Lily of Love Lane Read online

  She waited for a space at one of the basins. How could her imagination have ever created a scene like this? It seemed she wasn’t expected to pay a penny for their food as Charles had told her it was entirely his treat.

  Lily gazed in the mirror. Tucking her hair tidily under her hat, she pinched her cheeks to bring out the colour. The other women were talking in high voices. Some of them balanced their cigarette holders between their manicured fingers. She didn’t have their expensive clothes, nor did she smoke, although she almost wished she did. But the fur trim she had added to her collar was just the right touch.

  Lily smiled at the girl next to her. She was dark-haired and wore the most gorgeous black astrakhan coat. Although tall and slim, she was bereft of a smile and looked away.

  This dented Lily’s confidence a little. If Hattie had been here she would have whispered in her ear ‘snobby cow’ and they would have had a giggle. It was always fun to be with Hattie. Thanks to Madame Nerys’ training, Hattie could outshine anyone here.

  But now Lily was on her own. Could she remember which knives and forks to use? Was it milk in the cup before the tea or the other way round?

  Lily finished her repairs and made her way out. Charles had found them a table and proved the perfect host. He poured the tea and offered her the silver sugar bowl.

  ‘No, thank you. The tea is perfect.’

  ‘Like the lovely young woman sitting opposite me,’ he looked into her eyes.

  Lily knew she was going scarlet. ‘I . . . I didn’t expect to find myself here,’ she stammered.

  ‘You deserve it. You are giving up your time to spend with me. And don’t think I’ve forgotten this is a business arrangement. I shall make certain you are compensated.’

  Lily was disappointed, she wanted him to say she was here because he liked her. One moment he made her feel special, the next he was reminding her that she would be paid.

  ‘What would you like to eat?’

  Lily read from the menu. Speciality pastries, House Swiss Roll, fruit scones and sandwiches to order. Hams, cheeses, pickles and home-baked bread. The list went on and on.

  Lily looked bewildered. ‘I like everything.’

  He laughed. ‘You’re very easy to please.’

  She hesitated. ‘But the pastries look lovely.’ They took sly glances at the cake stand on the next table. It was overflowing with delicious concoctions.

  ‘I’ll order a selection, shall I?’

  ‘That would be lovely.’

  Whilst he was ordering, Lily looked around. Each table was covered with a pure white linen tablecloth, the cutlery and china were sparkling, and every napkin was folded into a cone.

  As her gaze returned to Charles, she felt her heart race again. He was one of the most attractive men in the room. There were other well-dressed men, but he was exceptional with his dark looks and beautiful dark eyes. She could see the other women looking in his direction.

  The pastries and sandwiches arrived. She had never seen such a collection. Crustless white bread with dainty fillings and a creamy sauce. Pastries oozing cream, marzipan, currants, sultanas and icing. Lily didn’t think they could eat them all, but they did.

  ‘Would you like something else?’ the waitress asked when she returned.

  Lily shook her head. ‘I couldn’t eat a crumb more.’

  ‘Just the bill then, thank you,’ said Charles with a friendly grin.

  The waitress went off. Lily remembered Uncle Noah telling her they were called Nippies. Each girl wore a black dress decorated with red buttons and trimmed with white collars, cuffs and aprons.

  ‘It must be very tiring being on your feet all day,’ Lily remarked when the girl brought the bill folded on a small saucer.

  ‘Yes, it is.’

  ‘I hope they pay you well,’ said Charles.

  ‘Not terribly, and we have to work in shifts,’ the Nippy explained. ‘Our salaries don’t amount to much, but there’s a chance to earn commission of sixpence in every pound at weekends and tuppence the rest of the week.’

  ‘Well, we can’t have that,’ said Charles, pressing a half crown in her hand. ‘At least, not this week.’

  ‘Oh – sir!’

  ‘Think nothing of it,’ he said, giving her another smile that had her blushing to the roots of her blonde hair.

  ‘That was very generous of you,’ Lily said when they were on their own. ‘She was very pleased.’

  He looked into Lily’s eyes. ‘I’m lucky enough to be enjoying myself so much. Why shouldn’t I be generous?’

  Lily blushed once more. She was keenly aware of the female interest around them. Charles began to tell her what kind of things he wanted to buy and seemed unconcerned by the attention. Lily felt as though she was the only woman in the room. It proved very difficult, in fact almost impossible, to keep her mind on the conversation.

  After leaving Lyons, Charles drove them to Shepherd Market in Mayfair. The tiny shops were a stark contrast to the grandeur of Piccadilly and Park Lane close by, but had exactly what they were looking for. Even though the buildings were old and shabby, they possessed an old world charm and plenty of curios, foods, furniture and jewellery to choose from.

  ‘All this was built in the eighteenth century by a builder called Edward Shepherd,’ Charles told Lily as he guided her around the small lanes. ‘To me, this place has a timeless quality. And as you’ll see, I’m sure we’ll find one or two bargains.’

  As they scoured the tiny shops, they found brass pieces and silverware, pottery and ornaments and dozens of things that Lily had never even seen before. But when she came upon a pair of Georgian figurines, she recognized their beauty immediately.

  Charles purchased them at once and arranged for them to be delivered. In the next shop Lily chose larger furniture, a chair in watered pink silk for one of the bedrooms, a bookcase for the back parlour and a thick, Indian rug for the drawing room.

  With their task accomplished, they found the car again and Charles drove them to the Embankment. After parking they strolled slowly along, past manicured lawns and secret little gardens. Near Hungerford Bridge, they paused to admire Cleopatra’s Needle and its guardian sphinx. Although of a different culture and brought many years before from Alexandria, Lily thought how the monument didn’t look out of place. The pathways around it seemed to glow in its honour under the leafless trees. A smell of smoke and salty water rose in the air.

  She bent to read the small commemoration. ‘A ship was designed to carry it to England,’ she murmured in wonder. ‘Then it nearly capsized in the Bay of Biscay. It’s amazing it ever got here at all.’

  ‘Yes, they are treacherous seas off the coast of Spain,’ said Charles, nodding as he bent beside her. ‘I’ve crossed them myself when I was at sea.’

  Lily turned, wide-eyed. ‘You were in the Navy?’

  ‘Yes, in 1917. I enlisted, eager to serve my country. The sea held many romantic notions for a young man of twenty but the war soon changed all that.’

  ‘My dad don’t talk about it much. He was in France and said he was lucky to come home.’

  ‘He was indeed. Many good men died there.’

  ‘Half of our street lost a loved one. Mr James died, that’s Ben and Reube’s dad. And Sylvester, Hattie’s brother, got gassed. He’s still very ill because of it.’

  ‘My sympathies are with his family. I saw men suffer and die, but to live and continue to suffer . . .’ His voice tailed off and Lily looked at her companion, admiring all she saw. This was a man who was brave as well as handsome and kind; he understood what the men had gone through in the war.

  ‘Let’s sit here for a while and rest,’ he gestured to a bench nearby.

  The river breeze blew her hair from her face as they made themselves comfortable. The exercise had kept the chill at bay. Lily’s cheeks were flushed with excitement.

  ‘Have you enjoyed today, Lily?’ he asked suddenly.

  ‘Oh, yes, I have.’

  He smiled. ‘I hope
I haven’t exhausted you.’

  ‘No. I enjoyed going in those shops and choosing lovely things, especially as I didn’t have to pay for them.’ She glanced up at him. He was so good looking she had quite forgotten that they must have walked for miles. She didn’t care; every minute in his company had been enthralling.

  ‘You have very good taste.’

  She blushed again. ‘I don’t know if I have. But I know what’s good and what isn’t from working on the stall.’

  ‘Invaluable experience,’ he nodded.

  ‘I’m lucky to have a job I like. I’d hate to work in a factory.’

  ‘Surely you wouldn’t do that?’ he asked, looking shocked.

  ‘It’s much better pay.’

  ‘But the repetitive work would be intolerable, wouldn’t it?’

  She shrugged. ‘I’d have to do it if there was nothing else.’

  A frown deepened across his brow. ‘So what is it you want to do with your life, Lily?’

  She paused, looking under her lashes. ‘Well, like every girl, I suppose. To marry and have a family of my own.’

  ‘But you have tremendous business acumen. You have taste and style. And for a young woman, a great deal of confidence. You could do a lot with your skills, Lily.’

  She laughed. ‘Such as?’

  ‘Have you considered working for a bigger concern than a market stall? Perhaps a specialist in furniture?’

  Lily had never thought of such a thing. She just did her job and was happy to do it. The experience of selling old but interesting things had taught her a lot. She knew she would never be happy in a factory, but as for working for a big concern . . .? Before she could give her reply Charles spoke again.

  ‘Or perhaps there’s someone special in your life and you already know your path? For instance, that young man of yours – Ben James.’

  ‘I’ve told you, he’s not my young man,’ Lily said adamantly. ‘Just a good friend.’

  He looked at her intently. ‘I see.’

  Why should he be concerned about Ben? she wondered. Or whether there was anyone special in her life? Her pulse began to race as she tried to work out why he was asking these questions.

  He turned and slid an arm along the top of the bench. ‘Lily, would you agree to help me again?’ Sensing her hesitation, he added, ‘Those figurines you chose today would have escaped my attention. A man’s point of view is so limited.’

  Lily could hardly contain her excitement, just thinking about being with him again made her tremble. There might be things about him that she didn’t understand but the mystery made him all the more exciting.

  ‘Sunday mornings are the only time I have free.’

  ‘Well then, perhaps our next trip should be to Petticoat Lane. I have bought many bargains there in the past.’

  Lily’s eyes lit up. ‘I love it there. Uncle Noah used to take me.’

  ‘Well then, shall we say in a week’s time?’ She nodded and he gave her one of his wonderful smiles. ‘Thank you, Lily.’

  As they sat in the silence, dusk fell around them, Lily thought this was the nearest to heaven she had ever come.

  Then a small group of Salvation Army officers appeared. The women’s bonnets were tied with bows and the men wore flat caps, their red and blue uniforms were clearly distinguishable under the lamplight. They sang ‘Onward Christian Soldiers’ and it brought a lump to Lily’s throat; she would always remember this night.

  When it was over, Charles turned to her. He sighed deeply, his warm breath curling up in the cold air. ‘Lily, as much as I don’t want this evening to end, I must drive you home.’

  She looked into his gaze and, like him, was reluctant to end their time together. His eyes were dark and shimmered in the lamplight. Their unswerving intensity made Lily’s heart race. For as long as she lived she would never forget this day.

  It was Sunday night and Ben was standing at the bar of the Quarry. He and Reube were making their ales last as Reube enjoyed another rendition of the fight with the Blackshirts. Ben noticed his tale had become taller and longer and smiled as he listened to this version, growing like Pinocchio’s nose. It was accepted on the island that everyone supported each other when it came to outside disputes. And after a few ales, the loyalties were fierce and passionate.

  ‘If I’d been there I would have knocked his block off,’ remarked Solly Maine, a warehouseman from Cubitt Town. He was small in stature and past his prime but he pulled back his shoulders and showed off a bull chest.

  Ben grinned. ‘You might get your chance,’ he said, nodding at Reube. ‘They could come back for seconds, by the sound of it.’

  ‘Ain’t nothing to what we had just after the war,’ Solly shrugged. ‘Remember the siege of Sidney Street?’

  ‘They wasn’t Blackshirts though, they were villains,’ pointed out Harry Ward. ‘Now if you’re talking skulduggery, them Sabinis have got to take the biscuit.’

  Ben listened, as the group of men began to rekindle the heroic and not so heroic past. People’s ordinary everyday lives were normally unaffected by the realities of gangs and murderers, but tonight his brother’s little ‘episode’ had caught the imagination and made for a lively discussion.

  ‘Them Sabinis are still operating locally I hear,’ nodded Solly Maine as he wiped the froth from his top lip, and the men all nodded.

  ‘They’re into the tracks more, though,’ Harry Ward spoke from under his cap. ‘Clocked a few of their men round the Newbury and Epsom pitches.’ When everyone frowned at him, realizing that he’d had money in his pocket for such ventures, he added quickly, ‘As you know I like the occasional punt but only when I’m flush.’

  ‘If it’s the dogs and gee-gees they’re concentrating on,’ Ben, drew back their attention, ‘then good luck to them. The heat is off everyone else.’

  ‘The coppers should do something about them Blackshirts though,’ nodded Ernie from across the bar. ‘’Stead of letting them get away with blue murder.’

  ‘There was a time when the Italians would have sorted them out,’ Don Harrison remarked. He hadn’t found work in a month and was enjoying a free pint on Ben’s behalf. ‘The Cortesi brothers for instance, they was a real rough lot.’

  Reube shook his head. ‘The Cortesis have folded, old son, I know that for a fact. No, I have to say it meself, but me and Ted were the ones to teach them Blackshirts a lesson they won’t forget.’

  ‘A hundred and twenty boxes of fags went missing from Chalk Wharf the other day,’ said Izzy Ware, a foreman at the East India Dock Company. ‘Almost as much booze disappeared from the Gloria’s hold overnight.’

  Ben took a gulp of his drink. He’d heard there had been a lot of pilfering lately, in fact he’d turned down a couple of deals himself. They smelt fishy. Not that he wasn’t averse to a little stretching of the law, but nicking and transporting in big numbers was a mug’s game. If you had a load of swag and got stopped at one of the bridgers, you might as well give yourself up there and then. There was no way off the island if the bridges were up and the boats going under.

  ‘Is the Gloria still in dock?’ asked Reube, obviously thinking along the same lines.

  ‘They let her sail yesterday.’

  ‘Where was she out of?’

  ‘Copenhagen.’

  ‘No wonder then,’ said Reube, his eyebrows raised. ‘I’ve heard them ships come down from Russia and serve tobacco and booze up to the English like bread and butter.’

  Ben didn’t doubt this. He’d often seen lorries running at dead of night after he’d parked the lorry up. It was a dangerous game and someone was on a generous backhander. He knew he could make a good whack if he offered his services, but sooner or later the law swooped. When they did it was curtains for the lorry driver and all his load. Once upon a time he might have been tempted. In the early days when other drivers made five and six times as much as him in a week. He’d heard them boasting often enough, after a few jars. But, thank God, he’d had enough savvy to resist te
mptation.

  ‘You all right, bruv?’ Reube nudged his arm, bringing him back to the present.

  ‘Yeah, was just thinking about me motor.’ Ben finished his drink but decided not to have another. He needed a clear head for the following morning. He was off to Bermondsey with a load of bricks. It was supposed to be Monday’s job, but he was going to collect his new toy. He couldn’t wait to drive the Chariot.

  ‘You’ll need a lift up to Aldgate for your flashy new motor I ’spose,’ Reube said, grinning.

  ‘You offering?’

  ‘Course.’

  ‘What about the stall?’

  ‘I’ll get Lil set up and come back for you about ten, all right?’

  ‘Have you got Pedro to help?’

  ‘Yeah, he needs a drink for yesterday as well.’

  Ben frowned as he heard this. ‘Saturday?’

  ‘Yeah, there was only me and him.’

  ‘Where was Lil? Thought she was working all day now?’

  Reube frowned, knitting his brow reflectively. ‘Didn’t I say? That bloke you sold the po to, he took her up West.’

  For a moment Ben was mystified. ‘What, this what’s-his-name, Charles Grey?’

  Reube put down his ale. ‘That’s him. Came to the stall to buy more stuff, but those bloody Blackshirts put him off. We didn’t have nothing anyway. Told Lil he’d pay me for her time. Wanted her to help him choose more stuff. So I come out all right really. Just got to give Pedro a couple of bob and whatever’s left over goes in the kitty.’ Reube smiled broadly and turned to raise his empty glass. ‘One more, Ernie, for the road, ta mate.’

  Ben stared at his brother, an unpleasant feeling settling in his stomach. That Charles Grey had looked up Lily again. But why? Because he wanted her advice again?

  Ben straightened his back and twisted his neck in his collar. He felt constricted and uncomfortable. Why the dickens hadn’t Reube mentioned this before? He was too busy with his sums!

  As Ben’s face darkened, he caught his reflection in the mirror. Was he any different to his brother? Nearly every penny he’d earned lately, had been saved for the Chariot. The thought of the motor had obsessed him. All he’d been able to think about was how the first thing he would do was to put his hands on the steering wheel and look over his shoulder at those thirty seats and imagine them all as ten bob notes!