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.’
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 concerned 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.’
Amy shook her head violently. ‘No, thanks. I’m going home.’
Grabbing her arm Dutchy said, ‘Don’t lie to me, bitch. My money’s as good as anybody else’s.’ He tried to drag her away, but Lily started frantically to beat him off.
‘You leave her alone, you bastard. She ain’t going nowhere!’
With one swift movement, Dutchy swiped Lily with his arm, knocking her sideways. She hit her head against the wall and was momentarily stunned by the blow, unable to move.
Amy was screaming and struggling. She was no match for the big man, yet like an eel she struggled hard enough to make him lose his grip. As she escaped his clutches, she ran to Lily and clung to her, calling loudly for help as she did so.
Cursing, Dutchy reached for Amy once again. ‘Come here, you little tramp or I’ll cut you. No one will want you then.’ He pulled out a knife from his belt and held it towards her.
Amy’s face went white. She stood shaking, her voice stilled.
Lily, still dazed, was only dimly aware of what was happening. She shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts. Then she pushed her friend behind her and bravely faced the Dutchman, trying not to show her fear. ‘She’s not lying,’ she told him. ‘She’s going home. Finished for the night.’
An evil grin spread across Dutchy’s features. He played with the knife. The women’s gaze was glued to the blade. Waiting – terrified at what he was going to do next.
He put the point of the knife against Lily’s throat. She didn’t move or speak.
‘Get out of my way, whore. I want the other one. Now move.’
Lily could feel her legs trembling. The point of the knife pricked into her flesh and she felt a trickle of blood. Christ! she thought, I’m going to die.
Suddenly from behind Dutchy, a figure emerged out of the fog and hauled the seaman away, sending him sprawling.
Lily almost collapsed with relief and clutched at Amy as she watched the two men struggling on the ground. As they got to their feet and exchanged blows, the knife came scudding across the pavement and Lily picked it up, holding it, ready to fend off any attacker.
The stranger kneed Dutchy in the groin. As he doubled over with pain, his assailant brought up his knee under the seaman’s chin. Dutchy cried out and slowly crumpled to a heap on the ground. As a finale, their rescuer kicked him viciously several times with his metal-tipped boots.