Raisins and almonds - Poisoned Pen Press (UK)

Raisins and Almonds 111
middle English. There he could not help, not having studied
at a university, as her other lovers doubtless had. He kicked at
an inoffensive wainscot. How dare it lurk there, being blessedly
insensitive wood, while his heart was bleeding?
His mother called out to him not to kick the furniture. He
gave the wainscot another boot, careful to make less noise. It
was no use complaining about Miss Fisher to Mama. Phryne
had made a splendid impression on Mama, who had insisted
on telling all the old stories about life in Paris when she and
Papa had been so poor. They weren’t poor now and Simon was
desperately ashamed of those stories.
Papa was visiting the shoe workshops, which he did at least
once a week, to talk to the staff and the managers. But there was
someone who always had time to listen to the sorrows of the young
Simon. Someone who had always been the repository of all Simon’s
secrets and had never told. Someone who shared his enthusiasms,
though he would never publicly disagree with Papa.
Simon stopped assaulting the skirtingboard and went to find
Uncle Chaim.
999
Bert and Cec followed Matt Rosenbloom, the foreman, down
the steps to the undercroft of the Eastern Market and into a
wide, echoing space. It was harshly lit with strung electric bulbs,
which augmented the obsolete gaslight but left pools of black
shadow in between. The footing was treacherous and uneven,
and the patched shadow and glare made it hard to see any pits or
holes. It was full of boxes, bales and sacks and smelt of so many
scents that Bert gave up trying to analyse them, deciding that
the essence could be sold to the public as Eau de Trade.
‘Tomorrow you can work in the main cellar,’ observed Mr.
Rosenbloom, who had been told to employ these men for as
long as they liked, and was constitutionally incurious. He was
required to see that the shoeshop was supplied, that the boxes
delivered to the market contained the correct boots in the
correct sizes, and he wasn’t employed even to resent the way