Mr. Rosenblum's List: Or Friendly Guidance for the Aspiring Englishman by Natasha Solomons Page A
Authors: Natasha Solomons
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There’s one in Okeford that moves out so much I swear he walks down the street.’
Sadie had never thought of a house as a living thing before – it was a thing, which one filled with other things, like furniture and books. Yet the walls here were painted with limewash so that the stone could breathe and at night the house did feel almost alive, with its creaking and the sounds of the stream, trickling, trickling. She closed her eyes and imagined she could hear the stones of the house sigh.
She went back down to the kitchen to find that Jack had gone. There was an almighty crash and a rumbling clatter from close by. Clad in her bath towel, her feet still bare, she followed the noise to the sitting room.
Jack was standing on the hearth with a crowbar as black rubble and grime poured out of the chimney and onto the floor. It was as though he had opened a sluice gate. As Sadie watched in dismay, he changed colour; his hair went from white to black and his face turned grey, except for the shining whites of his eyes. A minute later the tide slowed. He took a piece of wood and poked around, causing more soot to tumble out and small clouds of smog to form in the living room.
Sadie stared in horror. ‘I’ve just had a bath.’
Jack did not turn around. ‘Hope you kept the water. Think perhaps I might need a wash.’
He stuck his hand back inside and reached into the back of the chimney. ‘There’s a shelf here. And. There’s something on it.’
He pulled out a charred object and laid it on the mat. Sadie peered at it from a safe distance and felt a little sick. It was a skeleton of some sort. Jack gave it a poke. ‘What is it?’ He dumped another item next to the skeleton.
While Jack had been reading endless books on golf, Sadie had read the volume on ancient folklore.
‘It’s a cat. People put mummified cats up the chimneys. Thought it kept out evil,’ she said.
Looking closely at the bones, Jack could make out the shreds of bandages.
‘And there should be a Bible. The cat keeps away witches. The Bible is for Him.’ Sadie gestured to the ceiling.
Jack was intrigued and he picked up the other object, which was indeed a book. He murmured a Brocha to humour his wife and opened it with reverence. The print was small and divided up into tiny chapters – it looked like a goyische bible. He read a line to Sadie.
‘“Asylum: a place of refuge; a place of protection. Atheist: one who disbelieves in the existence of God.”’ He paused, rubbing his nose and leaving another black smear on his spectacles. ‘The Christian Bible is more different from the Torah than I had thought.’
Sadie took it from him, flipping to the front page and read, ‘“ Johnson’s Dictionary of the English Language. To which are added an Alphabetical Account of the Heathen Deities. Published 1775.” Yes, hmm. Funny sort of bible.’
Jack gave a short laugh. ‘I’ll bet you the hole in my beigel, that whoever put it up there thought it was a bible.’
Sadie smiled. ‘The words are the same, just in a different order. I am sure He can rearrange them.’
Jack chuckled and Sadie turned, laughing with him. She looked pretty, he decided, with her wet hair curling around her face and in this light her eyes were quite green. In these brief interludes Jack could almost remember the woman his wife had once been. He recalled the first days of their courtship when, half in love, they were still shy with one another. In a fit of boldness he’d confessed that he liked Christmas carols and secretly always wanted to go to the service on Christmas Eve in the Berliner Dom, and listen to the singing – Christians had all the best tunes. Sadie laughed and goosed him, challenging, ‘Well? Why don’t we?’ They’d snuck in and sat in the very back pew, their thighs brushing, as the congregation bellowed the refrains of ‘O Tannenbaum’ . Somewhere between the third and fourth verse, Jack realised that a small, gloved hand was sliding
Sadie had never thought of a house as a living thing before – it was a thing, which one filled with other things, like furniture and books. Yet the walls here were painted with limewash so that the stone could breathe and at night the house did feel almost alive, with its creaking and the sounds of the stream, trickling, trickling. She closed her eyes and imagined she could hear the stones of the house sigh.
She went back down to the kitchen to find that Jack had gone. There was an almighty crash and a rumbling clatter from close by. Clad in her bath towel, her feet still bare, she followed the noise to the sitting room.
Jack was standing on the hearth with a crowbar as black rubble and grime poured out of the chimney and onto the floor. It was as though he had opened a sluice gate. As Sadie watched in dismay, he changed colour; his hair went from white to black and his face turned grey, except for the shining whites of his eyes. A minute later the tide slowed. He took a piece of wood and poked around, causing more soot to tumble out and small clouds of smog to form in the living room.
Sadie stared in horror. ‘I’ve just had a bath.’
Jack did not turn around. ‘Hope you kept the water. Think perhaps I might need a wash.’
He stuck his hand back inside and reached into the back of the chimney. ‘There’s a shelf here. And. There’s something on it.’
He pulled out a charred object and laid it on the mat. Sadie peered at it from a safe distance and felt a little sick. It was a skeleton of some sort. Jack gave it a poke. ‘What is it?’ He dumped another item next to the skeleton.
While Jack had been reading endless books on golf, Sadie had read the volume on ancient folklore.
‘It’s a cat. People put mummified cats up the chimneys. Thought it kept out evil,’ she said.
Looking closely at the bones, Jack could make out the shreds of bandages.
‘And there should be a Bible. The cat keeps away witches. The Bible is for Him.’ Sadie gestured to the ceiling.
Jack was intrigued and he picked up the other object, which was indeed a book. He murmured a Brocha to humour his wife and opened it with reverence. The print was small and divided up into tiny chapters – it looked like a goyische bible. He read a line to Sadie.
‘“Asylum: a place of refuge; a place of protection. Atheist: one who disbelieves in the existence of God.”’ He paused, rubbing his nose and leaving another black smear on his spectacles. ‘The Christian Bible is more different from the Torah than I had thought.’
Sadie took it from him, flipping to the front page and read, ‘“ Johnson’s Dictionary of the English Language. To which are added an Alphabetical Account of the Heathen Deities. Published 1775.” Yes, hmm. Funny sort of bible.’
Jack gave a short laugh. ‘I’ll bet you the hole in my beigel, that whoever put it up there thought it was a bible.’
Sadie smiled. ‘The words are the same, just in a different order. I am sure He can rearrange them.’
Jack chuckled and Sadie turned, laughing with him. She looked pretty, he decided, with her wet hair curling around her face and in this light her eyes were quite green. In these brief interludes Jack could almost remember the woman his wife had once been. He recalled the first days of their courtship when, half in love, they were still shy with one another. In a fit of boldness he’d confessed that he liked Christmas carols and secretly always wanted to go to the service on Christmas Eve in the Berliner Dom, and listen to the singing – Christians had all the best tunes. Sadie laughed and goosed him, challenging, ‘Well? Why don’t we?’ They’d snuck in and sat in the very back pew, their thighs brushing, as the congregation bellowed the refrains of ‘O Tannenbaum’ . Somewhere between the third and fourth verse, Jack realised that a small, gloved hand was sliding
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