be nice if just once a man could look her in the eye without blushing and turning away.
Then she recalled the men she had robbed and felt a peculiar flutter in her chest. One of them had done just that. In fact, he hadn’t even flinched when she’d held Ned’s old sword to his throat, threatening to run him through. Now there was a man she’d like to have met under different circumstances. Instead, she’d have to run in the opposite direction if she ever encountered him again. It was a lowering thought.
‘Nice day for it, ain’t it?’ said the woman beside her. ‘Got myself some lovely strawberries in ’ere. Should sell in no time.’
Cora agreed, and they passed a pleasant journey into town chatting about all manner of things. Even the young man joined in eventually and offered an opinion or two, although he was still careful not to look directly at Cora.
When she had sold her eggs, she went to see her father’s contact, an old Jew who had moved out from London’s east in the seventeen-thirties, when his shop had been burnt down. Cora had known Mr Isaacs and his now deceased wife, Ruth, since she was a little girl. Ned would bring Mr Isaacs some business – what sort of business Cora didn’t know – and they would have a drink together, and in the kitchen the childless Mrs Isaacs would fuss over Cora and feed her hot white bread until Cora was so full she thought she would never eat another thing.
Although the couple were tolerated in Hounslow, they were also viewed with some suspicion, and had never really been accepted by the other tradesmen. Ned had befriended them years ago, though, and Cora knew Mr Isaacs would never betray her.
With her worry for Ned on her mind, she pushed open the door to the pawnshop and stepped inside a dusty world that had been wondrous when she’d been a child. She still remembered the many strange things people would pawn, and, looking about her now, it seemed nothing much had changed. There was everything from watches and jewellery to silk hats and shoes on display. Someone had even pawned a set of false teeth, two rows of carved ivory set in a wooden frame.
Mr Isaacs emerged from behind a curtain at the back of the shop and rushed forward to embrace her. ‘Cora, Cora, Cora!’ he exclaimed and kissed her on both cheeks, as was his custom, tickling her with his grey ringlets. ‘How are you, my wayward
Fraulein
?’
He stepped back, still with his hands on her shoulders, shaking his head and tutting while he muttered something in Yiddish. ‘And beautiful as always. Hasn’t a young squire had the good sense to snap you up yet?’
‘No such luck, Mr Isaacs. I expect I’ll die an old maid.’
‘Nonsense!’ he cackled. ‘When you’re not looking, they will come.’
‘I’m not looking and they’re not coming,’ said Cora and laughed at this strange logic.
Mr Isaacs was pensive. ‘If you’re willing, I can arrange for a nice Jewish lad to take you to wife. You’ll have to convert, of course …’
‘That’s very solicitous of you, Mr Isaacs, but the God I have is good enough for me.’ Having said that, God had not spared her pain. Cora felt a sharp pang as she thought of her mother and the baby brother who didn’t live beyond his first day, but she knew they’d be reunited in the next world.
‘Well said, my dear. Well said.’ Mr Isaacs spread his hands out. ‘Anyway, what can I help you with, now that you’re here?’
‘I have some items to sell.’
Mr Isaacs sent her a long look; then he said, ‘Mm, like that, is it? You had better come around the back, I think.’
He held open the curtain for her, and they retreated to a small office heaving with large leather-bound account ledgers. Apart from the pawnshop activities, Mr Isaacs also lent money to those who could not obtain a loan by other means. This required careful accounting, and Mr Isaacs was a meticulous businessman. Although people loathed having to use his services, they
Then she recalled the men she had robbed and felt a peculiar flutter in her chest. One of them had done just that. In fact, he hadn’t even flinched when she’d held Ned’s old sword to his throat, threatening to run him through. Now there was a man she’d like to have met under different circumstances. Instead, she’d have to run in the opposite direction if she ever encountered him again. It was a lowering thought.
‘Nice day for it, ain’t it?’ said the woman beside her. ‘Got myself some lovely strawberries in ’ere. Should sell in no time.’
Cora agreed, and they passed a pleasant journey into town chatting about all manner of things. Even the young man joined in eventually and offered an opinion or two, although he was still careful not to look directly at Cora.
When she had sold her eggs, she went to see her father’s contact, an old Jew who had moved out from London’s east in the seventeen-thirties, when his shop had been burnt down. Cora had known Mr Isaacs and his now deceased wife, Ruth, since she was a little girl. Ned would bring Mr Isaacs some business – what sort of business Cora didn’t know – and they would have a drink together, and in the kitchen the childless Mrs Isaacs would fuss over Cora and feed her hot white bread until Cora was so full she thought she would never eat another thing.
Although the couple were tolerated in Hounslow, they were also viewed with some suspicion, and had never really been accepted by the other tradesmen. Ned had befriended them years ago, though, and Cora knew Mr Isaacs would never betray her.
With her worry for Ned on her mind, she pushed open the door to the pawnshop and stepped inside a dusty world that had been wondrous when she’d been a child. She still remembered the many strange things people would pawn, and, looking about her now, it seemed nothing much had changed. There was everything from watches and jewellery to silk hats and shoes on display. Someone had even pawned a set of false teeth, two rows of carved ivory set in a wooden frame.
Mr Isaacs emerged from behind a curtain at the back of the shop and rushed forward to embrace her. ‘Cora, Cora, Cora!’ he exclaimed and kissed her on both cheeks, as was his custom, tickling her with his grey ringlets. ‘How are you, my wayward
Fraulein
?’
He stepped back, still with his hands on her shoulders, shaking his head and tutting while he muttered something in Yiddish. ‘And beautiful as always. Hasn’t a young squire had the good sense to snap you up yet?’
‘No such luck, Mr Isaacs. I expect I’ll die an old maid.’
‘Nonsense!’ he cackled. ‘When you’re not looking, they will come.’
‘I’m not looking and they’re not coming,’ said Cora and laughed at this strange logic.
Mr Isaacs was pensive. ‘If you’re willing, I can arrange for a nice Jewish lad to take you to wife. You’ll have to convert, of course …’
‘That’s very solicitous of you, Mr Isaacs, but the God I have is good enough for me.’ Having said that, God had not spared her pain. Cora felt a sharp pang as she thought of her mother and the baby brother who didn’t live beyond his first day, but she knew they’d be reunited in the next world.
‘Well said, my dear. Well said.’ Mr Isaacs spread his hands out. ‘Anyway, what can I help you with, now that you’re here?’
‘I have some items to sell.’
Mr Isaacs sent her a long look; then he said, ‘Mm, like that, is it? You had better come around the back, I think.’
He held open the curtain for her, and they retreated to a small office heaving with large leather-bound account ledgers. Apart from the pawnshop activities, Mr Isaacs also lent money to those who could not obtain a loan by other means. This required careful accounting, and Mr Isaacs was a meticulous businessman. Although people loathed having to use his services, they
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