Riches of the Heart Page 5

  She looked into his eyes. She could trust someone with eyes like that. There was such a gentle expression in them, not one of lust, of hunger for her body. This man was different. He had a strength about him, a pride – and he wanted her to be his girl. She didn’t ever remember feeling so happy.

  Walking back along The Ditches Tom asked, ‘Where do you live?’

  ‘In the back of the shop.’

  He looked puzzled. ‘Is there a room there?’

  ‘Not a proper room, but Rachel let me make one corner of it mine.’

  ‘This won’t do at all.’

  ‘Why, what’s wrong?’ Lily couldn’t understand him. To her, the corner of the shop was her own personal haven. It was safe and warm, if a bit musty.

  ‘I can’t have my girl living like that. I’ll look for a room for you.’

  ‘But Tom, I can’t afford to rent a room.’

  ‘No, darlin’, but I can. I told you, I’m going to take care of you.’ He gathered her into his arms, and kissed her forehead, her eyes and then, softly, her lips.

  Lily, eyes closed, thought she was in heaven. This was not like her father. This was gentle – this was love. This was wonderful. She returned his kisses, holding him tight.

  That night, in her bed, she thanked God. ‘You have taken care of me. Thank You. He’s a fine man, this Tom McCann. But I’m a bit worried about Rachel’s son – You know, Manny. I don’t like him. I know we’re supposed to turn the other cheek and all that, but if You don’t mind, in his case, I can’t. Amen.’

  Amy popped into the shop the following day. ‘Hey, you lucky tyke.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ asked Lily.

  ‘You and Tom. He’s about the best-looking man around. I can’t tell you the women that have thrown their cap at him.’

  ‘Oh, really. Does that include you?’

  ‘Given half the chance. But don’t you worry, love. Tom and me, we’re just good mates. Good luck to you, darlin’. He makes good money, and he can take care of himself.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ asked Lily, suddenly fearful.

  ‘Oh, he’s got an Irish temper on him when he’s roused, but for all that, he’s a good bloke. Ta ra.’

  Rachel Cohen had been listening and had seen the uncertain look on Lily’s face. ‘I’ve never met an Irishman yet who didn’t have a temper. But as long as he’s good to you, don’t worry about it. A woman needs a man with a bit of fire in his belly, not some schlemiel.’

  ‘He asked me to be his girl last night,’ Lily confided.

  A look of pleasure crossed Rachel’s face. ‘I’m happy to hear it, my dear. It’s about time you had someone to take care of you. Not thinking of leaving me, are you?’

  ‘No, of course not.’ With a mischievous look Lily added, ‘Besides, I still owe you money out of my wages … And I’m happy here with you.’ Looking around she asked, ‘Where’s Manny today?’

  ‘He’s gone up to London, to Golders Green, but he’ll be back in the morning.’

  Breathing a sigh of relief, Lily said, ‘Well, best get on then.’

  Later that night, Rachel sat by the fire in her comfortable house, wearing her old dressing gown, eating her gefilte fish and drinking her gin. Her thoughts turned to Lily.

  She compared the happy girl she had left this night at her shop to the poor scruffy barefoot waif trying to pinch a pair of shoes. What a sad sight she had looked that day. God knows what she’d suffered at the hands of her drunken father – though Rachel had a good idea.

  The confrontation between Lily and Manny had not gone unnoticed, and Rachel let out a sigh. He was her son and although she loved him, she was aware of the boy’s bad points. Boy? What am I thinking, she chastised herself. He’s a man – thirty yet. She knew he’d been to the Club Valletta, and she knew what for. He didn’t gamble, he liked money too much … as did his father. He chased women though, just like his father, Hymie. He was a lazy good-for-nothing, but in this he was alone. His father had worked hard for his money, which he saved, scraping every penny together, being miserly about the housekeeping. Rachel grinned sardonically. Poor Hymie, saving so hard for so long only to die suddenly and leave it all to her. She raised her glass. ‘L’chayim! Good health!’

  Nobody knew just how much Rachel was worth – certainly not her son. It gave her satisfaction to wear shabby clothes when she was working, but few would have recognised her when she made the odd trip to London, dressed in expensive finery.

  Frowning, she thought again of Manny. She needed to find him a wife. Someone who could keep him under control. Someone tight-lipped and tight-arsed. She would speak to the Rabbi again.

  Perhaps with Tom McCann, young Lily could at last fulfil her aspirations to marriage and respectability. God knows she deserved it. The girl had crept into her heart, yet she knew that one day she would leave. And how she would miss her. Why couldn’t I have had a daughter instead of a feckless son? she sighed, and took another sip of gin.

  Lily was up early the following morning, and was already setting out the display when she saw Rachel and Manny walking towards her. Her heart sank. She was going to have that slimy individual around again.

  ‘Morning, Rachel.’ She ignored Manny, who just looked at her with a sly grin.

  Lily was kept busy on the shop front for most of the morning, but just before noon Rachel said, ‘I’ve just got to go to my solicitor’s for an hour. Manny will help keep an eye on the shop. I won’t be long.’

  Lily cast a baleful eye in his direction as his mother left them. ‘You make sure you keep your distance,’ she threatened him.

  ‘You should treat me nice, Lily. When Mama dies, all this will be mine.’ He looked around the shop. ‘This is a good little business. I’ll have plenty of cash.’

  ‘If you were covered from head to foot in fivers I wouldn’t touch you with a barge-pole!’

  ‘You know you don’t mean that,’ he said and made a grab at her, catching her by the wrist and pulling her towards him.

  Lily was outraged. With all her might she pushed him hard in the chest, sending him flying. He fell awkwardly among the many boxes, knocking the velvet yarmulkah off the back of his head. A feathered hat with a large brim descended and settled on his head as he sat there, dazed from her sudden onslaught.

  He looked so ridiculous that she doubled up with laughter. ‘Blimey! You could go on the stage at the music halls dressed like that.’

  Manny was furious. How dare this chit of a girl ridicule him! Getting to his feet, he grabbed at her once again, gripping her left breast in a cruel hold.

  Feeling the sudden pain, Lily clenched her fist and punched him in the face.

  With a howl, he let go.

  Picking up the old umbrella she’d used before, Lily pointed the steel tip at his throat. ‘You touch me again, you filthy bastard, and I’ll stab you. Why don’t you clean yourself up and find a nice Jewish girl and get married. Make your mother happy. That’ll keep you out of trouble.’

  Rubbing his jaw, he glared at her. ‘You think you’re so bloody clever, wheedling your way in here, creeping around Mama. I know your sort – after all you can get from a poor old woman.’

  ‘Poor old woman? Ha! Your mother could make ten of you. Look at you – you’re disgusting. Your suit is filthy and you stink. Don’t you ever wash? You think any woman would want you? You turn my stomach.’ She walked outside the shop to calm down. Muttering, ‘I’ll swing for that bastard one day if he’s around here too often.’

  Abraham appeared in the doorway of his shop and, seeing Lily stomping up and down, asked, ‘Vat’s the matter? You look upset, my dear.’

  ‘Bloody Manny Cohen’s what’s wrong. I can’t bear to be in the same room as him. Trying to paw me all the time!’

  Scratching his whiskers, he agreed. ‘Vat a disgrace. That poor woman deserves better. My life! If he vas mine, he’d be vorking to earn his keep. Not taking his mama’s money. He’s a meshuggener!’

  Manny appeared at the door
.

  Abraham pointed a scrawny finger at him. ‘You leave this girl alone or I’ll tell your mama the disgrace you are. Your father if he vas alive would be disgusted with you.’

  ‘Get back to your pawn tickets, old man, and mind your own business.’

  ‘Nobody’s talked to me like that since I came here from Poland, thirty years ago. You got no respect for your elders.’ Abraham’s angry voice brought other shop-owners to the street.

  Harry, who owned the fruit and veg stall, strolled over. Shaking a fist at Manny he said, ‘You watch your mouth, talking to the old boy like that. You want to take someone on, you try me.’

  Manny stepped back, his face pale. An old man was one thing but Harry was another. ‘It’s nobody else’s business. Get back to your shop.’

  Harry grabbed him by his coat front. ‘Don’t give me any of your lip, you little runt.’ He pushed him away. ‘You all right, Abraham?’

  ‘Sure. That little rat ain’t vorth vorrying about.’

  Lily had been watching the altercation with enjoyment. She saw the worried look in Manny’s eyes, and knew now that he was a coward as well as a slob. ‘Thanks, Harry,’ she said, ‘but it’s all right.’

  ‘Any more trouble from him,’ he pointed in Manny’s direction, ‘you let me know, Lily.’

  When the small gathering had dispersed, Manny said, ‘I’ll pay you back, you little shiksa bitch, you see if I don’t.’

  Seeing Mrs Cohen approaching, Lily didn’t answer.

  Rachel was immediately aware of the tense atmosphere in the shop. She saw the boxes tipped over and the bruise appearing on her son’s face. She was furious. ‘Get those boxes put straight,’ she told him.

  ‘I was just off for a pint,’ he whined.

  ‘Stuff your bloody pint. You do as you’re told. It’s time you earned some of the money I give you.’ She went outside where Lily was folding some clothes. ‘Everything all right girl?’

  Seeing the worried look in her eyes, Lily nodded. ‘Fine, Rachel. Just fine.’

  Walking back into the shop, Rachel grabbed the collar of Manny’s jacket. ‘Been up to your old tricks have you, you little putz?’

  He looked worried. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘You know what I mean. My life – you’re just like your father! You carry your bloody brains in your trouser pockets. Can’t keep your hands off a bit of skirt.’

  ‘I never touched her.’

  Rachel put her face up against her son’s. ‘Don’t you bloody lie to me. What’s this bruise on your face, then? Give you one, did she?’ She slapped him hard across the other cheek. ‘Now I’ve done the same.’

  Manny looked at her in shocked surprise.

  ‘That girl has had enough to put up with in her young life without you to deal with.’ She let go of him.

  Manny looked at his mother, his mouth tight with jealousy. ‘You think more of her than you do of me.’

  ‘What did I ever do to deserve a son like you? Tomorrow you go to your uncle in Golders Green. This time you work in his tailor’s shop. You don’t buy for me no more – now you earn your keep.’

  ‘Mama, you can’t do that! I’m your son!’

  ‘When you marry a good Jewish girl and settle down, then you’re my son. Now, you are nothing to me. You get nothing from me. You earn your own money to spend on prostitutes. Go home. Pack your bags and bugger off.’ She crossed her arms. ‘I put up with your father for long enough. I don’t put up with you. Enough already. Go!’

  As Manny pushed past Lily, he said quietly, ‘You’ll pay for this.’

  Lily knew that day she had made an enemy.

  Chapter Four

  The sound of the piano being played in The Sailor’s Return could be heard the length of the street. ‘My old man said follow the van, and don’t dilly dally on the way.’ The words of the song were being sung lustily by most of the patrons. In the corner, banging out the melody on an old tinny piano, was Sandy, so named for the colour of his hair.

  In his mid-forties, Sandy was paunchy from living too well, his complexion bloated from too much liquor. But his hair, worn long in the neck, curled softly and shone, the overhead lights picking out the chestnut tones. A brightly patterned silk scarf was tucked in the neck of his shirt, over which he wore a maroon-coloured smoking jacket that had seen better days. Nevertheless, it gave Sandy a jaunty, decadent air.

  Coming to the end of his number, he stopped playing and angrily tossed his head when a male voice demanded he carry on.

  ‘Shut your face, you old fart. I’m going to have a peaceful drink.’

  ‘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 go
t 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.