Riches of the Heart (21 page)

She gave him a sardonic look.

‘No, I don’t mean like that. Well, not entirely. Life is for sharing. We all need someone to share our joys, our sorrows and to laugh with. People are not meant to live alone.’

‘You do.’

His slow smile crinkled his mouth. ‘Yes, but that is my choice.’ His eyes twinkled. ‘Mind you, I could be persuaded to change that … if you were to take up my offer.’

She looked at him, trying to fathom the man. Despite his kindness and his teasing manner, there was still that hint of danger in his background. It was both worrying and fascinating.

‘But let’s not go into that now,’ he said. ‘Let’s just enjoy each other’s company. Then I’ll take you home.’

Later, Lily sat alone thinking about her afternoon with Vittorio. He’d been a wonderful companion. He had chivvied her out of her sombre mood and soon they were in hearty discussion about a number of different subjects. It had been stimulating and interesting. Yet again she had seen another side of this strange man.

When he’d left her at the door of her house, he kissed her cheek and said, ‘Come and see me soon, Lily.’

He didn’t try to pressurise her like Tom did. His was more like gentle persuasion. It was very tempting.

‘What do you mean, you’re not going to be singing round the pubs any more?’ Sandy, sitting in Lily’s living room, looked perplexed.

‘Business is bad, you know that. And I’m fed up with my life! I’ve decided I need a change.’ There was a look of defiance in her eyes.

‘And how are you going to work such a miracle, I’d like to know?’

Taking a deep breath she said, ‘I’m going to see Vittorio.’

Sandy choked on the tea he was drinking. ‘You’re
what?
’

‘I’m going to take Vittorio up on his offer.’

‘Are you mad?’ Sandy was dumbfounded. He leaned forward and clasped her wrists. ‘Tell me you’re joking – having me on.’

Shaking her head Lily said, ‘No, I’m deadly serious. I can’t go on like this. We’re scraping a living and I’m sick of being alone. I’ve tried to find work but no one will give me a job. If Tom was free it would be different, but without him, what does the future hold for me? Nothing. So why not take up his offer? What have I got to lose?’

Sandy stood up from his chair and threw his cigarette end into the embers of the fire. He turned to face her, his voice reverberating with anger. ‘For God’s sake, Lily, I can’t believe you’ve taken leave of your senses like this! Do you know what you’re letting yourself in for?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Vittorio runs a brothel, for God’s sake!’

‘So? I’m not going to be a prostitute. I’m going to be his mistress.’

‘You think that makes you any better than a whore?’

His cruel words, though true, infuriated her. ‘Yes, it bloody well does. I’ll be his woman. It’s no worse than living with Fred.’

‘You can talk of Fred in the same breath as that bastard? You should be ashamed!’ Seeing the stricken expression on her face, Sandy resumed his seat. In a calmer voice he said, ‘Well, before you do, perhaps you should know a few things about the Club Valletta.’ He leaned back in the chair. ‘It looks very respectable from the outside. The front part is a bar and dining room, all very legal, but behind closed doors there’s gambling and prostitution.’

‘So, what makes it so different from many other places?’

‘Vittorio! He provides many perverted services. Did you know the Chief Constable likes young boys, for instance?’

Lily’s eyes widened with surprise.

‘Oh yes. I’ve known a few that have been used there. Kids that are starving – and are pretty. You have to be good-looking, of course.’

Lily leapt to Vittorio’s defence. ‘For goodness sake, Sandy – we all know these boys are on the streets. At least at the club they’ll be taken care of.’

‘What are you saying?’ asked Sandy angrily. ‘That they’ll be raped in comfort?’

‘Don’t be ridiculous. They go there willingly – it isn’t rape. In the docks some of them are attacked by these perverts and not paid at all. At least in the club they’ll get their money and can at least feed themselves!’

Sandy refused to be drawn further into an argument. ‘The Maltese is into all sorts of rackets. Not only gambling, but loan-sharking, and receiving stolen goods off the liners. He’s pretty thick with a few Chief Stewards.’ He frowned. ‘He’ll never go short of good meat and booze.’

Lily glared at him. ‘So he’s a good businessman,’ she shrugged. ‘Look, I’ve seen lots of dodgy stuff come in and out of The Sailor’s Return. What’s the difference?’

‘The difference is The Maltese. He’s a nasty piece of work. You go to him, you’ll never be free again. He likes to control: what’s his is his. Once inside his net, you can struggle as much as you like, but you belong to him. He’ll own you. That’s scary.’

‘I can take care of myself.’

‘Lily, oh Lily,’ he said sadly. ‘You’ll be completely out of your depth. To control a few drunks in a bar is one thing. No one controls The Maltese.
No one
.’ He got up. ‘If you go to him, what will you do with this house?’

‘Keep it. It will give me somewhere to come when I want some peace and quiet.’

Sandy looked at her with an earnest expression. ‘Please don’t do this.’ He kissed her on the forehead, then quietly left.

Alone, Lily mulled over the things that Sandy had told her. She had no doubt they were true. But as Vittorio’s mistress, they need not be a part of her life. She could carry on singing, which she loved to do. At least she would be in full employment, and despite what Sandy had said, she could save her money and eventually leave, if she wanted to.

She gazed around the comfortable home. Despite being a shabby abode, it did have such a warm and cosy feel to it. But what good was that when there was no one with whom to share it? The only man she wanted was Tom, but he was married and soon to be a father. Vittorio had offered to take care of her. She sighed. How nice that must be, to have someone to lean on, to share your troubles, take away the worries. Vittorio was such a strong person. With him she would never have to struggle again. It wasn’t the promise of new clothes and the good life that drew her to him. It was the thought of the future, being alone, which terrified her.

She looked into the mirror over the fireplace. She was still young, just eighteen, but without a steady job she wouldn’t survive, and she’d rather be dead than go back on the streets – suffer the same degradation as before. No, she couldn’t face that again. She yearned to be cared for and Vittorio had offered to do so. There seemed to be no alternative. And at least she wouldn’t be lonely.

George Coleman, standing outside the club entrance, was very surprised to see Lily walking towards him that evening. He knew who she was, of course, from the time he’d accompanied his boss to the crummy pub where the girl was singing. He could see the attraction she held for Mr Vittorio. She walked with a cocky kind of air about her. Head held high – as if she owned the world. He’d thought she put over a song very well and had a good voice and, of course, she was a very pretty girl.

She stopped beside him. ‘Hello,’ she said with a sweet smile. ‘I want to see Vittorio, please. Will you tell him I’m here? Lily Pickford is the name.’

He hid a smile. Cheeky madam. ‘You’d better come inside.’ He led the way.

Lily looked at her surroundings with some surprise. This might be a brothel, she thought, but the place had class. There was a small entrance hall lit by a crystal chandelier, a good carpet on the floor and flowers, tastefully arranged. She followed George through into the large dining room and seated herself on a plush chair.

The well-stocked bar was in one corner of the room. There were many tables made up to sit various numbers, set out with pristine linen tablecloths with matching napkins and expensive cutlery. In the centre of each table was a small but beautifully arranged posy of flowers. At the far end of the room was a small stage. This she looked at with particular interest.

If this was to be where she performed, it certainly was very different from the shabby bars in the different pubs she was used to. Surrounded by such opulence she suddenly felt the clothes she was wearing were cheap, and she began to feel uncertain about the wisdom of coming here. She was ready to take flight when George walked back into the room.

‘Mr Vittorio will see you now, Miss Lily.’

She liked that – Miss Lily. ‘Thank you,’ she said, and followed the man up the richly carpeted stairs to the first floor.

Vittorio was seated behind a dark carved mahogany desk, which was covered with business papers, and a telephone. In front of the desk was a high-backed chair.

As she entered the room, he said, ‘Thank you, George. That will be all.’ He placed his hands together, his fingertips beneath his chin and looked at her with a piercing gaze from his deep-brown eyes and smiled. ‘Well, well. This is a pleasant surprise, Lily. What can I do for you?’

Looking around, she said cheekily, ‘So this is the lion’s den, is it?’

He chuckled. ‘Is that how you see me? A lion in its den?’

‘To be honest, Vittorio, I’m not at all sure how I see you!’

‘I like the idea of being a man of mystery.’ His voice was deep and mellifluous. ‘Have you perhaps come to find out for yourself – at last?’ His eyebrows arched in question.

‘Maybe.’

‘Then perhaps you’d better sit down.’ He indicated the chair opposite him.

She sat and looked at The Maltese. There was no doubt about it, he fascinated her. But what it was about him that did so was a mystery to her. She thought if he was dressed differently, he’d be a bit like Rudolph Valentino. She grinned across at him, her smile lighting up her eyes. ‘You made me a proposition that night in The Lord Roberts and again the other day. I’ve come to find out a bit more about it!’

He lowered his hands and, taking a gold case out of his pocket, offered her a cigarette. She took it and felt her fingers tremble when he got up from his chair and walked around the desk to light it for her. He then leaned against the desk and looked at her.

‘What do you want to know, Lily?’

‘You said I could sing in your club, with your band.’

‘I did and you can.’

‘You also said I would be well paid.’

He nodded, ‘That’s right.’

‘How much?’

He mentioned a figure that sent Lily’s senses reeling. She tried not to show her pleasure. ‘You promised me good clothes and jewellery too.’

‘Indeed I did. I am a generous man, my dear, as you will learn if you accept my offer.’

His close proximity was unnerving, and Lily was beginning to feel flustered.

‘I also said you would be my mistress.’

‘I know you did. I hadn’t forgotten.’ She returned his gaze, unflinchingly.

He chuckled softly, ‘I think we will have a great time together.’

She felt a sudden chill seep through her, wondering what sort of a lover he would be. ‘I won’t be a whore!’

His head went back as he burst into laughter. He leaned forward and cupped her chin in his hand. ‘Darling Lily. You won’t be a whore. You will be my woman. That is something quite different.’

With a trace of anxiety in her voice, she asked, ‘Is it, Vittorio? Is it really?’

He smoothed her cheek. ‘I can assure you it will be. I told you we were destined for one another. I know it and I’m sure you do too, deep inside you.’

She frowned, and seeing her expression of consternation, he asked, ‘What is it, my dear? What’s troubling you?’

‘Why me, Vittorio? You could have your pick of women. I don’t understand.’

His smile was benign, his voice soft. ‘It’s not so difficult, Lily. You have such charm. You also have talent, which I hate to see go to waste. I can help to make you a star in your field.’

‘But you could do all this without my being your mistress.’

He gave a throaty chuckle. ‘That is quite true. But from the moment I first saw you, you have interested me. You are bright and beautiful. There is so much I can teach you, but I don’t want just to be your teacher.’

She looked at him uncertainly. ‘No?’

Shaking his head, he said, ‘No. I want much more. I want to teach you how to be a woman.’

She looked suddenly indignant. ‘I am already a woman.’

‘Of course you are, and a lovely one. You are very desirable. I don’t want another man discovering these delights. I want you to be mine.’

There was a note of possession in his voice which she didn’t like. ‘You can’t own me, Vittorio. I’m not a piece of meat you can buy at some market stall.’

His laughter echoed. ‘Of course not. Oh Lily, you are such a delight. I’m so pleased to see the fire back in your soul.’ He caught hold of her hand. ‘We will have so much fun together.’

She looked into deep-brown eyes that were bright with amusement. She wasn’t foolish enough not to realise that most of the rumours she’d heard about him were probably true, yet as she looked at him, she felt no fear. Trepidation certainly, anxiety about the unknown, but not fear. She did like Vittorio, but she knew if she accepted his proposition, she would have to tread warily. She grinned mischievously. ‘But I haven’t yet seen the room you promised me time and time again.’

‘Then we’d better put that right. Follow me.’

They ascended the stairs to the third floor. Again the decor was luxurious, the deep red of the carpet contrasting with the white walls hung with expensive paintings. Small mats draped the wall. She looked at him with a puzzled expression. ‘Shouldn’t they be on the floor?’

His dark eyes shone with amusement. ‘They’re prayer mats.’

‘You’d have to be a bloody contortionist to kneel on them, wouldn’t you?’

He chuckled as he led her to a door and opened it, stepping back for her to enter.

With her heart pounding, Lily entered Vittorio’s bedroom. Its grandeur caught her breath. The bed was huge. The bedstead was made of brass. On it were black silk sheets and an extravagant black cover, embroidered with Chinese concubines. The centre light was a large candelabra, with matching lights on each table placed either side of the bed. There was a huge wardrobe and a tallboy, on top of which, placed carefully and fastidiously, were silver-backed hair brushes and small cut-glass bowls with silver lids.