by June Tate
‘I do love you, Tom.’ She felt a warm glow as she uttered the words. She did love him, but it wasn’t as simple as that. ‘We have our whole lives in front of us. Let’s not rush things.’
‘The trouble with you, Lily Pickford, is you’re too bloody independent!’
The following day, Lily saw Amy standing outside the pub. She left the shop and walked up to her.
‘Hello, ducks. Decided to go on the game, have yer?’
‘No, of course not!’
‘It was a joke, Lily. A joke. What’s on your mind, girl?’
Suddenly feeling shy, Lily said quietly, ‘I need to ask you something personal. In private.’
Seeing the worried expression on the young girl’s face, Amy realised that, to Lily, this was a serious matter.
‘All right. How about I come to the shop later tonight when old mother Cohen has gone home?’
‘Would you really, Amy? Thanks, that would be great. What time?’
‘About seven, before I go to work.’
Filled with relief, Lily said, ‘I’ll watch out for you.’
All day she worried as to how she was going to approach Amy. She didn’t want to divulge too much about her past, but there were things she must know, and Amy was the only person she could ask.
As good as her word, Amy turned up at seven o’clock and Lily let her in, carefully locking the shop door behind them. In the dim glow from the one light, the two women sat on the shabby straight-backed chairs.
‘All right, darlin’, I’m all yours. Ask away.’
‘Well you see, it’s like this,’ began Lily. ‘If a girl gets married and she isn’t a virgin but her husband thinks she is, will he know when he makes love to her?’ There. She’d said it.
Amy scratched her forehead. ‘How much do you know about your own body, love? I mean your private parts?’
Lily shrugged. ‘Not much.’
‘Christ! I feel like your mother.’
Lily listened carefully as Amy gave her a completely frank and graphic account of the sex act, as only a prostitute could. ‘What’s the problem, love?’ Amy asked. ‘Look, I’m your friend. Anything you tell me I swear to God, I won’t repeat it to a living soul.’
Lily studied Amy. The earnest expression and concern in her eyes were genuine, and she trusted her. ‘Tom wants to marry me. But I’m not a virgin.’
‘How’s he going to know? When he first makes love to you, just give a little cry of pain. He won’t know any different. Listen, darlin’, by then he’ll be so bloody worked up, he won’t even think about it.’
Lily gave a sigh of relief. ‘Thanks, Amy. You’re a real brick.’
Realising that Lily was not a girl to give her body to anyone, Amy drew her own conclusions. She took a cigarette out of her bag and lit it. ‘I was raped once.’ She didn’t look at Lily. ‘I wasn’t much older than you are now. It was an uncle of mine. Took me out for the day. I was really excited. Then he took me to his home … Rotten bastard.’ She paused.
‘Oh Amy, I’m so sorry.’
With a wicked grin Amy said, ‘No, don’t be. I paid the perverted sod back a few years later.’
‘How?’
‘I met a couple of sailors when I first went on the game, and we became friends, although they still paid for sex. But they beat him up for me one night.’
With wide eyes Lily asked, ‘Did he know why?’
‘Oh yes, he knew why – I was there when they did it. I stood and watched.’
I know just how you feel, thought Lily. She wouldn’t bat an eye if she saw her father treated the same way. It would be a kind of justice.
‘You thinking of marrying the wild Irishman, then?’
With flushed cheeks Lily said, ‘Well, I’m thinking about it, but I want to wait a while.’
‘You’ll have to get your parents’ permission.’
Lily felt the blood drain from her face. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, you’re under age, aren’t you?’
‘What?’
‘You have to be twenty-one.’
With a forced smile Lily said, ‘Well, that’s all right then. Besides, I’m an orphan, so it doesn’t really count. But as I’m old enough it doesn’t matter.’
Amy looked knowingly at her. ‘Well, you’re a bright kid. I’m sure you know what you’re doing. Listen, darlin’, if there’s anything I can ever do for you, you just ask, OK?’ She caught hold of Lily’s hands. ‘Listen to me, this is a hard old world. If we can’t help each other, then it’s even worse.’ She stood up. ‘Now I must go and earn some money.’
‘Have you ever been in love, Amy?’
The smile left Amy’s face as she answered, ‘No, dearie. Many men have wanted to lay me down, but I haven’t met one yet that has wanted to pick me up.’ She walked towards the door. ‘Never mind, I do all right. See you tomorrow.’
Alone in the shop, Lily pondered on this new problem. She was under-age for marriage. Tom wouldn’t wait for years without some explanation and she certainly wouldn’t go near her father to ask for his consent. Most likely he wouldn’t give it anyway. If she lied about her age and got married, would it be legal? She sighed. If she told Tom the truth about her age, would he understand, or would he perhaps be angry with her? And would he still want her? Maybe he’d think her too young for him. She thought she’d go mad with all these uncertainties running around inside her head. Why did life have to be so complicated, just when she had it within her reach to be happy?
Vittorio sat in his leather chair behind a dark mahogany desk, puffing on his Havana cigar. He tapped the edge of the desk with his fingertips. His lips were drawn in a tight line, and his eyes were burning with anger. Picking up some bags of change, he made his way downstairs to the club.
It wasn’t yet opening time and the staff were making final preparations for a busy night ahead. Tables were laid with expensive linen and cutlery, the gambling rooms were ready for those who would certainly chance their luck. Upstairs the girls waited, chatting together.
Vittorio walked towards the bar, lifted the flap and went over to the barman, who was polishing glasses. Handing him the bags, Vittorio said, ‘Here’s the rest of the float. You’d better check it.’
The barman tipped out the florins and half-crowns and counted them carefully under Vittorio’s watchful eye, placing the coins in tidy piles.
‘It’s all here, sir.’
‘Then put it in the till.’
The metal drawer was opened and the money transferred. As the last small pile was carefully placed inside, Vittorio slammed the drawer shut, trapping the man’s fingers. He let out an agonised yell of pain.
Vittorio pushed even harder. ‘You’ve been dipping into my money, Johnny, and now you’ve been caught with your fingers really in the till.’
‘No, guv. I haven’t, honest!’
‘Honest! You don’t know what the word means. Not only are you a thief, but you’re a fool as well, thinking you can put one over on me.’
Johnny was bent almost double with the pain. ‘Please let go,’ he pleaded.
Vittorio did so suddenly and the barman withdrew his crushed fingers. ‘They’re broken!’ He stared at his boss in disbelief. ‘You broke my bloody fingers.’
The eyes that stared back at him were cold. ‘It should be your bloody neck.’
‘I’ve got to get to the hospital.’
‘When I’ve finished with you, you’ll need a mortuary.’
Johnny’s eyes were filled with terror. ‘Please, Mr Teglia. I’m very sorry. I won’t ever do it again.’
‘Correct. You won’t have the chance.’ He beckoned one of his henchmen over. ‘Johnny no longer works for me. He’s been dipping into my money. Deal with him.’
George Coleman, the ex-boxer, tut-tutted. ‘What a silly thing to do. I always knew you were a bit fly, but I didn’t think you was stupid.’ In a steel-like grip, George took hold of the man and led him towards the back entrance. ‘Can you swim, son?’
The door banged shut behind them.
It was ten o’clock and the club was packed, the dining room filled to capacity. Vittorio looked around at his clients. There were several of the town’s dignitaries enjoying the excellent food, prepared by a chef with the highest references. The front of the house was there to create an air of respectability, but behind locked doors it was a different matter.
He gave a sardonic smile. These people sickened him. They were puffed up with their own importance, yet here they were, enjoying good food, many here to gamble, some to have sex with one of his girls, knowing discretion was guaranteed.
It gave The Maltese power. His customers, anxious to have their particular perversions satisfied, were in a position to help him if any difficult situations cropped up with the law. One telephone call was all it took to smooth things out. Not many knew that the Chief Constable liked young boys, for instance. Thus Vittorio was able to run his business undisturbed for most of the time. When a raid was planned, he was informed. He knew where to pay, and who to pay … He was invincible.
George Coleman approached. ‘The barman’s been sorted, guv.’
‘Good. When will they learn that I’m not a man to be messed with?’
Grinning, George said, ‘I chucked him in the dock. Stupid bugger couldn’t swim, either.’
‘So what happened to him?’
‘I threw him a life-belt and walked away.’
‘Well, if he wants to survive, he’ll learn to swim to it or sink. Either way he won’t mess with me again.’
‘Any orders for tonight, guv?’
Vittorio frowned. ‘Yes. That young boy – you know, the one whose father owns the Pier – don’t give him too much credit. He’s a bad gambler and an even worse payer. If he wants a woman, he pays cash, understand?’
‘Sure. He’ll be no trouble – I’ll see to him personally.’
Walking away, Vittorio inspected the restaurant. He was a perfectionist and his staff were aware of this. The clients expected the best and they paid through the nose for it. The Club Valletta had a fine reputation and God help any of the staff who were not on their toes.
Satisfied at last that all was as it should be, Vittorio returned to his office, still annoyed at the audacity of the barman. No one crossed him and got away with it. He was a hard man but a fair one, he liked to think. OK, so he sailed very close to the wind as far as the law was concerned, but he supplied a good service. The Club offered an excellent, if expensive, night’s entertainment, the service was impeccable and the gambling honest. The Maltese was no fool. If the punters suspected they were being cheated, they wouldn’t come.
He thought suddenly of Lily. When first he saw her in the cafe, it had been his intention to bring her here as a prostitute, but after meeting her again, he knew he didn’t want that. He didn’t want any other man to enjoy the pleasures of her body. Vittorio gave a slow smile. She wouldn’t have it anyway – she’d made that quite clear. The girl was bright, articulate and highly amusing. He would enjoy getting to know her better. But there was no rush. She would eventually be a part of his life, of that he was sure. He could feel it in his bones.
Chapter Five
Lily was unhappy. For the past three months Tom had been badgering her about getting married, and she could see that his patience was wearing thin.
Tonight they had been to the Palace Theatre, one of Lily’s favourite places. She so enjoyed the variety programmes, but she especially loved to watch the singers – Marie Lloyd in particular. She herself would love to go on the stage and perform. She imagined herself strutting about, getting the audience singing with her and hearing their applause at the end. It would be wonderful, she thought. She was saying as much to Tom as he walked her home.
But Tom was silent. She noticed that during the evening he hadn’t joined in with the singing either. She sighed, knowing what was to come. It was the same old argument.
‘You’d rather be doing anything than be me wife, it seems to me.’
‘Oh Tom, don’t start.’ She clung to his arm. ‘We’re happy, aren’t we?’
His stormy expression as he looked at her told her he wasn’t. ‘I don’t understand you, Lily Pickford. There are scores of women who would only be too happy to be asked to share me life.’
I’m not going to have him ruin a lovely evening, Lily thought. Besides, she was fed up with the constant pressure. ‘Then I suggest you ask one of them!’
She saw the fire in his eyes. ‘Maybe I should.’
They walked back to The Ditches in silence.
Lily never invited him inside the shop. He felt so strongly against her living there that she didn’t want him to see her humble corner. She herself was quite pleased with her little abode. She had acquired a clean mattress and bought some bed linen off Rachel Cohen – paid for out of her wages, naturally! She’d placed two screens around the corner of her bedroom to make it private, and with a washbasin and a mirror, she was quite self-sufficient. What more did she need at this time?
‘I’m going away, Lily.’
The sudden statement sent a chill through her. ‘Going away – where?’
‘I’m going to Ireland, to see me mother. She hasn’t been well.’
Lily was immediately sympathetic. ‘Oh Tom, I’m sorry. I hope it isn’t anything serious?’
‘She’s had pneumonia, but apparently is getting better.’
‘You didn’t tell me.’
‘I didn’t know how serious it was meself, until I got a letter this morning.’
‘You are coming back?’
He hesitated. ‘That all depends.’
She felt her stomach tighten. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Do I have anything to come back for, that’s what I want to know.’
Oh God, please don’t let me lose him, she prayed fervently. ‘You have me, Tom.’
‘Do I, Lily? I don’t think I do.’
She grabbed at his coat and held on. ‘Don’t say things like that, Tom. I love you.’
‘I’m not even sure of that any more. If you really loved me you would want to be me wife. You would have named the day. We could be planning our wedding, but you keep giving me excuse after excuse.’ His expression was cold. ‘What else can I think?’
She was beside herself. Yes, she kept putting him off, for she wasn’t able to marry him unless she lied about her age, but she couldn’t let him go like this. She loved him too much.
Holding his face tenderly in her hands, she kissed him. ‘I love you more than life itself. I want to be with you, for ever.’
There was a flicker of hope in his eyes. ‘You mean that, Lily?’
‘I mean it, Tom. Honest I do. When you come back from Ireland, we’ll sort out a date for the wedding.’
He clasped her to him, raining kisses on her lips, her eyes, her hair. ‘Oh Lily, darlin’, I was beginning to give up all hope. I want you so much. I want to hold you in me arms, make love to you, wake up beside you in the morning and know you’ll be there when I get home at night.’
Lily held him tightly, overwhelmed by his words. ‘I want those things too.’
He tilted her chin upwards, and kissed her tenderly. ‘When I come back, we’ll look for a house to rent. We’ll choose some nice second-hand stuff. One day you’ll have a place to call your own. I’ll work hard, you’ll see. It will be wonderful, being Mrs Tom McCann. You’ll never regret it.’
They held on to each other, exchanging kisses filled with passion. ‘We’ll make wonderful babies,’ he said softly.
Lily felt her cheeks redden. ‘Tom!’ she chided.
His laughter echoed down the street. ‘My, but you’re a shy one, for all your cheek.’ He kissed her forehead. ‘I’ll be gentle with you, darlin’. I’ll teach you how to enjoy being loved as a wife should. I know you’re a virgin, but there’s nothing to be frightened of. Love and sex go together.’
As he held her close Lily thought, No, Tom. Sex isn’t always about love at all.
�
��I’ll be away a week, unless me mother’s really sick. If I’m going to be longer, I’ll write to you.’
Her eyes lit up. ‘Will you? I’ve never had a letter in my life.’
‘In that case I’ll write anyway. Tell you how much I love you … and miss you.’
It was late when Tom reluctantly left her and she let herself into the shop, locked the door and sat on her bed, alone. ‘Well, I’ve really gone and done it now,’ she said aloud. Then she had a frightening thought. What if she had to produce a birth certificate? Not only would Tom discover her real age, but her name would be different. There would be so much explaining to do – and what would have to be revealed then? Her eyes closed in despair. She had committed herself to Tom, but was frightened of the consequences.
The next day, weighed down with her problems, she was uncharacteristically short-tempered with the customers, telling one woman who was unable to make up her mind over a dress, ‘Take it or leave it, missus! If you don’t want it, someone else will.’
When the woman walked off in a huff, Rachel pulled Lily roughly into the shop. ‘You just lost me a sale. I can’t afford to lose money, now pull yourself together. What’s up with you?’
Lily apologised. ‘I’m sorry. Tom has gone away, back to Ireland to see his sick mother.’
‘Humpf! That’s no reason to get snotty with the paying customers. He’s coming back, isn’t he?’
Lily nodded.
‘Then I suggest you go out there and work harder. You had better make up the loss by the end of the day, girl, or you’ll get a tongue-lashing from me.’
With a sardonic look Lily said, ‘I thought I’d just had one.’
That evening, Lily walked down to the Esplanade, thinking the sea air might blow away her troubled thoughts. En route she saw her friend Amy.
‘Blimey! You look as if the end of the world is near. If you were to wear a placard saying so, no one would doubt it.’
‘I’m in a lot of trouble, Amy.’
‘You’re not up the spout, are you?’
‘No,’ said Lily. ‘It’s worse than that.’
