“George the Greek came swarming out from behind his stall as Yashim stood picking over the remains of a basket of salad leaves. The sight seemed to drive him into a frenzy.
‘What for yous comes so late in the day, eh? Buying this old shit! Yous an old lady? Yous keeping rabbits now? I puts everything away.’
He set his hands on his hips.
‘What you wants, anyways?’
Yashim tried to think. If Palewski came to dinner, as promised, he’d want something reasonably substantial. Soup, then, and manti – the manti woman would have some left, he was sure. He could make a sauce with olives and peppers from the jar. Garlic he had.