Hold the Dream

  ‘Nothing’s changed much then.’

  Emma simply smiled and they finished their dance in silence.

  The evening continued to progress without a hitch. Everyone ate the delicious food, partook of the excellent wines, talked, joked, laughed and danced, and with a carefreeness that surprised Emma. It seemed to her that for once there were no undercurrents. It was as if an unspoken truce had been automatically declared between the various factions, as if animosities, rivalries, hatreds and jealousies had been temporarily buried. Tomorrow they might well be at each other’s throats, but tonight they were friendly, and apparently at ease with each other. Perhaps this was only on the surface, but nonetheless it pleased her to see them behaving with a decorum that befitted the occasion.

  Emma, too, was enjoying herself, but as the hours sped by she realizing the evening was inducing mixed emotions in her. Memories came unbidden…memories that were both joyous and heartrending. Bits of her life kept rushing back to her, and even the location had a profound effect on her at one moment. The Ritz Hotel was so bound up with Paul and their early years together, for here they had snatched shreds of happiness during the First World War before he had gone back to the trenches in France. For a second or two Paul McGill dominated her mind, and she sank back into herself, looking inward, her eyes momentarily glazed as she drifted into the past. But then she heard Daisy’s vivid laughter at the next table, and looked up sharply as the present intruded forcefully. She shook off the wistfulness that had briefly enveloped her, sternly reminded herself that she had recently resolved to look only to the future.

  Blackie, who had become conscious of her periodic lapses into silence, drew her into conversation, and had her laughing in a matter of minutes. Suddenly, he interrupted himself in the middle of a story he was recounting and exclaimed, ‘Brace yourself, me love, here comes Randolph to claim his dance.’

  ‘Then dance I shall,’ Emma said, and allowed herself to be swept off by her beaming nephew. They had circled the floor once when Jonathan cut in, who in turn had to give way to Winston after only a few minutes. Anthony was the next to steal his grandmother away, and soon Alexander was tapping his cousin on the shoulder, so that he could complete the waltz with her.

  When the music stopped Alexander did not release her, but stood looking down at her as they lingered in the middle of the floor, an unreadable expression in his eyes.

  Emma searched his face inquiringly. ‘What is it Sandy? You look as if you’re about to say something important.’

  ‘I am, Grandy.’ He bent closer and whispered.

  ‘Of course,’ Emma said, smiling. She whispered something back to him as he escorted her to her table.

  Sitting down, Emma turned to Blackie, fanned herself with her hand. ‘Phew! That was a marathon. To tell you the truth, I think I’m getting too old to be gallivanting around dance floors.’

  ‘What, a spring chicken like you? Never. Anyway, you seem to be thoroughly enjoying yourself,’ Blackie laughed.

  ‘I am, darling. It’s a lovely party, and everyone’s so very friendly with each other.’ When he did not answer, she stared hard at him. ‘They really are, you know.’

  ‘Aye,’ he said at last, laconic, very non-committal, ‘perhaps you’re right.’ But Blackie was not so certain she was right, found her children’s unexpected chumminess suspect. On the other hand, they were behaving themselves, and that was all that mattered to him. In a few days the two of them would be winging their way to New York, and when Emma was gone from their midst her family could start murdering each other for all he cared.

  Suddenly the din ceased and everyone glanced at each other as the wall candelabras and ceiling chandelier were dimmed. There was a deafening drum roll. A waiter came forward pushing a trolley on which there reposed an enormous birthday cake topped with eighty candles flickering brightly in the muted light. The moment the waiter came to a halt in the middle of the dance floor the band struck up the ‘Happy Birthday’ refrain, and the majority of the guests followed Blackie’s lead as he began to sing, joining in exuberantly. When the music finished Blackie assisted Emma to her feet and walked her over to the cake, and together they blew out the candles. Emma picked up the knife and cut the first slice, and smiling and nodding to the guests she returned with Blackie to their table.

  Champagne was poured, the cake passed around by the waiters, and once each person had been served, Daisy rose and tapped her glass with a spoon. ‘Can I have your attention! Please!’ Conversation ceased and all eyes settled on her.

  ‘Thank you,’ Daisy said, ‘and thank you very much for coming tonight, to celebrate my mother’s birthday. Blackie and I are delighted you managed to keep our secret. We knew from Mother’s face when she arrived that she was truly surprised.’

  Daisy gave them her warmest smile, continued: ‘In the past few weeks Blackie and I have been approached by various members of the family, and friends, who wanted to say a few words, to pay tribute to Emma Harte this evening. It was quite a dilemma for us – knowing who to choose, and inevitably we realized that the great lady we are honouring would soon become impatient if she had to sit through a lot of speeches. Especially since she herself would be the subject of those speeches. It was Blackie who came up with the best solution, but before I announce the first speaker, I would like my mother and all of you to know that we had requests from the following.’

  Daisy picked up a piece of paper, glanced at it, lifted her head and focused her eyes on Emma. ‘All of your grandchildren wanted to propose a toast to you, Mother, to be the representative of the third generation. Robin and Elizabeth both wished to say something on behalf of us, your children. Henry, Jim, Len and Bryan all asked to be the one to offer you the very best wishes of your many friends and business associates.’

  Emma inclined her head graciously, looking first to her right, then to her left, acknowledging those whom Daisy had mentioned.

  Daisy proceeded, ‘As I told you, Blackie solved our little problem, and most appropriately, in my opinion. Now I would like to introduce our first speaker – Mr Ronald Kallinski.’

  Ronnie rose. He was a man of dominating presence, tall, slender, with a saturnine face and black wavy hair tinged with grey. He had inherited the eyes of his father and his grandmother Janessa Kallinski. These were of the brightest blue and seemed all that more startling because he had a weatherbeaten complexion.

  ‘Daisy, Emma, Blackie, ladies and gentlemen,’ he began, his generous smile revealing flashing white teeth. Ronnie had a considerable amount of charm and savoir faire, and as chairman of the board of Kallinski Industries, he was used to public speaking. ‘There are many of Emma’s friends and business associates present, however I feel certain that they will not be offended if I term this evening a gathering of the clans. Three clans to be precise…the Hartes, the O’Neills and the Kallinskis. Well over half a century ago three young people became bosom friends. Emma, Blackie and David, my father. From what I’ve been told, this friendship apparently seemed startling, even peculiar to many people, who could not understand what a Gentile, an Irish Catholic and a Jew could possibly have in common. But those three young people knew. They recognized their own likeness in each other, saw qualities that were common denominators. They were warm, loving, outgoing and filled with hope. They shared ambition, drive, a determination to succeed at all costs, yet without sacrificing honour, honesty or integrity. And they believed in charity to others. The trio were soon bound together by bonds of love and respect, and they remained loyal, and devoted throughout their lives, until my father’s death a few years ago.’

  Ronnie shifted his stance slightly as he paused for breath. ‘Some of you may not know this,’ he remarked after a moment, ‘but the trio dubbed themselves the Three Musketeers, and when Blackie asked me to speak to you tonight, to pay homage to Emma, he said I would be standing in for that third Musketeer who is no longer with us. My father.’

  After a quick sip of water, Ronnie levelled his eyes at the
main table. ‘Emma Harte is the most remarkable of women, and her attributes are manifold. So it is hard, if not downright impossible, to know which one to single out as being extra special. However, if David Kallinski were present tonight I know that he would choose to speak to you about the immense and extraordinary courage of Emma Harte. This quality first manifested itself to the Kallinski family in 1905 when Emma was sixteen. Let me tell you about this. One day, as she wandered in the North Street area of Leeds seeking work, she came across a group of ruffians attacking a middle-aged man. He was in need of help, since he had fallen to the ground and lay huddled near a wall trying to protect himself as they continued to stone him. Without giving a thought to her condition – Emma was pregnant at the time – this young girl on the deserted street instantly rushed to his aid. She was fearless as she drove the attackers away. After helping the man to his feet and checking his injuries, she retrieved his scattered packages and insisted on escorting him to his home in the Leylands. The name of that man was Abraham Kallinski. He was my grandfather. As Emma guided him to the safety of his simple abode, she asked Abraham why the ruffians had been stoning him. Abraham told her: Because I am a Jew. The young Emma was baffled by this statement, and Abraham went on to explain to her that the Jews in Leeds were persecuted because their religion, dietary laws and customs appeared foreign to the local people. He told her of the terrible brutalities the Jews suffered at the hands of marauding bands of hooligans who entered the Leylands, which was a ghetto, and attacked them and their homes. Emma was disgusted and outraged to hear such things. And she at once condemned these persecutors as cruel, stupid and ignorant.’

  Ronnie Kallinski nodded to himself, then looked directly at Emma, his face reflecting his love and admiration for her. He said slowly, ‘From that day to the present, this most extraordinary woman has fought stupidity, ignorance, and every kind of inequity, has always condemned the wicked traits she recognized in some at such a tender age. She has continued to loathe religious and ethnic prejudice, any kind of prejudice, in fact. Her courage has never diminished. It has only grown in strength. She has remained consistent in her belief in justice, truth and fair play.’

  Henry Rossiter began to clap, and others followed suit, and Ronnie eventually had to call out for them to be quiet.

  ‘My father once told me that Emma, Blackie and he had helped to create a city’s greatness as they had lifted themselves out of the grinding poverty of their youth, but that it was Emma most of all who had put her indelible stamp on the city of Leeds. Indeed he spoke the truth, and her contributions to industry and her philanthropy are renowned. However, I would like to add a comment of my own, and it is this: Emma has also put her inimitable imprimatur on each one of us present…not only on every member of the three closely-knit clans, but on her friends and business associates. We must be proud of that, for we are better people for knowing her, for being part of her circle. Emma Harte honours us with her devoted friendship, her love and depth of understanding. And she does us the greatest honour by her presence tonight. And so, in my late father’s name, and in the name of all the Kallinskis absent and present, I ask you to raise your glasses to Emma Harte. A woman of outstanding courage and indomitability who has never been defeated, and who has always stood tall…so tall she towers above all of us.’

  Ronnie raised his glass. ‘To Emma Harte.’

  After the toast had been repeated, Ronnie said: ‘And now Blackie will say a few words.’

  Blackie pushed himself to his feet. ‘Thank you, Ronnie. David could not have said it better, and your own tribute to Emma was fitting and most moving. As Daisy told you, we knew Emma would not sit still for a lot of laudatory talk. Also, since I’m aware she regards the shortest of speeches as humbug, I’m going to be brief.’ Blackie chuckled. ‘Well, as brief as I can be. Obviously on this special occasion of Emma’s eightieth birthday I do feel the need to say a few kind words about her.’

  As Blackie launched himself into a recital about her strength of character, her ability to conquer against all odds, and her great business achievements, Emma sat back. She was only partially listening. During Ronnie’s speech, she had begun to ruminate on her early beginnings. She thought of the place she had started out from, the great distance she had travelled and she marvelled at herself, wondering how she had accomplished all that she had, and for the most part entirely by herself.

  But after a short while she became aware that many pairs of eyes were on her as well as Blackie, and she roused herself from her reflections. Her old friend was moving away from bygone eras, talking of the present. And Emma’s thoughts instantly settled on her life as it was today.

  Well, she thought, whatever my life has been about my grandchildren are proof positive to me that it has been worthwhile. Quite unexpectedly, as she experienced a flash of clarity, everything became clear to Emma. So clear she was startled for a moment. And she knew what she must do tonight, what her course of action must be.

  Blackie was drawing to a close. ‘It has been the greatest privilege of my life to be her friend. So please join in my toast to Emma, which comes from my heart.’ Blackie leaned forward, grasped hold of his glass.

  Lifting it high, Blackie smiled down at her. ‘Emma, you truly are a woman of substance in the finest sense of that phrase. May you long be with us. To you, Emma.’

  Emma felt the heat rush to her face as the roomful of smiling friends and relatives toasted her and her throat tightened with sudden emotion.

  Once everyone was seated, Blackie, who had continued to stand, said: ‘I give you our guest of honour, Emma Harte.’

  Emma rose, stepped around her chair and pushed it under the table. She stood with her hands resting on its back, her eyes slowing roving around the room, her glance touching each one of them briefly.

  Finally, she said, ‘Thank you for joining me on my birthday, and for the lovely gifts and flowers you sent me today. I was very touched. I must also express my thanks to Blackie and Daisy, for giving this party, and for being such wonderful hosts.’

  She let her gaze linger on Ronnie Kallinski, her eyes very bright, glittering with moisture under the wrinkled lids. ‘I am so glad you and your family are here with me tonight, Ronnie. And I thank you for your eloquent words, for standing in for your father. David is sorely missed.’ She turned her attention to Blackie. ‘You said some beautiful things about me too…thank you, Blackie.’

  Then in a crisper tone Emma said, ‘As many of you know, Emily and Winston are to be married next year. However, they did want me to formally announce their engagement to you all this evening. It seems that romance is in the air in the Harte clan. Alexander also asked me to announce his engagement to Marguerite Reynolds. So, let us drink to the future happiness of these four young people.’

  The toast was given amidst a ripple of excited whispers, exclamations.

  Emma stood waiting, gripping the back of the chair more tightly than ever. Her expression was benign but her narrowed green eyes were watchful. She knew exactly what she would say, even though she had decided to make this announcement only ten minutes before.

  Paula, scrutinizing Emma, took note of the friendly expression on her face. But her grandmother did not fool her for one moment. She recognized that implacable glint in her eyes. It signalled something…Emma was about to drop one of her bombshells. Paula instantly tensed, wondering what this could be. She could not hazard a guess. Her eyes remained riveted on Emma. How imperious Grandy looks at this moment, she thought, standing there so erect and proud, totally in command of herself, and this audience.

  Emma moved slightly and in the soft light emanating from the many candles the emeralds blazed more brilliantly, and there was a shimmer, a luminosity about Emma at this moment. Power, Paula thought. My grandmother exudes immense power.

  A hush had fallen over everyone and, like Paula, they stared at Emma, filled with unexpected anticipation.

  Finally Emma spoke. Her voice rang out clear and strong, dominating the ro
om. ‘In everybody’s life there comes a time when it is appropriate to step aside, to permit younger voices to be heard, greater visions to be perceived. Tonight is that time for me.’ Emma paused, letting her words sink in.

  There was a collective gasp.

  ‘I am going. And going willingly. It struck me tonight that I’ve earned the right to rest these tired old bones at last, to relax for the first time in my life, and who knows I might even get around to having a little fun.’

  Her light laugh reverberated as she scanned their faces. Their shock was unconcealed. ‘How surprised you’re looking,’ she remarked, almost off-handedly. ‘Well, perhaps I’ve even surprised myself. But I came to a decision during the speeches. As I sat there listening to my life being recounted it suddenly occurred to me that now is the right time for me to retire. And to retire gracefully. Everyone knows that Blackie and I are about to leave on a trip around the world. I am happy to announce to you that I’ve decided to spend the rest of the days left to me on this earth with my oldest, dearest and most trusted friend.’

  Half turning, Emma lifted one hand and let it rest easily on Blackie’s broad shoulder. She said, in a more confiding tone, ‘Blackie said to me the other day, “Grow old with me, the best is yet to be,” and you know, he might just be right.’

  No one moved or spoke. Each guest continued to regard her intently, understanding that this slender, silver-haired woman who wielded enormous power had something more to say to them.

  Emma stepped away from her chair and walked with swiftness to one of the other tables. She came to a halt next to Alexander, who jumped up immediately. His eyes were brilliant in his white face. Recognizing that he too was reeling from shock, she touched his arm lightly, as if to reassure him.

  Glancing around at the expectant faces, Emma said briskly, ‘My grandson Alexander has just become the head of Harte Enterprises.’ She thrust out her hand. He took it, staring at her speechlessly. ‘Congratulations, Alexander.’ He stammered his thanks.