The Camden Tales

30 - Slide

-=₪ 24th December 1925 ₪=-

A.B.C / Bonny Street / 2.16pm

Alfie was sat at his desk, feet up and alone in the office of the distillery. Reclined back in the comfortable leather chair, he smoked his pipe and watched the men through the office windows milling about.

It was Christmas eve for most, but not for the Solomons and their Jewish bakers. As a result, Alfie had noticed that the office had been quieter as fewer trains passed over than usual. Sat in his black hat he searched for answers in his kettle. Keen to find a solution to getting his bakers back to work and shifting rum. Every now and then a deep, thoughtful rumble would come from him, causing Cyril, who was under the desk, to lift his head, wag his tail and look to his master.

Alfie's eyes narrowed under the brim of his dark hat as his pipe smoke floated away. His eyes flicked left as he saw a fast moving black coat walk along the office windows and enter the room. He glared at his wife as she removed her hat and coat with a shake from the bitter cold.

"Bloody hell Alfie, it's not much warmer in here than it is out there." she stated shivering.

The cold in the bakery was the very reason he wore so many layers, unlike his wife who seemed to never learn, he considered briefly before returning to his task of staring at the men through the office windows. Malka watched his smoke floating up and over his brim.

Fine, she thought as she made a point of dragging the dining chair across the wooden floor of the office, causing it to make a horrendous scraping and scratching sound as it went, with the soul purpose of annoying him.

Alfie winced with annoyance as she broke the silence and interrupted his scheming. The irritation in his eyes was unmistakable. Malka held his angry glare as she came to a stop and sat down across the desk from him. Interlocking her fingers and resting them on the desk, her brow raised as Alfie continued to focus his angry eyes on her. Tired of his game she decided to address business.

"I spoke with our Scorpion."

Alfie still had his feet on the desk as he seemingly ignored his wife and looked back to the bakers. He had been like this since their words the previous evening. It seemed Alfie was determined to drive a wedge between her and their son, using himself as the divide.

This looked like a horrid thing to do to a casual observer and it certainly didn't feel nice for Malka, but she knew this was how Alfie went about protecting what he loved. Separating from perceived evil. As long as he still had his cane, she knew there was nothing to worry about. She then noticed he wasn't holding his cane, her heart began to pound as her eyes darted about his desk.

She swallowed back her worry as her eyes spied the cane leaning against the desk next him. She closed her lids and let out a breath of relief. On opening them again she noticed Alfie's ocean blue eyes looking at her.

"Are they here?" he asked, barely moving his lips.

She nodded.

Alfie pressed his lips together. After a moment's thought he took his feet off the desk and emptied his pipe into the ashtray. Placing the pipe down, he sighed heavily and lowered his head causing the brim of his hat to cover his eyes. To Malka, his eyes were windows, especially his left which had no hope of lying successfully to her, it always told the truth, so whenever he obscured his eyes from her she knew things were dark for him and whatever was in that darkness, he didn't want her to witness. His hand reached out to his side and grabbed his cane, he moved it between his parted legs and gripped it tightly.

"How many?" he asked with his head still hung.

"Fifteen. Sixteen if you include Luca himself."

Alfie cleared his throat from under his hat.