Riches of the Heart (14 page)

‘Does Fred know about him?’

She gave him a wan smile. ‘No. Fred knows little about me, and he’s never asked. He’s a wonderful man – I can’t hurt him.’ Finishing her tea she said, ‘I think I’ll go to bed, if you don’t mind. I don’t want Fred to see me like this. But thanks for bringing me home.’

Sandy rose to his feet. ‘I hope it all works out for you, dearie. Life can be hell … If you ever need a pianist, or a friend, you know where to find me.’ He squeezed her hand and let himself out of the door.

Lily was in bed when Fred returned home. He crept up the stairs and climbed carefully in beside her. ‘Are you awake, Lily?’ he whispered. She didn’t answer. Putting his arm across her body, he settled down for the night.

As she listened to Fred’s steady breathing, Lily wished she too could sleep, but all the time she kept seeing that look of cold hatred in Tom’s eyes. She could still feel the grip of his hand on hers. Her heart ached for him. It wasn’t until he stood before her in the flesh that she realised just how much she still wanted him. Until now, she had managed to delude herself that life was grand. But now, after tonight, she knew it was all a sham.

The following morning, as she cooked breakfast, Fred glanced at her with a worried expression. ‘Are you all right, love? You look a bit pasty. Still got a headache?’

‘No, I’m just a bit tired, that’s all. Too much excitement last night.’

He gathered her to him in his arms and kissed her softly. ‘You were wonderful. I was so proud of you. I love you, Lily. You know that, don’t you?’

‘Yes.’ She kissed him back. ‘I know you do. Although I don’t know why.’

‘Love is not an emotion with reason, Lily. It’s from the heart, not the mind. We don’t have any choice in the matter.’

How true, she thought, as she saw Fred off to work. How very true.

An hour later, when she was washing up the breakfast dishes, she heard a knock on the door. With racing heart and trembling legs, she walked forward and opened it.

There, standing before her was Tom, his body taut and his eyes cold.

‘Come in,’ she said. ‘I’ve been expecting you.’

He stood in front of the table, back rigid. ‘Well, what have you got to say?’

There was so much she wanted to say to him.
Hold me. Kiss me. Love me. Take me with you …
But she knew she could never say such things to him, ever again.

‘Oh, for goodness sake, sit down!’ she exploded. ‘Standing there like a soldier, you make me feel I’m on trial. I’ll put the kettle on.’

Her sudden attack surprised him.

‘You’re not on trial. But I think you owe me an explanation, Lily Pickford.’

‘And I’ll give you one if you sit down.’

He grabbed hold of her arms. ‘Sit down! Is that all you can say? You appear out of nowhere after being missing for months, then you tell me to sit down. I ought to shake the living daylights out of you.’

The nearness of him, the feel of his hands on her, robbed her of movement. She looked into his eyes and felt weak with emotion. This was her beloved Tom.

‘I could kill you.’

Here was the Irish temper she’d heard about, and it was awesome. Yet she had no fear of him. She shook herself free. ‘And you’d have every right, but let’s just calm down a minute. I can’t talk to you when you’re like this. Please …’ She indicated a chair by the fire, into which he reluctantly lowered himself.

She busied herself getting the tea, fighting for time to gather her thoughts, to choose her words. This was probably the most important moment of her life. She was committed to Fred; she couldn’t tell Tom about Manny and her past. She had no choice, she had to get rid of him – for ever.

Handing him a mug of tea, she sat opposite. Taking a deep breath, she said, ‘I’m sorry I ran off like that, but when it came down to it, I didn’t want to get married.’

Anger and indignation oozed from him. He glared at her. ‘Is that it? You tell me you love me, want to spend the rest of your life with me, are ready to name the day, then you can’t go through with it? That’s a load of crap.’

Oh it is. It is. I want to run away with you now, leave everyone, be only with you
. But she looked at him coolly. ‘You put too much pressure on me, Tom. Telling me you wouldn’t come back from Ireland. You forced me into a corner I couldn’t get out of. I wasn’t ready for marriage. I had no choice except to run.’

‘Have you any idea the worry you caused?’ His anger was bubbling like a cauldron. ‘I searched the streets every single night for weeks. I was almost out of my mind with worry. Demented. Amy looked for you everywhere she could think of. Rachel was going mad with worry. But you didn’t care about any of us. Least of all me.’

I did care
, her heart cried. She was overcome with guilt. Poor Rachel – and Amy, her friend. If only Amy had found her, how different things might have been. She always had an answer for everything. She’d have known what to do.

At her silence, he gave her a baleful glare. ‘You didn’t love me. You never loved me.’

‘I did, Tom,’ she said softly. About this she refused to lie.

‘How could you have loved me and run away like you did? It was all lies. Well, Lily, you certainly had me fooled.’ He looked around the room, his gaze resting on the washing drying on the fireguard – her underwear, next to Fred’s. ‘You soon found someone else, I see. Soon lost your shyness for –
sex
.’

She could feel her own anger beginning to rise. ‘And so did you. Congratulations on your recent engagement.’

‘At least I found a woman I could trust.’

How hurt he was. How hard it was for her not to reach out and ease his pain. ‘I’m sorry about your mother,’ she said softly.

His anger abated for a moment. ‘Thank you. I told her about you, about our plans for the future.’ But the bitterness in him rose once again. ‘Thank God she died before she too was disappointed.’

‘I’m sorry. But things have changed. I’m with Fred now, he’s a good man.’

‘
I
am a good man! But obviously you didn’t think so. Well, I wish you joy with your lover.’ He spat out the words. ‘Now I can get on with my life.’ He got up suddenly. ‘There seems little point in my being here any longer. We have no more to say to each other. It’s all water under the bridge now.’ He walked towards the door then paused as he opened it. His tone softened for a second. The anger in his eyes was no more. ‘At least you’re still alive. At one time I wondered if you were … That was the worst part, Lily.’ He stepped outside, closing the door behind him.

She quickly crossed to the window, only to see him walk away. She put out her hand to touch him, but her fingers met only the cold of the window pane.

She slowly wandered back to her chair. Desolate.

As Tom walked down the street, his emotions were in turmoil. Lily, his beloved Lily was alive and well. Looking as beautiful as he remembered, her eyes still of the same deep-blue hue, with those long lashes … but she was living with another man, damn her!

One moment he wanted to strangle her with his bare hands for the torment she’d put him through, the next he longed to take her in his arms. But another man had this privilege now, holding her in bed at night, making love to her as Tom had yearned to do. The images were driving him mad.

Why did she leave him? She said it was because she didn’t want to marry, but he didn’t believe it, not for one moment. Could she have possibly left him for Fred? Surely not. Fred was a nice enough chap, but so much older than Lily. He suddenly pictured the look in her eyes when she had said she did love him. That he believed.

When he turned the corner, he stopped and lit a cigarette. He couldn’t think straight. What was he to do? What
could
he do? Last night when Fred had put his arm around her shoulders, he’d wanted to knock the man’s teeth down his throat. Jealousy had coursed through him and today to be inside the house they both shared, with the bed upstairs they slept in together, filled him with a blind rage. And if that was not enough, he himself was to be married to another woman. God! What a mess.

He looked at his pocket-watch. He was an hour late for work, and that would mean his foreman would have a go at him. Well, he’d better be careful what he said, because for two pins, Tom would throw him in the dock, he was in such a foul mood.

Standing at the end of the gangway, Burt Haines looked again at his watch. McCann was an hour late. His eyes gleamed. When the Irishman arrived, he’d really be able to have a go at him. Put him in his place.

There was no finer man at his job throughout the docks than Tom McCann, but his sharp tongue and hot Irish temper didn’t always make him friends. One of the many enemies he’d made was Haines, the foreman.

By nature, Burt was a surly man. At home, his wife nagged him continuously. He was totally cowed by the woman, but made up for it at work. Once he walked through the dock gates, he became a man. He ruled his workers as his wife ruled him. Relentlessly.

The one person he couldn’t ride was Tom. He was unable to match the Irishman’s sharp tongue. McCann always got the better of him – and he hated him for it.

He saw Tom walking towards him in the distance and thought, Cocky bugger. Walks like he owns the place. He waited.

As Tom got to the bottom of the gangway, about to board the ship, Haines caught hold of his arm. ‘What time do you call this?’

Tom checked his own watch. ‘It’s eight o’clock. Your watch is right. Nothing wrong with your eyes.’

Burt’s face was puce. ‘Don’t you give me any of your lip, my lad.’

Looking down at the other’s hand on his sleeve, Tom said, ‘I’m late, but I had my reasons. Now let go of me, Haines, or I’ll put you in the bloody drink.’

Haines sensed the menace in Tom’s voice and had no doubt he would carry out his threat. He quickly let go. ‘Well, make sure this doesn’t happen again,’ he blustered.

‘Or what?’ Tom glared at the foreman, daring him to say another word. Wanting him to, so he could vent his anger on someone.

‘Get on with your work. We’re already behind.’

As he watched Tom stride up the gangway, he muttered. ‘I’ll have you one day, you Irish bastard, see if I don’t.’

Lily sat in the chair by the table, wondering about the woman who was to become Mrs Tom McCann. Even if she herself had been free, Tom had already made plans for his future. A future in which she played no part. Knowing she’d have to go through the rest of her life without him was bad enough, but to picture someone else taking her marriage vows beside Tom was more than she could bear. Yet she had no right to feel this way, had she? She was living with another man.

Was it possible that Tom felt as badly as she did? His expression had softened when he spoke those last few words to her before leaving. Could he still love her? But, even if he did, what was the use? The night she’d left Rachel’s shop had shaped their future destiny. And she could blame no one but herself for the results of her actions. Except perhaps Manny Cohen. How she hated that man. But he’d done the worst he could to her, and she’d survived. It wasn’t in his power to hurt her further.

Fred was getting desperate. He felt in his pocket, and there was very little there. The deal with Knocker had gone cold and the rag and bone trade was slack. What was he to do? He walked around the High Street shops. There should be a few rich pickings here, he thought, as he flexed his fingers and went to work.

A little later, his mood had improved considerably. The old fingers were still dextrous. He’d systematically worked the High Street shops, then made his way to Edwin Jones, in East Street. The lower floor was doing a good trade. He picked out a likely-looking target who was inspecting a gent’s suit. Fred sauntered up to the man, stumbled and bumped into him, apologising profusely as he pocketed his wallet. But to his surprise, the man grabbed hold of his wrist and held on tightly, calling for the manager.

Fred tried desperately to get away, but the customer had told the assistant who’d been serving him to catch hold of Fred as well, declaring, ‘This man is a pickpocket!’

A small crowd gathered, while Fred loudly protested his innocence. When the manager arrived on the scene, Fred was dragged off to his office.

‘This man is Fred Bates, a well-known pickpocket,’ the target said. ‘I recognised him in the store. Then when he bumped me, I knew why. Look in his pocket and you’ll find my wallet there.’

Despite Fred’s protestations, the manager searched him, and was surprised to find several wallets about his person. He looked at the customer with some consternation.

‘That wallet is mine,’ said the man who had grabbed Fred. ‘Inside it you’ll find my warrant card. I’m Police Constable Castle – and you’re nicked, Bates.’

Lily rushed to the police station when she got word of Fred’s arrest. She sat opposite him in the interview room, while a policeman kept watch by the door.

‘Fred, how could you? You promised to go straight.’

His face was ashen. ‘I know, love. I’m so sorry, but I was running out of money. The rag trade was bad and I had to take care of you.’

She looked angrily at him. ‘You stupid idiot. Why didn’t you tell me things were bad? What good are you to me if you’re in prison?’

‘I didn’t want to lose you, Lily.’

She looked at the distraught man sitting opposite, and her heart was filled with pity. ‘You’re never going to lose me, Fred. I promise.’

He rubbed his forehead. ‘How will you manage? You’ve got a roof over your head, but there isn’t any money.’

Catching hold of his hands she said, ‘Don’t you worry about that.’

‘But I do worry, Lily. I don’t want you to have to go back on the game.’

She brushed his words aside. ‘I won’t. Sandy said he could get me work singing round the pubs if ever I wanted. I’ll go and see him.’

‘Now listen, Lily. I want you to promise me you won’t visit me in the nick. I couldn’t bear it, seeing you and not being free.’

She patted his hand. ‘All right, Fred. But just you take care of yourself. I’ll still be here when you get out.’

The look of uncertainty in his eyes hurt her deeply. She owed this man so much. ‘Where else would I want to be, Fred, but with you?’