blur of her heart-shaped face. His wife. The fear suddenly resurfaced, threatening to cloud his mood. He knew he wanted Chani but did she want him? Nothing was for sure. What if she didnât? His longing had grown stronger every day since he had first met her and now his need gnawed at him endlessly. He thought of the wedding night and began to pedal for dear life. What if she rebuffed him? What if he couldnât control himself? The wet dreams persisted. He had little hope of curbing his excitement with her if he couldnât manage it on his own.
Her small white hands, the nails that were ragged crescents, her smooth pale skin, her dark eyes bright and quick with a keen intelligence she had tried to suppress. Perhaps she would be a bold adventuress leading him to the Promised Land. The bike swerved beneath him. A crazy notion but he had seen the alertness in her face and liked it.
Baruch wanted to know all her thoughts. He wanted to share his with her, but he feared he would bore her. His thoughts were myriad and overwhelming; he didnât want to drown her. His mind was full of the future, their future â how would it be and how would he support her?
But he was getting to know her. She had been different this time. Until now the phone had made them both feel awkward, forcing them to fall back into a monotonous pattern of stiff, polite formality. This last conversation had felt more real and very soon she would be a tangible presence.
Baruch thought about living in Jerusalem with Chani. The move was imminent. In six months they would be leaving London. How would they cope in a new and unfamiliar environment? Neither of them spoke Hebrew. He would toil over religious texts for hours leaving Chani alone at home in a strange land. The idea filled him with dread. He didnât want her to be lonely. He would spend all his time with her if he could. But he had little choice. His parents had agreed to buy them a small flat in Nachlaâot and to fund his studies on the proviso that he continued them. He had savings of his own but no real transferable skills. Chani would have to find a small, part-time job somehow to support them. Perhaps they could give English lessons? But neither of them had any qualifications.
He cycled faster trying to outstrip his thoughts. The cold air stung but the speed matched the tumult of emotion coursing through his veins. Her voice reverberated through his head and he heard the halting rhythm of her speech above the roar and grind of juggernauts, buses and cars. Each turn of the pedal pushed the nagging doubts to the back his mind. He felt like he was flying, encased in his own bubble, protected by the intensity of his feelings for a girl he barely knew.
Chapter 7
The Rebbetzin
May 1982 â Jerusalem
Rebecca stood in the queue waiting her turn to go through security, a little frightened by the press of humanity behind and in front of her. Men dressed in black and white, wearing black fedoras or fur-trimmed hats swarmed through the barriers, pushing and shoving in their haste to say their evening prayers at the Wall. The tension was palpable as the pious grew increasingly irritable. The stink of sweat, stale clothes and greasy beards wafted through the air. She held her breath, not comprehending how they could tolerate wearing heavy wool suits in the heat. The women were bundled up too. Some wore sweaters over long-sleeved shirts that were fully buttoned. She couldnât help staring at their thick dark tights. The younger women wore long trailing cotton skirts that almost concealed their feet. They hung back from the men leaving a discreet gap.
She was relieved she had worn her longest skirt and a long-sleeved T-shirt. Shifra stood next to her similarly attired except that her top was baggier. They had met when Rebecca started to learn weekly at the campus Beit Midrash, where frum women volunteered to teach secular women the basics of Torah and Judaism. Chaim had persuaded
Her small white hands, the nails that were ragged crescents, her smooth pale skin, her dark eyes bright and quick with a keen intelligence she had tried to suppress. Perhaps she would be a bold adventuress leading him to the Promised Land. The bike swerved beneath him. A crazy notion but he had seen the alertness in her face and liked it.
Baruch wanted to know all her thoughts. He wanted to share his with her, but he feared he would bore her. His thoughts were myriad and overwhelming; he didnât want to drown her. His mind was full of the future, their future â how would it be and how would he support her?
But he was getting to know her. She had been different this time. Until now the phone had made them both feel awkward, forcing them to fall back into a monotonous pattern of stiff, polite formality. This last conversation had felt more real and very soon she would be a tangible presence.
Baruch thought about living in Jerusalem with Chani. The move was imminent. In six months they would be leaving London. How would they cope in a new and unfamiliar environment? Neither of them spoke Hebrew. He would toil over religious texts for hours leaving Chani alone at home in a strange land. The idea filled him with dread. He didnât want her to be lonely. He would spend all his time with her if he could. But he had little choice. His parents had agreed to buy them a small flat in Nachlaâot and to fund his studies on the proviso that he continued them. He had savings of his own but no real transferable skills. Chani would have to find a small, part-time job somehow to support them. Perhaps they could give English lessons? But neither of them had any qualifications.
He cycled faster trying to outstrip his thoughts. The cold air stung but the speed matched the tumult of emotion coursing through his veins. Her voice reverberated through his head and he heard the halting rhythm of her speech above the roar and grind of juggernauts, buses and cars. Each turn of the pedal pushed the nagging doubts to the back his mind. He felt like he was flying, encased in his own bubble, protected by the intensity of his feelings for a girl he barely knew.
Chapter 7
The Rebbetzin
May 1982 â Jerusalem
Rebecca stood in the queue waiting her turn to go through security, a little frightened by the press of humanity behind and in front of her. Men dressed in black and white, wearing black fedoras or fur-trimmed hats swarmed through the barriers, pushing and shoving in their haste to say their evening prayers at the Wall. The tension was palpable as the pious grew increasingly irritable. The stink of sweat, stale clothes and greasy beards wafted through the air. She held her breath, not comprehending how they could tolerate wearing heavy wool suits in the heat. The women were bundled up too. Some wore sweaters over long-sleeved shirts that were fully buttoned. She couldnât help staring at their thick dark tights. The younger women wore long trailing cotton skirts that almost concealed their feet. They hung back from the men leaving a discreet gap.
She was relieved she had worn her longest skirt and a long-sleeved T-shirt. Shifra stood next to her similarly attired except that her top was baggier. They had met when Rebecca started to learn weekly at the campus Beit Midrash, where frum women volunteered to teach secular women the basics of Torah and Judaism. Chaim had persuaded
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