Raisins and almonds - Poisoned Pen Press (UK)

Raisins and Almonds
Australia’s Jews: a people who treasured learning, and who never
forgot their past or relinquished hold of their future.
Saul accepted the boiled lolly he was given with royal condescension.
Learning, to him, was sweet. Mrs. Grossman sat
down and without preamble began to sing, a quavering lullaby
in a strange tongue, and Simon whispered the translation to
Phryne as she listened.
‘In dem bishe micdosh…
Beneath my little one’s cradle
Stands a clear white goat…
There will come a time, my child
When you will wander far and wide.
Remember the song I sing today…
Schluf-sie, mein kind, schluf,’ she concluded. Then she sighed, seized
her son Phillip and hugged him hard, and summoned a smile.
‘You will give my greetings to your father,’ she said to Simon.
Phryne shook hands all round, and Mrs. Grossman accompanied
them to the door. As she was leaving, the older woman pressed
a packet into her hand.
‘Just a little tea,’ she protested. ‘A few biscuits. Nothing.’
Phryne was touched. ‘Thank you,’ she said, and went out
into the dusty street feeling warmed and a little dislocated, as
though she had been away in another country and had come
back with unexpected swiftness to somewhere which ought to
have been familiar but which looked odd and alien.
‘That’s a nice song,’ she said, wrestling her coat over her
shoulders. Simon caught the edges and bodily wrapped it around
Phryne.
‘It’s the one lullaby which everyone knows,’ he said. ‘There isn’t
a Yiddish child in the world who wasn’t sung to sleep with Raisins
and Almonds. My own mother sang it to me. Now, Madame,’ he
bowed, ‘are you coming to my father’s house to dine?’
‘Yes, I am.’
‘Then perhaps you could drop me in the city, where I can
get a taxi, so that I can prepare myself fittingly.’