The Unfortunates

‘Mr Jacoby!’ she cried. ‘We had no idea you were here with Dear Yetta. What a pleasure!’

He had separated himself from the crowd and was heading toward us, smiling a little. Judah Jacoby, the real live father of the boy I dreamed about.

I turned scarlet, and Ma and Aunt Fish, in sympathy with me perhaps, glowed pinkly.

‘This is Dora’s girl,’ Miss Landau told him. ‘Seems to have her head screwed on, even if it is trimmed up like a circus pony.’

Mr Jacoby took my hand and bowed. Then he did the same to Aunt Fish and Ma. He was a small, soft, silver-haired man. His skin was buttery and his eyes were dark. He was, in fact, not at all what I had planned him to be. And Oscar had his father’s looks. Aunt Fish had said so.

‘Which lot is your son with, sir?’ I asked him, trying to retrieve something of the Oscar I had created. ‘I heard he volunteered.’

Mr Jacoby seemed pleased by my interest.

‘He’s with the 27th,’ he said. ‘In France, as far as we know.’

‘I pray he’ll come back to you safe and well,’ I said and I caught sight of Ma and Aunt Fish exchanging saccharine smiles, which faded as I declared, ‘I’ll be over there myself before long. I’m going to buy a field hospital, you see.’