.”

  Rubin was disappointed but understood.

  “We have our disagreements,” Nathan went on, “but the family at least still comes here. We remain a family. And your wife would be placed in an unpleasant position …It would be most unkind.”

  Rubin got up, went to his father and embraced him. “There are no words, Father, none at all, to thank you … for forgiving me—”

  “Oh, my dear boy … it’s only when we can forgive one another that we have the right to ask God to forgive us …That is our law …Yom Kippur, the message …Now then, I suggest we go up to your mother.”