Bound by the Scars We Share Page 9
With the birth of their first daughter, Victoria Agnes, Zoshia and Harvey felt an ecstasy like no other. Their life felt complete and Victoria was doted on by both her parents. Zoshia’s happiness at being a mother was overwhelming yet seemed the most natural thing in the world. So much love poured out from inside her for her new baby that she felt she would burst. Zoshia had never experienced such intense feelings before, yet she embraced them. The sleepless nights and the near exhaustion were nothing after what she had been through previously in her life. Taking wonderful walks with Victoria through the nearby park and connecting with simple pleasures, Zoshia began once more to feel a sense of value. She continued to love and was loved. This was such a foreign feeling for her and she sometimes felt that she was not entitled to such elation. She had always felt guilty for escaping the concentration camps while others perished. Protecting her daughter almost obsessively gave Zoshia a sense of control in case that happiness would be taken away from her. Deep within her being, she felt a profound sense of inferiority, something that was uncontrollable. Even Harvey found it difficult to comprehend Zoshia’s feelings of persecution and guilt. “Why have I been allowed to survive?” she would frequently ask him. “Why was I granted so much happiness while so many had been exterminated by the Germans?” Zoshia would add. Although she loved her family, these thoughts plagued her daily.
After eighteen months, Zoshia gave birth to a beautiful dark haired little boy who she named Raymond. She was totally consumed once again with a powerful love for her son. She did not even imagine that she would have so much love to give to another child. Fulfilment penetrated her world at this point and she spent all her time and energy nurturing her beloved infants. Little attention was paid to her own needs and Zoshia was unable to read or play her new piano, a beautiful gift that Harvey had brought for her. Being a mother and wife was all consuming and for a while her inner self-doubt was abated. Though Harvey worked hard and was often called out to attend patients late at night, Zoshia supported him. Victoria and Raymond had made Zoshia’s life complete and with Harvey, who worshipped her, she allowed herself to bathe in her happiness.
The pregnancy of her third child, two years later was an extremely difficult one. The heavy weight within her was unbearable and although she was delighted to be expecting another child, she prayed for the time to pass quickly. It was a struggle for her to cope with the other two little toddlers. She felt heavy and worn-down. Once again, the crouching tiger seemed to try and pounce and cause her to feel overwhelmed and anxious. Zoshia felt isolated and though her mother came from Antwerp to help with the children she felt that there was no real emotional support for her. Guilty at feeling this way, Zoshia found it hard to dispel her anguish. Harvey was immersed in his work and was not able to help her. She was so exhausted by the time he came home, that she could not take part in their former evening rituals of music and laughter and she missed this dreadfully.
Zoshia suffered extreme hardship during labour which seemed to last an eternity. This was her punishment for living, she cried to herself. Jacob, her third child, was born at ten pounds two ounces. The doctor was compelled to employ forceps and Zoshia had been physically torn. This experience caused her great distress, resulting in her utter difficulty in bonding with her baby. She was unable to breast-feed him as she had done with the other two children. Zoshia was unmoved by this. She was devoid of any emotion. Numbness was her escape. No pain. Nothing. Emptiness was too strong an emotion for her. She did not feel and could not feel anything. Diagnosed with post-natal depression, she was incapable of really caring for any of her children for several weeks and throughout this period, even with daily help and her mother present, there seemed to be no feeling or affection for her new little son.
After a few weeks, however, Zoshia’s depression began to lift. She was so thankful to feel an improvement in her physical and mental wellbeing. Harvey had suggested a mild anti-depressant, just for the short term and this, combined with her husband’s understanding, allowed Zoshia the time to heal. As she held Jacob, she started to feel love for him and she knew he was very special to her. He was such an adorable baby who had inherited her blue eyes. When he stared up at her, Zoshia’s heart melted. She hugged him tightly and hardly dared to let him go. Jacob had missed valuable time with her and she was definitely going to make it up to him. “I’m so sorry, little one. I love you so much and will never let you go,” she repeated incessantly and possessively to her beloved son.
Zoshia now felt that her family was complete, but she was petrified of becoming pregnant once again. Harvey was very understanding when she suggested that they should sleep in separate bedrooms. He knew that his wife had suffered so much recently and so this was agreed upon. It did not mar their relationship but having three children to care for was not easy. Somehow, she coped due to her strong sense of duty and her love for her family. It was physically demanding work looking after her children and managing the household. Zoshia was lucky enough to own a twin tub washing machine. Daily, she would fill the machine with water and wash nappies, and all her family’s clothing; shirts for Harvey were particularly difficult. Before she could spin the clothes, they had to be put through a mangle and then the clothes had to be placed into the spin drier. After this Zoshia would drape the clothing on the clothes airier which was hung over the fireplace. All this effort would take hours. Zoshia had always loved to iron but Harvey insisted she should get help, which she was truly grateful for. She enjoyed cooking for her family but still continued to travel a long distance to the shops and carry home heavy bags of food and nourishment for them all. Although worn out, Zoshia made herself cope with all the chores of a dutiful housewife. Sometimes during the night, she would lie awake and ask herself whether she could have had a career in music or used her language skills profitably. She told herself that as a woman she was expected to look after her husband, her children and her home. Zoshia felt very fortunate to have all that she had but her sense of separateness and isolation never left her. She had to accept that her talents were wasted and fought with all her might not allow these thoughts to rule her.
It was with the arrival of Hayden, Harvey’s brother that life became more intolerable. He too had trained as a doctor and had continued the practice in Tonypandy in South Wales after Harvey had left for Liverpool. Haydn lived there, happily married to Chya who had borne him four children. He was two years older than Harvey but had married a lot earlier. He loved his family and his children and was very content with his position as a general practitioner with patients who appreciated his excellent capabilities as a doctor. However, he yearned to become a dentist but had suppressed these desires for a long time. Hayden decided that he would go and stay with his brother in Liverpool and enrol at the university to study dentistry. His wife and family were distraught and begged him not to leave. He loved them dearly but knew in his heart that he had to do this or he would regret it for the rest of his life. It would have been too difficult for him to study at home; there would have been no peace and he would have been required to contribute to home life which would affect his studies. No. He would be better off living with Harvey and Zoshia. They would take care of his needs. It did not occur to Hayden to consider how much work it would be for Zoshia, who had three children. He begged Harvey to allow him to stay, knowing full well that he would agree. It was difficult for Harvey to say no to his brother and so Hayden became the fifth member of the household to rely on Zoshia. This would force her to endure endless days and nights working hard to complete all her onerous and wearisome chores.
While the men were out all day it befell Zoshia to continue her housewife’s role, without any real time left to herself. Her endless walks to the shops, taking three children with her each time she went, was a mammoth undertaking in itself. Cooking, washing, ironing and caring for her children was completely draining. Whenever she found this exhausting, she would recall her struggle through the French woodland, taking the young o
rphans to the safety of Switzerland. Although she was much older now and more worn down, Zoshia told herself that she would just have to stoically stick to her routine of domestic drudgery. In the evenings, Harvey and Hayden would sit and discuss the day’s events with each other. Zoshia would finish the household duties and fall into her bed exhausted. Stifled and stagnant, she couldn’t remember the last time she played the piano or read any literature. Did men not realise just how much physical work a woman with children had to do? While they were out all day, following a career they loved, Zoshia who had abilities, intelligence and talent, felt less than human. If only she could have learnt to drive. Without the freedom this would have given her, she felt utterly debilitated. Harvey had expressly forbidden her to attempt driving because he told her that he believed that she would be unable to master it. Her spirits were sinking rapidly, and she knew that ultimately, she would drown very quickly and would have no form of rescue. She had to escape.
Zoshia was not intending to abandon Harvey permanently but it was necessary for her to leave Liverpool for a while and visit her family. She could no longer live under such difficult circumstances. Whenever the subject of Hayden was discussed, Harvey would lift his arms in despair. “What can I do, Zoshela? I can’t just ask him to leave now, can I? He has his studies and I can’t ruin his dream of becoming a dentist,” Harvey uttered disparagingly. Zoshia felt insulted that her husband neglected to realise the unhappiness she felt in her life. So, when Harvey and Hayden were at work, she rang her mother and asked if she could bring the children for a visit. Zoshia did not tell Zara the whole truth. However, while packing for them all, tears streamed down her face. She knew this was the right move. Perhaps when she returned she would not feel like a foreigner and a slave. Harvey drove them to the airport in Manchester. The children were quiet, and Harvey’s face was ashen. Zoshia could not speak as she felt an icy chill cover her whole body.
At the terminal, after Harvey had hugged his children, Zoshia finally spoke directly to him. “I may not return unless Hayden finds alternative accommodation. It’s simple. He must go. I will be in touch.” Zoshia felt distraught at walking away from the man she loved. However, she did not look back. They were on their way to Antwerp. Although she desperately felt like she should change her mind, she didn’t and stepped onto the plane to Belgium, back to her family and her old life where she had been a single woman.
When she arrived at her parents’ apartment in Antwerp, she was surprised at how happy she was to see them all – even Hannah who she hugged and kissed with excitement. They all doted on the children who were very thrilled at receiving lots of attention; plenty of presents and delicious cake to eat. This was a holiday for them and Zoshia tried her best to join in with the fun. Inside, however, she felt nothing but pain and guilt at having taken her children away from their father and not being able to confide in her family about her difficulties with Harvey.
While she could, Zoshia allowed herself to rest and consequently began to relax. This enabled her to reflect on her life and the situation she was in. Looking back at her past, she wondered what had happened to that young, spirited, girl who had suffered so much but still had desires and dreams of being a pianist or a linguist. That person had been extinguished. She thought of Robert and the life she might have had with him. Their love was so simple and uncomplicated. How easy it was then. No more dreams. She was chained. Trapped. No choices to be made. Condemned. It was as if she was hidden in the war, but this time a personal one and she felt like curling up into a corner and burying herself forever.
Grace 10
Unrealised and unfulfilled expectations and wishes were destroyed for Grace as Peter revealed very early on in their marriage the true nature of his character. He initially displayed his calculating and controlling personality by insisting that his wife transfer her substantial inheritance from her grandmother to him. He claimed it was her duty as a wife. “It is important that you obey me, Grace, as I am your husband and you are obliged to abide by my wishes,” he asserted in a dominating tone.
“Very well,” she replied deferentially, “I will attend to it directly,” trusting the love between them.
On the 15th April 1953 Grace instructed the bank to transfer the money into Peter’s account. This left her penniless and utterly dependant on her husband. Once this transaction had been completed, Peter informed her coldly, “I have only married you because you are perfectly middle class and you have affluent parents.” Grace immediately burst into tears, hardly able to believe what she had just been told. She ran to the bedroom her vision blighted by the tears in her eyes. Grace could not contain her sobbing. “Oh, what have I done?” she remonstrated uncontrollably. “What have I done?” Grace was devastated and realised the dreadful mistake she had made.
“Grace, stop that dreadful blubbering at once. Pull yourself together,” Peter commanded, as he roughly pulled her by her arm and slapped her callously across her cheeks several times, which stunned her. Following this, Peter proceeded to press his body to hers in a rough and cold manner. She was powerless to escape his advance and weakly submitted to his will.
The liberty of her youth had been imprisoned by error and ignorance which caused Grace to marry such a barbaric brute. She could not reveal her mistake to her father so prematurely in the marriage. Maybe things would get better, she hoped. Perhaps Peter did not really mean those hurtful words he had spoken and she silently succumbed to a future with the man who had forced her to grow up.
Peter informed his wife that they would be having a short honeymoon in Paris. Grace was not sure about his meaning but hoped that this was the turning point and that her husband had changed his mind about their relationship. “By the way,” he added flippantly, “my friends Martin and his wife Lydia, are coming with us. I’m sure you won’t mind if they accompany us, will you?” Grace bowed her head to hide her disappointment. She did not want Peter to sense how she felt. The view of the floor made her feel like her mother, who always seemed to have her head tilted downwards. “Grace!” he commanded in a dominating voice. She looked up at him and smiled. Acting was second nature to her. She had acted all her life and how was this any different? She saw her father standing in front of her: his face – not Peter’s. But Grace tried not to let her thoughts and visions control her imagination or she knew she would be lost.
The party arrived in Paris and as they checked into their small hotel, the rain began to drizzle – rain which represented the dampening of Grace’s marriage to her husband. When they had unpacked, Peter suggested that they should go for a walk and see the city. “Let us admire the elegant, refined and sophisticated architecture,” he ordered and promptly issued the directive for their tour. As it was early morning they would have plenty of time to look around.
Grace followed her husband and his friends as they walked along the Champs – Éysées towards the Arc de Triomphe. It was an endless trek and Grace found it hard to keep up with them – her tiny legs walking twice as fast because the other three were so tall in comparison to her. Peter acted as though they weren’t even together as he guided his friends, pointing out various landmarks. She thought how entirely apart she and her husband were from each other; separated as much as two disenchanted lovers could be.
The grey rain fell onto the River Seine. There was no glimmer of sun to illuminate the water; just a mournful mist hovering. The Arc de Triomphe looked sombre as they observed the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier and the eternal flame burning in front. Grace could not feel any enthusiasm as her loneliness consumed her, wrapping around her like a mantle. Suddenly she experienced severe cramps in her stomach and she desperately searched for a public convenience. Running as fast as she could, Grace eventually hurried past a queue and just in time she managed to find an available public conveience. But there was nothing to clean herself with. Grace looked in her bag. She had no tissues left as these had been used earlier for her tears. Suddenly, she noticed her marri
age certificate hidden within her passport. That will be perfect, she thought, and she tore it up into manageable sized pieces. This was all it was worth.
Having emerged outside, Grace saw the trio standing together, laughing and chattering. She smiled to herself believing that the action she had just taken had given her strength to carry on the tour. She dared not complain, as they walked and walked. It seemed like an eternity. At last they stopped for a late lunch in a café. Grace enjoyed this as she was able to observe the various elements of life carrying on around her while her companions talked together barely giving her a thought. “I have paid the bill,” Peter stated earnestly. “Grace would you please wait here for a while. We are going for a walk together. Don’t go away or we won’t be able to find you,” he added in a mocking tone. Grace said nothing. She was relieved to see them go. It would enable her to relax and be herself in Paris.
While she sat there, Grace thought about what they had seen through Peter’s guidance. She had seen the Eiffel Tower, a large construct of metal pushing through the perpetual skyline. In normal circumstances she might have felt differently. Her husband had insisted that it was essential to visit the Notre Dame Cathedral. Yes, Grace did see its beauty (though she despised religious places). She had especially enjoyed the interior of the building with its kaleidoscopic, glowing, stained-glass windows and the soothing sound of the voices of the choir as they sung mass. Peter had pointed out the exterior carvings of the kings from the Middle Ages. As she had observed the huge edifice, she had been saddened by the lack of the sun’s rays to light up the humanity of man’s creation. It was, to Grace, a nightmare. Her religious faith had died, and she felt that this building represented the embers of her belief. She saw it as building of dreary oppression which reminded her how her theological ethics had shrunk and withered. She saw Notre Dame as a metaphorical tyrant representing the strict rules and doctrines of her cruel spouse.