Lily quickly got out of her bed and rushed over to Rachel. ‘You mustn’t talk like that. He was your own flesh and blood.’
‘I rue the day I gave birth to him and I’ll not waste any more tears on him. I’ll call the widow Goldburg. She can have what’s left of him. If I hadn’t been such a weak fool, Vittorio would never have gone back into the building. He would still be alive. That guilt I will have to carry for what’s left of my life.’
Lily looked devastated. She fingered the ring on her left hand. ‘He gave me this last night.’ Tears choked her. ‘It was his mother’s ring. He said she gave it to him just before she died. And he did the same – gave it to me before he died.’
She sat holding her head, her shoulders shaking. ‘We were going to be married. He asked me last night, just after the cabaret, when we went up to see Victoria together. And now it’s too late.’
Rachel took a deep breath. ‘Now then, girl,’ she said raggedly. ‘At least you and the baby are all right. We’ve got plenty to do. I suggest we order a taxi, take the baby and Nanny back to my place, pick up some clothes and make a start. We have got to try and get our lives back together.’ She picked up the bag with the previous night’s takings. ‘For a start, we mustn’t lose this.’
The next few days were hard for both Rachel and Lily, but they were so busy, their own private grief was held at bay. It was at night when she was alone in bed that reality loomed, and memories returned to haunt Lily. She would hold Victoria close, praying her silent thanks for her child’s safe delivery. She cursed Manny Cohen and wished that he’d been left alone to die. Vittorio had been a good man really. It was such a waste of a life – all because of that waster.
The local and national papers had been full of the disaster. The headlines made Lily very angry.
‘
Local villain dies a hero
.’ The various articles had given the story a more scandalous slant, making Lily even more notorious as Vittorio’s mistress. At the end of the week, the club was declared beyond repair by a builder Lily had called in. Everything inside was either burned or ruined by fire.
Lily stood with Rachel, looking at the debris. ‘So much for our success. We’re back to square one.’
‘Hardly,’ said Rachel. ‘Vittorio had the place well insured. He gave me the papers to keep for safety.’
Lily looked at her with surprise. ‘He did?’
‘Yes. So we’ll have the money to start afresh. That’s something.’
Lily said, ‘I don’t know if I can go through all that again.’
‘Rubbish! Of course you will. In time, when we are able to think straight, you’ll be champing at the bit, wanting to sing again. Besides, we have Victoria’s future to consider.’
‘We?’ said Lily. ‘Victoria isn’t your worry, Rachel. Why should my problems be yours?’
‘Trying to get rid of me, are you?’
Lily looked at her with affection. ‘Never. You are an important part of my life, you know that.’
‘Then stop talking a load of old cobblers. We must find another place and start again.’ Her voice faltered. ‘You see, darling, if we don’t then that little sod Manny has won. Now we can’t have that, can we?’
Looking at the remains of the Club Valletta, Lily pulled back her shoulders and a look of determination crossed her face. ‘No. I would rather die than have him destroy us.’
Rachel squeezed her hand. ‘Thank God! I thought I was going to have to do battle on my own.’
Looking at her Lily said, ‘Never! We are in this together … always.’
It was not until Vittorio’s funeral that the full impact of the tragedy hit Lily.
Two magnificent black horses bedecked with black plumes pulled the hearse, bearing a rich mahogany casket with brass handles, slowly along the road. Behind them followed a car in which Lily and Rachel sat silently. Lily was wearing black mourning clothes – smart widow’s weeds, while Rachel wore a stunningly chic black hat with veil.
The church was packed. Vittorio might have been a villain, but he’d been admired by many. He’d also been a hard man, but a fair one. It was only those who had tried to cheat him who had felt his wrath. George Coleman stood at the back of the church, his eyes filled with tears. He’d been with The Maltese for years and felt his loss deeply.
Lily saw no one but Rachel, to whose hand she clung throughout the funeral service. She stood tall as the coffin was lowered into the ground, staring down at the deep pit, knowing that inside the wooden box was Vittorio’s charred body. She remembered his smooth olive skin, his deep-brown eyes, his mellifluous voice. Suddenly she felt the deep void in her life. She would never see him again, be held in his strong arms. Be loved. It was only at this moment that she realised how much she’d loved him in return. Silently she wept.
The mourners left her alone to pay her last respects, a small figure dressed in black yet surrounded by a myriad of colourful blooms from the funeral wreaths. Her own was a sheaf of roses, next to a childlike posy from Victoria.
After a while, Rachel walked over to Lily and squeezed her arm. ‘Come along, darling. Leave him with God.’
Rachel and Lily, both still dressed in mourning, sat in the office of Vittorio’s solicitor. George Coleman, too, had been summoned.
The solicitor opened Vittorio’s will and started to read.
‘“This is the final will and testament of Vittorio Teglia, made on the fourteenth day of May 1923.
‘“If in the event of my death, my finance business is still in operation, I wish all outstanding monies to be collected and added to my estate.
‘“George Coleman is nominated to this task. For this and the faithful service he has given to me over the years, I bequeath the sum of three thousand pounds in the hopes that he will use it to enjoy what’s left of his life.”’
George looked stricken. He turned to Lily. ‘I didn’t expect this.’
Laying a hand on his arm, Lily said softly, ‘He thought a lot of you, and you’ve earned it.’
The solicitor continued: ‘“I have set up a trust fund for my daughter, Victoria, which will be administered by my solicitor. It will pay for a private education and ensure that if she uses it wisely, she will never be financially embarrassed. I have insisted on certain clauses in the said fund, to protect her from spending it foolishly. But I wish her to carry my name.”’
Lily saw Rachel smile.
‘“To Lily Pickford, I bequeath the rest of my estate in recognition of the happiness she has brought to my life. I hope before she ever has to listen to this I will have told her how much I have grown to love her. I ask her to bring our daughter up to be as honest as she is and to teach her the true values of life.
‘“To Rachel Cohen, my partner, who I know is financially secure, I leave five hundred pounds with which to do something completely frivolous. But at the same time, I entrust her to use her astute financial acumen to help Lily in her business endeavours. Knowing she has Lily’s future at heart, I ask her to be Lily’s adviser.
‘“I do not want Lily to wear mourning for me. As she well knows, I don’t associate black with anything so sad. I don’t want her to grieve, but to be the bright and happy woman I’ve always known. I ask her to get on with her life. With her indomitable spirit and the financial security she now has, I don’t want her to mourn my passing, but to remember the happy times we spent together.”’
There were tears in Lily’s eyes as the solicitor came to the end of the document.
‘I’ve not been able to arrive at a final figure of Mr Teglia’s estate, Miss Pickford. That won’t be clear until the finance company is wound up. But I can tell you that you are a very wealthy woman.’
Lily sat shaking her head. ‘I would willingly give it all up if Vittorio could still be alive.’
That night, in Rachel’s home, Lily was still stunned by the day’s events. ‘It all seems so unreal,’ she said.
‘Well, he took good care of you. That’s all you ever wanted. But he loved you too and I suspect you loved him in return.’
There was sadness in Lily’s eyes as she said, ‘Yes, I did, but I didn’t realise it until the day of the funeral. When it was too late. Isn’t that awful?’
Rachel shook her head. ‘I’m sure he knew. Now, my dear, as your adviser, I suggest that tomorrow you and I go forth and find some premises to open another Club Valletta.’
Lily brightened. ‘I’m so glad you think we should keep the name.’
‘We have to,’ retorted Rachel. ‘It will be a definite part of our success. A continuation. And, awful though it may seem, the dramatic events that led to the fire will only add to the attraction. After all, the spread in the papers will have, in its own funny way, been good publicity.’
Lily remembered the headlines and shuddered. ‘I would like to move away from the docks.’
‘You can’t do that!’ Rachel was adamant.
‘Why not?’
‘Because the area only serves to make it more exciting. We must have our first place in the docks. The second one can be in a smarter area, but never the Club Valletta. It has to be there.’
As Lily sat gazing into the firelight, she gave a wry smile. It seemed that, even as a wealthy woman, she was never to be rid of the docklands. But perhaps that was fair. If she had a lot of money maybe, in her own way, she could help the people who, brought up in similar circumstances to her own, were unable to rise above them. She had been lucky, thanks to Rachel, Fred and Vittorio. Without them, what would have become of her? There must be youngsters on the street in similar circumstances with nowhere to go. Maybe that was to be her way forward in life.
She would be successful, Lily knew. She would have several hotels. And she would bring up her daughter the way Vittorio wanted, but maybe she could do much more. After all, Vittorio had helped her; it seemed only fair to use his money to help others.
Gazing at the emerald on her finger, she wondered just what Vittorio would have thought of her idea. What was it he had once said about lame dogs? No more … but then she always did get her own way in the end.
Looking at her sleeping child, she whispered, ‘Well, Victoria Teglia, it seems your father left us quite a legacy. Now we have to use it wisely.’ She gazed across at her dearest friend.
‘Right, Rachel! Tomorrow we start again.’
Rachel raised her glass. ‘
L’chayim
. To life!’