The Credit Draper Episode 11

As her head tilted back, Madame Kahn caught a glimpse of Avram’s reflection in the mirror. She spun towards him. He stared motionless at her angry maw as she shouted at him. “Get out of here, boy. Get out.”

Such was the venom in her voice he wasn’t sure if in that instant she meant get out of her bedroom, get out of her house, or even get out of Glasgow.

He fled back into the hallway, found refuge among the various garments hanging from the coat stand until his breathlessness subsided, consoling himself with the thought that God would never let such an angry woman into the Promised Land.

He then returned to the lounge, eased down beside Nathan, watched in silence as the younger boy’s back juddered every few seconds in spasms of tears.

“Is Mary all right?” Nathan asked. “It’s nothing.”

Later, when Avram had an opportunity, he slipped into Papa and Madame Kahn’s bedroom with Celia. He picked up the hairbrush.

“How do you say this?”

Celia told him.

“Hairbrush,” he repeated, slapping the silver-plated head against the cup of his palm. “Hairbrush.”

He asked Celia if there was anything wrong with Nathan.

“He’s just sensitive,” she replied.

Invitation

That evening, Madame Kahn was back to her usual self with her hair drawn up into a tight bun, hovering impatiently around the hallway in an evening gown and fox-stole wrap.

Avram watched as she kissed her own children goodnight before possessively taking the arm of her dinner-suited husband who escorted her out of the door. “Where do they go?” Avram asked. Celia pulled the gilt-edged invitation off the mantelpiece. She read haughtily: “A charity concert by the Glasgow Jewish Choral Society in aid of the families of the victims of the Titanic disaster.”

Avram knew about the Titanic. He even felt a connection with the doomed vessel. For he had seen the newspaper pictures of the ship setting off on its tragic voyage from the docks at Southampton. Southampton. The very port where he had first landed.

“What is a Titanic?” Nathan asked. “The biggest ship in the world, my love,” Celia said. “Until it hit an iceberg.” “What is an iceberg?”

Celia explained, then continued in an eerie voice. “In the darkness of the night, in the middle of the cold, lonely ocean, the giant ship, the Titanic, sailed on its maiden voyage.

“On and on. On and on. The glittering city of New York waited for its arrival. The orchestra played, the passengers laughed and danced and drank Champagne, unaware of the tragedy about to happen.”

Avram watched Celia dance around the room to the sound of her own orchestra, her arms outstretched to some imaginary partner.

Frozen in silence

He joined her, miming the playing of a violin and even Nathan stood up and began to clap out an awkward beat. Celia came to a halt.

“Hush.”

Avram dropped to the floor. Nathan stood frozen in silence.

“Listen. The wind stilled. The music played, the lights blazed, the ship steamed on into the night. All was well, when… suddenly…a strong shudder in the darkness.”

Nathan shuddered too as Celia slapped her hands together. “An iceberg. The ship had struck an iceberg. The side of the vessel tore open like a skin. Water flooded in.

“The passengers rushed for the lifeboats. But there weren’t enough for everyone. It was women and children first. Women and children first,” Celia called, imitating the cry of a crew member.

Avram cupped his hands to his mouth, echoed her plea, a thin voice coming through the fog.

“Women and children first. Women and children first.”

Celia went on. “But everyone panicked. People scrambled for the boats. Others jumped screaming into the freezing sea. The band played on. More water poured in. The band still played on. Play on, Avram.”

Avram jumped to his feet, scraped wildly at his extended forearm as he danced around the bewildered Nathan.

“The band played until the ship tipped up and up and up before sliding into the ocean depths. Down and down and down into the seabed, the Titanic plunged.

“It didn’t matter if you were rich or poor, first class or steerage, everyone sank together. Hundreds of passengers were drowned.”

“What is drowned?” Nathan asked. “It’s when people can’t breathe in the water, my love.” Celia placed a hand over her nose and mouth, sucked hard on the flesh of her palm. “Then they die.”

Nathan’s legs gave way underneath him, his small body crumpled to the floor. Avram started to laugh but he noticed the expression of horror on Celia’s face as she looked down at the prostrate body of her brother.

Motionless

The passengers rushed for the lifeboats. But there weren’t enough for everyone. It was women and children first

He watched in silence as Nathan remained sprawled motionless on the floor.

“He’s not moving,” Celia howled. “He’s not moving. He’s dead. We’ve killed him.”

Avram wasn’t so sure, but Nathan’s usually pallid expression had drained to an even sicklier grey.

Celia knelt down, twisted her head to Nathan’s chest.

“I can’t feel him breathing. Avram. Do something.”

“Uncle Mendel. I’ll get Uncle Mendel.” “No, no. He isn’t at home. Go to Mrs Carnovsky. Hurry. Mrs Carnovsky.”

He flew out of the Kahn’s flat, rang and rang the bell opposite until Mrs Carnovsky cracked open the door and peered out.

Her customary Balkan Sobranie cigarette hung in its bright pink paper from the shrivelled corner of her mouth.

“Oh, it’s you. The meshugge orphan.” “Come. Please, you must come.”

More on Monday.

The Credit Draper is the first in a trilogy by J. David Simons. He has written five novels and is published by Saraband. His work can be purchased at saraband.net