Lily of Love Lane

by Carol Rivers

  ‘Woman, is it you?’

  The bent figure halted. An oil lantern glowed on a table. He walked towards it, watching the roaches skim and scuttle. He heard the door creak behind him and turned sharply. The big Lascar had dropped the bar down.

  Noah paid little attention to the Indian seaman who stood a head and shoulders above him. It was the woman who interested him.

  ‘Want smokey, Kelly-Kelly?’ she enquired. Her once black hair hung limp and grey, woven into a plait. The emerald silk of her robe shone lustrously in the light.

  ‘Up from the bowels of the earth, are you again, Mai Chi?’ he demanded, a catch in his voice.

  ‘Mai got plenty for Kelly-Kelly.’

  He nodded slowly. ‘Aye, that I know.’

  The small, bent figure moved sharply back into the shadows. ‘Follow Mai, Kelly-Kelly.’

  She beckoned and he followed. Down into the room below, taking each step with care as the rotten wood creaked and groaned beneath his weight. When he reached ground, he saw nothing. The woman touched his arm. He shuddered once more. Then followed again, to the single light of a candle.

  Ben drove the lorry through Whitechapel to Shadwell, enjoying the summer’s day. It was late afternoon and he had finished early, intending to pause at the Quarry for refreshment. The tavern would be closed, but Ernie would take him to the back room and join him for a smoke and swift ale. He would be home before six and still have time to wash and brush up before supper.

  At seven he and Reube were off to the church and Ben smiled to himself. He didn’t care much for the religious formalities, but afterwards he was taking them all for a drive. Reube and Hattie could sit in the back, on a blanket. With the canvas roof removed they could look up at the stars, enjoy a bit of romance. It would be an excuse to be alone with Lil.

  Whistling happily, he turned towards Limehouse. The late traffic was noisy, held up by a slow-moving cart. Absorbed by his thoughts, he slowed the lorry. Where would he take them tonight? Perhaps up Bromley way, through a nice bit of green, to watch the dusk blow over the trees and melt softly into their path. He knew a tavern off the Manor Road, the Black Cat. It had a garden and benches where they could enjoy a drink.

  The traffic moved slowly along, until the bus in front of him turned off. The cart that had slowed things down was a coal cart. It was piled high with empty sacks and at once Ben recognized the two figures that sat above the big horse. Noah Kelly and Charlie Brent. This was not the first time he’d seen them on his return from the city. For a short while, Ben followed at a distance, his eyes steady on the cart.

  Slowly it began to roll off. Ben watched it turn towards the island, whilst heading the lorry to his last port of call, a tobacconist’s in Poplar.

  As he drew up at the shop and parked outside, Ben considered the puzzle of Lily’s uncle. Limehouse was not a salubrious place to visit by any stretch of the imagination. The Chinese ran the district, the Yellows as they were known. Ben scratched his chin thoughtfully.

  Limehouse . . . not a place even the island coalie would have business in. What interest could Noah Kelly have there?

  Lily had sung and laughed so much as they travelled home from the Black Cat, that her sides ached. As she sat beside Ben in the cab, they could hear Reube and Hattie’s voices drifting in from the back through the open windows. They were singing ‘Walkin’ My Baby Back Home’ as they snuggled on the blanket thrown over the lorry’s floor, affording them a view of the star-filled night and a beautiful silver moon.

  The evening had been a great success. Lily sighed contentedly as the lorry rumbled along. She was happy for Hattie who so wanted her wedding day to be a roaring success. Reverend Smart from St Peter’s had conducted a faultless rehearsal of the wedding. No one had forgotten what to do or where to stand. The elderly organist had played the Wedding March with a few missed notes, but had finally ended on a triumphal flourish. As she and Ben, who was to be best man, followed bride and groom down the aisle, a lump had come into her throat. It was going to be a perfect wedding, all that Hattie had desired.

  When the practice was over, they had climbed in the lorry, laughing and happy. Ben had driven them out to the Black Cat where they had enjoyed their drinks on the benches outside.

  It was midsummer and all of nature was ripe. From the nearby field Lily had heard the bark of a fox and they’d watched in awe as the bats dived low over their heads. And all around there was the smell of the country as it filled the night air.

  As the headlights illuminated the large moths in the lights of the lorry, Reube and Hattie began to sing again. ‘I’m Just Wild About Harry’ became ‘I’m just wild about Hattie’, followed by a chorus from ‘It’s Only A Paper Moon’.

  ‘I don’t think I can sing anymore,’ laughed Lily breathlessly, after a rousing verse from ‘Rose Marie’. ‘I’ve sung meself out.’

  ‘Them two at the back have gone quiet as well.’

  Lily glanced back through the small glass window. She could see the top of Reube and Hattie’s heads close together.

  ‘They’re otherwise occupied,’ she said softly, glad that Ben couldn’t see her blush.

  ‘Romance is in the air,’ he chuckled. ‘Talking of which, did you know me mum might be tying the knot again?’

  Lily smiled. ‘Hattie told me Pedro had popped the question.’

  ‘I reckon Pedro is a decent enough bloke and my old man would wish Mum good luck if she chose to wed again. He’d want her to be happy.’

  ‘She’ll always love your dad, but it’s the here and now that counts,’ Lily nodded.

  ‘I’ll not argue with that, Lil.’ They travelled on in silence until Ben said suddenly, ‘I was meaning to come over and have a smoke with your dad. Ain’t seen him around lately.’

  Lily wanted to say how worried she was about her father. She knew she could tell Ben but what could he do? ‘He doesn’t go out much. In fact, he just stays indoors.’

  ‘Would he like a ride out in the lorry?’

  ‘I don’t know, Ben.’

  ‘I’ll ask him if you like.’

  ‘Yes, but I don’t know what he’ll say. The only thing that seems to mean much to him is his medicine.’

  After a small silence, Ben said quietly, ‘So you’ll be staying on at the factory then?’

  She nodded. ‘Looks like it.’

  Ben slowly returned his gaze to the road. ‘Is your dad coming to the wedding?’

  ‘Hope so.’

  ‘Tell you what, I’ll have a word with your dad meself. Tell him he can sit right up the front of the charabanc with me.’

  ‘Thanks, Ben.’

  She hoped that nothing would prevent her dad from attending the wedding as she wanted him to see her walk up the aisle in her pink dress. But would it be the closest to white she ever got?

  Chapter Fifteen

  It was the day of the wedding. Noah Kelly left his bedroom, making his way downstairs. The house was still, only the sounds of the river squeezing in through the windows. The faint whiff of coke fumes and tar caught at his throat and he coughed, attempting to clear the rattle of phlegm on his chest. He cursed the congestion and shook his head as if to clear his sight as he shuffled down the cold passage in his slippers.

  When he reached the kitchen and glanced through to the larder he saw the old nosebag hanging on the peg. It was the last reminder of the old days. On a morning like today, as bright as a button, he would have made a tidy penny on the cart. Samson would have fed early and they would set out at a steady pace. The odd drip from his nose would skate down the reins and the clip of hooves on the cobbles would rouse the streets. The calm before the storm, he always thought. Before the turbans came bobbing under the sashes and the dogs ran barking at Samson’s hooves. Then all hell would let loose. The filthy kids, some without socks or shoes, many freezing to the bone, all running, eager to steal the dung and pushing the muck down in rotten barrows, to flog up Poplar to the posh houses with gardens. They didn’t miss a trick those k
ids. As cold and starving as they were, they had smiles on their faces.

  He still missed them kids. Missed the snotty-nosed little devils in their patched and frayed rags who thought Lil was a little princess sitting high on the cart. She was an’ all, with her long white hair flowing under the woollen cap, her eyes as round as blue saucers, watching him. She’d take those damned reins and lead the horse on like a grown man. The confidence she had! He’d taught her all he would have taught his own son and that was no word of a lie.

  Noah Kelly braced himself for the day ahead. He was an old man, but he had lived long enough to want to see Lil settled. Instead, at twenty-five, she had no life of her own, was still at her family’s beck and call. He tutted his annoyance as he boiled the kettle and carried the tea upstairs. Softly opening her door and treading in, he placed it on the dresser beside the bed. Drawing the long chintz curtains apart to let in the light, he smiled at the sight of his sleeping niece.

  ‘Wakey, wakey, girl.’

  She opened her eyes and when she saw him, lit up the room with her smile.

  He sat on the edge of the bed. ‘How do you sleep with all them curling things in yer hair?’

  She eased herself up and he looked at her. Just like her mother when she was young. As pretty as a picture, but with more spirit in her little finger, thank God, than Josie ever had.

  ‘I’ve got to put waves in me hair, Uncle Noah.’

  ‘You had plenty of waves when you was born!’

  ‘So did you once.’

  He rubbed his bald pate. ‘Come on, you cheeky moo, drink yer tea.’

  Her fingers were small and warm and he squeezed them gently. He couldn’t help wishing it was her walking up the aisle today, leaving all this nonsense at home behind. Young Ben was the man she needed, yet she couldn’t see the sense of it. He was a good lad, strong and true. If only women’s minds were logical!

  ‘Just look at me dress, Uncle Noah. It’s so pretty.’

  He turned to see the pink gown, all tethered up with ribbon and frills.

  ‘Wait till you see Hattie’s dress. She tried it on last night. It took me breath right away.’

  ‘You’ll put her in the shade, Lil.’

  ‘Course I won’t!’ she declared, laughing. ‘I’m not the bride.’

  ‘I wish you was.’ He couldn’t stop himself saying it out loud. ‘You could be, if you’d settled on the right man.’

  Her smile faded. ‘Ben ain’t the one for me, Uncle Noah.’

  ‘He’s as good as any and better than most. He’d make you happy if you was to give him a chance.’

  ‘A chance at what?’ she asked him softly. ‘He deserves someone who will love him back.’

  ‘There ain’t such a thing, Lil, as what you call love. It’s liking and friendship that counts. And you two have got both.’

  ‘It’s not enough, Uncle Noah.’

  ‘You’ve been reading too many of them magazines.’

  ‘No, it’s not them.’ She looked down.

  He shook his head wearily, knowing what was still in her mind. ‘You’re mooning over a fantasy, gel. Ain’t you realized that, yet?’

  ‘It nearly came true.’

  He looked into her eyes and sighed. Then shakily he stood up and kissed her on the top of her head. ‘Better go and get me togs on.’

  Downstairs, he found his sister. ‘Is he up?’ he asked as they sat at the kitchen table together.

  ‘No, and is not likely to be.’

  ‘How much did he have in the night?’

  ‘I don’t know. He took the bottle.’

  ‘In other words, you gave in.’

  ‘What could I do, Noah? It’s always more he wants. I’m frightened he’ll walk out.’

  ‘Where would he go, Josie?’

  ‘You know very well. He’d go looking for what he needed. And where would we be then?’

  ‘So what are you going to tell Lil?’ he asked at last.

  ‘That he’s not up to the wedding. She has a father who’s sick. There’s plenty like him in the neighbourhood.’

  ‘He ain’t sick, is he?’ Noah said bleakly. ‘Leastways, not like she thinks.’

  ‘Is it any different?’

  He looked into his sister’s eyes. ‘Course it is. It’s self-imposed, a crutch he’s taken on and won’t let go of. Meanwhile Lil has to work herself to death to pay for it. We should have the decency to tell her.’

  ‘It will break her heart, Noah.’

  ‘You can’t hide it for ever.’

  ‘Not yet,’ Josie pleaded hoarsely. ‘There’s nothing anything of us can do.’

  ‘You’re wrong there, gel,’ said Noah gently. ‘We could let her go back to the market, where she was happy. And then you could make a life for yourself outside these four walls.’

  ‘You mean find a job?’

  ‘What’s wrong with that? It’d do you good getting out from all this and having a new interest in life.’

  Tears filled Josie’s eyes. ‘He’s me husband, Noah. It’s my duty to look after him.’

  ‘It’s your duty to set yourself and your daughter free. Bob must escape his own prison.’

  ‘It was you that started him on it in the first place,’ Josie said accusingly, her eyes suddenly cold.

  ‘Yes, and to my eternal regret,’ Noah sighed. ‘Well, it’s not too late to put that mistake right.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I told him last night I wasn’t his errand boy. That it was the last time I went to Limehouse on his behalf.’

  Josie grabbed his arm. ‘You didn’t!’

  But he pulled away his arm. ‘I’m sick to death of this madness.’

  Josie clutched him again, her tears spilling over. ‘That’s why he was in such a bad mood. You don’t realize what you’ve done.’

  ‘Listen, Josie, I’m not going to be responsible for his needs any more.’

  ‘It could be worse, Noah. It’s only a medicine he takes.’

  Noah shook his head sadly. When would his sister admit that sooner or later – and he hoped it was sooner – Bob would be beyond their help? And the family’s secret wouldn’t stay a secret for much longer.

  ‘How do I look?’

  ‘Like a trussed chicken,’ grinned Ben as he studied his brother in the dressing table mirror. ‘Your dickie’s choking you, for a start.’

  Reube groaned, stepping closer to the mirror as he loosened his collar. ‘I ain’t one for dressing up, you know that.’

  ‘Come here, let me have a go.’

  Reube pulled back his shoulders and lifted his chin. ‘It’s them collar studs, they’re too tight.’

  ‘Keep your head still, then.’ Ben attempted to resolve the problem and after a few minutes struggle, finally nodded. ‘You’ll do, as long as you don’t breathe.’

  ‘Charming,’ Reube growled, turning to inspect himself once more. ‘It’s all right for you, you’re only the best man.’ Then closing his eyes, he groaned. ‘Here, bruv, don’t take any notice of me today. I just ain’t never got spliced before.’

  Ben laughed dismissively as he smoothed the front of his own dark grey suit. ‘Once is enough in one lifetime for any man.’

  ‘I’ll second that. This wedding has cost me a few bob. But it was what Hat wanted, though I’d happily have gone for a quick do at the town hall.’

  ‘You’re a better man than me,’ said Ben with a grin. ‘I don’t ever see meself settling down.’

  ‘You did once,’ said Reube giving him a hard look. ‘Why don’t you ask her?’

  ‘Because I know the answer. Now . . .’ Ben patted his pockets. ‘I’ve got the ring and the keys to the motor. What else do I need?’

  ‘A glass of Dutch courage,’ supplied Reube dryly, ‘when you make your speech.’

  Ben laughed a little too enthusiastically. ‘Any speech I make today will be short and sweet, I can promise you that.’

  ‘Just make ’em laugh,’ suggested Reube, taking one last look in the mi
rror. ‘And keep the jokes clean.’

  The two brothers chuckled, but Ben had to make an effort to hide his true feelings as he glanced around the bedroom. Whilst Reube and Hattie were on honeymoon, he would be moving up to the top room. He had a lot of clobber, but could dispose of much of it at market. Then when he got himself digs, he’d start afresh. Who was to know how the future would work out? Reube and Hattie might live in this room for longer than anticipated. Or maybe, they would find their little love nest and move out quick. He didn’t have to worry about Mum any more as Pedro was on the scene. And anyway, he was doing well enough to rent a nice place for himself. He’d worked himself stupid seven days a week to get the business off the ground. The world and his wife seemed to be knocking on the door each day and booking the Chariot. The next thing he had in mind was that nice little cab . . .

  ‘Hey, bruv, are we ready then?’ Reube asked.

  Ben nodded as he folded up two white handkerchiefs, stuck one in his breast pocket, the other in Reube’s. ‘Come on then, time waits for no man, as they say.’

  Ben left the bedroom without a backward glance. Downstairs, Pedro was waiting, done up to the nines in a grey suit, tie and waistcoat. He had shaved his moustache and greased each end with pomade. The hair dressing reeked. Ben smiled to himself as his mother walked out from the kitchen. The stuff she usually wore on her head had now moved down to her shoulders.

  ‘You look nice, Mum,’ Reube said, slyly winking at Ben. ‘Does it bite?’

  ‘Shut up, you cheeky bugger.’ Betty James stroked the fox fur fondly. ‘I paid two and six for this up Cox Street.’

  ‘No kidding?’ Reube grinned. ‘If you’d have told me I’d have gone up the woods and shot you one for nothing.’

  Betty reached up to clip her son’s ear. ‘None of your lip, son!’ She turned to Ben. ‘Is that blooming great car of yours ready to take us to church?’

  Ben nodded. ‘I’m putting Mr Bright up the front, if you don’t mind.’

  ‘Me and Pedro will sit at the back, then,’ said his mother. ‘I want to wave at all the neighbours. Now, where’s me bag?’