Just a few weeks ago, as Purim approached, the halls of the local Jewish school were buzzing with excitement. Children compared costumes.Families planned elaborate mishloach manos themes.Teenagers talked about the “smashing Purim” they were going to have with their friends. But in a small house in Salford, the K. family felt none of that excitement. Only dread. Leah* heard it firstJust a few weeks ago, as Purim approached, the halls of the local Jewish school were buzzing wit

Esther always loved the start of a new term. There was something hopeful about it — freshly sharpened pencils, neatly labelled exercise books, uniforms laid out the night before. Even when money was tight, she made sure her three children walked into school feeling prepared and proud. But this year felt different. Over the summer, Esther’s hours at the care home had been reduced. “Temporary,” they had said. “Just budget adjustments.” She tried not to panic. Her husband, Danie

When Rivka* first contacted L’Chaim Foodbank, she apologised — three times — before she even explained why she was calling. “I’m not usually like this,” she said quietly. “I’ve never asked for help before.” Rivka and her husband Eli* had been married for twelve years. They had four children, aged between three and ten, and had always managed on a modest but stable income. Eli worked long hours; Rivka ran the home with military-level budgeting. There was never extra, but there