Sons and Daughters Read Free Page B

Denmark Hill. It had been built following the end of the war, on the site of the house completely destroyed by a bomb.
    He spoke to his wife Susie in their well-appointed kitchen.
    ‘Susie, before we head off to Cornwall for our holiday next Saturday, I’ve got to find time to go to a warehouse in Edmonton. It’s in North London—’
    ‘Pardon me,’ said Susie, fronting a working top on which she was mixing a bowl of salad. Close toforty-five, she was admirably well-preserved. Like Boots’s wife Polly, she was fighting the good fight against the little spoiling devils of middle age. ‘Is that you talking to the back of my head, Sammy Adams?’
    ‘Yes, it’s me, Susie, just back from the outing to the old Walworth market, and—’
    ‘Excuse me,’ said Susie, turning, ‘but would you mind saying hello to your wife?’
    ‘Eh?’ said Sammy. ‘Oh, right, yes, hello, Susie, how’s your Saturday bib and tucker?’
    ‘Never mind my apron,’ said Susie, ‘you’ve been out all morning at the office and the market, and you’re not supposed when you come in to talk to the back of my head about going somewhere else.’
    ‘Susie, I like the back of your head, I’m genuine admiring of it—’
    ‘No soft soap,’ said Susie, so Sammy gave her a kiss as a peace offering. Susie smiled. She always enjoyed keeping Sammy in order. Sammy, energetically involved with business, was inclined to live in leaps and bounds. ‘Where are the girls?’ she asked.
    ‘Outside, talking to friends they bumped into,’ said Sammy. ‘They’ll be here in a tick. Look, about going up to this place Edmonton—’
    ‘Never been there,’ said Susie, ‘so tell me what it’s got that Camberwell hasn’t.’
    ‘A warehouse, Susie, which a business friend I happened to bump into says is chockful of bales of nylon, which is that man-made material that could be considerably valuable for our garmentsfactory, especially if Eli Greenberg can point me at a stocking-making machine that’s not doing anything—’
    ‘It’s black market,’ said Susie.
    ‘Well, a new one might be,’ said Sammy, ‘but with Eli’s help I’ll settle for a reconditioned one.’
    ‘I’m suspicious about the stocking-making machine, the warehouse and the nylon,’ said Susie, ‘and I bet the business friend you bumped into is a spiv.’
    ‘On me honour, Susie.’
    ‘You sure about that?’ said Susie.
    ‘No spiv, Susie, give you my word,’ said Sammy. ‘Mind, the info about the warehouse is sort of confidential.’
    ‘Meaning black market,’ said Susie.
    ‘No, just confidential,’ said Sammy, ‘and listen, Ben Ford, the Fat Man, has risen from the dead and I hear he means to give me the kind of competition I can do without.’
    ‘That’s a fib,’ said Susie.
    ‘Eh?’
    ‘Sammy, you’ve left the Fat Man far behind,’ said Susie. ‘You’ve got Adams Enterprises and its garments factory, you’ve got Adams Fashions and all its shops, you’ve got the thriving property company with its houses, block of flats and still some bomb sites ready to be sold for development, you’ve got the new store in Walworth and happy bank balances for each company. And what has the Fat Man got? His one grotty shop in Camberwell New Road, an oversized paunch and some loose change.’
    ‘Susie, that’s what I call a handsome inventory of our assets,’ said Sammy, ‘but what’s the Fat Man going to do with his loose change? He’s going to carry it up to Edmonton with crafty ideas of outbidding me. It’s against me strictest business principles, Susie, to let anyone outbid me, especially the Fat Man. D’you know, I think I’ve still got bruises from what his heavies did to me when they once jumped me.’
    ‘Show me,’ said Susie.
    ‘Eh?’
    ‘The bruises, Sammy. Show me.’ Susie shook her head at him. ‘You daft ha’porth, that must have been over twenty years ago.’
    ‘Well, I won’t say it wasn’t, Susie, but I will say that whenever I hear