by Carol Rivers
The last thing Frank saw was the fouled rim of the table as he sunk into oblivion beneath it.
Lizzie watched as a few minutes after the men had stormed into the pub, a man appeared from the backyard. He paused outside the pub's broken doors.
'Do you recognize him?' Doug asked.
'No.'
'We thought he was a lookout.'
Lizzie gasped. 'Doug, he's got a gun.'
'What?'
She pushed open the car door but Doug pulled her back.
'No, Lizzie, stay here.'
But Lizzie was stung into action. 'This is my fight, too, Doug.'
'Then I'm coming with you.'
They crept together towards the pub; Lizzie could see the man standing with his back to them. A few feet in front of him stood Danny, Bert and Syd, with their hands raised as the gun swung violently from side to side.
'This bloke's a nutter,' Doug breathed. 'Christ, look over there! A man in a mask has got a knife at Elsie's throat!'
A shot rang out and the women fled past them, screaming and hollering. When the gun fired next, Lizzie and Doug were almost sent flying as Vella's rabble charged by.
'They're doing a runner!' exclaimed Doug. 'Bloody cowards!' But before he could say more, the gun fired for a third time.
Lizzie saw Danny, Bert and Syd jump back, but it was Elsie who broke free from Vella as his mask splintered in two. He stood, swaying a little, as though surprised by the hole the bullet had made in his forehead.
Dropping to the ground, he lay unmoving on the floor. It was then the stranger turned to face Lizzie, the revolver slipping from his hand as he looked down at the knife in his chest.
Lizzie felt a chill go over her as a short while later, she looked into the lifeless face of the man once known as The Prince. His black hair was spattered with sawdust. There was very little blood, for the bullet had passed cleanly through his head. Beside him lay Ted Booth, whose gun had fired a few seconds after Salvo Vella's knife had found its mark. Both corpses now lay behind the bar and out of sight, where Danny and Bert had dragged them.
As Lizzie comforted Elsie, she tried to study with detachment the unremarkable features that had been revealed as Vella's mask had crumbled. Eyes too close in a narrow, sly face. A nose that was slightly hooked and a weak chin, all of which had been disguised by a dramatic flamboyance that Vella must have cultivated to dominate his women.
No longer a prince, Lizzie thought, but as the coroner had remarked, a pauper. Death had finally claimed this indiscriminate villain and murderer. She could barely find it in her heart to wish him salvation, for all the harm he had done.
Tearfully Elsie gazed down at the body of her late husband. 'Ted must have been watching the pub,' she sobbed. 'I knew he would find me one day and bump me off like he did Madge.' She gulped a breath. 'Who would've guessed that it would end like this? One minute I saw the knife flying through the air. The next it stuck in Ted's chest. He just stood there, gawping, as if he'd been stung by a bee. Then his gun went off - '
'Doing us all the final favour,' supplied Danny.
Elsie shivered again. 'I hope Madge can rest in peace now. She got justice. Still, Ted was her son even though he did her in.' She peered at Danny through the strands of her lanky hair, her eyes wide in their dark sockets. 'Is yer brother all right?'
Danny nodded. 'He collapsed with the drink. Me and Bert took him to the yard and stuck his head under the pump. He's going to need a square meal to sober up.'
'I'll see to that.' Elsie wiped her eyes with a rag. 'You know, yer brother ain't a bad bloke, Danny. But they kept pouring the booze down his throat. Still, as drunk as he was, he told 'em to take a running jump.'
'You're free now, Elsie.' Lizzie smiled. 'Ted won't bother you again.'
'But what will the cops do when they see them dead bodies?' Elsie worried. 'They might think I done Ted in!'
'No chance of that,' Danny assured her. 'The cavalry's arrived at last.' He nodded to the battered doors of the pub where Syd, Bert and Doug stood with Murphy. 'There will be nothing to see by the time the Irishman has cleaned up.'
'In that case,' Elsie grinned, 'I'll go and stick something on the stove for Frank.'
'It's over,' Danny assured Lizzie when they were alone. 'Truly over. We can start afresh, without ever having to look over our shoulders again.'
'I hope so,' Lizzie replied. 'But this is the East End after all.'
'The mistake I made was leaving it … ' he drew her into his arms, ' … and you. There is only one way to say I'm sorry, and I'm saying it now, with all my heart.'
Lizzie gazed into his remorseful blue eyes. 'Danny, please don't break my heart again.'
'Will you give me another chance?'
'I won't give up the pub, Danny. Or the shop. There's more that I want to do, as well. It's the way I've led my life; the family comes first. And, it will stay that way until I take me last breath.'
'I know,' he answered, 'I know.'
Lizzie hoped he did. For now, if they were to be together, he would likely break another woman's heart instead of hers – an affliction that Lizzie would not wish on any soul, not even April Williams.
Part III
Chapter 62
September 1935
'Children, please sit on the grass in front of the bride and groom – and behave!' cried the flustered photographer as he bent to take another photograph. 'If you stick out your tongues, the images will be spoiled.'
With smothered laughter and a clip round the ear for Nelson from his mother, the photographer finally took his picture.
Lizzie, as matron of honour, folded Jenny's lace train over her arm, so that Jenny could sit comfortably in the shiny black limousine that was to take her and Bert to the heart of London's West End. The reception, Lizzie's wedding gift to her brother and his new wife, was to be held in the spectacular rooms of the Art Deco Strand Palace Hotel, currently so fashionable with Londoners.
Jenny, small and dainty in her ankle-length, white satin-silk dress, clung to Bert's arm as they stood in the arched doorway of Poplar's Christ Church. Jenny's head was covered in a fragile lace cap decorated with tiny pink rosebuds. Her hair was beginning to grow again, although she had told Lizzie it would be some time before she could entirely disguise her burns. The operation on her legs had been a success. She had proudly worn Lizzie's gift of a garter and blue ribbon above her knee. Now, two months on from her discharge from hospital, she was a beautiful and blushing bride.
Lizzie thought how her big and brawny brother looked somewhat out of place in his deep grey morning suit, the tails of which had been especially sewn to accommodate his height. He was tender and caring as he looked after his bride, the devotion quite clear in his brown eyes.
As the cheering and shouting began, Lizzie, wearing a fitted cream dress and bolero jacket, with her long dark hair flowing around her shoulders, glanced at Ethel who stood beside her, tall and slim, in a discreet pale green crepe-de-chine dress that Lizzie had taken her to buy at Selfridges.
Ethel's gaze was centred on her daughter, Rosie. Now turned seventeen, she wore a pale pink gown with a slim white belt and high heels to match. She stood with Lil and Doug as they threw confetti at the happy couple.
'Rosie takes after you,' Lizzie said, threading her arm through Ethel's. 'All that blonde hair and fair complexion. She's the spit.'
'Give or take two decades,' Ethel replied with a smile. 'She is very lovely, though.' She turned to Lizzie. 'I never thought she would accept your invitation to the wedding.'
'Have you spoken to her yet?'
'Not really. But Mum and Dad have. I thought we'd have time together at the reception. Perhaps she has a message from Timothy.'
'Perhaps,' agreed Lizzie. 'It can't be easy to live with Cora Ryde.'
'No, but Timothy seems not to mind, or else he'd have come today.'
Lizzie knew at least Rosie's presence must be giving Ethel hope for the future. 'Be patient, Ethel.'
Ethel nodded thoughtful
ly. 'I love my kids, Lizzie. But what can I offer them? It ain't easy finding a place to live. I've looked everywhere. They're either dumps or the landlords demand a lot of money for very little.'
'Ethel, Ebondale Street is too cramped for the four of us. Tom is sleeping in the small box room and Polly is growing out of hers. I'd like a back yard or small garden for the kids to play in.'
'You're not leaving the island, are you?'
Lizzie hesitated. 'No, but we'd like a place nearer the factory we leased last week on Chandlers Wharf. It was an old engineering firm once. Your dad says he remembers it as a going concern from before it closed in the Depression. With Danny's engineering experience and Syd and Bert's manpower, well, it could be made into something special.' She glanced over at Rosie and added, 'my point is, I'm not sure what to do with the shop.'
'But it's been a greengrocer's for years,' protested Ethel. 'You can't close it!'
'I'm looking for the right tenant,' Lizzie said slowly, hoping the penny would drop. 'It's a good business with only a peppercorn rent. Whoever ran it could continue the fruit and veg or turn it into something else. The rooms above are nice and cosy and I'd leave it fully furnished.' Lizzie looked at Ethel steadily and repeated, 'That is, if I could get the right tenant.'
Ethel frowned. Suddenly her eyes widened. 'You mean…?'
'Would you be interested?'
Ethel gasped. 'But Lizzie, I couldn't run the shop by meself!'
'You wouldn't have to. Jenny will want a job soon. She ran the bakery very well. I don't see why you couldn't make a go of it together.'
Ethel stared at her. 'Do you really think so?'
Lizzie nodded slowly. 'Ron and Maurice could come in to do the lugging. Bert will be on hand after he comes home from the factory.' She nodded to Rosie who was chasing Callum and Nelson as they ran around on the green. 'You never know, Rosie might be interested in joining you.'
'Oh, Lizzie, that would be my dream!' Ethel dabbed a tear from under her eye. 'I don't know what to say.'
'Say yes,' Lizzie chuckled.
Ethel sniffed back her tears and nodded. 'Yes …. yes!'
Lizzie squeezed Ethel's hand as they watched Rosie bend down to straighten Callum's shirt. He looked shyly into her eyes and they laughed.
Ethel heaved a sigh. 'Oh, Lizzie, I think she's taken to him.'
'He certainly has to her.'
'Do you think she'll want to leave Lewisham and all her friends?'
'You could offer her a Saturday job at first. It would be a start.'
Ethel let out a long sob. She blew her nose and pulled back her shoulders. 'I'm so happy I want to cry. But I mustn't spoil me make-up!' They laughed together as they had done so many times in the past.
Then it was time to wave off the happy couple. Bobbing about in front of them were hats with feathers and hats with bows and hats with delicate lace veils. Lil wore the most outrageous of all, a flame-coloured cloche to match her scarlet two-piece suit. Flo had managed an eye-catcher in her floral elasticated high-waisted maternity dress, blooming once again as she walked with her handsome husband. All the men wore morning suits of grey jackets and pin-striped trousers, as was the high fashion. Bill and Doug laughed as Gertie, sporting a taffeta beret and assisted by Tom dressed in his Ebondale Street school uniform, attempted to tie one of Bert's old boots to the car's rear bumper.
After Ethel had gone to wave the bride and groom off, Danny came to stand beside Lizzie. The smile he gave her was more than enough reward for all the hard work she had put into the carefully planned wedding day. Tall and handsome in his deep grey morning suit, cream silk waistcoat and cravat, she felt her heart lift wildly. Was his presence in her life really assured? Lizzie wondered anxiously. Did he still think about April Williams?
But as Danny took her hand in his, Lizzie knew that the love that bound them was stronger by far than any other. Fate had brought them together and deep in her heart she knew they would never be separated.
'You look beautiful,' Danny whispered. 'And one day you will be the bride stepping into that car.'
Lizzie thought of the long nights and passionate embraces they now shared together. Of the joy of waking up each morning to see the man beside her that she so dearly cherished. Of the way they had become a true family with Tom and Polly; milestones in her life that were far more meaningful than a wedding ring or marriage certificate.
'I'm happy we have each other,' she replied and smiled when she saw Frank and Elsie walk hand-in-hand from the church. They were dressed to the nines in their wedding attire and beside them skipped Polly in her pretty blue frock.
'My brother is a lucky man,' Danny observed ruefully, narrowing his eyes at the couple.
'Whoever would have put Frank and Elsie together?' Lizzie murmured gratefully. 'It takes all kinds to make up this world, doesn't it?'
'Come here, Mrs Flowers.' Danny's strong hands slipped around her waist. 'As long as you are in my world then I'm happy. I have the most wonderful woman for my life's companion; Tom and Polly to care for; and peace at last between my brother and me. What more could I want from life?'
Lizzie pressed her lips on his. 'That's all I wanted to know.'
'I've said it before, but this time is different, Lizzie,' Danny whispered. 'One day you'll have my ring on your finger to prove it, I promise.'
What need have I of a ring, my darling? Lizzie thought to herself as she gazed steadily into his eyes. Fight for him as hard as you fought for the pub, Gertie once advised. And Lizzie smiled at the memory, for Gertie's advice had been sound.
Through the good times and the bad, Lizzie had never lost hope that Danny would return. Or that Frank would love his daughter as much as Polly loved him. Or that Babs and Vinnie might feel the need of family again. If her brother or sister were ever to return to the place they were born, then they would know where to find her. She would welcome them with open arms, just as Ma and Pa would wish.
It was love that brought people together. Hope and faith that gave people the strength to continue. Though there were rumours of war and the world was far from united, her roots – and her family's – were planted firmly in the East End.
This was her manor; the Isle of Dogs, a curved horseshoe of land jutting out into the River Thames, that, God willing, would remain her turf until the day she died.
THE END
I do hope you enjoyed Lizzie's third story. Just to let you know, I've left some freebie short stories for you on my website; there's no subscription - they are there for you to enjoy. (Hopefully.) But if you want to receive my Newsletter I would love to include you. Leave your email address at www.carolrivers.com
Acknowledgments
My thanks go to all those who helped with the creation of Lizzie Flowers and the Family Firm.
Carol Waterkeyn for her painless editing and proofreading.
Beverley Ann Hopper for being the best Book Lover ever.
Susanna Bavin and Julie Boon for always being there.
Jane Crabb for her awesome Fantastic Fiction alerts.
Mark Dawson, James Blatch and Joanna Penn for their independent publishing mentoring.
Paul Teague for including us in his journey.
Twitterers and Facebookers everywhere who have generously shared their posts and pages with Lizzie.
For Him Indoors who threw in his lot with Lizzie.
Dedication
In the past, I've dedicated several of my books to Readers and I'm delighted to do so again. For Readers have learned a great secret. They know that the whole world lies in the palm of their hands when they read a book. It's as simple as that.
Also by Carol Rivers
Also by Carol Rivers
Bestselling Lizzie Flowers series
BOOK ONE LIZZIE OF LANGLEY STREET
BOOK TWO THE FIGHT FOR LIZZIE FLOWERS
BOOK THREE LIZZIE FLOWERS AND THE FAMILY FIRM
Seasonal Christmas themed books
TOGETHER FOR CHRISTMAS
A
WARTIME CHRISTMAS
IN THE BLEAK MIDWINTER
CHRISTMAS TO COME (Excerpt at the back of this book)
MOLLY'S CHRISTMAS ORPHANS
LILY'S CHRISTMAS WORKHOUSE BABY (Short story)
Page-turning wartime books
EAST END ANGEL
TOGETHER FOR CHRISTMAS
A WARTIME CHRISTMAS
Gritty East End family dramas
A PROMISE BETWEEN FRIENDS
A SISTER'S SHAME
EAST END JUBILEE
COCKNEY ORPHAN
LILY OF LOVE LANE
EVE OF THE ISLE
About the Author
Carol is a Sunday Times bestselling author whose family comes from the Isle of Dogs, East London. Her writing life began with short stories for women's magazines, then novellas for Mills & Boon and eventually, sagas written for Simon & Schuster. Recently she's published more short stories as well as her sagas; Lily's Christmas Workhouse Baby is a Victorian short, with a strong romantic theme and Kate of The King's Arms, available free from her website, is set in 1930 and tells the story of lost first love. Her books, in all forms including audio, can be found on Amazon. Now living in Dorset, she and her husband, who has a background in art and technology, are enjoying the exciting new venture of independent publishing. She would especially like to thank all her readers who have supported her over the years.
Excerpt of Christmas to Come
* * *
PROLOGUE
Christmas Day 1940
Isle of Dogs
East London
'Terry's cold, Bella.' Five-year-old Terry Doyle squatted next to his sister in the dank, rubbish-strewn alley opposite the row of derelict cottages. Bella Doyle, only eight-years-old herself, slid her arm protectively around her brother's bony shoulders, painfully aware his thin white shirt was no protection against the winter's bite.
