Author's Note: None.Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses,places, events, locales, and incidents are used in a fictitious manner.Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events ispurely coincidental.RTShe closed the door. They had delivered the parcel on time, as they hadcompassionately undertaken to do. She had given the courier a small tipfrom the left pocket of the apron she had been wearing. The courier hadwished her all the best and had walked back to his van. It left the veryhumble townhouse neighborhood.She, once, had been younger and had known so much more about life.She was older now. Her hair was salt and pepper and hung lifelessly. Herforehead was wrinkled: age and worry. Her eyes were tired. Cheeks thathad once burst with colour were now splotched and pallid. There was nosmile on her lined face. The corners of her mouth were turned down.She cradled the parcel as a mother would cradle a child. She rememberedthe very first. What struck him most of all was that very few of the tenements showed any lights after dark. Noah had enough basic materials to start his business. The regular supplies he needed he would get on credit from a Jewish wholesaler in Camden Town.After working through the night he was ready to start selling his wares. The cost was two candles for a penny, and even at that price, he sold very few. Noah soon realised that he was in the wrong place. By night he made his wares and by day he crossed over the river to Kensington, a far more upmarket place. Business picked up quite quickly, he even doubled the price of the candles and could be sold out in a few hours. Noah knew what he had to do but how? There was no money only enough to keep the business going.One winter afternoon whilst out on the streets he saw a very familiar figure, It was his niece Rebecca, she had moved to London with her mother a few years ago. There was however a slight problem, she was clearly touting for business. Her.
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