The Potato Factory by Bryce Courtenay Read Free Book Online

brass buttons and into the interior of the great coat, pulled from within it a watch chain which soon enough produced a large, though not expensive-looking, watch. Glancing down at it from under his peaked cap he addressed the queue.
    'I shall allow five minutes for Mr Goldstein to settle and then the first in the line will proceed through the gate to the door! You will oblige Mr Goldstein by knockin' on the outside door, whereupon you will remove your 'at and proceed in an inwardly direction and without waitin' for an answer! Mr Goldstein will be in the office to the left of the door upon which you shall again knock and then immediately enter! For them what is ambidextrous and 'asn't 'ad the misfortune to 'ave been trained in 'is Majesty's military forces, the left side is the side what's got the coat-stand!'
    Anxious laughter came from the mist as men strained to catch every word, fearful of the consequences of making a mistake.
    The imperious Sergeant Lawrence looked down at his watch again and then glanced sternly at Mary.
    'Goldstein, you understand, miss? Mr Goldstein!'
    Mary nodded, feeling herself beginning to tremble.
    Mary knocked on the outer door of the warehouse and then, without waiting for a reply, did as she had been told and entered. To her left was a heavy, freestanding coat-stand on which hung the overgrown top hat together with its owner's coat and scarf. Behind it was a door with a frosted glass upper panel on which in gold relief lettering was the name Jacob Goldstein, Prop. The door seemed designed especially for Mr Goldstein, for it was not an inch higher than five feet though one and a half times as wide as one might normally expect an office door to be. Mary tapped nervously on the surface of the glass, her heart pounding in her ears, her knees feeling light, as though they might give at any moment, and the palms of her hands were wet.
    'You must be here comink, please,' a voice answered in an accent which Mary immediately recognised. She had spent her childhood around Rosemary Lane and the Whitechapel markets and the accent was unmistakably that of a German Jew.
    Mary entered and curtsied to the man, who sat well back from a large desk. He was dressed in a morning suit and his huge stomach, she felt certain, would not permit his very short arms to reach to the edge of the desk, the top of which contained a pot of blacking and a goose quill pen, a large writing tablet and a medium-sized brass bell of the kind a schoolmaster might use to summon his pupils from play.
    'Good mornin', Mr Goldstein,' Mary said, summoning all her courage into a nervous smile.
    Mr Goldstein seemed astonished to see her and commenced immediately to bluster.
    'Ach! Vot is dis? A vooman? You are a vooman! Vot is vanting a vooman here? You are vanting to see me, ja?'
    'I come about the job, sir. The assistant clerk... the position what was advertised?'
    Mr Goldstein's bewilderment persisted and Mary added desperately, 'It were advertised on the 'oardings, sir.'
    'You are a vooman and you vant you can be a clerk?' Mr Goldstein was now somewhat recovered, though still plainly bemused.
    'I'm most 'appy to do a test, anythin' you want, sir! Please, your 'onour, er, Mr Goldstein, don't send me away, give me a chance, I can do it, gov... honest I can!'
    Mary was suddenly conscious of Mr Goldstein staring at the region of her waist and that the merest semblance of a smile had appeared on his moon-round face.
    'Abacus!' He pointed a fat finger at her midriff. 'You can use, ja?'
    'Yes, sir, Mr Goldstein, your honour, since I was a brat... er child, give me a sum, any sum you like, sir.'
    'In Armenia, also ven I vos a Kind! Das ist wunderbar? he chuckled. 'You are vonting I should give you some sums? Ja, I can do zis!'
    Whereupon, to Mary's astonishment, he pushed his chair violently backwards. She now saw it to be on tiny wheels and possessed of a seat which could swivel. She observed that the points of his highly polished boots only