quote the
Scriptures at one.
If the
Ecclesiastical Courts were going to take at least another month to give their
verdict on the validity of his marriage, by then she would have returned to
school and started a new term. She had almost decided that morning, in the same
mental gesture as she had decided to hire a car, not to return to school at
all. She must write to Ricky soon. She would write to Michael first.
But why
don’t I go down to Jerusalem, Barbara thought, and pass through the Mandelbaum
Gate? Why is it that I’m not on my way, now, from Jerusalem, across the plains
of Sodom and Gomorrah to the Dead Sea? Why don’t I go over and see him?
Because
I’m a pilgrim to the Holy Land and one shouldn’t abuse hospitality.
Because
I’ve got to have time to think.
Because
I don’t really want to sleep with him in the present state of affairs.
But why
don’t I go?
Because
it’s dangerous there for someone of Jewish blood.
But no
one could possibly find out.
Barbara
had a separate passport issued by the Foreign Office in London, for the purpose
of entering Jordan from Israel. She had the required certificate of baptism
signed by a priest:
I declare that
Miss Barbara Vaughan is a member of the Roman Catholic Church and has been
known to me for some years.
No one
could possibly guess that I’m a half-Jew.
Then why?
Because
I’m a spinster that’s taken a religious turn. A Gentile Jewess, neither one
thing nor another, caught up in a crackpot mystique. I declare that Miss
Barbara Vaughan is a member of the Roman Catholic Church and has been known to
me for some years. Life is passing.
Then
why do I not go down to the Dead Sea?
Because
the time hasn’t yet come for me to go down to the Dead Sea. When the time
comes, I’ll go down to the Dead Sea.
I go
on, she thought, with questions and answers in the old Hebraic mode, chanting
away to myself.
She
thought, then, that it might be a pleasant gesture on her part to ask Freddy
Hamilton, as a favour, if he would get a letter across to Harry Clegg in Jordan
for her. It would save the delay of sending it by post through Cyprus. Freddy
Hamilton was the sort of person who would take it as a good gesture, the asking
of a favour.
I know of thy doings, and
find thee
neither cold nor hot …
Well,
it makes me hot and cold to think of what I said, she thought. People should
definitely not quote the Scriptures at each other.
And she
recalled, without reason, that Freddy had said to her only last week, ‘Most of
the Christian shrines are over in Jordan, of course. You really must go over
and meet these friends of mine. They love having visitors, and there’s a
delightful English atmosphere.’
She
smiled cheerfully and got back into her hired car.
3. A Delightful English
Atmosphere
Freddy was over in Jordan
for the week-end. He sat on a wooden bench, writing a letter, in a part of the
garden that Joanna Cartwright had planted with numerous wild flowers and herbs
of the Holy Land that she picked up on her rambles. Most of them were
recognizable to Freddy as belonging to the same botanical tribes as the wild
flowers of the English fields and hedgerows of his schooldays before everything
had been changed. Indeed, some of Joanna’s finds were no different at all, so
far as he could see, from those pointed out to him, on walks, before he was
sent to school, by that governess whose name Freddy had understandably forgotten.
Joanna’s flowers were not even a larger species.
Freddy’s
writing-pad rested on his knee. ‘Dearest Ma …
… but I hope you are not serious. Surely
Benny intends to remain with you at Harrogate! Dearest Ma, there must be very
little for her to do. I quite fail to see how it can be too much for
her. The hotel staff seems to do most of the doing, and all Benny has to do is be. I think, quite honestly, she has too little to occupy her time, and that is
mainly what is making her irritable. I wish I
Scriptures at one.
If the
Ecclesiastical Courts were going to take at least another month to give their
verdict on the validity of his marriage, by then she would have returned to
school and started a new term. She had almost decided that morning, in the same
mental gesture as she had decided to hire a car, not to return to school at
all. She must write to Ricky soon. She would write to Michael first.
But why
don’t I go down to Jerusalem, Barbara thought, and pass through the Mandelbaum
Gate? Why is it that I’m not on my way, now, from Jerusalem, across the plains
of Sodom and Gomorrah to the Dead Sea? Why don’t I go over and see him?
Because
I’m a pilgrim to the Holy Land and one shouldn’t abuse hospitality.
Because
I’ve got to have time to think.
Because
I don’t really want to sleep with him in the present state of affairs.
But why
don’t I go?
Because
it’s dangerous there for someone of Jewish blood.
But no
one could possibly find out.
Barbara
had a separate passport issued by the Foreign Office in London, for the purpose
of entering Jordan from Israel. She had the required certificate of baptism
signed by a priest:
I declare that
Miss Barbara Vaughan is a member of the Roman Catholic Church and has been
known to me for some years.
No one
could possibly guess that I’m a half-Jew.
Then why?
Because
I’m a spinster that’s taken a religious turn. A Gentile Jewess, neither one
thing nor another, caught up in a crackpot mystique. I declare that Miss
Barbara Vaughan is a member of the Roman Catholic Church and has been known to
me for some years. Life is passing.
Then
why do I not go down to the Dead Sea?
Because
the time hasn’t yet come for me to go down to the Dead Sea. When the time
comes, I’ll go down to the Dead Sea.
I go
on, she thought, with questions and answers in the old Hebraic mode, chanting
away to myself.
She
thought, then, that it might be a pleasant gesture on her part to ask Freddy
Hamilton, as a favour, if he would get a letter across to Harry Clegg in Jordan
for her. It would save the delay of sending it by post through Cyprus. Freddy
Hamilton was the sort of person who would take it as a good gesture, the asking
of a favour.
I know of thy doings, and
find thee
neither cold nor hot …
Well,
it makes me hot and cold to think of what I said, she thought. People should
definitely not quote the Scriptures at each other.
And she
recalled, without reason, that Freddy had said to her only last week, ‘Most of
the Christian shrines are over in Jordan, of course. You really must go over
and meet these friends of mine. They love having visitors, and there’s a
delightful English atmosphere.’
She
smiled cheerfully and got back into her hired car.
3. A Delightful English
Atmosphere
Freddy was over in Jordan
for the week-end. He sat on a wooden bench, writing a letter, in a part of the
garden that Joanna Cartwright had planted with numerous wild flowers and herbs
of the Holy Land that she picked up on her rambles. Most of them were
recognizable to Freddy as belonging to the same botanical tribes as the wild
flowers of the English fields and hedgerows of his schooldays before everything
had been changed. Indeed, some of Joanna’s finds were no different at all, so
far as he could see, from those pointed out to him, on walks, before he was
sent to school, by that governess whose name Freddy had understandably forgotten.
Joanna’s flowers were not even a larger species.
Freddy’s
writing-pad rested on his knee. ‘Dearest Ma …
… but I hope you are not serious. Surely
Benny intends to remain with you at Harrogate! Dearest Ma, there must be very
little for her to do. I quite fail to see how it can be too much for
her. The hotel staff seems to do most of the doing, and all Benny has to do is be. I think, quite honestly, she has too little to occupy her time, and that is
mainly what is making her irritable. I wish I
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