Chapters (71)
- Copyright Notice
- Dedication
- Part One
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Part Two
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Part Three
- Thirty-Three
- Thirty-Four
- Thirty-Five
- Thirty-Six
- Thirty-Seven
- Thirty-Eight
- Thirty-Nine
- Forty
- Forty-One
- Forty-Two
- Forty-Three
- Forty-Four
- Part Four
- Forty-Five
- Forty-Six
- Forty-Seven
- Forty-Eight
- Forty-Nine
- Fifty
- Fifty-One
- Fifty-Two
- Fifty-Three
- Part Five
- Fifty-Four
- Fifty-Five
- Fifty-Six
- Fifty-Seven
- Fifty-Eight
- Fifty-Nine
- Sixty
- Sixty-One
- Books by Barbara Taylor Bradford
- About the Author
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Emma gave him a swift look. “So you come from the land of the Jews, sir?” she said, realizing he had a slight accent that echoed in his speech.
“No. You see, the Jews scattered throughout the world over the passing centuries. They went to Spain, France, Germany, Russia and Poland, plus many other countries. I came from Kiev, in Russia, running away from the pogroms which were directed against the Jews, and our own harassment. It is good to be in England where we have freedom. I always say, every day, ‘God bless England, the land of the free’—” He broke off, staggered and leaned against a wall, looking stricken.
“Sir, you are ill!” Emma cried. “I shall walk you home.”
The man caught his breath, sighed and stood stock still. After a moment or two, he seemed to regain his composure, but the eagle-eyed Emma, who never missed a trick, saw that his face was white and covered in perspiration. He looked drained. Her green eyes narrowed when she noticed the blue tinge to his lips. He was obviously in discomfort. He held his hand to his chest. She wondered if he had had a heart attack.
Now deciding to really take charge, Emma went to him and took hold of his arm tighter. “I am taking you home,” she announced somewhat forcefully.
“You’ve already done enough for me. Please, I am all right. I can manage,” he murmured.
Ignoring these words, she said in a firm voice, “Where do you live?”
“Imperial Street.” A small smile flickered on his tightly drawn face. “An unfortunate name really for that poor little street, not a bit royal at all.”
“Where is it?” she asked, starting to lead him away purposefully, definitely now in charge.
“In the Leylands, I’m afraid.”
Emma shivered on hearing this name, and her heart sank. She had been told it was dangerous, the ghetto. However, she swallowed her fears and put on a brave face.
They began to walk together, totally silent. After a short while, the man came to a standstill and turned to face her. He said in a warm and grateful voice, “I’ve never known such kindness from a stranger, least of all a Gentile. I thank you for being so solicitous, thoughtful and kind.” He thrust out one hand. “My name is Abraham Kallinski. Would you do me the honor of telling me yours?”
Emma tucked the parcel of bread under her arm and took his hand. “It’s Emma Harte.”
He noticed the silver ring on her left hand. “Mrs. Harte, I assume.”