In 1935 Kenny is fourteen. It's the Great Depression and he's off to find work. If he doesn't find a job they might split up the family and send his sister away. In 1959 Kenny's daughter Frances is seven. She stays awake at night praying to keep everyone she knows safe. And, then in 1991 she's living in Jerusalem, on her own, with a jewish child, in the middle of the Gulf War. In 1975 Kanti and Raj live in the same street as Kenny's family. Raj is always fighting. Their neighbours say that the curry he eats that heats his blood. But they don't know anything. They don't know about where Kanti and Raj came from, why they are living above a milkbar when they used to have a big house with a verandah, or about the little sister who used to wear red ribbons in her hair. Life is never what you expect, and nor is this collection of sensitive stories about generation gaps, persecution and new beginnings.