Riches of the Heart (13 page)

Watching him walk away, Lily was totally unsettled by the encounter. The most peculiar thing was that, ever since she’d first met Vittorio, she’d had the strangest notion that their future
was
somehow entwined. It was an eerie feeling. Today, he had put as much into words. She suddenly shivered.

‘Things are getting real tight, Knocker. I’m going to have to do something else to earn a few bob.’

Knocker Jones nodded in agreement. Looking at Fred he said, ‘I know. Things are tough at the moment. I’m finding it hard meself.’

The two men sat drinking mugs of tea in the room Knocker grandly referred to as his office. It was in fact a corner of a shed, filled to capacity with old tat he’d picked up with his rag and bone cart. He had a small goods yard where he stored everything, and housed Charlie his carthorse in a tumbledown stable.

Loosening his grubby white silk scarf from around his neck, Knocker said, ‘There is a whisper of something coming through the docks. Bit dodgy of course, but I’ve got me finger in the pie, so to speak. Might be a few quid in it for you, Fred.’

Frowning, the other man answered, ‘Well, beggars can’t be choosers. Count me in. I’ve got commitments these days, I need the money.’

A sly smile crossed Knocker’s face. ‘Yes, I heard you’ve got a woman. Keeping her under wraps, ain’t ya?’

‘Not at all,’ Fred protested. But in fact, he’d been afraid to introduce Lily to his friends. Afraid she might meet a younger chap and leave him. Now, he felt more secure about their relationship, and occasionally Lily’s name crept into his conversations.

‘Why don’t you bring her to The Sailor’s Return tonight?’ Knocker went on. ‘We can have a drink together and I might be able to fill you in a bit more. I’ve got to meet a mate of mine who knows more than I do about it. Besides, I’m curious to meet the woman daft enough to take you on.’

Lily was nervous about meeting friends of Fred. Until now, the pair of them had kept pretty much to themselves, and she’d only popped to the little local with him, not to his usual pub where he met all his mates. After all, they were living in sin. What reaction would that bring from his friends?

But from the moment Lily walked into the bar of The Sailor’s Return, she was made most welcome. Declan, the landlord, had teased her about Fred. ‘You should have met me first, love. He doesn’t deserve a lovely girl like you!’

Knocker Jones was enchanted with her ready wit, and Sandy the pianist was delighted to discover that she had a good voice as she sang along with the others. It developed into quite a party.

‘How about giving us a song on your own, Lily?’ entreated Sandy.

Flushed with embarrassment, she said, ‘Oh, I couldn’t.’

Fred, delighted that she’d made such a hit with his friends, encouraged her. Putting an arm around her shoulders he said, ‘Go on, love. I remember hearing you sing them carols in church last Christmas. You have a lovely voice.’

Sandy, who had taken a break from his playing to have a drink, said softly, ‘Come on, Lily. You’re a natural if ever I saw one. What songs do you know?’

Before she could protest, she was led to the piano, and began to sing all the Marie Lloyd songs she knew. Gathering confidence as she sang, she really began to enjoy herself, remembering how at the Palace Theatre she’d wished so often she could be on the stage, singing with an audience. Looking around at the happy faces of the customers, singing along with her, she was thrilled at how easy it had been.

Knocker Jones leaned over to Fred. ‘Where did you find such a charmer?’

‘We met quite by chance one evening.’ He glanced over towards Lily, eyes shining with love. ‘She’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.’

‘Wouldn’t like to swop her with my old duck, would ya?’

‘Not bloody likely!’ He sat and listened to Lily singing, ‘If you were the only girl in the world’, but she changed the word ‘girl’ to ‘boy’, and looked over at Fred as she sang. He sat smiling contentedly, aware of the glances of envy from many.

Sandy insisted Lily take a break. ‘We’ll sit over here, dear,’ he said fussily. ‘Fred and Knocker are deep in conversation. Let’s leave them to it.’ He went to the bar and came back with two halves of beer. ‘Declan says it’s on the house.’

She raised her glass to the landlord in thanks.

‘Have you done any singing in public before?’ Sandy asked now.

Lily burst out laughing. ‘You joking or what?’

‘No, I’m serious. You have a good voice … and you have the personality that goes with it.’

‘I used to love watching Marie Lloyd,’ she admitted. ‘And when I did, I always thought how much I’d like to perform too.’

With a speculative look, Sandy said, ‘You know, you could make a bit of money at it, if you wanted to.’

Lily’s eyes widened. ‘What do you mean?’

‘There’s lots of pubs in the area that have singers in over the weekend. They either pay them, or let them make a collection among the customers. There’s a few quid to be made.’

‘I couldn’t do that.’

‘Why not?’ He raised his eyebrows in question. ‘I could help you, all girls together.’ He looked a little abashed. ‘I used to work the halls myself, when I was younger.’

Lily’s eyes lit up. ‘You did?’

Sandy nodded. ‘I was a pianist with a few good singers in my time. I could show you how to move, how to present your songs, tell you what clothes to wear. You’d enjoy dressing up in all your slap and a posh frock, wouldn’t you?’

With a chuckle Lily said, ‘I don’t have any clothes like that, you daft hap’orth.’

‘No, but I do – and we’re about the same size.’

Lily looked at him in surprise.

‘Well, a girl likes to have a few frocks to wear on special occasions.’

‘Oh Sandy, you are a card.’ She started laughing. ‘I’ve never met anyone quite like you.’

He smiled archly. ‘There’s a lot of us old queens about, dearie. What do you think? Are you interested?’

She shook her head. ‘No, thanks. It’s lovely of you to offer, but I’ve got Fred to look after.’

‘How on earth did you end up living with
him
?’ Seeing the look of anger in her eyes, he quickly added, ‘I didn’t mean any offence, love. Fred’s one of the best, but look at you. Young, good-looking, great personality. So much to offer.’

‘Look, Sandy.’ Lily was deadly serious now. ‘Fred has been good to me. I owe him a lot. As long as I live I would never let him down.’

He patted her arm. ‘He’s a lucky bloke. If you ever need to earn a few bob, remember what I said, though. All right?’

‘Thanks.’ She hugged him. ‘You’ll be my manager, will you?’

‘Stranger things have happened at sea. Now – how about another tune?’

‘Why not? Do you know “I’m forever blowing bubbles”?’

Across the room, Knocker looked at his watch and frowned. ‘He’s late. Never mind, fancy another pint?’

Fred nodded. ‘Wouldn’t mind.’ He watched Lily and thought how lucky he was. The customers were all enjoying singing along with his girl. He’d seen the looks of interest in the other men’s eyes. Many of them, he was sure, desired her. But it was in his arms she lay at night. His hands that caressed her. His words that comforted her, when she had a bad dream. Yes, he was the luckiest person in the world.

‘Know any Irish songs?’ called Declan.

‘I do.’ Turning to Sandy, she said, ‘How about “When Irish eyes are smiling”.’ This was happily received, but when she sang ‘Danny Boy’ the poignancy in her voice hushed the room.

There was a spontaneous burst of applause as the final notes died away. Lily looked around, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. Never had she been such a centre of attention, and she loved every moment.

‘You make me feel quite homesick,’ said Declan, bringing over another two glasses of beer. ‘Do you know the one about the Mountains of Mourne?’

Lily hesitated, the memory of singing it to Tom in the cafe on the Royal Pier suddenly stark in her mind.

‘Never mind,’ said Declan, his voice full of disappointment. ‘It’s just that it’s one of my favourites.’

Sandy, catching the look of consternation on her face, waited.

Lily looked at him. He just raised his eyebrows. She nodded, and he began to play the opening bars of ‘The Mountains of Mourne’. Lily’s sweet voice filled the silent bar with aching poignancy.

As Lily sang the final words of the first verse to a hushed audience, emotion flooded through her. She looked across at Fred’s happy face, but it was Tom she saw there.

Sandy, aware that something was going on in that beautiful head, watched her carefully as she started the second verse, not knowing if she was going to be able to complete the song. He was the only one who realised that something had deeply moved her. He was still observing her when the door opened, and it was he who witnessed the blood drain from her face, saw her clutch at the piano for support.

‘Tom!’ called Knocker jovially. ‘Over here!’

When Tom pushed open the bar door and heard the sweet voice of Lily, he stood still, his face white with shock. As she looked at him he heard her voice falter. He vaguely heard someone call to him, but he couldn’t move. He blinked, sure that the vision standing by the piano was a figment of his imagination. But she was still there.

Again he heard his name and looked over towards the table where Knocker Jones was beckoning him. He walked in that direction, his legs shaking, his breath caught in his throat.

‘You all right?’ asked Knocker jovially.

‘Fine. I’m fine.’ He fought to collect his thoughts. ‘Sorry I’m late,’ he mumbled.

‘This is Fred Bates,’ said Knocker. ‘Pity you didn’t come earlier. We’ve been having a great time, mainly due to Fred’s lovely lady.’ Looking across the room he called, ‘Hey Lily! … Over here!’

Tom turned round.

Lily looked at the pianist, her eyes wide and frightened like those of a small animal caught in bright lights.

‘What is it, dearie? Can I help?’ Sandy asked quietly.

She took a deep breath and straightened up. ‘No, Sandy – but thanks. This is something no one can help me with.’ She moved forward, towards her friends – and Tom.

She saw the tightening of his jaw, then the anger reflected in his eyes, and felt as if someone had gripped her heart with a steel glove.

Knocker held out his hand to her. ‘Come and join us, Lily. This is me old mucker, Tom McCann. Tom, this is Fred’s lovely lady. He’s a lucky fellow, don’t you think?’

‘Yes, indeed,’ said Tom. ‘
Very
lucky. How do you do, Lily?’ His fingers gripped hers so tightly she nearly cried out.

Fred made room for her beside him and put his arm around her shoulders. ‘Lily’s been singing for everyone,’ he said proudly. ‘You missed a real treat.’

Tom smiled, but his eyes remained cold. ‘I’m sure I did. Perhaps I can catch your next performance.’ His gaze seemed to imprison her with its intensity.

‘I don’t perform,’ she said. ‘We just had a singsong, that’s all.’

Declan called over, ‘She knows lots of Irish songs. She was singing of the Mourne Mountains when you came in. Did you hear her? We could have had a real celebration if only you’d been here earlier. This lad’s just got himself engaged,’ he declared.

Lily looked stricken. She wanted to run away. Away from this tortuous situation, from the anger in Tom’s eyes. She suddenly shuddered and Fred looked at her, filled with concern. ‘Are you all right, love?’

‘I have a bit of a headache. Do you mind if I go home?’

‘I don’t like you going on your own this time of night, but I’ve got a bit of business with the lads.’

Sandy, who had been listening closely to the conversation said, ‘I’m off now, Fred. I’d be happy to escort Lily home if that’s all right with her?’

She looked towards him with an expression of relief. ‘If you wouldn’t mind.’

‘No trouble at all. Shall we go?’ He caught hold of her arm, firmly, and led her outside.

Once out of the door, Lily slumped against the wall. ‘Give us a cigarette, Sandy.’ She took it with trembling fingers.

He held the match for her but had to take her hand to steady it. ‘Come on. What you need is a strong cup of tea with plenty of sugar. That’s what they give people suffering from shock.’

When they got to the house, she handed him the key and he opened the door. Lily walked straight to one of the chairs by the fire and slumped into it. Burying her head in her hands, she started to sob.

Apart from handing her a handkerchief, Sandy ignored her. He filled the kettle and put it on the hob after raking out the slack in the fire and replenishing the coal. He searched around for the tea, sugar, milk and mugs, then sat down opposite Lily. He lit a cigarette and waited.

Eventually the wracking sobs subsided and Lily blew loudly into the handkerchief, wiped her eyes and let out a deep breath. She looked across at Sandy through red eyes and swollen lids.

‘Better now?’

She shook her head. ‘I feel like shit.’

The kettle started to whistle and he made the tea and waited for it to mash before pouring it out. He handed a mug to Lily. ‘Drink up, girl. Tea cures all ills.’

‘If only that were true.’

They sat in silence, broken only by the gentle hiss of the steam from the kettle.

Looking up, Lily said, ‘Aren’t you going to ask me what this is all about?’

‘No, my dear. If you want to tell me, that’s different. But I don’t poke my nose in where it’s not wanted.’

She leaned over and patted his hand, then sat back in the chair, wiped her nose one last time and confessed: ‘Tom McCann is the only man I have ever loved.’

‘I thought it was something like that. I saw your face when he walked into the bar.’

‘We were to be married.’

Sandy looked at her in surprise, but didn’t question her further.

She closed her eyes for a moment, then said softly, ‘But I ran away.’

‘I’m sure you had a very good reason for doing something quite so dramatic.’

‘I did, Sandy. I really did. You may understand, but I doubt that Tom will. Ever.’

‘You think you’ll see him again?’

‘Yes, I do. He hates me now.’ She pursed her lips. ‘He won’t let it pass. He can’t.’