The doorbell rang. Pushing back her chair, Elana rose and went into the little hallway. Pulling open the front door, she stepped back in surprise as she beheld a small elderly gentleman with a long white beard, carrying a white cane.

"Why, Rabbi Lebowitz! Do come in," and Elana held open the door a little wider. "There's a table just on your right, but the sofa is about a hundred yards in front of you - won't you sit down? I'm afraid Imma is out ..."

As he slowly crossed the living room, feeling the way with his cane, Rabbi Lebowitz's face took on a disappointed look, and as he sat down on the sofa he said "What a pity! I was hoping to thank your mother in person for the Stuffed Aubergines she brought me on Erev Shabbos; they were most delicious."

"It was our pleasure! But Imma will be sorry to have missed you ... um ... Maybe you would like a cup of tea or coffee - we have both!" Elana asked as she hovered in the kitchen doorway.

"You are sure I am not disturbing you?"

"Oh no, not at all! I was just sitting down to write a letter before I have to go to work. The rest of my family is out, I'm afraid; Abba is at work, the two boys ..."

Rabbi Lebowitz held up his hand as he gently interrupted. "Please do not apologise! If you are sure it is no trouble, I would be most grateful for a cup of tea ..."

Five minutes later Elana handed Rabbi Lebowitz a cup of tea and settled herself in an armchair. The Rabbi whispered a blessing and gratefully sipped the steaming liquid. "You mentioned that you work; where?" he asked.

"Currently at Mr Cohen's grocery store, but after Shavuot I will be training to become a nurse for my National Service."

"Ah yes ... This is not something you have to do in England, I think?"

Elana shook her head, then remembering that the Rabbi would not be able to see her, said "No it isn't, much to my cousins relief. My cousin Shira," she quickly explained, "still lives in England and is only one year younger than me."

"It is a great mitzvah to help the sick," Rabbi Lebowitz commented, seemingly irrelevantly. "Your cousin, perhaps, does not agree?"

Elana shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "I ... Shira is very squeamish ... National Service is one of her fears about making Aliyah."

"'But let all who take refuge in HaShem be glad, let them always sing for joy and may HaShem shelter them, that those who love HaShem may exult in Him' ..." the Rabbi paused, silently turning his face towards a ray of sunlight that had suddenly filled the room. He smiled softly. "Shira ... a song ... 'His song will be with me in the night' ..."

"'How can we sing the L-rd's song in a foreign land?'" Elana murmured, fearful of seeming rude, but curious to know what his answer would be.

"'HaShem put a new song in my mouth, a song of praise to our G-d; many will see and fear and will trust in HaShem.'"

There was silence; Rabbi Lebowitz drank his tea and Elana mused on the verses he had quoted. Finally the Rabbi rose and Elana stood up too. "I shall leave you to write your letter," he said as he held out the empty mug. "Thank you for the tea and for your welcome."

Elana walked beside him to the door. "Thank you for calling!"

"Shavua tova, Elana!"

"Shavua tova!" Elana replied as the Rabbi stepped out into the corridor. Suddenly he turned. He smiled and said softly,

"'For there is hope for a tree, when it is cut down, that it will sprout again and its shoots will not fail.'"

Elana stood, dazed, watching Rabbi Lebowitz slowly make his way along the corridor towards the lift. Gently she shut the door and walked into the kitchen. Yossi's words came back to her ...

The problem with you, Elana, is that you worry too much about people; just concentrate on encouraging Shira to want to come to Israel and leave the rest to G-d."

Rabbi Lebowitz's parting words rung in her ears as Elana sat down and looked at the letter she had started writing to Shira.

There is hope for a tree, when it is cut down, that it will sprout again and its shoots will not fail.

"Its shoots will not fail!" Elana murmured as she began to write.

Shira settled herself into the seat next to her father on the aeroplane, did up her belt and pulled a slightly bent pink envelope out of her bag. She had not had time to read the letter from Elana that had arrived that morning and she eagerly opened the envelope and pulled out the single sheet of foolscap.

As Shira read, her eyes filled with tears, yet she felt strangely comforted by the odd selection of verses her cousin had sent her. Slowly she reread the letter before folding it up and slipping it back in the envelope.

The aeroplane turned onto the runway and began to gather speed. As they rushed forward, faster and faster, the aeroplane began to rattle and shake. Shira clenched the hand that held her letter, causing it to be crushed as she fought to hold back her tears.

Dr Córdoba reached out and took hold of his daughters hand as the tears streamed down her face. They were in the air, climbing steeply, and Shira's tears began to subside. As the aeroplane finally levelled out, Dr Córdoba lent towards his daughter and spoke quietly.

"Shiri, honey, I have a wonderful surprise for you!"

Shira turned her red and watery eyes towards her father and tried to smile. She squeezed his hand and said chokingly, "Before you tell me, Daddy, I want to ... apologise ... I've been pretty terrible about you and Mother trying to make Aliyah and ... I'm sorry ..." Two tears rolled slowly down Shira's cheeks and more threatened to follow as she closed her eyes and bit her lip. She felt her father's grip tighten on her hand.

"What you've been feeling is perfectly natural, Shiri ... I haven't meant to make it harder for you by going to Spain." He paused. "I talked with your Uncle Eitan about what you said the other week, and between us we've been able to arrange for you to see your cousin Elana ..."

Shira's eyes flew open and she turned a distressed face on her father. "But Daddy, you mustn't if we can't afford it ..."

"Hush, Shiri; leave that to me ... Your Aunt Sarah wrote to Mother and suggested that you should fly out to Tel Aviv from Spain, to spend Pesach with them, but with our Aliyah petition still in the balance, I don't want you travelling to Israel alone, in case you have any trouble, so Eitan and I have settled it that we are going to spend nine days in Spain and then Joshua and Mother will fly home to England while you and I fly to Israel to spend four days in Tel Aviv with Elana before returning home for the last Shabbat in Pesach ..."

Elana sighed thankfully as she reached the welcome cool shade of their apartment building. It had been a sweltering walk from Mr Cohen's grocery store and she sank onto one of the chairs in the lobby to catch her breath before mounting the six hundred and seventy four steps to the ninth floor, an unwelcome necessity because of the lift being broken.

A discarded advertisement lay on the seat beside Elana and she fanned her pink face with it as she began to get her breath back.

"You sound out of breath and ... hot?" a kind, soft voice asked from close behind Elana. She sat up quickly and turned towards Rabbi Lebowitz.

"Very hot! It's boiling out there," Elana said cheerfully as she watched the Rabbi skilfully find his way to an opposite chair. "And since I've just walked all the way from work, I thought I deserved to cool down before I tackle the six hundred and seventy four steps up to our apartment!"

The Rabbi chuckled. "Are there really that many?!"

"Sadly yes! Avi, my youngest brother, counted them yesterday."

"I take it, then, that the lift is still broken?"

Elana agreed to this and they sat in companionable silence for some minutes before Elana spoke again. "Have you always lived in Israel, Rabbi Lebowitz?"

The Rabbi smiled, a soft smile of memories. "No ... until three years ago I lived in Portugal. My wife, Chava, of blessed memory, is buried there and my children and grandchildren all still live there."

"Don't you have any relatives in Israel?!" Elana asked in surprise.

"My nephew, Moishe, lives here in Tel Aviv, but his house is small and his family growing ... Your family comes from England, I think you said?"

"Er, yes! We lived in England 'til I was sixteen," Elana replied.

"Rahamim ... it is an Israeli sounding name ..." Rabbi Lebowitz prodded gently.

"Yes, my Abba is a sabra."

"And your mother's name?"

Elana paused, then reluctantly said, "Imma's name was Fergesson."

"Ah!" The Rabbi looked surprised. "Very English, but ... excuse my mentioning it, not very Jewish."

Elana prickled. "When Imma's family came to England in Eighteen-ninety-three their name was Fernandez, but it was changed within two generations. And," she added for emphasis, "they settled in Petticoat Lane! That's in the heart of the Jewish area of London."

Rabbi Lebowitz looked excited, opened his mouth as if to speak, then closed it and sat for some minutes in deep thought. When he finally spoke it was slowly and cautiously, as if he were hesitant about what he was going to say. "Fernandez is ... a fairly common name, perhaps?"

"I ... I don't know ... It ... it sounds Spanish, don't you think?" Elana held her breath. It was several minutes before Rabbi Lebowitz spoke; when he did his voice was so quiet Elana almost wondered if he did not wish to be heard.

"Spanish ... or Portuguese, maybe ... Petticoat Lane, very like ... your mother mentioned the other day that her sister is in Spain searching for traces of her family; will you have any contact with them while they are there?"

"I ... I don't know ... maybe ..." Elana faltered.

"Then tell her not to look for any of the Fernandez family in Spain, but for Cortez ... Joseph Cortez."

Elana stared in bewildered amazement as Rabbi Lebowitz rose and left the building. Finally she too stood up and crossed the lobby, but in the direction of the stairs. As she mounted step after step, Elana thought over the strange conversation she had just had with Rabbi Lebowitz, his searching questions and his last dramatic remark. Why had she answered his questions and told him so much, but why had he looked amazed when she mentioned Petticoat Lane; surely it could mean nothing to him. And who on earth was Joseph Cortez; and what could he possibly have to do with Aunt Kelli's search to prove her Jewishness?

Yossi met Elana at the door, holding a blue airmail envelope. "Imma's gone out to get some more silver-polish and Avi's gone over to Ben's house and you've got a letter from Spain!"

"Oh, from Shira!" Elana squealed, her pleasure at receiving a letter from her cousin temporarily sending Rabbi Lebowitz's strange comments out of her mind. "Shall I read it aloud so that you can hear what news there is?"

Yossi grinned. "You bet!" he said and sprawled on his stomach on the living room floor as Elana sat down in one of the big armchairs, pulling her feet up underneath her and made herself comfortable. She turned the envelope over in her hands and inspected the strange Spanish stamp; the letter was heavy, as if it had many pages in it. Slowly she opened the flap and pulled out four half-sized sheets, covered in Shira's round scrawl.

Elana sighed in happy anticipation as she began to read aloud. "Dearest Elana ..."

Shira glanced over her shoulder to where her mother lay sleeping in the big double bed, then quietly pulled the pad of paper she had brought with her out of her bag along with a pen. She tiptoed across the room, her bare feet tickled by the rough carpet, and settled herself in the armchair by the window, pulling the curtain back just enough to give her light to write by without waking her mother.

Shira sat for some minutes in deep thought before she began to write.

Shira smiled as she folded the sheets and put them in an envelope which she sealed and addressed before putting it in her bag for posting later. She stretched and yawned; a nice hot shower sounded perfect!

The Rahamim's were sitting in their kitchen eating supper four days before Pesach. Elana was telling her family of the strange conversation she had had with Rabbi Lebowitz in the lobby that afternoon.

"Joseph Cortez?" Abba asked puzzled. "How would Rabbi Lebowitz know if Aunt Kelli needs to find a Cortez instead of a Fernandez?!"

"I simply haven't a clue," Elana replied, "he just said that if we spoke to them before they leave Spain that I must tell Aunt Kelli not to look for any of the Fernandez's in Spain, but to look for someone called Joseph Cortez."

"Nothing else?" Abba queried.

"No, nothing. But he almost seemed not to want to say even that, as if he were afraid I would ask questions."

"Abba shook his head. "Sorry, Elana, I'm completely puzzled. But," rising as the telephone rang, "maybe it would be as well to mention it to your Aunt, just in case it makes sense to her."

Elana sighed as she turned her attention back to her meal. "I used to like Aubergines, but I don't think I do any more!"

"Hear, hear!" Yossi agreed.

"I'll go further than that," Avi declared, "I know my tastes have changed."

Suddenly Abba stuck his head round the door. "Come quickly, Elana, it's Benji on the 'phone and I think you should tell your Aunt what the Rabbi said ..."

Elana pushed back her chair and got up. As she reached the hall Abba held the receiver out to her; she took it and put it to her ear. "Hello?"

It was not Aunt Kelli's voice that reached Elana's ears over the slightly crackly line, but Shira's. "Hello Elana! Dad says there's something you want to tell me - how are you and what's it all about?!"

"I'm fine, but how are you finding Spain? Have you found anything yet?!"

Shira's voice sounded suddenly flat. "No. It's beginning to feel hopeless; no one seems to have ever heard of any of the Fernandez ..."

Elana interrupted eagerly. "That's what I was going to tell you! I know this sounds like clutching at straws, but listen carefully, Shira. You remember the Rabbi on the bottom floor that I've told you about?"`

"Yes ..." Shira sounded puzzled.

"I met him in the lobby this afternoon and he was asking about our family tree and was really struck by the Fernadez's living in Petticoat Lane and then changing their name to Fergesson, and then he said that Imma had told him about what you're doing in Spain. He started behaving a bit oddly and what he said didn't make a lot of sense."

"Well, what was it?!" Shira demanded, her curiosity aroused.

"First he asked whether Fernandez wasn't quite a common name, and I said it sounded Spanish. He went really quiet and muttered "or Portuguese" and then asked if we'd be having any contact with you in Spain; then he said that I was to tell Aunt Kelli not to look for any of the Fernandez's in Spain, but for Cortez's, especially someone called Joseph Cortez."

"Joseph Cortez? That sounds more Catholic than Jewish!"

"I know, but that's what the Rabbi says, so do you think you could look into it? It's possibly a relative of his he'd like to know about, and maybe he's seen the grave or record book and knows that there are some of the Fernadez's nearby. Can do?"

"I'll keep my eyes open," Shira agreed, "And I'll tell Mother ... oooh, Dad says I need to go! See you soon!"

This cemetery looked like all the other cemeteries they had visited and Shira was beginning to loose hope of their ever finding any trace of her mother's ancestors. Pesach started tonight and the day after tomorrow she and her father would fly to Israel.

Slowly Shira wandered through the cemetery, looking for any sign of a Jewish grave. She approached a secluded corner where there were five gravestones set slightly apart from all the others. Shira's heart beat a little faster; she hardly dared hope that these could be Jewish graves.

As she bent to inspect the plain stone slabs, Shira's heart sank. Time and weather had worn away at the stone until no engraving remained. Disheartened, Shira turned away ...

And turned back. One of the stones was covered in ivy and another one partially so. Shira knelt on the slightly damp turf and gently began to lift the ivy off the edges of the stone. It came off reluctantly at first, then suddenly all at once it lifted away, as if it had been moved before, and Shira held it up as she peered at the worn stone. All at once her heart began to beat wildly.

At the top of the stone was the faint etching of a Magen Dovid, beneath it a name. Shira gasped. Cortez! The name on the gravestone was Joseph Cortez! The date below it was 14 ... and then it was too worn to read. Below that was a short block of Spanish, most of which was unreadable, but after that ... Breathing quickly, Shira bent even closer. Yes, it was Hebrew!

As Shira gently replaced the ivy so that the stone was once again covered, her eye was caught by the small pile of pebbles in front of the stone - there could no longer be any doubt: this had to be a Jewish grave! Shira bent to pick up a stray pebble and place it with the others; as she did, the haunting melody of the Mourners Kaddish rang in her ears and her eyes filled with tears.

Yitgadal v'yitkadash shomei rabah ... May His great name grow exalted and sanctified in the world that He created as He willed. May He give reign to His kingship in your lifetimes and in your days, and in the lifetimes of the entire family of Israel, swiftly and soon. Now respond, Amen.

May His great name be blessed forever and ever. Blessed, praised, glorified, exalted, extolled, mighty, upraised and lauded be the name of the Holy One, blessed is He beyond any blessing and song, praise and consellation that are uttered in the world. Now respond, Amen.

May there be abundant peace form Heaven, and life, on us and upon all Israel. Now respond, Amen.

He Who makes peace in His heights, may He make peace upon us, and upon all Israel. Now respond, Amen.

At the sound of footsteps approaching, Shira stood up and brushed away her tears. Her parents were standing behind her and Shira's mother asked eagerly, "Have you found them?"

Shira shook her head. "Not our relative, but someone's. I've found the grave of Joseph Cortez."

Copyright N. Allen - MET

Continued in Part Three ...