The Lubetkin Legacy

Berthold: Teddies

‘Brrrrrr!’ A ghastly clamour of siren bells ripped my slumber asunder. It seemed as though I had only been asleep for a moment.

Eustachia jumped up, banged her fist on the alarm clock, then hurtled out of bed and gathered her scattered clothing from the floor. ‘My! I’m going to be late for work!’

After a night like that, what one needs most in the morning is a strong cup of coffee. But I was out of luck.

‘Would you like a cup of tea?’ she called from the kitchen.

‘Have you any …?’ I started to croak weakly, but I already knew what the answer would be.

‘Help yourself to toast! Just pull the door behind you when you leave! Don’t worry about Monty — his walker will pick him up later!’

She placed a cup of weak tea down on the bedside table and touched my bare shoulder with her hand.

‘Berthold …!’ Whatever it was she meant to say, she didn’t say it.

‘Stacey …!’ I didn’t say it either.

I squeezed her hand and let her go, and fished out the tea bag with my fingers.

The teddies at the side of the bed watched me jealously, as they must have watched over her and loved her through her unhappy childhood; as nobody had loved her since. Until now. An unfamiliar tremor quickened in my chest. I was the man who would cherish and protect her, whose love would oust the teddies. I leaped out of bed to share my insight with her, but I could already hear the sound of her car firing up, and I could see from the desolate look in Monty’s eyes as the car puttered away down the street that he was in love with her too. I felt tempted to kick him again, but I controlled myself.

I arrived back at Madeley Court to a scene of unspeakable desolation. Six mature trees had been felled, their leaves spilled like green blood over the pavement. Immature cherries hung in green clusters that would never ripen into scarlet. The cherry grove was now a cherry grave. The two chainsaw guys were busily chopping up the limbs and stacking them in neat piles. Little groups of people came by to watch, and others watched from the balconies of their flats. The kid who had attacked Flossie was taking pictures on his mobile. I wondered where Violet was, who had blazed like a comet briefly across my path and had now curved off on a different trajectory.

In a way, I was glad she wasn’t here. It would have broken her heart.