Lily of Love Lane

by Carol Rivers

‘Bugger,’ he groaned as he pulled down his trousers. ‘That bloody latch. Why don’t someone fix it?’ He remembered the last time it had been seen to, many years ago. The lad from across the road had attended to it. Noah smiled in reflection as he sat there. The boy had been sweet on Lil even then. What a pity his feelings had never been returned. Ben James was salt of the earth. At least he had been able to tell the lad of his recent concerns. But there was no proof, only rumour. And as Ben had said, they couldn’t go upsetting Lil on a tall story, could they?

  No, it was better to keep quiet for the present. The boy was going to keep an eye on her. And for that Noah was grateful. The youngsters had all gone down the Quarry tonight. Well, it was Christmas Eve after all. Maybe Ben would get a bit more out of her than he could. Lily had been home all week, but as much as he’d tried to engage her in conversation about her gent, she’d kept tight-lipped. Well, perhaps there really was nothing to be alarmed about. However, he’d like to see her without that wistful expression. Put on a bit of weight. And run to a laugh once in a while, like she used to.

  By the time he had pulled up his pants, he was feeling the cold and his head swam a little. His whole body seemed stiff and aching, and his chest felt bruised and heavy.

  He tried to lift the latch. Bloody thing. It was still stuck. Mustering all his strength he tried again. Pushing and pulling, the iron was caught fast. Rusted it was, in need of an oil.

  He banged on the door. Softly at first, as he knew Josie would give him hell when she let him out. She’d warned him enough times not to use the latch. But it wasn’t his fault. The thing had dropped down even before he’d had time to go.

  He banged harder this time, again and again. His heart raced as he kicked the boards. The lamp wavered and flickered. Suddenly there was darkness.

  Noah yelled out. ‘Josie! The bloody lamp’s gone out and I’m freezing to death!’

  There was no reply. She was probably banging and crashing with those flaming dishes. Why didn’t Bob get up off his arse and help her? Noah felt a hammer on his chest. Then a pain down his arm.

  Luckily he dropped on the lavatory. For a moment he sat there, waiting for the panic to pass. But then, as he tried to get up, something squeezed his ribs. He felt like his chest was caving in. Gasping, he reached out again. But it was no use. His strength had gone and he fell back, inhaling a sickly dose of Josie’s disinfectant.

  Hattie and Lil were sitting on the hard benches of the Quarry. Lil glanced at Ben who was standing with his brother at the bar. It was a long time since they had all been out together, but Lily couldn’t refuse. She wanted to speak to Hattie anyway.

  ‘Your mum and dad and uncle are really pleased to have you home for Christmas,’ Hattie said, breaking into her thoughts. ‘They thought you might not come.’

  Lily had been home a week and despite missing Charles had enjoyed herself. ‘Yes, it’s been nice being with everyone and going up the market with you yesterday.’

  ‘What do you think of the king and Mrs Simpson?’

  ‘I hope they’ll be very happy.’

  ‘I thought you’d say that.’

  ‘Did you? Why?’

  ‘Because you’re a hopeless romantic.’

  ‘There’s nothing wrong with romance.’ All week Lily had wanted to tell Hattie of her own romance with Charles. But she hadn’t found the right time. She glanced quickly at the bar again where Ben and Reube were still talking. Should she say now?

  ‘Hattie, I’ve got something to tell you.’

  Hattie’s brown eyes narrowed. ‘Is it about your long lost love?’

  ‘It’s not lost any more.’

  Hattie sat forward, studying Lily’s glowing expression. ‘Are you going to tell me you’ve slept with Charles?’

  Lily nodded.

  ‘How many times?’

  ‘I don’t know. I haven’t counted.’

  Hattie gasped, then smothered her surprise. ‘Why didn’t you tell me before?’

  ‘Someone’s always been around.’

  Hattie sat quietly. Lily expected a lot of questions, but none were forthcoming. Would Hattie be shocked if she told her the things she had done with Charles. Or was it normal for every woman to do them? But before she could speak, Hattie shook her head slowly.

  ‘Lil, I hope you’ve been careful. You don’t want to get pregnant.’

  ‘I’d like to give Charles a son and heir.’

  Hattie looked frozen. ‘Blimey. Lil, what are you saying?’

  ‘I mean it.’

  ‘But does he know about this?’

  ‘No, not in so many words.’

  ‘Well, you’d better tell him before you start getting any notions.’

  ‘I’m in love with him, Hat. Not like I was years ago. That was just a crush in comparison to the way I feel now.’

  ‘But does he love you?’

  ‘He must do.’ Lily blushed deeply. ‘I feel like his wife in bed.’

  ‘But Lil, that could just be sex for him.’

  Lily flushed again. How could Hattie say that? ‘He wouldn’t do the things he does if he didn’t love me,’ Lily said, hurt.

  Hattie took her hand. ‘Listen, Lil, I don’t want to upset you, but a man doesn’t always love a woman because she lets him do what he wants under the sheets. Sometimes it’s just a bit of slap and tickle for him, without the commitment. You have to remember that becoming his mistress is one thing and marriage is another.’

  Tears sprang to Lily’s eyes and she pulled away her hand. ‘Hattie, how can you say such a thing?’

  ‘I’m sorry, but it’s true.’

  ‘Charles loves me.’

  ‘All right then, if you say so.’

  ‘I thought I could tell you everything,’ said Lily tearfully.

  ‘You can, but I’m worried you’re so inexperienced.’

  Reube walked over, holding the drinks. ‘Here you are girls, get this down you. A nice port and lemon.’

  Ben joined them. ‘Come on you two, cheer up.’

  Lily and Hattie tried to smile.

  ‘Happy Christmas!’ Reube and Ben said as they picked up their ales.

  Lily looked at the glass of port. The sight of the rich dark liquid made her feel queasy. Perhaps she should have eaten more before she came out tonight?

  She wanted to be able to talk to Hattie again. She needed to ask about the period she had missed. Even though she had told Hattie she would like to be pregnant, did she mean it?

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  ‘Oh my God, oh no!’ Josie pushed the closet door. ‘Noah, are you all right?’ It was so dark she couldn’t see a thing. She put her shoulder to the door. ‘Noah, speak to me.’

  Josie ran back inside. ‘Bob! Noah’s in the lav and there’s no reply.’

  Bob Bright put down his newspaper. ‘Did you tap on the door?’

  ‘Course I did. I can’t get in. I warned him not to drop the latch.’

  They both ran outside into the cold night. Josie watched her husband push at the door. ‘He’s stuck in there, Josie.’

  ‘He’s not answering! Oh God, what’s happened?’

  ‘He must have fallen or something.’

  Just then the back door opened and Lily appeared. ‘I wondered where everyone was.’

  ‘Oh, Lily, thank God you’re home. Your uncle’s in the lav and we can’t get him out.’

  ‘Have you pushed the door?’

  ‘It won’t move. And Noah won’t answer us.’ Josie thought she was going to have a heart attack. She felt faint as Lily tried without any result.

  ‘I’ll go over for Ben,’ Lily cried and disappeared.

  Bob took his wife’s shoulders. ‘Come inside whilst we wait. We mustn’t panic. Everything’s going to be all right.’

  But Josie had a dreadful feeling it wouldn’t be.

  The long hospital passage was decorated with a few balloons but it still looked very depressing. Lily stared along the cold, shining tiles and felt her tummy revolt at the an
tiseptic smell. In one hour it was Christmas Day. How could all this have happened in an evening? If she hadn’t gone out with her friends, she might have found Uncle Noah sooner. The images of Ben and Reube breaking down the closet door were fresh in her mind. The terrible crack of splintered wood still resounded in her ears. Her mother’s cries seemed to fill her head. And the sight of them carrying her uncle out to Ben’s car was almost more than she could bear.

  She looked at her mother sitting beside her. ‘It was the latch,’ she kept repeating over and over.

  ‘Shh, don’t upset yourself,’ said her father, but he looked bewildered too.

  Lily watched Ben and Reube pace up and down the corridor. How long had her uncle been trapped in the closet? She had felt his hands as they had carried him out, and they were stone cold. He was semi-conscious but he hadn’t recognized her.

  Lily lost track of time as she sat there. Why didn’t someone tell them how he was?

  When the door opened and the doctor came out, Lily knew it was bad news. He walked to her mother and shook his head.

  ‘Mrs Bright, I’m sorry to have to tell you that there was nothing more we could do.’

  Lily froze. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. It was Christmas. Things like this didn’t happen to people at Christmas.

  Her mother cried out like a wounded animal. ‘Oh, no, no!’

  The doctor waited as she sobbed. Lily couldn’t shed any tears. It was too unbelievable.

  They listened in disbelief as the doctor explained that her uncle had died of natural causes and that his heart had just worn out. He said his passing had nothing to do with the latch or the cold, though he may have lasted longer in the warm.

  Lily stared at him as Ben put his arm around her shoulders. She just couldn’t believe that Uncle Noah was gone.

  ‘Would you like to see him?’ the doctor asked.

  One by one they all trouped into the small room to say their goodbyes.

  It was Christmas day and Ben was listening to the gulls. They were swooping early on the mud flats of the river for a feed. He needed to get a few hours kip. At least he had done all he could for the old man, but it hadn’t been enough.

  Ben shut the front door behind him and went into his darkened front room. He had made a feeble effort to transform it into home, but it wasn’t like Love Lane. His plans for the New Year had been to find a lodger. Rent out a room and have a bit of company. A working bloke like himself would have done. Someone he could have a chat and a fag with. Now it didn’t seem that important. Life was full of hustle and bustle, everyone striving to pay the bills and make a living. And then as bold as brass, the Grim Reaper swings his scythe and hey presto: there you were, waiting to see if you had wings on your back or a red-hot poker up your jacksey.

  Noah Kelly had been a good man in his time. He’d made a few mistakes, but didn’t everyone? In the last year or so, he’d got close to the old fellow. They had a lot in common, he’d discovered, as he’d listened with interest to his tales of totting. They’d both run businesses and though Noah had driven a horse and cart, not a four-wheeled vehicle, they’d both been bachelors with a double dose of ambition. The old man had loved his girl, his Lily. She’d been his companion as he’d totted the streets when she was small and he’d often talked about those happy days. Well, now he was with Samson and was driving his cart again in the clouds. That’s how Ben liked to think of him anyway.

  It wasn’t for Noah he was grieving. He’d had his four score years and ten. It was for Lily he felt. The girl had taken a big blow. And he didn’t much like the way she was looking. All pale and skinny, when once she was a real good eyeful, with a bit of meat on her. What, he wondered not for the first time, was happening in her life?

  Was she happy? That was the question that needed answering. Had Noah got confused when he’d shared his thoughts recently about her safety? It was an old man’s ramblings perhaps. On the surface, there seemed nothing amiss. And she certainly didn’t want for a penny. But that look in her eye, all distant and sad . . .

  Ben frowned thoughtfully as he sat in the darkness. What a Christmas this would be for the Brights.

  ‘Well, Mr Kelly, I’ll tell you this for nothing,’ he said aloud, ‘that girl to me, is what she was to you and until I know she’s in good hands, I’ll not rest.’

  The moon suddenly shone a little brighter through the window, as if it were an answer. It was as though if you believed hard enough, you weren’t disappointed. He’d never thought much about an after-life, only when his dad had gone, but he’d only been a kid then at that age and you think life goes on for ever. That one day you’ll be walking round the corner and then you’ll meet up again, all smiles and hellos and slapping of backs.

  Ben smiled as the light streamed through the cheap lace. It was so bright, that he could have read by it. He had the uncanny feeling that he wasn’t alone, that someone up there had heard every word he’d said.

  Lily sat in the back of the charabanc with Hattie. Her mum and dad were in front with Mrs James, Pedro and Reube and the Parks behind them. Charlie Brent, all done up in his best suit, was sitting mid way beside Ernie Roper who had left Gladys in charge of the Quarry. Grace Padgett and Mollie and Hector Flock had attended too; it had been a good turn out at St Peter’s. The vicar, who had last seen them all at Hattie and Reube’s wedding, had managed to hint from the pulpit that his Sunday back benches remained empty, but on the whole, his tribute to her uncle had been appropriate. Lily thought of how Uncle Noah, had he been there, would probably have disagreed with most that was said. But it was a good send-off despite that. The coffin, overflowing with flowers had been taken to the East London cemetery, and laid to rest amongst the broken angels and overgrown graves.

  Lily knew her uncle had expressed a wish to be buried close to the island. His forebears and Josie’s, were over at Greenwich. No one ever went over there. He would expect a visit or two, being within close proximity, although he would have preferred to be remembered for what he did in his life: his totting days and Samson, and the yard that had once overflowed with junk.

  ‘You all right, Lil?’

  ‘Yes, thanks.’

  Hattie squeezed her hand. They were both wearing black gloves, hats and black coats, as were most of the women sitting in the charabanc. Ben had put over the roof, but it was still freezing. The New Year had brought with it snow, high winds and a fog, all within weeks of each other.

  ‘Your Uncle Noah would have liked the service but I dunno about up there at the cemetery.’ Hattie shuddered. ‘It was a bit of a jungle.’

  ‘I’m going to take flowers up once in a while.’

  ‘He’d like that.’

  Lily shook her head slowly. ‘I still can’t believe it all happened. I wake up thinking he’s still here and getting in me mum’s way and having a smoke with Dad in the yard.’

  ‘It’s early days yet,’ Hattie said sympathetically. ‘Soon you’ll be going back to Dewar Street. Does Charles know what’s happened?’

  ‘I wrote to him and said Uncle Noah had died at Christmas and we couldn’t arrange the funeral till the New Year. I said I’d be back at work as soon as I could leave Mum.’

  Hattie sighed as the charabanc trundled along. ‘It’s a bit sad to think this is the last time we’ll ever sit in the charabanc.’

  Lily turned to look at Hattie. ‘Why’s that?’

  ‘Ben’s selling it. Those new coaches are more comfortable and cheaper to run.’

  Lily fiddled with the end of her glove. ‘I don’t know what I would have done without Ben and Reube that night. They bashed the lav door down and got us to hospital. I just wish we’d come home sooner and found Uncle Noah. I keep thinking of him out there in the cold.’

  ‘You must stop that,’ Hattie replied sternly. ‘The doctor said it would have happened anyway. Your uncle had a good life and was active right up to the end.’

  Lily wiped away a tear.

  Hattie patted her arm. ‘A good st
iff drink is what you need.’

  But at the mention of this, Lily’s stomach revolted. A stiff drink was the last thing she fancied.

  Ben pulled the car up outside number thirty-four and glanced at his watch. Ten minutes to eight. It would take him a good half-hour to get to Dewar Street. Lil had told him she wanted to be there for eight thirty, so they were on time.

  He jumped out and knocked on the door. Lily opened it. ‘Come in, Ben.’

  He looked at her white face. She didn’t look well to him. Was she still grieving?

  He stepped inside in time to see Mrs Bright hug her daughter goodbye. ‘I wish you wasn’t going, Lily.’

  ‘The girl’s got her job to do, Josie.’ Mr Bright smiled. ‘Thanks Ben, for running her back.’

  ‘It’s no trouble at all.’ Ben wished the old boy was here; he missed him a lot. The place didn’t feel like it used to ‘All right, Lil?’ He took her bag.

  She only nodded.

  ‘Best be going.’

  He didn’t want to see her leave either. With all that had happened he hadn’t had a chance to talk to her. It had been a rotten Christmas for everyone and he hadn’t wanted to make it any worse. After all, Mr Kelly might have been wrong. He’d said so himself. Perhaps it was all a storm in a teacup as his mum would say. Them old boys down the Mission Hall had tales to tell as tall as Nelson’s Column.

  It was a sad farewell. Ben wished there was something he could say to cheer her up as he drove along. He wasn’t very good at small talk. And what he wanted to say might not come out right.

  As it was, the Monday morning traffic took up his attention. He kept his curses of other road users to a minimum and by half past eight, he pulled up outside number four Dewar Street. Now he could tell she was all on edge, her hand on the door.

  ‘Well, here we are,’ he said, glancing at the house.

  ‘Thanks, Ben.’

  ‘Come on, I’ll see you safely in.’

  He hopped out with her bag and opened her door. She looked very smart all done up in a hat with a feather and high heels that clattered as she let herself be led across the road. He could tell she’d had a good cry, but who wouldn’t shed a tear after what had happened?