by June Tate
The doorman was surprised to see Vittorio waiting for him as he led the diner outside.
The Maltese grabbed the front of the young man’s suit and pushed him up against the wall.
‘What the hell are you doing? Let go of me.’
Vittorio looked at him. ‘You were very rude to Miss Lily in the restaurant and I won’t have it.’
‘It was only a joke,’ the man blustered.
‘I’m not laughing. And I didn’t see her look amused, did you?’
‘I don’t know why you’re getting so excited, old chap. She’s only a whore. She’s the mistress of Vittorio Teglia.’
Vittorio released his hold. ‘Have you ever met him?’
The young man looked at him. ‘No, I haven’t.’
‘I am Vittorio Teglia … old chap.’ And he punched the man viciously in the stomach.
The three friends emerged from the club, and saw their friend doubled up. They looked at the menacing figure beside him.
‘I’ve just given your friend a lesson in manners. You’d better take him home. Don’t bring him here again.’
In bed that night, Vittorio told Lily of the scene between Rachel and her son. ‘He’ll be back,’ he declared. ‘He won’t be able to help himself. Manny always wanted to be in the money and now he thinks he’s got a chance.’
‘But he knows how Rachel feels about him,’ Lily objected. ‘Surely he must realise he’s wasting his time.’
Her lover looked thoughtful. ‘If he does, it makes the situation worse. He’s a twisted little bastard. I’ll instruct the staff to keep a watchful eye open for him. I won’t put up with someone like him messing with my business.’
‘What will you do if he does return?’
He pursed his lips. ‘Whatever I have to, Lily. Whatever I have to.’
She knew the subject of Manny was closed.
Then: ‘You had a bit of trouble tonight in the restaurant. I saw from the office,’ he remarked.
Lily, who hadn’t intended mentioning the incident, said, ‘It was nothing. It was over in a moment.’
‘He won’t be back, I can assure you. We don’t want his kind here.’
‘What do you mean, he won’t be back?’ She saw the anger in Vittorio’s eyes.
‘I taught him a lesson outside he won’t forget in a hurry.’
‘Whatever did you do?’
‘Never mind, Lily. I’ve told you – any trouble, I’ll take care of it.’ He smoothed her hair. ‘Nobody treats you like that and gets away with it.’ He drew her closer. ‘Come here.’
As he held her, Lily wondered what had happened outside the club. She hoped Vittorio hadn’t gone too far. She’d handled the situation the right way, as far as she was concerned, and it was over and done with. Would there be any repercussions? She hoped not.
Vittorio’s voice interrupted her worried thoughts. ‘I see you’ve dispensed with the black sheets.’
‘To be honest, I hated them,’ she admitted. ‘And now I’m an expectant mother, they didn’t seem appropriate.’
‘You should have said, my darling.’
She gave a sardonic smile. ‘Would it have made any difference?’
His eyes sparkled. ‘No.’ Nuzzling her ear he asked, ‘Have you thought any more about our getting married?’
She shook her head.
‘You don’t think I’d make a good husband?’
Looking into his dark-brown eyes, she said, ‘I’m sure you would, but I don’t know if that’s what I want.’
The expression in his eyes became watchful. ‘And what’s that supposed to mean?’
Easing herself away from his embrace, she sat up. ‘I’m not sure I want to be married to anyone.’
Vittorio lit a cigarette and drew on it slowly. ‘Even as my mistress you kept your independent streak. I see it hasn’t gone away.’ There was no smile on his face as he asked, ‘Are you trying to tell me you don’t need me any more? Is that it?’
She sensed the menace in his voice. ‘No, that’s not it at all.’ How could she explain her innermost feelings to Vittorio without upsetting him? ‘I’m not interested in anyone else,’ she tried. ‘I’m happy with you.’ She looked at him. ‘Do I make you happy?’
His expression relaxed. ‘Darling Lily, of course you do.’
‘Then why do we have to change things?’
‘I would have thought that was obvious. You are with child.’
She sighed and automatically placed a hand on her abdomen. ‘Yes, I am, but would it matter to you if we stayed as we are? After all, your name will be on the birth certificate. I’m not trying to deny you your child.’
He gathered her to him. ‘Oh Lily, don’t you see? I’m only trying to protect you by giving the baby a name.’
‘My parents were married. That didn’t protect me when I was a child, or after. My father treated me like dirt and my mother didn’t give a toss.’
Hearing the bitterness in her voice, he held her tighter. ‘Oh my darling, I’m sorry.’
‘Isn’t it more important for a child to be loved?’
‘Of course.’
‘I don’t want my baby mixed up in any illegal activities when it gets older,’ Lily declared.
Vittorio’s jaw tightened. ‘You forget again, my dear, that such activities have kept me in luxury and you in clothes. They have also been the means of starting this business that you are so anxious to succeed in.’
‘Yes, I know that. But the child will already have enough to cope with.’
‘Another reason that we should be married. Besides, that scene in the restaurant tonight wouldn’t have happened if you were my wife.’
Lily was silent.
Vittorio wasn’t happy. He knew how difficult her life would be with an illegitimate child. At least with his name, he could safeguard her. But he didn’t want to push her at the moment.
‘If you can be brave enough to put up with the scandal and taunts you will undoubtedly receive, then we’ll stay as we are – if that’s what you want.’
She looked at him with trusting eyes. ‘You will love the baby, won’t you, Vittorio?’
His slow smile touched the corners of his lips. ‘Of course I will. How could I not do so?’
Lily was relieved. She hadn’t lied to him. By marrying him, it would make the child legitimate, but as the wife of The Maltese, she would be even more notorious. So what was the difference? She didn’t care what people said about her. She would care for the child as a real mother should. She was confident that by the time she gave birth, the club would be up and running anyway. Besides, she’d made up her mind, and thankfully Vittorio had not been difficult.
When she told Rachel of their conversation, the older woman frowned. ‘Well, I suppose you know what you’re doing. You’re not hankering after the wild Irishman still, are you? Is he the reason for not marrying?’
Shaking her head, Lily denied it. ‘Of course not. Tom will always be my first love and I’ll never forget him, but he’s changed. He’s not the man I thought he was.’
With a look of affection Rachel said, ‘He loved you.’
‘I know, but in the end the first thought in his head was that I was Vittorio’s. His pride got in the way of love and that’s not good.’
With a shrug Rachel said, ‘He’s a man. What do you expect?’
Lily said, ‘Women should run the world and keep men only for breeding and moving heavy stuff around.’
‘Oy vey! I like the sound of that.’ Rachel’s eyes twinkled mischievously at the thought. ‘I’d have a couple of young ones in my house at my beck and call … day and night!’
‘Go on,’ Lily teased. ‘You’re past it.’
‘You don’t know that. Neither do I, but I’d like to find out!’
‘You are a disgusting old woman.’ The smile on Lily’s face faded as she said, ‘Why is life always so complicated? It would be nice if just for once there were no problems, no worries.’
Rachel grimaced. ‘O
nce upon a time is for fairy stories, girl. We’re dealing with life and that’s different. You of all people should know that.’
Life in the McCann household had settled to its strange existence. Tom came home on a Friday night and handed Mary her housekeeping money which she took, without thanks, and put carefully in the biscuit barrel on the sideboard.
She kept their home spotless, ironed his shirts to perfection and baked every Friday afternoon, filling the house with the delicious aroma of homemade bread and cakes. She cared for little Thomas William in an efficient manner, but it was from Tom that the baby received unstinting affection.
With the child, a comfortable home and complete sexual freedom, Tom should have been a contented man, but apart from the times he spent with young Thomas, he was deeply unhappy.
His former girlfriend the maid had been replaced by a young lady who worked in a shoe shop in the High Street. His sexual appetite catered for, Tom spent the rest of his free time in the pub with his friends. He thought constantly of Lily. He questioned Sandy about her, asking, ‘Have you seen her lately?’
Sandy shook his head. ‘No, me old love. Lily’s a busy lady, the club’s a huge success. Amy goes round there sometimes during the afternoon and has a cup of tea and a chat, and occasionally they go shopping. But I’ve not seen her for ages.’
‘Still with The Maltese, is she?’ Tom’s jaw tightened as he waited for the answer.
‘Yes, she is.’
‘But I thought he didn’t have anything to do with the club any more.’
‘Maybe not, but they’re still very much together. Best you forget about her, Tom.’ Not wanting to get any deeper into this conversation, Sandy drank up and left Tom to stew on his own.
But Tom couldn’t forget. Lily had become an obsession with him. Thoughts of her seared into his brain, building on the jealousy that fermented inside him every time he thought of her in Vittorio’s arms. He’d taken to watching the club, hoping for a glimpse of her, but in this he’d been unlucky. The sight of the many patrons entering the club only fired his anger instead of making him pleased for her success.
One day, Tom saw Lily standing outside the door with two members of staff, taking delivery of two enormous tubs containing tall bay trees. She instructed them carefully in the placing of the tubs, one on each side of the entrance. As she stood sideways he was shocked to realise that she was pregnant. Without thought for the consequences, he strode across the road.
‘Lily!’ he called.
She looked around at the sound of her name.
When he reached her, he angrily caught hold of her arm. One of the staff stepped forward to protect her, but she said quietly, ‘It’s all right. I know this man. Just wait by the door.’
Tom looked at her accusingly. ‘You’re pregnant.’
Coolly she said, ‘How observant of you. What on earth are you doing here?’
‘Why didn’t you tell me when you first found out? I could have taken you somewhere to get rid of it.’
Her face turned pale. ‘What are you suggesting?’
‘You can’t want this child! Not that gangster’s brat!’
Anger blazed in her eyes and she shook off his hold. ‘How dare you talk to me like that! It’s none of your bloody business whose child I have. And for your information, both Vittorio and I are happy about it.’
He looked at her as if she was a stranger. ‘What happened to the lovely, innocent young girl I used to know?’
She gave him a hard stare. ‘She went with the young Irish boy who used to be caring, who would never treat any woman the way you did! Especially when your wife was about to give birth.’
‘I was wrong to do that,’ he admitted.
‘And look at you now.’ Lily prodded him in his chest. ‘You still don’t care about me. All you can see is that it’s Vittorio’s child I’m carrying. You can’t bear the idea. You would rather have put my life at risk by having an abortion, than see me pregnant.’
‘I would do anything to stop you having his child.’
Lily looked at him with disdain. ‘It’s my child too, Tom. It hasn’t even occurred to you that I may want this baby, has it? You just can’t stand the idea that I might be happy with any man other than you. If you thought anything about me, my happiness would be your main concern.’
‘How can you ever doubt my feelings for you?’ he protested.
‘It’s not love you’re feeling, Tom McCann. It’s jealousy. Obsession with something that you want and can’t have. That’s not healthy. Now leave me alone.’ She turned away, then paused and turned back to him. ‘Don’t ever think of visiting the club. You won’t be welcome.’
Lily walked back to her room on trembling legs, shaken by the altercation. How could Tom, the man she’d once loved so much, have even thought of putting her life at risk, rather than have her give birth to Vittorio’s child? The callousness of his words hurt her deeply. What had happened to the man she’d once known? He’d changed so much. There was nothing – nothing left of the wild Irishman she’d so admired. With tears of sorrow for the lost past, she caught hold of the gold cross and chain Tom had given her, and which she’d cherished and worn ever since as a token of their true love, and tore it angrily from her neck, throwing it aside.
Sitting in a chair, she tried to calm herself. It was hard enough to cope with the whispers as her condition became apparent, but the scathing accusations from Tom angered her, because he made it all sound so sordid.
Leaning back in the chair, she entwined her fingers and cradled her swollen stomach. She would lie in bed at night and press the soft mound gently, trying to feel the baby’s head. These were precious moments. It thrilled her to think that in four months’ time she would be able to hold her child in her arms. She silently prayed to God, Who had looked after her through troubled times, to deliver the baby safely. She desperately wanted this child, and Tom’s wicked suggestion that she should do away with the life growing inside her had cut through her like a knife. Now Lily vowed that she would protect this child from anyone and anything until the day she died.
Vittorio had been so solicitous towards her since he’d known about the baby, so tender and thoughtful to her needs that she’d felt loved and cosseted. She couldn’t help but compare the reactions of the two men.
Not that Vittorio had ever put his feelings into words, but she didn’t need to be told. She could tell he cared by the soft expression in his eyes when he looked at her and her swollen belly. She just wished his business wasn’t so precarious and longed for him to make his living a different way. She wanted an upright, solid citizen as the father of her child, but she knew he would never change.
Deep down, Lily still hankered to be respectable. She had said it didn’t matter – that she didn’t care what people said. But it did and she knew it.
The women who came to the club whispered among themselves. At the moment she didn’t care about that. But she worried about what it would be like when the baby was born, when she could hold it in her arms, take it out in a pram. When people could see the child, that’s when it would really hurt.
She knew she would have to be strong to shelter the child. She knew too that as her offspring grew older she would have to teach it to stand up for itself. She feared for the future, but if the club continued to succeed, she would have money, and she’d learned the power of that since living with The Maltese. She would just have to cope with the situations that arose. But no one would be allowed to do the child harm if she could prevent it. She would be a force to be reckoned with.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Lily was in labour. Vittorio, ever calm, had called a taxi and was sitting with her in the dining room, holding her hand, letting her grip it tightly with every contraction.
Rachel was fretting away in the background, muttering to herself about the time it was taking for the taxi to arrive. She was the first at the door when the driver parked the car. ‘Where the hell have you been? Building the bloody thing?�
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Vittorio helped Lily into the vehicle, carrying her case and getting her settled. Then he climbed in beside her and waved goodbye to Rachel.
Lily eased herself into a more comfortable position. ‘I could have had the baby at home, you know.’
Shaking his head Vittorio said, ‘No, my darling. It’s better this way. With you in a private nursing home I will feel more content, knowing you and our baby are in safe hands.’
He stayed in the waiting room until Lily had been prepared, then shocked the nurse in charge by insisting he would stay with Lily throughout the birth.
‘You can’t do that, sir!’ she exclaimed.
He stared at her with an expression that forbade argument. ‘Indeed I can.’ And he did.
Lily was grateful. He was a calming influence on her with his mellifluous voice coaxing her, telling her how lovely she was, soothing her throughout the pain. He encouraged her to push when it was time, and bathed her forehead. And when eventually their daughter was born, his eyes shone with happiness.
He looked at the bundle held in Lily’s arms. ‘She’s so beautiful,’ he whispered and Lily, noting the smooth olive skin of her child, thought so too. The baby looked so like her father that Lily smiled, amused.
‘What is it, darling?’
‘Well, take a peek at her. No one could possibly say she was fathered by the milkman.’
He looked at her in mock horror. ‘I should hope not! What are we going to call her?’
‘Victoria,’ said Lily immediately. ‘What else could she be called?’
Catching hold of his daughter’s small fist he said softly, ‘Victoria. Yes, I like that.’
During the following days, Sandy, Amy and Declan visited the new mother and baby, their arms overflowing with gifts. Soon Lily’s room was festooned with flowers and baby clothes, fruit and toiletries.
One wet afternoon, a few days after the birth, Lily was sitting up in bed as Rachel held Victoria in her arms, crooning softly in Yiddish. Looking up she said, ‘This child is so beautiful, you’ll have men beating their way to her door.’
