‘Ooooh!’ the locals chorused, used to his tantrums.
‘Half a bitter please, Declan.’ Then turning towards Tom, standing next to him at the bar, he said, ‘Honest to God. They don’t give a girl a break, that lot.’
With a grin Tom said, ‘Don’t complain. If they didn’t want you to play, then you’d have something to bitch about.’
Sandy looked coyly at him. ‘Oh, I do like a strong and masterful man.’
‘Where did you get that scarf you’re wearing?’
Fingering it lovingly, the pianist said, ‘I was given it last week by a Dutch sailor. Now there was a masterful beast.’
‘I swear you get worse,’ chided Tom, his eyes crinkling with amusement.
‘Well dearie, you know what Mae West says: “When I’m good, I’m very very good, but when I’m bad … I’m better”.’ He downed his beer. ‘Best get back to the rabble. Any requests?’
‘“I’ll Take You Home Again Kathleen”. It was me mother’s favourite.’
‘All right, my lovely. I’ll play it just for you.’
Taking his drink with him, Tom wandered over to an empty table and sat down. Listening to the familiar strains of the song, he pictured his mother. He missed her, he realised. She was a simple woman who would have made any sacrifice for her family with love and without complaint, but she had been unable to settle in England away from her precious mountains. She and the rest of the family had returned to Ireland. His mother had been in tears when he decided to stay behind.
He hadn’t done badly he thought. He’d got himself a trade and the respect of his peers, after many a battle. As a young man, he’d had to learn to stand on his own against all adversaries, and there had been many. Life was a constant struggle for survival in the docks.
He knew now how to handle himself, asking no quarter and giving none. He had survived. Now he thought it was time to settle down. To be honest, he’d only begun to think this way since he met Lily. Before that he was happy as a single man, but somehow she had made him take stock of his life.
He so enjoyed her company. She made him laugh with her ready wit, and she was appreciative of everything he did for her. She was warm, affectionate, and caring. There was a quirkiness about her that he found appealing. He thought of her dark bouncy hair, her blue eyes, the feel of her in his arms. He longed to make love to her, to hear her cries of delight when he caressed her. She was definitely the woman he wanted to be the mother of his children.
He frowned when he pictured the look on Manny Cohen’s face as he watched them that day. He didn’t trust the sod. If Manny touched his Lily, he would be sorry. If any man touched his Lily, they’d rue the day.
On their way home from the cinema the following evening, Tom and Lily had their first disagreement.
‘But I don’t
want
you to pay for a room for me. If I can’t afford my own, then I’ll stay at Mrs Cohen’s shop.’
Tom ran his hands through his hair in frustration. ‘I don’t understand. Why won’t you let me do this for you?’
‘It’s like being a kept woman – it’s not respectable.’
‘Oh, for goodness sake! I’m not renting a love nest, somewhere we can run to for sex.’
‘Tom!’ Lily glared at him, shock in her eyes.
‘What’s the matter, Lily? There’s nothing to be ashamed of. Sex is a wonderful thing between two people in love. How do you think we got born? Our parents had to do it.’
Lily’s face was white. All she could think of was her father’s heaving body on top of hers. The pain – the disgrace. There was so very much to be ashamed of. She couldn’t speak.
‘Lily.’ Tom’s voice softened. He stopped walking, pulling her into a shop doorway. ‘Come here.’ He held her in his arms, feeling her resistance. ‘Relax, darlin’. I’m not going to hurt you, I’d never do that. Now listen to me. If we were married, we’d share the same bed, and I’d take you in my arms and love you. Would that be such a terrible thing?’
She snuggled up against him. His arms held her in a close embrace. ‘No, that wouldn’t be terrible.’
Putting a finger under her chin, he tilted her head, looking into her eyes. Why were they so full of fear? ‘Are you frightened of me, Lily?’ She shook her head. ‘Then what is it?’
How could she tell him? He thought of her as pure. Untouched. If he made love to her, he would know and she’d have to tell him her guilty secret. It would disgust him. He wouldn’t want her after that.
‘Let’s not rush into anything, Tom. We can wait a while, get to know one another better.’
‘Don’t you like me, Lily?’
‘I do, Tom. A lot. I can’t imagine my life without you now.’
‘Then why do we have to wait? I’ve fallen in love with you. I never thought the day would come when I’d say that – well, not for some time. But you, Lily, you’ve crept into me heart. Let’s get married. I can afford to rent a two-up and two-down. We’ll have a nice little house, then you won’t be a kept woman – you’ll be Mrs Tom McCann.’
Lily’s heart was heavy. Here was everything she had ever wanted. A good man to love her, the chance of a husband earning decent money, a home, respectability. All her aspirations. Her chance at a good life, and she couldn’t take it.
She didn’t want to lose this wonderful Irishman. What could she do? Who could she ask? Certainly not Tom.
‘It’s too soon, Tom,’ she said evasively. ‘You’re rushing me. I’m too used to being on my own, I need time to think about it.’ She could see the anger in his eyes. His pride had been hurt. Here he was offering her everything and she’d turned him down.
‘I do love you, Tom.’ She felt a warm glow as she uttered the words. She did love him, but it wasn’t as simple as that. ‘We have our whole lives in front of us. Let’s not rush things.’
‘The trouble with you, Lily Pickford, is you’re too bloody independent!’
The following day, Lily saw Amy standing outside the pub. She left the shop and walked up to her.
‘Hello, ducks. Decided to go on the game, have yer?’
‘No, of course not!’
‘It was a joke, Lily. A joke. What’s on your mind, girl?’
Suddenly feeling shy, Lily said quietly, ‘I need to ask you something personal. In private.’
Seeing the worried expression on the young girl’s face, Amy realised that, to Lily, this was a serious matter.
‘All right. How about I come to the shop later tonight when old mother Cohen has gone home?’
‘Would you really, Amy? Thanks, that would be great. What time?’
‘About seven, before I go to work.’
Filled with relief, Lily said, ‘I’ll watch out for you.’
All day she worried as to how she was going to approach Amy. She didn’t want to divulge too much about her past, but there were things she must know, and Amy was the only person she could ask.
As good as her word, Amy turned up at seven o’clock and Lily let her in, carefully locking the shop door behind them. In the dim glow from the one light, the two women sat on the shabby straight-backed chairs.
‘All right, darlin’, I’m all yours. Ask away.’
‘Well you see, it’s like this,’ began Lily. ‘If a girl gets married and she isn’t a virgin but her husband thinks she is, will he know when he makes love to her?’ There. She’d said it.
Amy scratched her forehead. ‘How much do you know about your own body, love? I mean your private parts?’
Lily shrugged. ‘Not much.’
‘Christ! I feel like your mother.’
Lily listened carefully as Amy gave her a completely frank and graphic account of the sex act, as only a prostitute could. ‘What’s the problem, love?’ Amy asked. ‘Look, I’m your friend. Anything you tell me I swear to God, I won’t repeat it to a living soul.’
Lily studied Amy. The earnest expression and concern in her eyes were genuine, and she trusted her. ‘Tom wants to marry me. But I’m not a virgin.’
‘How’s he going to know? When he first makes love to you, just give a little cry of pain. He won’t know any different. Listen, darlin’, by then he’ll be so bloody worked up, he won’t even think about it.’
Lily gave a sigh of relief. ‘Thanks, Amy. You’re a real brick.’
Realising that Lily was not a girl to give her body to anyone, Amy drew her own conclusions. She took a cigarette out of her bag and lit it. ‘I was raped once.’ She didn’t look at Lily. ‘I wasn’t much older than you are now. It was an uncle of mine. Took me out for the day. I was really excited. Then he took me to his home … Rotten bastard.’ She paused.
‘Oh Amy, I’m so sorry.’
With a wicked grin Amy said, ‘No, don’t be. I paid the perverted sod back a few years later.’
‘How?’
‘I met a couple of sailors when I first went on the game, and we became friends, although they still paid for sex. But they beat him up for me one night.’
With wide eyes Lily asked, ‘Did he know why?’
‘Oh yes, he knew why – I was there when they did it. I stood and watched.’
I know just how you feel, thought Lily. She wouldn’t bat an eye if she saw her father treated the same way. It would be a kind of justice.
‘You thinking of marrying the wild Irishman, then?’
With flushed cheeks Lily said, ‘Well, I’m thinking about it, but I want to wait a while.’
‘You’ll have to get your parents’ permission.’
Lily felt the blood drain from her face. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, you’re under age, aren’t you?’
‘What?’
‘You have to be twenty-one.’
With a forced smile Lily said, ‘Well, that’s all right then. Besides, I’m an orphan, so it doesn’t really count. But as I’m old enough it doesn’t matter.’
Amy looked knowingly at her. ‘Well, you’re a bright kid. I’m sure you know what you’re doing. Listen, darlin’, if there’s anything I can ever do for you, you just ask, OK?’ She caught hold of Lily’s hands. ‘Listen to me, this is a hard old world. If we can’t help each other, then it’s even worse.’ She stood up. ‘Now I must go and earn some money.’
‘Have you ever been in love, Amy?’
The smile left Amy’s face as she answered, ‘No, dearie. Many men have wanted to lay me down, but I haven’t met one yet that has wanted to pick me up.’ She walked towards the door. ‘Never mind, I do all right. See you tomorrow.’
Alone in the shop, Lily pondered on this new problem. She was under-age for marriage. Tom wouldn’t wait for years without some explanation and she certainly wouldn’t go near her father to ask for his consent. Most likely he wouldn’t give it anyway. If she lied about her age and got married, would it be legal? She sighed. If she told Tom the truth about her age, would he understand, or would he perhaps be angry with her? And would he still want her? Maybe he’d think her too young for him. She thought she’d go mad with all these uncertainties running around inside her head. Why did life have to be so complicated, just when she had it within her reach to be happy?
Vittorio sat in his leather chair behind a dark mahogany desk, puffing on his Havana cigar. He tapped the edge of the desk with his fingertips. His lips were drawn in a tight line, and his eyes were burning with anger. Picking up some bags of change, he made his way downstairs to the club.
It wasn’t yet opening time and the staff were making final preparations for a busy night ahead. Tables were laid with expensive linen and cutlery, the gambling rooms were ready for those who would certainly chance their luck. Upstairs the girls waited, chatting together.
Vittorio walked towards the bar, lifted the flap and went over to the barman, who was polishing glasses. Handing him the bags, Vittorio said, ‘Here’s the rest of the float. You’d better check it.’
The barman tipped out the florins and half-crowns and counted them carefully under Vittorio’s watchful eye, placing the coins in tidy piles.
‘It’s all here, sir.’
‘Then put it in the till.’
The metal drawer was opened and the money transferred. As the last small pile was carefully placed inside, Vittorio slammed the drawer shut, trapping the man’s fingers. He let out an agonised yell of pain.
Vittorio pushed even harder. ‘You’ve been dipping into my money, Johnny, and now you’ve been caught with your fingers really in the till.’
‘No, guv. I haven’t, honest!’
‘Honest! You don’t know what the word means. Not only are you a thief, but you’re a fool as well, thinking you can put one over on me.’
Johnny was bent almost double with the pain. ‘Please let go,’ he pleaded.
Vittorio did so suddenly and the barman withdrew his crushed fingers. ‘They’re broken!’ He stared at his boss in disbelief. ‘You broke my bloody fingers.’
The eyes that stared back at him were cold. ‘It should be your bloody neck.’
‘I’ve got to get to the hospital.’
‘When I’ve finished with you, you’ll need a mortuary.’
Johnny’s eyes were filled with terror. ‘Please, Mr Teglia. I’m very sorry. I won’t ever do it again.’
‘Correct. You won’t have the chance.’ He beckoned one of his henchmen over. ‘Johnny no longer works for me. He’s been dipping into my money. Deal with him.’
George Coleman, the ex-boxer, tut-tutted. ‘What a silly thing to do. I always knew you were a bit fly, but I didn’t think you was stupid.’ In a steel-like grip, George took hold of the man and led him towards the back entrance. ‘Can you swim, son?’ The door banged shut behind them.
It was ten o’clock and the club was packed, the dining room filled to capacity. Vittorio looked around at his clients. There were several of the town’s dignitaries enjoying the excellent food, prepared by a chef with the highest references. The front of the house was there to create an air of respectability, but behind locked doors it was a different matter.
He gave a sardonic smile. These people sickened him. They were puffed up with their own importance, yet here they were, enjoying good food, many here to gamble, some to have sex with one of his girls, knowing discretion was guaranteed.
It gave The Maltese power. His customers, anxious to have their particular perversions satisfied, were in a position to help him if any difficult situations cropped up with the law. One telephone call was all it took to smooth things out. Not many knew that the Chief Constable liked young boys, for instance. Thus Vittorio was able to run his business undisturbed for most of the time. When a raid was planned, he was informed. He knew where to pay, and who to pay … He was invincible.