The Camden Tales

16 - Boiling Kettle

-=₪ April 1924 ₪=-

A.B.C / Bonny Street / 3.10pm

Malka was sat at Alfie's desk. Her fingers were interlocked and resting on the green leather inlay surface, her eyes were open and glaring into the distance as if in a waking nightmare.

The desk was clear of its usual clutter. Everything was packed neatly away into the writing box, desk tidy and tray with Alfie's pipe and smoking paraphernalia gathered to one side. His wide rimmed black hat laid on the desk in front of her.

Ollie was sat in the old armchair by the coffee table in a similar state of silent staring. He held his apron against his cheek, like a blanket comforter, as he sucked his thumb. Malka hadn't seen Ollie like this since his mother had died.

The sounds of the distillery, while more reduced than normal, still bled through the door. The chatter of the bakers was hushed and they occasionally glanced to the office. Water from the canal could also be heard above, along with the irregular chimes of the buoy bells. A sound Malka had always liked.

A train started to rumble over, causing small items about the office to shake and tingle, which snapped Malka out of her thoughts. Her eyes flicked to the telephone, she glared at it, willing it to ring.

Malka jumped as the office door suddenly opened. She looked to see Ishmael enter, close the door and sit on the opposite side of the desk. He placed a pile of bank notes in front of the hat.

"Winnings from our bets." Ishmael said, catching his breath.

Ollie looked over with annoyance.

"What? You went to collect the winnings?" he asked in disgust.

"Learn anything while you were there?" asked Malka.

Ishmael glanced to Ollie before answering Malka with a nod to confirm.

"What? What did we learn?" asked Ollie sitting forwards in the armchair.

"Looked through some files, ledgers. Learned names and places and... things." confirmed Ishmael, glancing back to Ollie.

Malka nodded and returned to her thoughts.

"Moey will be released in the morning." Ishmael continued, "a few bakers reported some issues on the borders but nothing to write home about. Nothing was damaged, nobody was hurt. The perimeter was fully effective." he finished.

Malka renewed her nodding as her eyes traced to Alfie's hat. Her fingers stretched out and started to fiddle with its brim and Ollie sat back in the armchair.

"What did you mean?" asked Ishmael, nodding towards the hat, "when you said, see if this works?"

Malka, picking up the hat, tilted her head to one side.

"This was Alfie's father's hat." she answered.

Ishmael raised his brow in shock. He had never heard anyone, ever, not even the Solomons brothers or Sarah, mention father or their fathers. He really wasn't sure what the situation was between the siblings, other than they all shared a mother. He knew their mother, Sophia, had died, and even remembered the day Ollie moved in, but nobody talked about their dad. The only hint he had was knowing that Alfie was a junior, which he only knew because he heard Malka shout it at Alfie once, back when he lived with them.

"Alfred Solomons... senior?" he asked.

Malka nodded.

She lifted the hat to her nose and smelt it.