Once he saw me count change before handing it to a beggar. ‘Next time, don’t make a display of it,’ he said. ‘Give as if you were taking.’ It took me a long time to understand this. If we passed labourers or street-sweepers eating their lunch and they invited us to join them, which was the custom – meaning they never expected you to actually join them – Father would sit in his fine clothes on the ground amongst the men and, if I was not as quick as he was, he would say, ‘Come, an honest meal feeds a hundred.’ He would take a bite or two, then conduct his magic trick, sliding bank
