Free Sons and Daughters by Mary Jane Staples

pleasure, vasn’t it?’ said Mr Greenberg.
    ‘I think someone’s declared war,’ said Jimmy.
    ‘Well, Jimmy,’ said Sammy, ‘that kind of war happened before we got clouted by Hitler, and somehow the Fat Man was always close by. Now that he’s risen up from what I thought was the welcome departed, watch the Walworth store in case a Molotov cockroach comes flying in.’
    ‘Cocktail, Dad,’ said Jimmy.
    ‘Not for me, Jimmy, and they don’t sell ’em here,’ said Sammy.
    ‘I mean Molotov cocktail,’ said Jimmy.
    ‘Same thing,’ said Sammy, ‘they’re both ’orrible. And God bless Eli for saving me from a Molotov hundredweight.’
    ‘Ah, Sammy,’ said Mr Greenberg, ‘but vhere vas God vhen Himmler vas gassing and burning my people in his murder camps?’
    ‘Ask me another,’ said Sammy.
    ‘Weeping with His angels?’ suggested Jimmy.
    ‘I’ll go along with that,’ said Sammy, ‘and put down number forty-one, Jimmy.’ Reaching the end of their floor-level inspection, he added, ‘I don’t think we’ll go upstairs in case we fall through a trapdoor. We’ve got all the numbers I’m willing to bid for.’ He took the notebook from Jimmy, consulted it, whispered numbers to Mr Greenberg, slipped something into his hand, then said, ‘So will you have a word, Eli?’
    ‘So I vill, Sammy, von’t I?’ said Mr Greenberg.
    ‘At the usual commission,’ said Sammy.
    ‘My pleasure again, ain’t it?’ said Mr Greenberg, and he made his way through wandering dealers tothe men at the desk, where he quoted certain numbers, but not twenty-seven, then made a proposition and, on reaching immediate agreement, handed over a large cash deposit. He then rejoined Sammy and Jimmy, and they all left.

Chapter Eight
    ‘Fill me in, Eli,’ said Sammy, as they walked to his parked car.
    ‘Your deposit, Sammy, vas happily received on account of how much it vas. I vill go back at three, vhen the highest bids vill be honoured.’
    ‘Honoured?’ said Jimmy. ‘Is there honour in the black market, then?’
    ‘Ah, there is some, Jimmy my boy, you may be sure,’ said Mr Greenberg, ‘or – ah – accidents happen.’
    ‘I think I know about accidents,’ said Jimmy.
    ‘Vhen I go back at three, I vill, of course, find out vhat are the average highest bids for nylon bales.’
    ‘Won’t they be announced?’ asked Jimmy. His dad and Mr Greenberg looked at him. ‘Silly question,’ he said.
    ‘But I vill find out.’ Mr Greenberg’s little chuckle emerged but lost itself in his beard. ‘That vay your papa von’t be cheated, and vill add ten per cent to the highest bids made on the bales he vants, vhich the gentlemen at the desk vill make knownto me. Then I vill have to pay any balance. In cash, Sammy.’
    ‘Which I’m confident I can supply from my wallet,’ said Sammy.
    ‘I presume,’ said Jimmy, ‘these kind of transactions are always in cash.’
    ‘Granted, a supply of the readies is always necessary,’ said Sammy, ‘but your mother needn’t know.’
    Jimmy grinned. He was beginning to understand that business was business whatever.
    ‘The bales must be collected tomorrow, vhich collection I vill do for you, Sammy, vith the help of my two sons.’ His stepsons, actually. But he was a fond father to them. There had been three until the eldest, serving with the Royal Navy, had been drowned when his ship, torpedoed in the Atlantic, blew up and sank. ‘I vill also deliver to your factory, Sammy, von’t I?’
    ‘Not in your open cart, Eli old cock, or the bales might get nicked by Dick Turpin,’ said Sammy. ‘Now let’s find a cafe and see if they’ll do us a light lunch of ham and eggs, except no ham for you, Eli. Kosher bangers instead?’
    ‘Vhat cafe will do kosher, Sammy?’
    ‘No idea,’ said Sammy. ‘I’m a foreigner here. So let’s go looking.’
    ‘Vell, Sammy, I think I know just the place,’ said Mr Greenberg. ‘In Lower Fore Street.’
    ‘Take note, Jimmy,’ said Sammy,