Lily of Love Lane

by Carol Rivers

  ‘You’ve done a lovely job, Hat.’

  ‘You go in and come out in all the right places. It’s rewarding to make a gown for someone so slim.’

  ‘It’s a long time since I’ve thought about me figure,’ Lily sighed. ‘In the factory you get used to wearing an overall all day and the clothes underneath all end up smelling of paint so you wear the same thing week in and week out.’

  ‘I don’t know how you stick that job.’

  ‘Because it’s good pay, I do. And it’s not so bad once you get used to it. Some of the women are a bit bitchy, but I’ve been there over three years now and they don’t bother me.’

  ‘Three years, is it?’

  Lily nodded. ‘I got the job just after you went back with Reube, remember?’

  Hattie took a pin from the pad on her wrist and slipped it into the dart on the bodice of the dress. ‘Will I ever forget! That six months we were apart felt like a lifetime. It was a horrible patch, especially as trade at the market went from bad to worse. And in the end he even had to let you go to keep the stall afloat.’

  ‘We weren’t taking any money,’ Lily nodded as she looked in the mirror. ‘And Reube ended up paying me out of his own pocket.’

  ‘He hated losing you.’ Hattie pulled the material a little tighter as she slid in another pin. ‘Breathe in, I want to give you a nice waist.’

  Lily inhaled as Hattie worked swiftly, then both girls gazed into the mirror.

  ‘What do you think?’

  They frowned critically at the soft pink satin gown overlaid with lace.

  ‘Are you sure you don’t want something towards it?’

  ‘It didn’t cost me a penny,’ Hattie assured her. ‘Madame Nerys said the two gowns are her wedding present. All she wants in return is a photograph of me wedding day to put in the sample book so she can show her customers. She said it was nice to see a design that wasn’t still twenties.’

  ‘It is very modern looking.’

  ‘Let’s try the headband.’

  ‘Is it finished?’

  ‘Yes, it’s a smaller version of mine. And of course mine is white whereas yours is pink.’

  Lily was going to be the only bridesmaid at Hattie’s wedding. She wanted to do her friend proud. It had taken Hattie four years to get Reube up the aisle and the big day had finally been settled on; Saturday July the 28th.

  Hattie returned with a dainty pink band embroidered with flowers. Securing it behind Lily’s ears, she frowned into the mirror. ‘What do you think?’

  ‘It fits just right.’

  ‘These bands are very fashionable now. A definite improvement to the mobcap Queen Elizabeth wore at her wedding.’

  ‘Did you embroider the flowers yourself?’

  ‘No, our embroiderer stitched them,’ said Hattie lowering her voice. ‘Don’t let on though, as Madame Nerys didn’t give anyone else permission to work on you.’

  ‘Oh, no, I won’t say a word.’

  Hattie looked at Lily’s hair. ‘I don’t like to say it, Lil, but your hair reeks of paint.’

  Lily blushed. ‘I haven’t had time to wash it yet.’ The distemper fumes that filled the factory were so strong they clung to hair, skin and clothes alike. To get rid of it, you had to thoroughly wash anything that was contaminated.

  ‘I’m having my hair cut short after me honeymoon. Reube likes it long, so as soon as we get back from Brighton I’m going up West for a Marcel Wave. Perhaps we could go together.’

  ‘Has Reube booked the place you’re staying at?’ Lily didn’t want to say that a West End Marcel Wave was beyond her means.

  ‘Yes, a boarding house called Shalimar.’

  ‘Is it on the front?’

  ‘Yes, quite near.’

  ‘Oh Hat, what a dream!’

  Hattie giggled. ‘It will be nice not to have to find places to go to have a cuddle.’

  ‘You’ll be Mr and Mrs then and allowed to have all the cuddles you want.’

  ‘Yes, and they’ll be free, which will please Reube no end.’

  Both girls burst into laughter as they gazed in the mirror.

  ‘Mrs Heather James,’ Lily murmured, ‘has certainly got a ring to it.’

  ‘I hate Heather,’ Hattie sniffed. ‘But Mrs James sounds lovely.’

  ‘Just as long as you don’t start wearing fur hats.’

  Once more the two girls laughed. ‘I hope Reube’s mum don’t wear that dead animal to the wedding. Did you manage to get the Saturday morning off all right?’

  ‘Yes, though the foreman didn’t like it much.’

  ‘What a sauce! You ain’t had time off since you’ve been there. If you ask me I think you could do much better if you tried harder to look for another job that was more suitable.’

  Lily had looked for another job but nothing was as secure or well paid as the factory. Her wage packet meant a roof over their heads and food in the larder. She didn’t have to worry that the factory would close or that her overtime would dry up. Each week she collected a brown envelope from the office and gave it to her mother. And in no time at all it seemed, the contents were spent.

  ‘What are you doing the evening before your wedding day?’ Lily asked quickly.

  ‘It’s bad luck to see the groom the night before. The market traders are taking him down the pub.’

  ‘Do you want me to help with your hair?’

  ‘I was hoping you’d say that. Follow me, now, and I’ll show you me dress.’

  They went through to the main rooms where Hattie pulled aside a curtain. Lily gasped. ‘Oh, Hat, it’s gorgeous!’

  The long white satin gown hung on the wall. Its wide, scooped neckline was adorned with pearls, its semi-fitted bodice and long sleeves the latest statement in fashion. The silk-tulle veil with a headband of embroidered white flowers was a perfect match to Lily’s.

  ‘You’ll look breathtaking, Hat.’

  ‘I never did get that engagement ring though.’

  ‘He bought you another one.’

  ‘But it’s not as nice.’ Hattie held out her finger. ‘Just a plain gold band with a tiny diamond.’

  ‘Well, I think you’re lucky.’

  As they returned to the compartment where Lily’s clothes still hung, Lily thought yet again how fortunate Hattie was to have everything she wanted. As she reluctantly removed the beautiful gown and put on her skirt and blouse, she was ashamed of her appearance. Drab and shabby against the perfect pink, her clothes looked worn out. Even though Hattie had waited four years to marry, now she had it all.

  ‘Have you found a place to live yet?’ Lily asked as Hattie hung the bridesmaid’s dress on a hanger.

  ‘Not yet. We’re going to live with Mrs James for a short while. I told Reube it will have to be a short while an’ all as I’ll go crackers not having a place to meself.’

  Lily knew Hattie wanted to move over to Greenwich where some of the houses had real gardens and were decorated nicely. Reube hadn’t wanted to move, but Hattie was insisting. She wanted somewhere she could start a new life, away from her parents and Sylvester.

  Hattie pulled the curtain open. ‘Did you know Pedro’s popped the question to Mrs James?’

  Lily gasped. ‘No!’

  Hattie nodded. ‘Surprise, ain’t it?’

  ‘What did she say?’

  ‘She’s going to think about it but doesn’t want to commit herself yet.’

  ‘What do the boys think of that?’

  ‘Reube don’t mind either way. But I told Reube if Pedro moves in, it’s all the more reason for us to move out.’

  They walked to the lockers where they collected their bags. Hattie locked the big door of the workshop and the two girls skipped down the stone steps to the bright afternoon outside.

  ‘Let’s stop at the market on the way home. I’ll buy you a coffee,’ said Hattie as they walked to the bus stop.

  ‘All right, but I mustn’t be long,’ Lily agreed reluctantly. She had a lot to do at home whilst her mum h
ad a rest.

  ‘How is your dad these days?’ Hattie asked curiously.

  ‘He don’t get about much.’ Lily didn’t like to say that he stayed in bed a lot, refusing to get up all day sometimes. She didn’t think it was good for him to be waited on hand and foot, but her mother had got into the habit. He relied greatly on the medicines, which he said stopped his cough and eased the pains in his back.

  When they reached the bus stop, Hattie looked at her watch. ‘We’re just in time for the early one. Now, don’t forget, we have a church rehearsal this evening.’

  ‘No, I haven’t forgotten.’

  ‘We’ll collect you at seven, all right?’

  ‘Yes, I’ll be ready.’

  ‘Ben said he might take us out in the lorry to a country pub after. It’s only for a quick drink. You can tell your mum you’ll be back for ten.’

  Lily smiled at Hattie’s attempt to reassure her that the outing would be informal. If the weather was nice in the evenings the four of them sometimes went for a drive in the lorry. Everyone bought their own drinks, the cost of which Lily had to take out of the few shillings she kept from her wage. It seemed a sin to spend it on something that went down her throat and disappeared. But she didn’t want to appear a bad sport to her friends and have nothing.

  The sun shone as they hailed the bus coming towards them. As it arrived, Lily took a last deep breath of fresh air. Even the fumes from the traffic were better than the polluted gases of the factory.

  The market was busy as Lily listened to the familiar cries of the traders. ‘Apples a pound, pears!’ from Ted Shiner and ‘As good as new,’ from Vera Froud as she held up a bright red skirt. Lily missed the market, but she would never forget the dreadful winter of her unemployment.

  As they walked to Reube’s stall, the traders called out to them. ‘That old man of yours gonna make an honest woman of you?’ Vera Froud yelled to Hattie as she stood in her gabardine mac and boots.

  ‘He ain’t my old man yet, Vera,’ Hattie returned mischievously. ‘I’m still footloose and fancy free.’

  ‘Make the most of your freedom, ducks. You’ll miss it when you’ve got half a dozen kids in tow.’

  ‘How are you, gel?’ Ted Shiner called to Lily. ‘How’s that rotten job of yours?’

  Lily laughed. ‘It’s not that bad.’

  ‘You should come back to the market. If that ugly bugger over there don’t want you, come and work for me.’

  Lily laughed again as Reube gave Ted a rude sign. She knew that although Ted wasn’t joking, he could never match the factory wage.

  ‘Don’t forget me wedding present,’ cried Hattie. ‘I don’t want any of your mouldy old fruit either.’

  ‘Fussy cow, ain’t she?’ Ted grinned. ‘See you at the church then, gel.’

  Reube finished serving a customer, dropping the pennies in the tin that still stood under the counter. ‘To what do I owe the honour of these two lovely ladies calling?’

  ‘Got anything nice?’ Lily asked, turning over what looked like an assortment of junk. She had noticed now that Reube’s stock was just bits and pieces.

  ‘Nah. No one wants quality now.’

  ‘We used to have some good stuff.’

  ‘That was the good old days.’

  Lily felt a little sad to see that Reube had allowed his stock to deplete. She knew that he had put all his savings into pleasing Hattie.

  ‘Oh, don’t worry about him,’ dismissed Hattie waving her hand. ‘I’ll buy us a coffee.’

  Lily sat by the coffee stall and gazed across to the corner where once the Blackshirts had stood, shouting their heads off. Since Oswald Mosley had fallen out of favour with Labour, he had fallen from grace. Ordinary people were worried about another war starting. Fascism was regarded as dangerous and the police had been given orders to actively curtail any demonstrations.

  Suddenly Lily’s heart missed a beat as her gaze fell on the figure of a tall gentleman. His broad shoulders were covered in a light-coloured jacket and on his head he wore a good quality trilby hat.

  She couldn’t take her eyes away and almost stopped breathing. His attention was taken by a pretty young woman standing beside him. Lily clutched her fingers together. Could he be Charles? He was the same height. If only she could see his face!

  Slowly he moved away from the stall. Lily swallowed. He was coming towards her. Then as he looked up, his face became clear. Lily released a long sigh.

  It was a trick of light that made him look like Charles. He was a young man of about twenty, with fair features and light coloured eyes. He passed by, smiling attentively at the young woman on his arm.

  Lily watched them go. Her shoulders slowly slumped as bitter disappointment filled her. If only she had accepted Charles’ offer when she’d had the chance! She might have been like that young girl, so prettily dressed and happy . . .

  Did Charles ever think of her? she wondered. Did he recall the evening they had spent on the Embankment and the Sunday morning at Petticoat Lane?

  Did his thoughts, even for a second, go to her, as hers did so often to him? As Lily watched the couple disappear into the crowds, she knew she would never know.

  Noah Kelly sat high on the cart, beside his old friend, the coalie, Charlie Brent. He could feel the rumble of the wheels stir his bones as they passed from the East India Dock Road towards Limehouse.

  Close to the river, Charlie reined in the big dray and jumped down. A chuckle of amusement escaped his black lips as he reached up to help his passenger.

  ‘I never thought I’d see the day when Noah Kelly couldn’t hop down from a cart without assistance.’

  ‘Oh shut your gob, you cheeky bugger,’ Noah growled as he gripped the extended hand. ‘What do you expect for a man of my age?’

  ‘You ain’t lost your power of speech though, me old friend.’

  Noah grinned, despite his rheumatics, as he dropped unsteadily to his feet. ‘Thanks to the good Lord, I’m still equipped with a tongue to defend meself.’

  ‘You should get yourself a good stick,’ commented his friend lightly. ‘A nice willow. Strong enough to take yer weight. Though there ain’t that much of you these days.’

  ‘I’ll be on me last legs when I do that. Whilst I can put one foot in front of me, I’ll use me two pins.’

  ‘What brings you over this way so regular?’ Charlie enquired curiously. ‘Limehouse is a tidy step from Love Lane.’

  ‘Mind yer own business,’ Noah responded, making his companion chuckle once more. ‘What time are you due back this way?’

  ‘As usual, you want another free ride?’

  ‘Well, I sure ain’t gonna pay you.’

  ‘Damn cheek you have, old man.’

  Noah looked at his friend, a man half a dozen years younger than himself and still active. He was a lucky blighter. Noah envied him his blackened cart and the strong horse that pulled it. As the smell of the animal blew into his nose, he remembered past times. If only he was still sitting up on the cart now and driving his beast, with Lily beside him. If only he was fit and able and two decades younger, he would provide for her but life had taken away his strength and now every breath he took was an effort.

  ‘I’ll return at four,’ said his friend. ‘You know me rules, I ain’t waiting about if you’re not here.’

  ‘I’ll be on this spot, don’t you worry.’

  ‘Then, take care.’ The coalie hesitated, his eyes showing concern for the elderly man who looked as delicate as a cobweb. ‘You’re a daft old man, you know that? Coming over this way so often yer pushing yer luck with the Yellows. A bloke half your age don’t want to be wandering round these parts even in daylight.’

  ‘I can take care of meself.’ Noah Kelly turned and, pulling down his cap and buttoning up the collar of his overcoat, walked unsteadily towards the river.

  He was relieved to hear the clip clop of the horse’s hooves as the cart left. For a moment there he had thought his friend would follow him. Despite the ins
ults they traded, he had known Charlie for all of his life. The kid had been born in the Flocks’ house, his mother expiring as she birthed him. His old man had run off and the boy put into a home up Essex way. It hadn’t stopped him returning fifteen years later to work for a bargee, humping the great sacks of coke on his back. Noah recalled how when the boy had bought himself his first cart, they would stop to discuss the day’s business, then nip smartly down to shovel up the dung. Those were good times; the best.

  He made his way gingerly past the old warehouses on the waterfront and eventually turned into Stowe Street. The sun’s rays illuminated the cobbles and the leaning, tumbling buildings on either side. It was a clear day and he stopped to remove his pince-nez, swat them with a rag, and rebalance them again.

  The mission he had undertaken for Bob Bright four years ago had caused him to make this journey many times since. Perhaps he should never have begun it, but Bob Bright was a good man at heart. He had ailed though, and grasped desperately at any little relief.

  As Noah neared the dismal shack, his heart pounded. He’d followed this path when he was young. The memories tumbled back of the woman, then a great beauty. Her hair had been as black as a raven, eyes like black almonds. His heart had missed a beat every time he’d tied Samson to the post and gone inside with all the daring and passion of youth.

  But now his mission was for his brother-in-law and Noah shivered as he tried to catch his breath. No noise, just the river and its journeymen and the scent of the ebbing tide and a deeper more pungent smell, that forced his old heart even faster.

  Ramshackle and decayed, the little houses leaned this way and that. Some missing altogether where the river had washed them away. He stood quietly, assessing the slum, the crossed struts of wood barring entry or exit. He walked towards it, as though it might disappear in a blink. Then raising his clenched fist he knocked three times in slow succession. He said, without being asked, ‘It’s me.’

  Receiving no reply, he pushed and the hinges rattled. Even this noise aroused him still, a promise of what and who was inside. The door creaked open. A bent figure paused in the shadows. And all around him the stench of the den, creeping into his lungs.