by June Tate
She couldn’t believe her luck. Fred was so good to her, so thoughtful and caring. She was suddenly saddened. Tom used to be the same. She wondered where he would be spending his Christmas, and with whom.
Seeing the sadness in her eyes, Fred wondered who it was that filled her thoughts. It was like a knife going through him when he thought she might have loved someone. The fact that she’d had other men when she was on the game didn’t bother him one bit. But he was falling in love with this lovely young girl and he didn’t want anyone else sharing her heart.
The evening was crisp and cold. The sky was almost clear and the moon shone. Church-bells were ringing and Lily had an overwhelming desire to go to church. She knew there was a midnight mass, although she didn’t know what a mass was. Turning to Fred she asked, ‘Do you ever go to church?’
He looked at her with some surprise. He never knew what this girl was going to say next. ‘I used to go to St Michael’s,’ he admitted. ‘And guess what? I even thought of joining the choir when I was a kid.’
It was Lily’s turn to be surprised. ‘Can you sing then?’ She didn’t remember him doing so round the house.
He chuckled wickedly. ‘Tone deaf, love. But they used to give the choirboys tea and buns.’
‘Oh, you!’ she chided.
‘Would you like to go?’ he asked gently.
‘Could we go at midnight?’
When Lily had first visited St Michael’s Church, she’d found it a profound experience, but that was nothing to what she felt as she entered the door that Christmas Eve.
The lights were bright, illuminating the lofty roof and the wonderful arches. The altar and pulpit were decorated with holly and flowers, and the scene of the nativity, its figures carved from clay, was laid out in its simplicity, for all to admire.
Fred handed Lily a prayer book, opening it up for her to follow the service. They looked at each other with conspiratorial smiles as the choir made its way up the aisle. As the service went on, Lily was transported to another world. She joined in the carols, singing enthusiastically in a sweet pure voice, which surprised Fred, standing beside her.
This girl who shared his home was an unknown quantity, he realised. He watched her face, aglow, enjoying the pomp and ceremony of the festive occasion, and he saw her breathe in the incense ecstatically as if it had magical powers.
They stayed in their seats, observing whilst people took the sacrament. Lily was filled with peace and wonderment. At the end of the service, they slowly filed out of the church. The vicar was standing at the door. A look of puzzled recollection crossed his face as Lily stopped beside him.
‘Hello, Vicar. That was a beautiful service. Thank you.’
He saw the happiness shining in her eyes and said, ‘Thank you, my dear. God bless you.’
‘Oh, He does,’ she said. And walked away, holding Fred’s arm.
That night, as he settled down to sleep, mulling over the events of the night, Fred heard his door open. Lily climbed into the bed and snuggled down beside him. Kissing him on the cheek, she whispered, ‘Happy Christmas, Fred.’
Chapter Eight
Tom McCann spent Christmas Day with the Harris family. Bill’s wife, Jessy, was like a small bee, flitting in and out of the room, bearing food, keeping up a constant happy chatter.
Mary looked across the table at Tom and grinned as he politely refused yet another helping of Christmas pudding.
‘So help me, Jessy, I have no room for another morsel!’
‘Well, if you’re sure.’
‘Whist your hush, woman,’ said Bill. ‘Just sit down and relax. You make me tired with your rushing about.’
They all sat around the range, luxuriating in the warmth, subdued by too much food.
A while later, Mary rose from her seat and began to clear the table. As Jessy went to help her, Tom got up. ‘You sit still with your husband, I’ll help Mary.’
When they were alone in the scullery, Tom drew Mary to him and kissed her lingeringly upon the lips.
As he released her, she chided him softly. ‘Behave yourself, Tom. They may come in and see us.’
‘Don’t be silly, girl, of course they won’t. They were young themselves, you know, and after all, it isn’t as if we’ve just met.’
As she washed the dishes, passing them to Tom to be dried, Mary thought about the previous months. She and Tom had been going out together regularly, but he’d not made his intentions clear, and she wondered if he would ever get round to popping the question. There was no doubt in her mind that Tom McCann was the man for her.
Mary had plans. She didn’t want to stay in the dock area for the rest of her life. She wanted to move away and live in a small house. One with a garden for her children to play in, near a nice school, with nice refined children, not ruffians. She conveniently forgot, of course, about her own schooldays.
Working as she did for the doctor and his wife, Mary had acquired the taste for better things: good manners, decent clothes, gracious living. She wanted some of that for herself, and Tom was the man to give it to her. He was a skilled man, earning good money in the docks, and he was handsome. She was the envy of her friends.
He never spoke of the girl who had jilted him, and once when she’d brought the subject up, he’d quelled her questions so adamantly, she’d never dared mention it again. But often, she wondered about her. Who was she? What was she like? Where was she now? And … would she ever return?
Humming softly to herself, Lily made her way to the market, an empty basket on her arm. It was good to be alive and she was content. Since she’d crept into Fred’s bed on Christmas Eve, their relationship had blossomed. Fred was delighted in their intimacy and couldn’t do enough for her. Lily knew he was in love with her, and she felt a pang of guilt that she couldn’t return such feelings. She was very fond of him and at ease in her newfound way of life, but there was only one man who had claimed her heart. However, as time passed, she’d grown philosophical about it. If this was second-best, it wasn’t at all bad.
She missed Rachel and Amy, but that was all behind her now. The dark rings under her eyes had long since faded. Fred was earning, and they didn’t go short. True, they didn’t live the high life, but they had enough for their needs, an occasional drink at the local, and they had each other.
Fred sometimes fretted about the difference in their ages, telling her she was living with an old man, but she laughed him out of such moments. A younger man would be off at the pub most nights, leaving her all alone, she told him. Fred was content in her company, although she did urge him to go and meet his mates, which he did on occasion.
Lily enjoyed the market, exchanging banter with the market-traders. She especially liked shopping when the light had faded and the stalls were lit by paraffin lamps. It gave the place a jaunty, festive air.
She’d made her purchases and was walking away when she spied Vittorio Teglia coming towards her. She stopped abruptly. Until now, she’d not encountered anyone from her days in The Ditches, having kept away from the old haunts, and it threw her completely.
‘Hello, Lily. Where on earth have you been these past months?’
‘I’ve been around.’
‘Then how is it no one has seen you? I went to enquire at Mrs Cohen’s, but she was very evasive.’ His dark-brown eyes seemed to bore right through her. ‘Why did you suddenly disappear like that?’ He caught hold of her arm as if to stay her flight.
Feeling his hand upon her, Lily experienced tingles of both fear and excitement. What was it about this man that affected her so? She knew The Maltese was a bad person; perhaps that was part of the fascination.
Holding her head high, she tossed her hair back and met his steady gaze. ‘Disappear? I didn’t disappear. I just had a better offer.’
He raised an eyebrow and looked at her apparel. Though clean and neat, her coat had definitely seen better days. He gazed into her eyes. ‘It wasn’t as good as my offer. Why do you waste your talents on those who can’t
give you what you deserve?’
Lily’s eyes flashed with anger, her nostrils flared. ‘How dare you stand there and say such things! All you want me to do is whore for you in your club!’
He smiled with amusement and said, in a voice both soft and seductive, ‘Not true. You have no idea what plans I have for you, Lily. But I can give you my word, you would not be a whore.’
Suddenly, she was curious. ‘What do you want of me, then?’
His eyes were twinkling. ‘I see I’ve got your interest at last.’ He chuckled. ‘I will tell you only when you come to me. You won’t be dressed as you are now, that I can promise you. It would give me the greatest pleasure to take care of you. You, Lily, will want for nothing.’
‘I don’t want for anything now, ta very much.’
‘You enjoy being poor?’
She was highly indignant. ‘I’m not poor!’ She held out her basket of vegetables. ‘Look. Poor people can’t afford all this.’ She picked up a wrapped parcel. ‘This is rabbit.’
He gave a cursory glance at the basket. ‘And you are going home now, wherever home might be, to cook it, I suppose?’
‘Yes, of course I am.’
He caught hold of her hand, his tapering fingers smoothing her skin, sending shock waves through her body at his touch. ‘You, my dearest Lily, should have someone to cook for you. Living with me, you would enjoy a life of luxury such as you’ve never dreamed.’ He lifted her fingers to his lips. ‘One day, Lily, you will come to me and share my life. It is your destiny. All I have to do is wait.’
Watching him walk away, Lily was totally unsettled by the encounter. The most peculiar thing was that, ever since she’d first met Vittorio, she’d had the strangest notion that their future was somehow entwined. It was an eerie feeling. Today, he had put as much into words. She suddenly shivered.
‘Things are getting real tight, Knocker. I’m going to have to do something else to earn a few bob.’
Knocker Jones nodded in agreement. Looking at Fred he said, ‘I know. Things are tough at the moment. I’m finding it hard meself.’
The two men sat drinking mugs of tea in the room Knocker grandly referred to as his office. It was in fact a corner of a shed, filled to capacity with old tat he’d picked up with his rag and bone cart. He had a small goods yard where he stored everything, and housed Charlie his carthorse in a tumbledown stable.
Loosening his grubby white silk scarf from around his neck, Knocker said, ‘There is a whisper of something coming through the docks. Bit dodgy of course, but I’ve got me finger in the pie, so to speak. Might be a few quid in it for you, Fred.’
Frowning, the other man answered, ‘Well, beggars can’t be choosers. Count me in. I’ve got commitments these days, I need the money.’
A sly smile crossed Knocker’s face. ‘Yes, I heard you’ve got a woman. Keeping her under wraps, ain’t ya?’
‘Not at all,’ Fred protested. But in fact, he’d been afraid to introduce Lily to his friends. Afraid she might meet a younger chap and leave him. Now, he felt more secure about their relationship, and occasionally Lily’s name crept into his conversations.
‘Why don’t you bring her to The Sailor’s Return tonight?’ Knocker went on. ‘We can have a drink together and I might be able to fill you in a bit more. I’ve got to meet a mate of mine who knows more than I do about it. Besides, I’m curious to meet the woman daft enough to take you on.’
Lily was nervous about meeting friends of Fred. Until now, the pair of them had kept pretty much to themselves, and she’d only popped to the little local with him, not to his usual pub where he met all his mates. After all, they were living in sin. What reaction would that bring from his friends?
But from the moment Lily walked into the bar of The Sailor’s Return, she was made most welcome. Declan, the landlord, had teased her about Fred. ‘You should have met me first, love. He doesn’t deserve a lovely girl like you!’
Knocker Jones was enchanted with her ready wit, and Sandy the pianist was delighted to discover that she had a good voice as she sang along with the others. It developed into quite a party.
‘How about giving us a song on your own, Lily?’ entreated Sandy.
Flushed with embarrassment, she said, ‘Oh, I couldn’t.’
Fred, delighted that she’d made such a hit with his friends, encouraged her. Putting an arm around her shoulders he said, ‘Go on, love. I remember hearing you sing them carols in church last Christmas. You have a lovely voice.’
Sandy, who had taken a break from his playing to have a drink, said softly, ‘Come on, Lily. You’re a natural if ever I saw one. What songs do you know?’
Before she could protest, she was led to the piano, and began to sing all the Marie Lloyd songs she knew. Gathering confidence as she sang, she really began to enjoy herself, remembering how at the Palace Theatre she’d wished so often she could be on the stage, singing with an audience. Looking around at the happy faces of the customers, singing along with her, she was thrilled at how easy it had been.
Knocker Jones leaned over to Fred. ‘Where did you find such a charmer?’
‘We met quite by chance one evening.’ He glanced over towards Lily, eyes shining with love. ‘She’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.’
‘Wouldn’t like to swop her with my old duck, would ya?’
‘Not bloody likely!’ He sat and listened to Lily singing, ‘If you were the only girl in the world’, but she changed the word ‘girl’ to ‘boy’, and looked over at Fred as she sang. He sat smiling contentedly, aware of the glances of envy from many.
Sandy insisted Lily take a break. ‘We’ll sit over here, dear,’ he said fussily. ‘Fred and Knocker are deep in conversation. Let’s leave them to it.’ He went to the bar and came back with two halves of beer. ‘Declan says it’s on the house.’
She raised her glass to the landlord in thanks.
‘Have you done any singing in public before?’ Sandy asked now.
Lily burst out laughing. ‘You joking or what?’
‘No, I’m serious. You have a good voice … and you have the personality that goes with it.’
‘I used to love watching Marie Lloyd,’ she admitted. ‘And when I did, I always thought how much I’d like to perform too.’
With a speculative look, Sandy said, ‘You know, you could make a bit of money at it, if you wanted to.’
Lily’s eyes widened. ‘What do you mean?’
‘There’s lots of pubs in the area that have singers in over the weekend. They either pay them, or let them make a collection among the customers. There’s a few quid to be made.’
‘I couldn’t do that.’
‘Why not?’ He raised his eyebrows in question. ‘I could help you, all girls together.’ He looked a little abashed. ‘I used to work the halls myself, when I was younger.’
Lily’s eyes lit up. ‘You did?’
Sandy nodded. ‘I was a pianist with a few good singers in my time. I could show you how to move, how to present your songs, tell you what clothes to wear. You’d enjoy dressing up in all your slap and a posh frock, wouldn’t you?’
With a chuckle Lily said, ‘I don’t have any clothes like that, you daft hap’orth.’
‘No, but I do – and we’re about the same size.’
Lily looked at him in surprise.
‘Well, a girl likes to have a few frocks to wear on special occasions.’
‘Oh Sandy, you are a card.’ She started laughing. ‘I’ve never met anyone quite like you.’
He smiled archly. ‘There’s a lot of us old queens about, dearie. What do you think? Are you interested?’
She shook her head. ‘No, thanks. It’s lovely of you to offer, but I’ve got Fred to look after.’
‘How on earth did you end up living with him?’ Seeing the look of anger in her eyes, he quickly added, ‘I didn’t mean any offence, love. Fred’s one of the best, but look at you. Young, good-looking, great personality. So much to offer.’
/> ‘Look, Sandy.’ Lily was deadly serious now. ‘Fred has been good to me. I owe him a lot. As long as I live I would never let him down.’
He patted her arm. ‘He’s a lucky bloke. If you ever need to earn a few bob, remember what I said, though. All right?’
‘Thanks.’ She hugged him. ‘You’ll be my manager, will you?’
‘Stranger things have happened at sea. Now – how about another tune?’
‘Why not? Do you know “I’m forever blowing bubbles”?’
Across the room, Knocker looked at his watch and frowned. ‘He’s late. Never mind, fancy another pint?’
Fred nodded. ‘Wouldn’t mind.’ He watched Lily and thought how lucky he was. The customers were all enjoying singing along with his girl. He’d seen the looks of interest in the other men’s eyes. Many of them, he was sure, desired her. But it was in his arms she lay at night. His hands that caressed her. His words that comforted her, when she had a bad dream. Yes, he was the luckiest person in the world.
‘Know any Irish songs?’ called Declan.
‘I do.’ Turning to Sandy, she said, ‘How about “When Irish eyes are smiling”.’ This was happily received, but when she sang ‘Danny Boy’ the poignancy in her voice hushed the room.
There was a spontaneous burst of applause as the final notes died away. Lily looked around, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. Never had she been such a centre of attention, and she loved every moment.
‘You make me feel quite homesick,’ said Declan, bringing over another two glasses of beer. ‘Do you know the one about the Mountains of Mourne?’
Lily hesitated, the memory of singing it to Tom in the cafe on the Royal Pier suddenly stark in her mind.
‘Never mind,’ said Declan, his voice full of disappointment. ‘It’s just that it’s one of my favourites.’
Sandy, catching the look of consternation on her face, waited.
Lily looked at him. He just raised his eyebrows. She nodded, and he began to play the opening bars of ‘The Mountains of Mourne’. Lily’s sweet voice filled the silent bar with aching poignancy.
As Lily sang the final words of the first verse to a hushed audience, emotion flooded through her. She looked across at Fred’s happy face, but it was Tom she saw there.
