This coincidence thrills Livi. She hadn’t met Ziggy on the whim of a fruit picker she met on a farm; Ziggy was her kindred spirit, and maybe even more than that: her destiny.
They drink more coffee and share another pastry. Livi is unsettled, though: Ziggy has moved on – now he recounts funny stories of his workmates, tells her of his engineering ambitions and mulls over the best cafés for iced coffee, as though he has entirely forgotten that moments ago he was crying for his dead mother.
*
Mrs Weizmann greets Livi with a big smile.
‘My husband returned home last night and as he hasn’t had a chance to meet you, I wondered if you’d like to come along to his office and say hello.’
‘Say hello to President Weizmann?’ Livi asks, with a tiny tremble in her voice.
But Mrs Weizmann is striding ahead. She knocks on the president’s door and opens it without waiting for an invitation. ‘Chaim, this is Livi, the new maid who is keeping us all on our toes.’
‘Hello, Livi.’ The president rises from behind his desk. He has a goatee beard and round glasses; he looks like a university professor. ‘I’ve heard a lot about you.’
His eyes are friendly and Livi finds herself warming to this man. He holds out his hand and Livi takes it. As is her instinct, she slides her left arm behind her back, a gesture the president is quick to catch. He reaches for her arm and, very gently, he pushes up her sleeve. Tenderly, he traces his fingers over the tattooed numbers.
‘There is quite a journey in these numbers, isn’t there?’ he says, softly.
Livi nods.
‘Will you tell me about it?’
*
‘When he held my hand, I thanked God for a man like Chaim Weizmann, a man who has such vision. I really felt, probably for the first time, that I was making a contribution to the promise of Israel.’ Livi is having dinner with Magda and Yitzchak, regaling them with every nuance of her meeting with the president. ‘He didn’t say one word as he listened to my story. Not one, he just let me talk.’
‘Poor man,’ says Magda, laughing. ‘That’s the second time he’s heard our story then.’
‘Mine is different to yours,’ says Livi, regretting her words the moment they leave her mouth. ‘I didn’t mean it like that, Magda. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.’
Magda smiles. ‘Don’t worry, Livi. I know you didn’t.’
But Magda once again feels the dual twinges of guilt and despair whenever any reference is made to the fact that her sisters spent two long years in the camps while she was at home with Mumma, oblivious to their suffering. ‘Well,’ she says, now. ‘All I know is that he’s earned the right to be called Father of Israel, and I think Mrs Weizmann should be called Mother of Israel by now.’
When Magda retreats to her bedroom to lie down after dinner, Livi joins her. Magda can tell her sister is still feeling contrite.
‘Livi, it’s fine. I didn’t for a second think you were trying to hurt me.’
Livi’s eyes are full of tears. ‘I’m glad you weren’t there, Magda, I really am. Do you know that’s what kept me and Cibi going? Believing that you were back in Vranov, taking care of Mother and Grandfather.’
This doesn’t make Magda feel any better. ‘What hurts the most,’ she says, heaving herself up into a sitting position, ‘is remembering our last days in Vranov. Night after night we’d sit down for dinner – we never had much, but certainly more than you – and we’d sit down, say a prayer for you both, and eat. I took the food for granted, took Mumma and even Grandfather for granted sometimes. They were always telling me to hide, to stay out of the way, to be a ghost. And I used to lose my temper, screaming at them to let me come and find you.’ Magda wipes a tear away.
‘I’m sorry, Magda,’ says Livi.
‘My safety meant as much to them as it did to you, but I didn’t want to be safe – I wanted to be with you and Cibi. And then I got my wish, which wasn’t your wish or Mumma’s, but it was mine. And then no one was happy, least of all me.’ Magda is crying now, fat tears falling onto the bump of her stomach.
Livi gets onto the bed, and the sisters lie down in each other’s arms.
‘Magda. Do you think we didn’t know how painful it must have been for you wondering what had happened to us? It must have driven you crazy. If I had been you, I know I would have done something stupid.’
‘Like giving yourself up to Visik?’ Magda smiles through her tears.