Co n r a d J Ston e

Promised Land

AUSTIN

MACAULEY

Copyright Conrad J Stone The right of Conrad J Stone to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers. Any person who commits any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages. A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library. ISBN 978 1 905609 970

www.austinmacauley.com First Published (2010) Austin & Macauley Publishers Ltd. 25 Canada Square Canary Wharf London E14 5LB

Printed & Bound in Great Britain

DEDICATION Dedicated to the people of Stamford Hill N16 and to the Swinging Sixties

Acknowledgements I would like to thank my wife, Stephanie, for her assistance regarding the cover illustration and with the typing of some of my novel; also I would like to express my sincerest thanks to my eldest son, Marlon, who patiently helped me, most ably, with the computer and diligently with proof-reading for presentation of the manuscript to my publishers.

CHAPTER I: 1964

I first set foot in Stamford Hill in the summer of 1964. The world was at peace. The start of flower power and the sexual revolution, although not in full swing was imminent. The Beatles were riding high in the charts but it wasnt a Hard Days Night for me. It was a great time to be alive. I was young, happy and confident with a good job in the West End and a new adventure awaiting me. I picked up my suitcase and stepped off the 243 bus following behind my friend Sidney who had kindly invited me to stay at his parents house in Linthorpe Road. I had been living in Bayswater for about three months since I left home but unfortunately my previous flatmate had packed his bags, stolen my chequebook and disappeared leaving me in the lurch. I couldnt afford the rent on my own and I found it impossible to find another flatmate. I worked in the same office as Sidney and he came across with the solution that I could stay with him until I found a cheaper flat. He told me that his parents had agreed and didnt want any payment. I, of course, was relieved and decided to give it a try. In truth I had never been to that part of North London before, and I was intrigued and curious to experience this new life. The bus stop was opposite the large Odeon cinema on the corner of this crossroad junction which was at the top of Stamford Hill or the Hill as we called it. We crossed the road, turned right past the cinema and then Sidney stopped, turned to me and said, Well Carlo, this is it! The famous Hill. How come Ive never heard of it then? Why is it so famous? I replied jokingly. You wait. After having lived in this place for a while youll change your mind and realise what a special place this is, he replied.

Little did I realise that these words would turn out to be prophetic. We stood at the top of the Hill facing a row of shops, restaurants and cafs that were located on all three sides of the junction Clapton Common was in front of us, Stamford Hill was to the right, Tottenham High Road was to the left and Amhurst Park behind us. I looked around and felt instantly at home; the place had a comfortable feel to it. Sidney walked past Skinners School for Girls on our right and as I followed him I couldnt help noticing the small library at the end of the parade of shops on the opposite side of the road. We then crossed Northfield Road and turned into Linthorpe Road, which mainly comprised Victorian and Edwardian houses, some of which had steps leading up to their front doors while others had walls and privets around small front gardens. Well, what do you think of it so far? Sidney asked. I like it. Especially those beautiful trees that line Stamford Hill Road, I answered. It isnt called Road, we just call it Stamford Hill, he retorted. We crossed the road and got to his house that was a mere five minutes walk from the bus stop. The house was end terraced with a small wall at the side and there were three small steps inside the wall leading to the front door. Sidney opened the door and led me into a small carpeted hallway that opened into a large front room. His parents were sitting on black leather armchairs watching TV. His father got up to switch off the TV set and approached me extending his right hand to greet me. Sidney introduced me to both his parents and said, Mum, Dad this is my work colleague, Carlo Di Angelis, that I told you about. His father gave me a firm handshake and said, Welcome to our home. Its nice to meet you. You can go upstairs and freshen up if you want and can join us in the dining room for supper in ten minutes. Yes, added his wife, still sitting down. You are most welcome to stay here as long as you like. I thanked them both and followed my friend up the stairs to the first landing. I was shown the bathroom and the separate toilet. We then went up another small flight of steps to my friends bedroom, a very large room with a big window on the right hand side; there was

a single bed next to the window and next to that there was a small camp bed. There were also two large wardrobes, two chest of drawers, a table and a dressing table with a mirror. The walls were painted in an attractive shade of light orange over which were various posters and a couple of watercolour prints. Sidney said, You can put your case on the side of the camp-bed and go and have a quick wash before supper if you want. We can sort out the sleeping arrangements later. Dont I get my own room? I exclaimed as I was surprised that I was going to share his room. There is another room up in the attic but it is a bit grotty up there, and my dad is in the process of redecorating it so it might be more fun to share anyway. I am an only child and it would be nice to share with someone at last. OK then. Ill go to the bathroom and see you downstairs in a sec. I left the room, went to the bathroom, had a wash and then joined Sidney in the hall. He led me along the corridor into the elegant dining room which was located at the back of the house. Inside, there was a medium-sized table decorated with a floral tablecloth surrounded by six cushioned chairs. Sidneys father stood by the sideboard lighting some candles on the table. He was a small stocky man of about 50 years old; his hair was grey and was thinning at the sides and on top. In physical stature he was slightly shorter than Sidney, who himself was around five feet five with a shock of black hair combed forward in the style of The Beatles, and with a swarthy complexion and dark brown eyes. We all sat down at the dining room table, and Sidneys father said a short prayer in Yiddish, looked up at me and said, This is our Sabbath which is why we light the candles. Sidney tells me that you are Italian. Is that right? Yes, I replied, I am Catholic, but I must admit a lapsed one. Thats all right, but you do not object to my blessing, he continued. Of course not, I replied respectfully. This is your house and I respect your customs and religion.

You must be hungry now, Sidneys mother interjected, getting up from the table. She then left the room and came back in with some dishes from the kitchen. She was the shortest of the family, around five feet tall with dark hair tied up in a bun, and looked younger than her husband by a couple of years. It was my first meal in a Jewish household and I didnt know quite what to expect, but it turned out to be very enjoyable. We started with clear soup and then I had my first taste of chopped liver and rice. I found it not unpleasant because normally I wasnt a great fan of liver. We then had the main course, which was roast chicken with boiled and roasted potatoes and garden peas. We ate mainly in silence interrupted only from time to time with Sidneys comments asking whether I liked the food, which to be honest I liked a lot. Once we had finished the main course Sidneys mother got up and cleared the dishes from the table and offered me some cheese and biscuits, which I kindly accepted. We drank only water as there wasnt any wine. As I was eating the cheese and biscuits Sidneys father offered me a choice of coffee or lemon tea; I decided to have coffee and cream with sugar. All in all my meal was quite enjoyable. After thanking them Sidney and I excused ourselves from the table and went back upstairs to Sidneys room, put my case on the camp bed and started to unpack, but before I had put anything away Sidney suggested that we should go out to The Hill, have a look around and find somewhere to have a drink. We went out of the house and walked up Linthorpe Road. As we walked along the street Sidney took out a packet of Players No.6 cigarettes and offered me one. He lit the cigarette and said, I know. Lets go up the Hill and sit outside this little pub that I know and have a beer. Yes, I agreed. It was a lovely, warm, late June evening and it was light up until 9.30 pm. We walked to the end of the street and crossed the main road into Portland Avenue, past a small church on the right hand side until we reached the modern looking pub, called The Crown, opposite a green with several trees and a pond at the back. We sat down at a bench that overlooked the green. Sidney said, What would you like to drink? Its my treat.

Ill have a light ale please, just a half, I replied, as I didnt consider myself a hard drinker. What about some crisps? he asked. OK, Ill have a pack of cheese and onion, I answered. After about a couple of minutes Sidney returned with the drinks and crisps. I offered him one of my cigarettes and we started to drink our beer and eat the crisps. The time was around 9pm and Sidney suddenly exclaimed, I know what. Why dont we drink up and go to the bowling alley and play a game of ten pin bowls? I said, Ive never played before. Thats all right; its not difficult to pick up. Well have fun. Come on; its just round the corner. We finished our drinks, crossed a parade of shops and around the back there was a small bowling alley. Sidney led the way. In the entrance Sidney spotted one of his friends. He called out to him while gesturing to me, Hey, Stanley, how are you? Come and meet my friend. Who is this guy then? Stanley said. Hes my work colleague, Carlo. Hes currently staying at my place for a while until he finds his own flat, Sidney replied. Stanley came up to me and shook me by the hand with a very firm grip. He stood taller than both of us with a stocky build and he had jet black hair combed back over his forehead. Welcome to the Hill. Its good to see a new face around the old place, he said. We played for about an hour but I wasnt very good at it. Stanley won easily; he was a natural with a bowling ball, and he chatted continuously throughout the game. It was getting on for 10:15pm and I was getting tired, so I suggested that we should leave. We finished and all three of us left together with Stanley leading the way. Come on you two. The nights still young. Lets go and have a Wimpy and chat up some birds, Stanley called out amiably. We followed him across the road where he turned left and towards the Wimpy Bar which was slap bang in the middle of the

parade of shops opposite Skinners School for Girls. The place was almost packed out but we managed to find a vacant table. We waited for a couple of minutes to be served, then a pretty young waitress came up to us and we ordered cheeseburgers and cappuccinos. Stanley began to chat up the waitress straight away but the girl did not respond and walked away to fetch the order. Theres plenty more fish in the sea. Look at those two over there, he said pointing to the left three tables away. I know her, he said pointing to another girl across the Wimpy Bar. Its Pat, shes a good sport. Come on, Carlo, Ill introduce you. But before he could, our order came and Stanley resumed chatting up the waitress. She placed our food on the table, smiled without saying a word and walked away. Doesnt he ever stop? I asked Sidney jokingly. Sidney shook his head and said, No this is nothing, you wait till you know him for a while. Stanley seemed to know everybody in the place. He was waving and calling out to people who were getting up from the table; he then got up to join them and was patting them on the back, pointing in our direction. I turned round and said to Sidney, What the hell is going on? Is he always like this? Oh yeah, ever since Ive known him when we were at school he never stops, was his reply. The burger and coffee were delicious; we finished them with relish. I didnt realise I was so hungry. Stanley finally came back and ate his food while I lit up a Silk Cut cigarette and offered one to Sidney. We called for the bill and Stanley said, Its on me! No, Ill pay for mine, I replied, but he insisted. Stanley responded, Its your first night here. Ill treat you, he paused and then he added with a wide grin, But not too often though! We went up to the counter, paid the bill, and left. It was a warm balmy night; I stood outside the Wimpy Bar looking around for a moment. I did not know where I was and I felt completely disoriented for an instant, but Stanley shook me from my momentary confusion said, Come on you two, the nights still

young. Lets wait for those birds to come out and go for a walk with them. That Pat is bit of a goer! he said. I looked at Sidney and remarked, Well be all right then. We all laughed at Stanleys audacity; however, Id had a long day and wanted to go home. Stanley said, OK then you go if you want but Im going to hang around. I think its gonna be my lucky night. So Sidney and I left and started to walk towards Linthorpe Road; then, all of a sudden Stanley ran up to us, stopping us in our tracks and said, Sid, dont forget tomorrow night, Im having a party at my place 8 oclock, all right. Bring your friend and dont forget the beer. He turned round and went back to the Wimpy Bar. I asked Sidney where Stanley lived and, in fact, his house was at the end of Linthorpe Road. Well, I said, we wont have to go far then. Does he have many parties? I then added. Oh yeah, quite a few. Stanley is a bit of a social animal, as you must have noticed by now, Sidney replied. We walked quietly back to Sidneys house; it had been a long and eventful day and I was tired and ready for bed. We went straight up to Sidneys room; my suitcase was still on the camp-bed. As I couldnt be bothered to unpack, I placed it on the floor, took off my shoes and socks, and lay on the bed fully clothed. I wasnt wearing a jacket, just shirt and trousers. I took my glasses off and placed them on top of the bedside table and got ready to sleep, but even though I was tired, I found it difficult to drop off, thinking about my first taste of life on the Hill and meeting the garrulous Stanley, who was a complete contrast to reflective and quietly spoken Sidney. I eventually fell asleep and didnt wake up until late the following morning. I slowly opened my eyes, and for a moment, I did not realise where I was. I reached for my glasses and put them on. I glanced at my watch; it was just after 11am. I sat up thinking that I was late for work, but then I let out a sigh of relief as I realised it was a Saturday. I got up, drew the curtains and unpacked my suitcase, I put on my socks and slippers, opened the bedroom door quietly so as not to disturb Sidney, who was still asleep. I went to the bathroom, had a wash, brushed my teeth and combed my hair, parting it on the left and brushed it across to the right. When I got

back to the room Sidney was sitting on the bed, stretching and yawning. He greeted me with a grin and said, Morning, did you sleep OK? Not too bad I suppose, considering that this isnt a proper bed, I replied. Ill tell you what, Carlo. Why dont we take it in turns then; you have my bed tonight, all right? Sidney suggested. I thanked him, somewhat taken aback by his generosity. Ill just pop to the lav and then well have some breakie. I shant be long, he said. After a couple of minutes he came back and we went downstairs to the kitchen. Sidneys mother was standing by the sink washing up. She turned around and asked us what we wanted for breakfast. I had cornflakes, boiled eggs and toast, washed down with fresh orange juice and two cups of coffee. Sidney didnt have much of an appetite and just had a cup of tea. I dont eat much in the morning. Ill have a sandwich later, he said. Sidneys mother moved quietly with quick little footsteps, clearing the table while we lit up a cigarette, the first of the day, the one that always tastes best. Sidneys mother turned round and said, Would you like a bath? Theres plenty of hot water. I replied, Thank you but Ill just finish my cigarette first. We dont stand on ceremony in this house. Come and go as you like. Theres no need to ask, just help yourself to a bath or make tea and coffee anytime, she said before adding, has Sidney given you a front door key? Sidney said that he hadnt. Ill get my husband to cut you one later. I thanked her and she left the kitchen. I turned round and said to Sidney, Youve got a really nice mum there. Im allowed to do pretty much what I like really, he replied, grinning amiably. Do you give your parents much a week? I asked. No, nothing. They wont take anything off me, he replied. What! NOTHING!? I replied surprised.

When I was living with my parents I gave them three quarters of my wage packet, I added. Thats a lot. No wonder you left home. Then he added, I have volunteered from time to time but mum doesnt want anything so more bread for me, Sidney said. What does your dad do for a living? I asked. Hes in business with my uncle, import and export of fancy goods, or something like that. He makes plenty of gelt, dont worry, he replied. I asked him what gelt was; Sidney laughed and replied, Money, bread. Dont tell me you have never heard that expression before? Well I have now. One lives and learns something everyday, I replied. Yeah, and I think you are going to be learning quite a lot while you are living here, he said. I got up from the table and told Sidney I was going to have a bath. OK he said, and then added, Ill see you later. I had a bath and washed my hair, and after I had finished I went back to Sidneys room. We sat down, smoked cigarettes and listened to the radio. Sidney said, Well, Im just about ready for lunch now. Shall we go downstairs? As we walked down the staircase he asked me, Do you like bagels? What are those? I asked. They are round rolls with holes in the centre, he replied. Dont tell me youve never heard of them, he said. He then added, Youll love them. He was right; they were delicious with smoked salmon and cream cheese. After lunch we sat in the back garden for a while; it was very hot. Sidneys mother brought out some ice cold lemonade and Sidney offered me one of his cigarettes. We sat and chatted for a while, enjoying our lemonade, and the warm sunshine, and then

Sidney suggested we go up to the Hill and buy some drinks for the party. We went to the shops and Sidney got some beer and I bought some Babycham for the girls. There will be girls there, wont there? I asked. Oh yeah, always lots of birds at Stans parties dont worry, grinned Sidney. Well fix you up, no problem, he added laughing. I felt reassured. We returned to the house, went to the bedroom, put on some records and stretched out on our beds, saving our energy for the coming. At about 7pm we went to the dining room, where Sidneys mother had prepared a delicious supper of chopped liver with rice followed by chicken salad and white wine. It was a very enjoyable meal. After dinner we went back upstairs, and got dressed for the party. I wore a pair of white jeans and a blue short sleeved shirt. It was a very warm evening, so I didnt bother wearing a jacket. Sidney put on a pair of navy slacks and a black Tshirt. It was about 9pm, so I suggested we make a move for the party, but Sidney said, No, not just yet. We dont want to be the first ones there. Let the party warm up a bit. Its Saturday night. There is no hurry. We went down to the kitchen, made ourselves some coffee and had a cigarette. At about 10pm we fetched the drinks from the fridge and set off to Stanleys place. His house was at the other end of Linthorpe Road. It was a three-storey Victorian middle terrace, with four steps leading up to the door. All the lights were on and the curtains were open, in the large bay window. I could see a few people inside, and Sidney remarked, Thank god were not the first ones here. We knocked on the door, and after a while Stanley opened it. Sidney said, Hope we are not too early, Stan. We have brought the drinks. He took the carrier bag from us. He then turned round to me and said, Glad you could make it. Im sorry but Ive forgotten your name. I replied, Its Carlo.

Of course, I remember. Do you mind if I call you Charley Boy? I could see hed already had a few. Just call me Carlo. I prefer if you just call me that. He just shrugged his shoulders. OK thats cool. No sweat man. Just as you wish. He led us up the corridor towards the living room. I could hear the strains of Dionne Warwick, singing Walk On By. Ill just pop into the kitchen and put these drinks in the fridge. You go in and start having fun, he said. Then turning to Sidney, he added, You know where everything is, dont you, Sid? We went into the spacious room. Sidney led the way. There was a large table in the corner of the room, with lots of drinks, sandwiches, things on sticks, including cheese and cubes of pineapple, vol-au-vents and plenty of crisps and salted peanuts. Sidney asked me what I wanted. I said, Ill have a vodka and lime please. Help yourself to food and stuff, he said. I took a plate and helped myself to a couple of sandwiches, and cheese and pineapple on sticks. I looked around the room. There were about ten people sitting around on two large sofas and armchairs, drinking and smoking. A couple of mini-skirted girls were dancing in the middle of the room. Two more were helping themselves to snowballs. I took my drink from Sidney and made my way to a small armchair at the far end of the room. I took a sip of my drink, munched on a sandwich, and soaked up the ambiance. The music was sultry and the lights were dimmed. I sipped my vodka slowly. I was not a great drinker. I could make a drink last a long time. I didnt like to get drunk and I always liked to be in control of my faculties. Sidney came up to me and I remarked, There arent too many girls here tonight. He laughed and replied, Its early yet. Dont worry. There will be. There are always lots of birds at Stanleys parties, even if he has to drag them off the street.

After a while Stanley came into the room. OK, you guys. I put the drinks inside the fridge. Ill get them out later when we run low. Does anyone want a top up? Sidney handed him a glass. I said I was all right for the time being. Come on, you two, have some fun, mingle a bit. Dont sit there all night. I lit a cigarette and continued sipping my drink. Stanley came back with Sidneys drink and turning round to me said, Come on. Ill introduce you to a few people. At that moment Sidney said to Stanley, There are some people coming up the path. Stanley excused himself and dashed out of the room. Sidney remarked, Looks like things are looking up! and saying that he lit a cigarette. Stanley came in the room with about a dozen people five of which were female. Stanley came up to me and said, Let me introduce you to some people. One of them I recognised from the night before at the Wimpy Bar. Stanley said, You remember Pat, dont you? She was in the Wimpy last night. Yes. I do remember her, I said. He turned to me and replied, Go on, have a dance with her, practically pushed me right up against her and then he walked away. I apologised to Pat but she didnt mind and said good-naturedly, Oh! Thats Stanley all over for you. The Beatles She Loves You was playing and we started. dancing Pat sang along with it. Then she smiled and said to me, I love this song. Dont you? It really sends me. I nodded in agreement and looked at her. She wasnt badlooking shorter than me with long dark hair with a side fringe and hazel eyes. She had a straight nose and a full mouth. We carried on dancing for a while, to the smoochie, Youll Never get to Heaven if you Break my Heart by Dionne Warwick. She pushed her slim body against mine murmuring in a low voice, This song, its so dreamy. I replied, Yeah its great far out, and snuggled up to her. The record finished. Pat turned to me and said, Stanley tells me that you are Italian. Is that right?

Yes, thats right, I replied. Ive heard that Italians have got quite a reputation, she laughed. Who have you been listening to? Ive only been in Stamford Hill two days. She smiled and replied, Not you personally. I mean Latin people, in general. I laughed again and remarked, Oh yeah, you had better watch out. We were still in the middle of the room waiting for the next record Blue Bayou, from Roy Orbison. Once again we began a slow dance. Mmm, I love this. Its nice. She then remarked, You dont sound all that foreign. Your English is very good. Well thats because Ive been in England since I was ten years old, I said. How old are you now, then? she asked. I am twenty-two, I replied. Oh! she said. You look younger. Do you think so? I said surprised by her answer. I always had the impression I was quite mature, I said. Im sure you are! she replied. But you look like a college boy. And then she added, I like that look its nice. The record finished and I asked Pat if she wanted a drink. Id love a Babycham please, she said. And I asked, Would you like something to eat? She thought for a moment and then said, Oh yes. Get me a couple of vol-au-vents, please. She sat down and I went to fetch them. Stanley came up to me and said, Enjoying the party then? Youll be OK with Pat if you play your cards right. He then went to put on another record. There were about twenty-five people in the room and about three or four spilling out into the hall. All right, everybody, boomed out Stanley. Its twisting time. Come on. Lets hear it from Chubby.

And with that he put on Lets Twist Again Like we did last Summer by Chubby Checker. Soon most of the people were gyrating frensiedly to the music moving from side to side and up and down, which was the peculiar style of the twist. I sat and slowly sipped my vodka and lime. Pat was eating the vol-au-vent and enjoying her Babycham. She turned to me and remarked, I think Ill sit this one out. Lets wait for a nice slow one. I nodded my head in agreement and said, Ill sit this one out. I prefer the slow ones as well. Sidney came over and sat next to us. Stanley knows how to throw a great party. He offered me a cigarette and added, Im not much of a dancer myself. I just like to lounge around have a few beers, have something to eat, smoke a little this and that and generally soak up the atmos. The party went on till late, with people coming and going. After a while, Sydney disappeared upstairs, I presumed, to one of the bedrooms upstairs. I had a couple more dances with Pat. At the end of the night, I found myself taking her home. She lived halfway down Stamford Hill, in a council flat, about eight minutes walk away. Her flat was on the second floor out of a building of four floors. We walked up the stone stairs and up to the blue front door. She turned round to face me and said, Thanks for seeing me home. Would you like to come in for a while? I was about to say, yes but then I heard a very annoyed male voice shout, Is that you Pat. Hurry up its late! I decided not to go in. Pat said, Its all right, its only my dad. Then she added, Will I see you again? I said I would see her next week and with that she smiled threw her arms around me and kissed me full on the lips. I was surprised by the intensity of the kiss, but I must admit, it wasnt unpleasant. She smiled and said, Youre sure you dont want to come in for a while? I replied, Better not. Your dads about. OK, she said.

Maybe next time then. She gave me a sweet smile, and kissed me again. I turned to her and said, What about next Friday? That will be great. What time will you call? she asked. What about seven is that all right for you? That will be fine. Then she said, Its been lovely meeting you. I had a fab time. Til next Friday then. Having said that she kissed me yet again this time, long and lingering. She then turned round and went indoors, closing the door behind her. It had been an amazing twenty-four hours. Everything was happening at breakneck speed. I was incredibly happy and exhilarated. If this was the shape of things to come in Stamford Hill, then I was in for hell of a ride! I could still taste the girls sweet mouth, as I turned into Linthorpe Road and walked back to Stanleys house. The party was breaking up. I looked around for Sidney. There were a few people, in the doorway, saying goodnight including Stanley but no sign of Sidney. I went up to Stanley and asked him if he had seen him. Hes gone home, he told me. I thanked him for the fabulous party, and was turning to go, when Stanley asked me, How did it go with the bird? I told you she was a bit of a goer, didnt I? He gave me a wicked grin. I replied, We didnt do anything. I just took her home thats all. Stanley, however, persisted. Shes a bit of all right though. Talk about bedroom eyes! I replied, Well she does seem to be quite a nice girl to me. Stanley gave me another of his grins. Well if you say so. Then he added, Sure you gonna see her again? Yes. Im going out with her next Friday. OK, good luck, he said and started walking back to his house. He then turned round and said, Ill see ya around then, and with that, he went indoors. I walked back to Sidneys house. I was hoping he was still up because I didnt have a key and I didnt want to disturb his parents at this time of night. Luckily for me, Sidney was still up and he said, Come in. Im making some coffee.

We went into the kitchen. He poured me a cup and offered me one of his Benson and Hedges. So what did you think of your first party on the Hill then? he asked. It was great. I really enjoyed it, I said, while sipping my coffee and taking a drag of my cigarette. Then, I added, That Stanley knows how to throw a good party. Oh yeah, he is a pretty good host, remarked Sidney. He then turned to me and enquired, How did it go with Pat? Pretty well. I took her home and she asked me in, but her father was up so I didnt go in, but she let me kiss her goodnight anyway. I took a sip of my coffee and added, Shes got a lovely mouth. Are you seeing her again? Sidney asked. I told him I was taking her out next Friday. We drank the coffee and smoked our cigarettes. We chatted for a while about the party. It was gone 2am, but tomorrow was Sunday and we could have a nice lie-in. Eventually we cleared up the cups and went to bed. I slept in Sidneys bed, whilst he had the camp-bed. The following day we got up late. I wasnt very hungry and only had coffee and toast with marmalade for breakfast, and for lunch the whole family sat down to a lovely chicken and cheese salad. After lunch, Sidney and I sat in the back garden. It was another blistering June day. There was a beautiful blue sky with just a couple of wispy white clouds. Later on we went to the Sunday afternoon pictures, at the Odeon in Stamford Hill, which was about five to eight minutes walk away from Sidneys house. It with Peter Cushing and Christopher Lee in Dracula. The show finished about 7pm. Instead of going back to dinner at Sidneys house, we went across the road to the salt beef bar; a place Id never been to before. Sidney turned to me saying. This place is really cosher; they do beautiful salt beef sandwiches here. What do you mean by cosher? I asked never having come across this term before. He stared at me for a moment with a perplexed look on his face then laughed quietly, You honestly dont know what cosher means?

I nodded. Well, it means. Then he laughed again as if in disbelief, You must know what in means? but before I could respond, he continued, I can see you dont know it means genuine, you know, the real thing properly Jewish especially when it comes to food you know prepared in a special way. Ive never heard of that word before, I admitted. Ah well, I dont know where youve been, but Im sure Ive mentioned it before. No I dont think so. Im sure that I would have remembered it otherwise. Then I added, Dont forget, Im Italian and in my household we spoke Italian. But I thought your stepfather was English. Yes he is, but my mother doesnt speak English and my stepdad is quite fluent in Italian, so we spoke Italian as my mother couldnt be bothered to learn English. Well, from now on youre going to learn many more new things living around here and the next one will be a salt beef sandwich. He smiled and repeated in an exaggerated manner, A cosher salt beef sandwich. And he was quite right; this was another new culinary experience for me, which I enjoyed very much. While we were there I met a couple of Sidneys friends. The first one was Nick, a third year medical student at UCL. And the second was Stephen, a trainee solicitor in his uncles company. I was still hungry, so Sidney treated me to another delicious sandwich. We washed down the food with an ice cold Coke and a cigarette. We chatted for another half hour or so and before we left, Nick invited me to a party he was having in a couple of weeks time. I thanked him and told him, I would see him there. It was getting late. Sidney and I said goodbye to his two friends and we headed back to Sidneys house. He started talking about Nick. He told me he had been to school with him and that he was extremely bright and hard working. He lived in Bethune Road with his parents, which was just a few minutes walk from Sidneys place. He also told me that they didnt have much money and Nick was on a full grant. Apparently, his parents were quite liberal and allowed him to throw a few parties from time to time and according to

Sidney, they were pretty wild. However, he said, Once hes had them, he puts his head down to his studies; he is very conscientious and ambitious. Well, the weekend was nearly over and tomorrow was back to work. Tonight was my turn on the camp-bed. The next few weeks went by quickly. Sidney and I worked for a company called Caldor Gas, in Great Portland Street, about eight minutes walk from Oxford Street tube station. I was in the same office as Sidney. My job consisted of checking invoices and opening up new accounts for clients, plus a bit of filing. The wages were quite good: fifteen pounds a week, plus luncheon vouchers of four shillings per day and plenty of scope for overtime, which was paid at the rate of time and a half. As well as working with Sidney, I also worked with a charming Indian lady, called Ruby. She was very beautiful and elegant. She wore a different sari every day. I was infatuated with her, but, unfortunately for me, she was very happily married and at least fifteen years older. At lunchtime I usually had a sandwich or a couple of rolls and sometimes, a piece of fruit, in a small coffee bar, down the road. Some days, if it was nice, Sidney and I would have our sandwiches in Regents Park and would look at all the pretty office girls dressed in their colourful and some, very short summer dresses and skirts. Night time was mainly spent on the Hill. I went out with Pat three or four times, but it didnt come to much. Sidney had a new girlfriend. He referred to her as a (shickser) I asked him what that meant. He said it was a non Jewish person. I asked if I was one. He laughed quietly, No you are definitely not one of those; you are a Gentile! Then I asked him if that term applied just to women. He laughed again and said, No, Carlo, not to all women. He didnt bother to elaborate, but later on I came to know the true meaning of that word. Some weekends we would go dancing down at the Royal, in Tottenham. Other times, there was always a party going on, somewhere on the Hill. At some of them, people were smoking pot and taking (blue and black bombers and purple hearts) but I was never tempted; I preferred and was quite happy, to smoke ordinary

cigarettes. On the occasional weekend, when there wasnt anything happening in Stamford Hill, we went up to the West End. My favourite club was the Whisky-a-go-go, which was in Wardour Street, five minutes walk from Leicester Square. There was usually four or five of us: myself, Sidney, Nick and Stephen. Sometimes, Stanley would come with us. It was a great dance club. I liked it because it was fairly intimate. There was a nice little bar where you could have coffee and something to eat, as well as alcoholic drinks, a good sized dance floor and some tables and chairs at the side. There was also, a small stage at the back where the occasional live group would play. Next to the stage there were two doors where you could play roulette and blackjack; I tried both, without much luck albeit with small stakes. I went to a couple of other clubs, from time to time; namely, the Marquee down the road and the Concorde in Oxford Street, but I preferred the whisky-a-go-go. Most of the time, however, I stayed in Stamford Hill; I was beginning to feel quite at home there. I had met a lot of friendly people who had made me very welcome. Things were going pretty well at work, at least, for me, anyway, but Sidney was becoming disenchanted with his job; coming in late and taking days off here and there. One day it came to a head. We were having lunch in a coffee bar opposite the Post Office tower. The juke box was playing, She Loves You by the Beatles. I was eating my egg and tomato sandwich, when Sidney, suddenly remarked, Did I ever tell you about my uncle who lives in Milan? No. You havent, I replied. Then I added, I thought your uncle was in business with your dad here! Im not talking about that one. Ive got more than one uncle. He took a bite of his sandwich and continued, The one my dad is in business with is the one that persuaded him to come to Stamford Hill in the first place, just before the Second World War. I found this story fascinating and asked him, But you were born in England werent you? Yes, I was born a couple of years after they got here so that makes me British.

He took out a cigarette and offered me one, and then he continued, My parents were living in Syria at the time and were having quite a lot of grief. I interrupted him and remarked, I thought they came from Israel? He replied, No, the state of Israel wasnt formed until 1947. They were Syrian Jews. Anyway as I was saying, they were having a really bad time, so my dad wrote to my uncle who was living in London and told him what was happening and my uncle offered to put him up in his house and also set him up in business with him. He stopped for a while and took a sip of his Coke, then he continued, My uncle told him to come to Stamford Hill and join him and in own words; Its like the Promised Land here, and thats how I ended up living in this place. He took a drag of his cigarette and continued, Anyway, I was talking about my uncle who lives in Milan; he owns a large apartment and could put us up and help us find jobs there. This suggestion really took me by surprise, to say the least. I took a sip of my coffee and remarked, I knew there was something on your mind, but this is a bit drastic. I had another sip of my drink and added, I wondered why you were so agitated, at work lately, but I had no idea you were going to come out with something like this. Sidney continued enthusiastically, Look, I know you miss Italy and you havent been back there since you came to England, so I thought you would be really keen about this idea of mine. He looked at his watch and then continued, Why dont we give it a try? Im so fed up with my job; Ive never been abroad. Come on what do you say? We give it a go? I replied, Yes Id love to go back home, but this is rather a big step, isnt it? And we would have to give up our well paid jobs; just on the off chance that your uncle can set us up? Oh yeah, he will. Lets give our notice and apply for a tax rebate and go. Obviously, he had given this idea quite a lot of thought. I said What makes you think we will get any tax back?

Look, he replied. This is the end of August, right?, We wait until the middle of September, pack in our jobs and inform the tax people that we will be out of the country for least six months, slap in our application and they will have to give us a full rebate of all the tax weve paid so far. I was a bit dubious about Sidneys proposition. I said, Are you sure about all this? My parents will give me some money. Then he added, Do you have much in the bank? About 70 I think, I replied. You will probably have more by the time we get our tax rebate, he added optimistically. This was happening much too quickly for me; I needed time to think about it. I lit a cigarette. The happy sound of Do Wah-DiddyDiddy by Manfred Mann was blasting away on the juke box. I finally turned to him and said, Do you really think it will work out? Of course it will. Dont worry. Ive got it all worked out. We will have a great time. Leave it all to me. He laughed and continued, Before we leave for Italy, we will throw a great going-away party; it will be the biggest party the Hill has ever seen! It was true that I wanted to see my country again, but I was somewhat apprehensive about giving up a job I was very happy in and leaving Stamford Hill, just as I was beginning to fit nicely with all the people and the culture. On the other hand, I was only twentytwo years old and if things didnt turn out well in Milan, I could always come back here and get another job and continue where I left off. I looked at my watch; it was well past our lunch hour. We left he coffee bar and walked back towards our office. I turned to Sidney and said, Look, Sid, Ive got to think about this. Give me a couple of days, OK? Yep. All right, its cool, he replied. I thought about it for the next couple of days and I must admit the more I thought about it, the more excited I became. So in the end we decided to go through with it. We gave our notice in and applied for a tax rebate. I was quite upset about leaving some of the people there, especially the lovely and elegant Ruby. We went for a

final drink with some of our work colleagues, who even held a whip round for us. It was great; that meant that we had a bit more money. I hugged and kissed Ruby goodbye. I would certainly miss her. It had been a pleasure and education working alongside her. It was almost the end of September and all the leaves on the trees along Stamford Hill were changing into their multicoloured autumnal shades of a myriad colours. We held our going-away party on the last Saturday of the month. The party was a huge success; with more than one hundred people attending; they were spilling out of the front room into the corridor, the kitchen and the stairs. Others were even standing outside, sitting on the front steps. However, we werent allowed to use the dining room that remained locked. It had been very hard work getting the party together, and it progressed late into the night and the early hours of the morning. I was feeling pretty shattered; I didnt eat that much and only had a few dances. Most of the people there were unknown to me. They were mainly friends of Sidney, Stanley, Nick and Stephen. There were quite a few girls with pretty dresses and mini-skirts, tight tops and some wore knee-high boots. I was sitting in an armchair in the corner of the room watching people gyrating and doing the twist. Some of the boys were wearing very sharp Mod suits suits with colourful shirts and ties. Stanley came up to me, patted me on the back and said, This is a really swinging party man, the best ever, then he added, let me get you another drink old son. I told him that I was quite happy with my vodka and lime, to which he replied, Ill be very sorry to see you go I have only started to get to know you. He gave me another tap on the back and walked away to get himself another drink. He could really put it away! Some of the girls including Pat kissed and hugged us goodbye while the boys shook hands and patted us on the back, and wished us good luck, thanking us for a memorable party. By the time everyone had left it was almost morning and we flopped on our beds, tired but also exhilarated. Before I dropped off to sleep I asked Sidney, What about all the mess downstairs that we have got to clean up?

Dont worry about that. Mum will do it its not the first time Ive had a party you know, he replied. We slept well into the afternoon. We missed breakfast and lunch, and when we eventually went downstairs everything had been beautifully tidied and cleaned up. We had a light supper and definitely no wine! We finished off with lots of coffee and Sidney offered me one of his Benson & Hedges. Later on at about 10pm Sidney suggested that we should go for a walk down the Hill into Stoke Newington. He said, It is a lovely night and we have no work tomorrow, so come on lets go down to the falafel caf. What on earth is that? I asked perplexed. Of course I had absolutely no idea what that they were and told Sidney. He laughed and assured me that I would love them. So we walked down to Stoke Newington, turned right at the bottom of Stamford Hill into Manor Road past a little row of shops and went into this little caf. There were about twelve tables. Facing each table, and at the end there was a small counter and TV on the wall high above it with a small juke box in the corner. Sidney said, You sit down there, pointing to one of the free tables, and Ill order us a couple of falafels and lemon tea. You have to go up to the counter and then they bring them over, he said. I looked around. The place was about half full, but I particularly noticed an old man sitting two tables away, wearing a grey raincoat with a shock of silver hair brushed back, and small round glasses perched halfway down his aquiline nose, intensely studying the pages of the Financial Times. He had a little notebook and was scribbling something down while at the same time sipping his tea. He suddenly looked up, adjusted his glasses, looked at me, nodded his head and uttered just one word, shalom. He then continued scribbling into his notebook. After a couple of minutes Sidney came back. I asked him if he knew the old man. Oh yeah, its Sammy; hes been coming here for years. He is Polish; he used to be in a concentration camp. Hes a great character a born survivor. He studies the market. He isnt bad at it! It supplements his pension a bit, he replied.