by June Tate
She spun round. ‘You hurt me last night.’
‘I’m sorry, darlin’. It was because you were a virgin. Last night was your first time, you’ll soon get used to it. Tonight will be better, you’ll see.’
Putting her hand to her throat, she retorted, ‘You’re not doing it again to me.’
Tom looked at her in dismay. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘I don’t want you to touch me like that, it’s not decent.’
The sudden anger that was reflected in his eyes frightened her.
‘Now you listen to me. Marriage is more than a kiss and a cuddle. I tried my best to help you last night but you wouldn’t relax. I won’t have this nonsense, Mary. You are my wife. And by God, you’ll be a real wife to me, with or without my help. It’s up to you. Now get my breakfast.’
Tom was seething as he sat at the table. How ironic, he thought. Tom McCann, the successful lover of countless women, marries a wife who is frigid. Was this some kind of retribution? He remembered the passion shared with Lily, and his heart was heavy.
As she let the doctor out of the front door, Lily was trembling. He had been thorough in his examination of Fred. Putting his stethoscope away, he looked across the bed at Lily and nodded towards the door. ‘Let’s go downstairs, my dear.’ Once they were alone, he took hold of her hand. ‘I’m sorry, but your man has TB. It’s only a matter of time.’
She let the doctor out of the house and lowered herself into a chair. Fred was dying. Tears filled her eyes. Dear Fred, who had been so good to her. She couldn’t bear the thought of his leaving her for ever. Not this way.
‘Lily!’
Looking up at the sound of his voice, she swiftly wiped away her tears. ‘Coming.’
As she walked into the room, Fred looked at her intently. Poor Lily. He knew he was on his last legs and now so did she. This last spell in prison had done for him. The prison doctor had gruffly told him the bad news, but he’d hoped that once at home, he might improve. What could he do for Lily now? At least with her singing she was making enough money to keep her when he wasn’t around, but who would watch out for her safety? He would have a word with Knocker. ‘Could I have a cup of weak tea, love?’ was all he said.
She kissed his cheek. ‘Of course. Do you want me to stay in tonight? I can easily tell Sandy you’re not well.’
He shook his head. ‘No, you go, dear, I’ll be fine. But if you see Knocker Jones, ask him to come round and see me, will you?’
She nodded her assent.
As she left, Fred had a sudden spell of coughing which wracked his whole body. When it was over, his handkerchief had the telltale bloodstains all over it. He felt saddened that he would not be around for much longer. The time here with Lily had been the happiest in his life and he thanked God for it. At least his last days would be spent with her and in comfort. It would have been far worse in prison. She looked after him so well. She was a good girl and he loved her dearly.
There was a subdued air in The Sailor’s Return that night as Lily passed on the message and told Sandy, Declan and Knocker the doctor’s verdict.
‘Poor bugger,’ said Knocker. ‘I had no idea. Tom said he looked unwell when he saw him, but I put it down to his spell inside.’
‘Is there anything we can do?’ asked Declan.
Lily tearfully shook her head. ‘He says he wants me to make him a bed in the kitchen; he hates being alone upstairs. If you want to come and see him, he’d be pleased.’
‘I’ll bring a couple of bottles of the black stuff,’ said Declan. ‘That will help him a bit. And I’ll give you a hand to move the bed.’
Left alone with Sandy, Lily looked at him in despair. ‘What will I do without him?’
‘You will have to get on with your life, my darling. Everyone faces the loss of a loved one at some time or another. The pain is great for a while, but in time you learn to live with it. You’ve got to.’
‘I can’t sing tonight, Sandy.’
‘Of course you can’t. You go home to Fred.’ He put his arm around her shoulders. ‘If things get too unbearable, you know where I live.’
‘Thanks. You’re a good friend.’
The following day, with a forced air of gaiety, Lily moved Fred’s bed downstairs with Declan’s help. They rearranged the room to make Fred as comfortable as possible. Declan produced a bottle of Guinness and proceeded in his own way to cheer the invalid though, truth to tell, Declan was very shocked when he saw how Fred had deteriorated. It was only a matter of weeks since the man had been let out of prison.
Knocker Jones called, bringing some grapes and a paper for Fred to catch up on the news. He settled himself beside his friend. ‘You wanted to see me, me old mucker.’
‘I did.’ Lily was upstairs, so Fred lowered his voice. ‘I don’t have much longer for this world, Knocker. Lily is earning, thank God, but I need to know someone is keeping an eye out for her. Will you do this for me? I’ll go to my Maker a happier man if I know you’re looking out for her.’
‘Course I will. You don’t have to worry about her, Fred.’ He smiled broadly. ‘That girl has more friends than you and me put together. We’ll all keep an eye out for her, never you fear.’
When Tom was told of Fred’s impending demise, he was saddened. He’d quite liked the man and had he not been the lover of Lily, they might have got to know one another better. But he was frustrated beyond measure. Soon Lily would be free, and now he was a married man.
And he wasn’t happy. Not only was Mary a very reluctant partner in bed, but she was obsessed with moving up in the world, forever pushing him to better himself. It had led to many rows during their short marriage. They’d had a particularly bitter one that morning.
‘I don’t understand you, Tom,’ she’d expostulated. ‘You’re a fine worker, and you hate your foreman. Haven’t you ever thought of going after the man’s job?’
He looked at her as if she’d gone mad. ‘I don’t want his job. I’m happy doing my own.’
‘You have no ambition,’ she blazed at him. ‘If you want to get on in the world, you must have ambition.’
‘It seems to me,’ he said sarcastically, ‘that you have enough for both of us!’
She glared at him, her mouth narrowing with anger. ‘What if we have children? I would want them to go to a decent school, live in a better home than this.’ She looked scornfully around her.
This was too much. Tom’s temper exploded. ‘How dare you! It is better furnished than your parents’ place, so it is, and yet still you complain. And as for children – how do you think you’ll ever get pregnant? You have to spread your legs first.’
Mary’s face was white. ‘Trust you to bring everything down to sex. You’re sex mad.’
‘Chance would be a fine thing. We’ve been married for two months now. Either you buck your ideas up about being a wife, or I’ll go and find a woman who’s willing!’ This threat silenced Mary at last.
‘Talk to your mother, or someone,’ he advised. ‘I’ll not be patient for ever.’ He stormed out of the house.
Sandy was on his way to Lily’s house. During these past three months since Fred’s illness had been diagnosed Lily had put on a brave face and performed as usual, though her heart wasn’t in it. He knew she needed the money to take care of herself and Fred. But for the past week Fred had been so poorly, she’d stayed at home during the evening.
Seeing the front door ajar, Sandy hesitated, but then he realised he could hear the sound of someone sobbing. Putting out his hand, he slowly pushed the door open.
In the kitchen he could see the still form of Fred Bates in his chair by the fire, his arm hanging limply from his shoulder. On the floor beside him was Lily, her arms around her man.
Sandy stood silent for a moment, loath to encroach upon her grief, yet knowing he had to do something. Stepping softly towards her, he called her name, then gently put his hand on her shoulder.
She looked up at him, her face swollen with crying, her
eyes red raw. The pain etched on her face reminded him of a wounded animal, trapped in a snare.
‘He’s gone. My poor Fred’s gone.’ She clutched at the body and shook him as if trying to instil life into the inert form. ‘Don’t leave me, Fred,’ she begged. ‘Please don’t leave me.’
Sandy eased her away from the dead man, firmly but gently. She sobbed in his arms. ‘He didn’t deserve to die like this. He was worth better.’ She clung to Sandy. ‘What am I going to do without him?’
He led her to a chair. ‘I’ll make you a cup of tea, then I’ll send someone to the funeral directors.’ He watched her closely, her distraught state giving him grave concern.
He sent for the doctor, who gave Lily smelling salts and a mild sedative, then arranged for the body to be removed. Sandy would never forget the anguish on Lily’s face as Fred was taken away.
He sat beside her, and comforted her. ‘I’ll stay here with you if you like, dearie.’
‘Oh please do, Sandy. I couldn’t bear to be alone.’
‘No, of course not. I’ll stay with you as long as you need me. Do you want to remain here or go to my place?’
‘I’ll stay here, I think, because if I walk out now, I doubt if I could ever come back.’
The funeral was a sad affair. There was a heavy frost that morning and the trees, bereft of their leaves, stood like silent sentinels guarding the graves as the simple casket was lowered into the ground. The few mourners stood around watching, their breath hanging on the crisp air.
Lily, clinging to Sandy’s arm on one side and Declan’s on the other, stood beside the grave. There was a quiet dignity about her as she threw a handful of earth into the deep cavern.
‘Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust,’ intoned the vicar.
Later, alone at the grave, Lily looked down at the coffin. ‘You were a good man, Fred, and I loved you,’ she whispered. Then, turning away, she walked towards the cemetery gates.
To her surprise, Tom was waiting for her nearby. He stepped forward and took her arm. They walked together. ‘I’m sorry for your loss, Lily. I know how much he meant to you.’
The smile barely touched the corners of her mouth. ‘Thank you. He was a good man, you know.’
‘He must have been, darlin’, for you to have stayed with him. I’m just sorry he was taken so soon. If there’s anything I can ever do, you’ve only to ask.’
‘Thank you. How are you, Tom? How’s your wife?’ There was no bitterness in her voice. Her interest was genuine.
‘She’s fine.’
‘I really hope you’re happy, Tom.’
How could he burden her with his troubles on such a day? ‘Yes, Lily, I am. Mary is pregnant.’
Her voice faltered for just a second. ‘That’s wonderful news. Congratulations.’ They’d reached the gates and Sandy stepped forward.
‘Ready to go home, dearie?’
‘I need a very stiff drink, Sandy. Medicinal purposes, you know.’
‘Oh, like that, is it? Then come with me. I have half a bottle in a drawer.’
Later, two figures holding on to each other for support arrived unsteadily at Lily’s house. She fumbled with the key. As the door opened, they both fell in, a tangled mess of limbs as they rolled on the floor, helpless with laughter. As Lily eventually managed to pick herself up, she looked at Sandy still sprawled out. With great difficulty and a lot of giggling, she hoisted him onto the sofa. Throwing a blanket over him, she said, ‘You’d better sleep there, you old fart.’
‘Such unkind words,’ slurred Sandy. ‘If I spend the night on your sofa, your reputation will be in ribbons, dearie.’
They both laughed hysterically at the idea. Lily looked towards the stairs and shook her head. There was no way she’d be able to climb those. She’d sleep in Fred’s chair by the unlit fire.
She had known that the only way to cope with this terrible day was to get roaring drunk. Wrapping herself in Fred’s blanket, she curled up, breathing in the scent of him as she did so. It brought her a strange kind of comfort.
‘Good night, Fred,’ she whispered. ‘God bless you.’
Chapter Thirteen
Lily pushed open the door of The Sailor’s Return and looked around, thankful that it was quiet. It was now two weeks since Fred’s funeral and she couldn’t stay a minute longer on her own in the empty house. It was too full of painful memories.
Walking up to the bar, she asked for a small glass of beer. Declan poured one for her and passing it over the counter said, ‘It’s on the house, Lily. You all right?’
She looked at him, her face drawn. ‘Frankly, I feel buggered.’
‘It’s to be expected, girl. Anything I can do?’
Shaking her head she said, ‘No, thanks. I just have to work my way through it.’ She wandered slowly over to a table in the corner and sat down.
Sandy closed the lid of the piano. His heart went out to Lily when he saw her disconsolate air. He’d become very fond of his protégée, and was concerned for her. Walking over to the table, he sat beside her and looked at her drawn face and red-rimmed eyes. ‘Hello, you old tart,’ he said fondly. ‘I wondered when you’d surface. I’ve missed you.’ It had been a week now since he’d returned to his own house, at Lily’s insistence.
She smiled at him. ‘You’re probably the only one who has.’
‘Rubbish! You’d be surprised at the number of friends you have, dearie.’
With a deep sigh she said, ‘I miss him so much, Sandy. He was so kind. I know he got into trouble again, but he only did it for me. He tried so hard to take care of me.’ She sniffed loudly.
Putting an arm around her shoulders he said, ‘I know. But he wouldn’t want you to fret so for him. You must pick yourself up, my dear. Go on with your life. The best thing is work.’
‘I don’t think I can.’
‘You must. Look, the one thing that helped Fred in his last days was the fact that he’d left you with a roof over your head and that you were capable of earning a living – could keep yourself. You can’t let him down, he had such faith in you. Besides, if you’re busy, you don’t have time to think. Anyway, girl, you’ve got to make a living. You won’t last long on thin air.’
Lily knew this to be true. She was now down to her last pound note. Taking a deep breath she said, ‘You’re right, of course. Give me a couple of days.’
‘Saturday night, here, where you’re among friends. What better place to start?’
Various customers approached her, shyly, offering their condolences on her loss, and she knew that Sandy was right. It was time to start again.
Just a few weeks before Christmas, the bar was festooned with paper chains and holly. The patrons were in a festive mood, singing along to the carols, led by Lily. She’d picked herself up and started work again, but when she went home at night, the empty house was almost more than she could bear.
Amy was sitting at the bar with one of her punters, when a big Dutch seaman began to pester her. The man with her was getting annoyed and it was obvious that there was going to be trouble.
‘You come with me,’ the Dutchman insisted. ‘I like you. I pay you more than him.’
‘Bugger off!’ Amy told him. ‘I’m with a friend.’
He leered at her. ‘He’s not a man.’ He thumped his own chest. ‘I am a man. I have big dick. Women like big dick.’
‘Go and shove it somewhere else,’ retorted Amy.
The big man made to grab at her arm, as Declan leapt over the counter, shillelagh clasped in his hand. ‘Get off her, you bastard! I’m not having any trouble in here.’ He dragged the seaman away and hustled him towards the door.
Looking over his shoulder, the foreigner glared at Amy. In a harsh voice full of menace he said, ‘I’ll have you one day, you bitch.’
The bar had been hushed throughout the disagreement, but now that the danger had been removed, the hubbub began again and Lily started to sing ‘Daisy, Daisy, Give Me Your Answer Do’. Looking over at Amy, she was concern
ed when she saw how pale she looked.
Later, Amy told her the foreign seaman was known among the girls as Dutchy. ‘No one will go with him, Lily. He’s a sick bastard. He cut one of the girls one night. He puts the fear of God in me.’ Her fingers trembled when she lifted her glass to her mouth.
Thinking there might be more trouble, Amy’s punter had made his excuses and left. Lily didn’t want her friend walking home alone and offered to walk with her. ‘Look, why don’t you come back with me tonight?’ she suggested. ‘I could do with the company.’
With a look of relief, Amy readily agreed.
They stepped outside to find the streets swathed in thick fog. ‘Blimey, where did this come from?’ asked Amy.
‘One of the deep-sea divers told me earlier that it was forecast. Here, hold my arm.’
As they made their way around the narrow streets, past back alleys, they listened to the haunting cry of the foghorn, giving an eerie feel to the night. A cat suddenly screeched in a side alley, making them jump.
‘I hate the fog,’ complained Amy. ‘Give me a nice moon any night. I like to be able to see where I’m going.’
Rounding a corner, they both collided with a sailor and the two women cried out in fright. The man mumbled his apologies. As he walked off Amy and Lily started to giggle. ‘Couple of stupid schoolgirls afraid of the dark,’ joked Lily. But she felt nervous and tense and longed to be home.
Turning into Orchard Lane, she began to relax. ‘Nearly there,’ she said, but her words were cut short as Dutchy loomed out of the fog.
‘Hello, girls.’ His deep, guttural voice startled them; his huge frame blocked their path.
‘What do you want?’ asked Lily.
Taking out a cigarette and using his coat as a shelter, Dutchy lit it then offered the packet to Amy. She shook her head.
Lily could tell that he enjoyed their terror. She could see their fear excited him. She waited, her limbs trembling.
Ignoring Lily he said to Amy, ‘You come with me. No need to stay out in the cold and damp. We’ll go to a little hotel and have some fun.’
