Read At the Reunion Buffet for Free Online Page B

shrugged. “I didn’t pay much attention. Maybe you were.”
    “I was a bit heady,” Claire continued. “But after I left university I settled down.”
    Exhausted
, thought Isabel. And then,
No, that’s unkind.
So she said, “You met Michael then?”
    “Yes. We met on a kibbutz in Israel. It started there.”
    Isabel was surprised. She had not known that Claire was Jewish.
    It was as if Claire had read her mind. “I’m not Jewish,” she said. “Or, at least, I wasn’t then. I am now. I converted, you see.”
    “Michael is?”
    “Yes, he had a Jewish mother but his father wasn’t. He took it up when he was at university and he discovered the Jewish Students’ Association. He was looking for something, I suppose, and he discovered that it had been there all along. He decided to go off to spend six months on a kibbutz and it just so happened that I had a Jewish girlfriend who had invited me to go with her. And that was it.”
    Isabel felt a sudden rush of affection for Claire. She had obviously changed: from enthusiastic promiscuity to Jewish motherhood by way of a kibbutz; it was a heartwarming story.
    “Do you do the whole thing?” Isabel asked.
    “Oh no,” said Claire. “I don’t keep a strict kosher kitchen or anything like that. We’re very liberal, very reformed. But we always sit down for the meal on Friday evening and light the candles. And it gives our lives structure. We’re very happy.”
    “I can imagine,” said Isabel. Then, in return for the confidence, she said, “I’m very happy too. Yet I sometimes I wish I had faith—in the way in which you obviously have it.”
    Claire reached out and put a hand on Isabel’s forearm. “But I don’t actually believe…No, put it this way: there is faith and faith. One form of faith is actual practice—the rituals and so on—the other form of faith involves actually believing in it. They’re different things, you know.”
    Isabel nodded. “Of course. There may be reasons to act as if something were true when you know it isn’t.”
    “Precisely,” said Claire. “And you can sink very deeply into your faith. It can keep you afloat. It does that for me, you know.” She paused. “So, you’re happy then?”
    “I wasn’t to begin with—when I was with my first husband. I was very unhappy. Now, I’ve found the most wonderful man and we’ve had a little boy, and…well, everything is just as I always hoped it would be.”
    “Men,” said Claire, rolling her eyes. “They seem to be vital to our happiness. It’s so unfair, isn’t it?”
    “Only if we let them,” said Isabel. “More of us than one imagines we could get by fine without men.”
    Claire looked doubtful. “I couldn’t.”
    “You might surprise yourself.”
    Claire made an
oh well
gesture. “Let’s talk about something else.”
    They talked about careers. Isabel explained about the
Review of Applied Ethics
and Claire told Isabel about her practice as an interior designer, but she did not get far, as they were interrupted by the arrival of another woman, who came over to join them. At first Isabel did not recognize her, and nor, it seemed, did Claire. They both looked at the name badge, embarrassed to have to do so, trying not to make their glances too obvious:
Barbara Grant
.
    It was difficult for Isabel. Claire was not rude—not overtly so—but Isabel noticed an immediate cooling of her manner. And after a few remarks on the passage of time and the programme for the weekend, Claire drifted away, caught up in another circle of conversation.
    Isabel smiled at Barbara. “I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you straightaway. You probably noticed that. You know how it is…”
    Barbara looked at her nervously. “It’s a long time, isn’t it?”
    “Yes,” said Isabel. The mention of time gave her the excuse to study Barbara; and if one couldn’t appraise people at a reunion, then when could one do so? The years had had their impact in Barbara’s case, she thought,