Riches of the Heart Page 11

  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!’

  Chapter Nine

  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.’

  ‘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 ey
es 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!’