She looked at him in surprise.
With a sardonic grin he said, ‘Didn’t believe me, did you? I’ll leave it up to you which you choose to use.’
‘Thank you,’ said Lily sincerely. ‘Tomorrow I’ll have to get my things from my room.’
He put his hand in his pocket and handed her a key. ‘This is the spare. It’s yours for as long as you like.’
She looked at the key in her hand, then at Fred. She was still uncertain. It all seemed too good to be true and she wondered what was going to happen next.
Fred meanwhile walked downstairs and put the brown kettle on the hob. ‘Take your coat off, my girl, and make yourself at home. I’ll brew us a cuppa before we go to bed.’
Later, Lily and Fred sat either side of the range, not speaking, listening to the crackle of the burning wood and the soft whistle of the kettle on the hob, both lost in their own thoughts. Fred was wondering which room she would choose, and Lily was wondering what would happen when she went into the spare room.
‘You go on up,’ Fred said at last. ‘You look worn out. I’ll see you in the morning.’
Lily went into the smaller room, closed the door, got undressed and waited. She heard Fred’s footsteps on the stairs and held her breath, but he walked on and she heard him close the door to his room.
That night, Lily slept more soundly than she had for several weeks.
The following morning, she ventured downstairs somewhat nervously.
Fred was already up and dressed. He smiled at her. ‘Good morning. Sit down, Lily. I’m just frying some eggs and bacon. I’ll get you a cup of tea in a moment.’
‘Shouldn’t I be doing that?’ she asked. ‘If I’m supposed to be your housekeeper, I should be waiting on you.’
‘Later, love. I’ve got to go out and do some shopping first. Did you sleep well?’
Nodding she said, ‘Yes, thanks. Like a log.’
They sat at the table together, Fred urging her to eat up. ‘You need to get some flesh on your bones, girl. Get rid of them dark circles under your eyes.’
They sat companionably eating. She was quiet, a bit shy with the situation.
‘I’ve got to go out and see my mate Knocker. Will you go and fetch your gear, then?’ There was a note of uncertainty in his voice as he asked the question. And a look of relief when Lily answered.
‘Yes, I thought I’d pop over early, before anyone realises I’m not there and nicks my stuff.’
‘Right then, love. I’ll see you later.’ He gave her a quick smile as he opened the door and left.
Lily sat drinking her tea, looking around her. Somehow she felt at home in these strange surroundings. She thought it odd that she should be living in a house with a man other than Tom. This had been their dream – a place like this. Where was he now? Pull yourself together, she thought. You could be on the street. This is a thousand times better than that and Fred hasn’t once bothered you or attempted to touch you in any way. It seemed she’d found a gentleman, and she knew to her cost that there weren’t many around.
Days passed into weeks, and Lily didn’t return to her room. She and Fred got on well together, shared the same sense of humour. She enjoyed cooking for him and he was always appreciative of her efforts. It was an easy alliance.
That Christmas was the happiest Lily could ever remember. Fred had been busy working steadily for Knocker Jones. He’d given Lily money to buy food for them both, and some extra, to do some Christmas shopping. She’d bought a small tree, put some soil in the pot and placed it in the corner of the room, lovingly decorating it with a few bright baubles she’d found in the market. Then she had sat admiring it, filled with childish delight at its festive look.
It had been more than a month now since she had first entered the house, and Fred, good as his word, never approached her in any way. She cleaned and cooked for him, happily. They lived almost like an old married couple, walking around the market together at the weekend, going to the local for a drink, eating together. But they still slept apart. Now it was Christmas Eve.
Lily heard his key in the door, and realised how much she had grown to look forward to the sound. ‘Hello, love,’ Fred said as he walked in.
Then he espied the tree. ‘Oh, Lily!’ He stood back and admired it. Turning to her he said, ‘It looks lovely.’ Looking below it, he saw a small parcel, and smiled. He took a parcel of his own out of his pocket, walked over to the tree and put it beside the other.
Lily jumped to her feet, ran across the room and picked up the parcel, shaking it to see if it would rattle. She was like a child and Fred, though happy to see such joy in her face, was struck by her youthful innocence. It made all his thoughts of holding her, making love to her, almost obscene.
‘What would you like to do tonight?’ he asked.
‘Could we walk up the High Street, look at all the shops with their decorations?’
‘If that’s what you want. Then we’ll go to the pie and mash shop and get some supper, so you won’t have to cook.’
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.’
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.’