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glance round, but feeling it would be unwise to keep his prospective boss waiting for an answer, he hardly took anything in. ‘It’s very nice.’
    â€˜You think you could work here?’ The old man’s eyes held an appealing twinkle now, despite the lines of fatigue above and below them.
    â€˜I believe I could, but you’ll have to learn me …’
    â€˜Not to worry, my boy. I shall teach you everything, but what do I call you, hmm?’
    â€˜Oh, sorry, my name’s Alistair Ritchie, Mr Isaacson.’
    A deep menacing rumble came from the region of the man’s stomach. ‘And who is this Mister Isaacson, may I ask?’
    Alistair couldn’t think what he had done to anger the man. ‘It said … E.D. Isaacson on the sign,’ he ventured, ‘and I thought that was you.’ He heaved a sigh of relief when the rumbling erupted into a series of full-blooded belly laughs.
    â€˜Nobody ever calls me Mr Isaacson,’ the pawnbroker said, breathless after such unaccustomed mirth and taking a handkerchief from his waistcoat pocket to wipe his eyes. ‘It’s sometimes Ikey Mo because I’m a Jew, although they mean no disrespect. Some call me Edie, because of my initials, but I’m Uncle to most people.’ After a brief pause, he added, ‘My first name is Emanuel, if you would feel happier with that.’
    Alistair gave it a few moments’ careful thought. ‘Ikey and Edie sound disrespectful to me, but Uncle doesn’t feel right, either. I’d better make it Emanuel …’
    â€˜Shall I tell you what would give me even greater pleasure? My dear mother used to call me Manny, and no one has addressed me so since she passed away … over thirty years ago. Do you think you could manage that? And I shall call you Alistair, a fine Scottish name for a fine Scottish boy.’
    â€˜When do you want me to start … um … Manny?’ He found it much easier to say than he had thought.
    â€˜The sooner the quicker, hmm? What do you say to … at this very moment, Alistair, or do you have to let your landlady know where you are?’
    â€˜Ivy knows where I am, and I’d love to start straight away.’
    And thus began an unusual friendship, which deepened as the years went by and blossomed into as close a bond as any two men of different religions and generations could possibly share.

Chapter 3
    Alistair’s uncertainties about his aptitude for the job were quickly banished by Manny’s patient teaching. During slack spells, he learned how to repair clocks, large and small, and watches from the cheap to the expensive, not that many of those found their way into E.D. Isaacson’s shop. Most customers wanted to pledge something, and after they went out, the pawnbroker explained why he had given what he did for the article brought in.
    â€˜Mrs Fry’s husband has been unable to work since he injured his back last year,’ he said, one morning. ‘Sadly, she had just given birth to their fourth child at the time. They are all under school age, and she finds it extremely hard to manage on the paltry sum his employers dole out to him, less than twenty per cent of what he was earning before the accident. I suppose they are lucky, really, because his firm is one of the few who give anything at all in such cases.’
    Another woman, middle-aged this time, had been widowed some months previously. ‘Mrs Borland is slowly selling off all her possessions,’ Manny observed mournfully, ‘and goodness knows what she will do when everything is gone. She will most likely have to apply to the parish, and losing their independence is something all these women dread. It also means the loss of their self-respect.’
    â€˜So she’ll never manage to redeem her things?’ Alistair asked, wonderingly.
    â€˜I am afraid not, my boy. She knows that and I know that, and I also know that they are