by June Tate
He made a desperate dash for the entrance, and staggered out into the air, where he collapsed. His lungs felt as if they were about to burst.
‘Vittorio!’ cried Lily, and rushed over to him. ‘Someone get some water – call an ambulance!’ she wept. Feverishly she undid the neck of his shirt. Looking at the crowd, now gathered closer, she shouted, ‘For God’s sake move back! Give him some air!’ She cradled him in her arms.
A woman dashed out of her house with a jug of water and a glass. Lily poured some of the water into the glass and held it to Vittorio’s lips. He drank from it slowly and then, taking the jug from her hands, he poured the remaining water over his burnt shoulder. He winced with pain.
‘I thought I’d lost you,’ Lily murmured, her voice full of emotion. The tears welled in her eyes.
Vittorio got painfully to his feet and, putting his good arm around her, held her close. ‘Don’t get upset, darling. I’m fine.’
‘Oh, Vittorio,’ she cried, tears streaming down her face, and they clung together oblivious of the others around them. He kissed the top of her head and stroked her face as you would a child.
‘Is the baby all right?’ he asked tenderly.
‘Nanny’s got her, she’s fine,’ Lily assured him as she wiped her tear-stained face with the back of her hand.
He looked at the club and said, ‘Which is more than I can say for the Valletta.’
At that moment, Sandy came over. He was holding his blonde wig in his hand, and his heavily made-up face looked incongruous. He shook his head and looked at Lily, ‘I can’t believe this is happening.’
For a brief second, the old friends clung together, united in their distress. The sense of devastation was total, but the warmth of that embrace gave them both new strength.
A pace or two away, Rachel was standing in a state of shock, the flames reflecting off her glorious costume, staring up at the building, mesmerised. Suddenly, she saw a figure at the window of the office on the first floor, screaming ‘Mama! Mama!’
Rachel covered her mouth. ‘Oh my God! It’s Manny.’
‘I thought he’d left the building,’ Vittorio said, puzzled. ‘He was busy setting the office alight. That’s right – he’s the one who started the fire. My God! He knocked me out and left me there to die.’
Manny screamed again. ‘Mama! Mama! Help me, Mama!’
Rachel reached out her hand towards the figure as if she expected to touch him. ‘My son! My son!’ she wept. She made to run to the building but Sandy held her back. She looked at Vittorio, anguish and desperation etched on her face. ‘My son,’ she whispered.
Vittorio looked up at the figure of the man who’d caused this mayhem, and then at the face of his mother, remembering her pleading for Manny’s life once before and his promise to her. ‘It’s all right, Rachel,’ he said quietly. ‘I’ll get him.’
Lily clung to him, screaming, ‘No! No! Vittorio, please don’t go. Please, I beg of you!’
He released her hold. Several people tried to stop him, but he threw them off and ran towards the entrance. Behind him, he could hear Lily’s frantic cries, but he carried on.
Inside, the building was an inferno. The smoke filled The Maltese’s lungs. Pulling his shirt-front out of his trousers, he covered his mouth. The heat from the fire scorched his bare skin.
He managed to get to the stairs. ‘Manny! Manny!’ he bellowed. The bannisters were alight but the stairs themselves seemed solid enough against the wall and so, clutching the shirt to his mouth, Vittorio dashed up them to the office.
Burning beams lay across the room where the ceiling had fallen in and there at the far end, standing by the window, stood Manny. He called his name again, urgently. ‘Try and get over here,’ he shouted, but he knew it was hopeless. There were great gaps in the floor and what was left was alight.
‘I can’t!’ screamed Manny. ‘I’m going to die.’
‘We’re both bloody well going to die unless you try.’
But terror had paralysed Manny’s limbs. Thinking of the look in Rachel’s eyes, Vittorio stepped into the room, carefully picking his way forward. Just as he reached the middle of the room and Manny had taken a few tentative steps in his direction, the floor collapsed beneath them. They both fell to the room below, burning timbers falling with them.
Only minutes later, the firemen who had been fighting their way into the club, located the bodies and trained their hoses upon them, but knew it was of little use.
Outside, Lily was going frantic. ‘Vittorio! Vittorio!’ she screamed. The firemen had to restrain her from rushing into the building.
It was some time before the charred bodies were carried outside.
The nanny was holding Victoria in her arms, tears streaming down her face. Rachel and Lily clung to each other, sobbing.
The large crowd was silent as they watched the despair of the two women. The fire chief came over and, placing a hand on each of them, said, ‘I’m sorry, ladies. We did everything we could to save them.’
They both nodded, too grief-stricken to speak.
The ambulance driver approached. ‘I think you two should bring the baby and come with me to the hospital to be checked over. You are both suffering with shock and should be treated.’
As if in a daze they followed him and climbed into the ambulance. They sat side by side, clutching each other by the hand, unable to speak.
That night they shared a private room, with a cot for the child. Victoria hadn’t suffered by her experience as her father had removed her from the fire so quickly. And as he’d covered her face, she’d not suffered from smoke inhalation at all.
The two women washed and put on hospital gowns. Both of them were silent, lost in their own thoughts. Imprinted on Lily’s mind was the figure of Vittorio, rushing into the flames. Oh, why hadn’t someone stopped him? Now he was gone for ever. She couldn’t believe it. Didn’t want to believe it. She wanted to wake in the morning and find it had all been a dreadful nightmare.
Picking up Victoria, she held her close. But for Vittorio, she might have lost them both. She would never have survived such a loss.
Rachel could still hear the voice of Manny calling to her. She put her hands over her ears to block out the sound. How could one person cause such devastation? She looked across at Lily, the innocent young baby clasped to her breast, and her eyes filled with tears.
Once Manny had been an innocent babe like Victoria. She remembered how proud she had been when the nurse had first placed him into her arms, then how he’d cried when he’d been circumcised. There was a deep and empty pit of sorrow within her. Her child was dead and in such terrible circumstances. It was not meant to be like this. Children were supposed to outlive their parents, weren’t they? She felt despair welling up inside her and wondered how she was going to cope with the loss. Yet as she looked across at Lily and remembered the sacrifice that Vittorio had made, a profound guilt icily filled her mind.
It was her son who had brought about this great sorrow. Perhaps if she’d given him money … but she knew that wouldn’t have stopped him. Manny was born to be trouble and as his mother, his guilt was hers. It was as if she herself had started the fire.
Lily and Rachel were both given a strong sedative before they were settled for the night. They were too full of grief to utter a word to each other, but they clasped each other for a moment before getting into bed.
The following morning, Lily held Victoria in her arms and smoothed the child’s face. She wept as she saw the likeness to Vittorio. She couldn’t believe she’d never see him again.
She looked up in surprise as the door opened and Tom McCann stepped into the room. He went over to her. ‘Lily. I’m so sorry. I just heard.’
Lily wanted to scream. Why wasn’t it Vittorio walking through the door? It was him she wanted to see, not Tom. In her despair, she held up Victoria. ‘Look,’ she said. ‘This is what you wanted me to abort. My beautiful baby. She’s all I have now.’
He held ou
t his hand towards the child.
‘Don’t you touch her! Don’t you ever come near her again – or me. Her father was a better man than you’ll ever be. And now he’s dead.’ Her voice faded away as the sobs increased.
Rachel got off her bed and, taking Tom by the arm, she said, ‘It’s better you go.’
Cap held tightly in his hand, he nodded. ‘I’m sorry too for your loss, Rachel.’
‘I know.’
As he walked away from Lily for the last time, Tom cursed silently. Lily could have been his life. They could have had a family, a big one, but it wasn’t to be. He couldn’t get the picture of her deep distress from his mind. How could she have such feelings for The Maltese, the man he hated. The man who was now dead, but for all the good it did Tom, he might just as well be alive. He pulled his cap onto his head in a savage gesture and strode out of the hospital.
Seeing Lily’s despair, Nanny took the child away to feed and change her, leaving Rachel and Lily to have a cup of tea as they sat up in bed, their faces gaunt and pale. On a couple of hangers behind the door were their costumes from the night before, covered in soot and dirt.
Lily drew her legs up and cuddled them. Shaking her head she kept murmuring, ‘Vittorio. Vittorio.’ Tears streamed down her face.
Rachel sat on the side of her bed, her expression hard, like a block of granite, her eyes cold.
Looking across at her friend, Lily said, ‘It doesn’t seem real. Vittorio and Manny – gone. What are we going to do? Oh Rachel, what are we going to do?’
Rachel looked at her with eyes that blazed with anger. ‘My son – he deserved to die! Twice he ruined your life. He could have killed the baby. What did he care? He could have killed us all. Maybe that was his intention.’
Lily quickly got out of her bed and rushed over to Rachel. ‘You mustn’t talk like that. He was your own flesh and blood.’
‘I rue the day I gave birth to him and I’ll not waste any more tears on him. I’ll call the widow Goldburg. She can have what’s left of him. If I hadn’t been such a weak fool, Vittorio would never have gone back into the building. He would still be alive. That guilt I will have to carry for what’s left of my life.’
Lily looked devastated. She fingered the ring on her left hand. ‘He gave me this last night.’ Tears choked her. ‘It was his mother’s ring. He said she gave it to him just before she died. And he did the same – gave it to me before he died.’
She sat holding her head, her shoulders shaking. ‘We were going to be married. He asked me last night, just after the cabaret, when we went up to see Victoria together. And now it’s too late.’
Rachel took a deep breath. ‘Now then, girl,’ she said raggedly. ‘At least you and the baby are all right. We’ve got plenty to do. I suggest we order a taxi, take the baby and Nanny back to my place, pick up some clothes and make a start. We have got to try and get our lives back together.’ She picked up the bag with the previous night’s takings. ‘For a start, we mustn’t lose this.’
The next few days were hard for both Rachel and Lily, but they were so busy, their own private grief was held at bay. It was at night when she was alone in bed that reality loomed, and memories returned to haunt Lily. She would hold Victoria close, praying her silent thanks for her child’s safe delivery. She cursed Manny Cohen and wished that he’d been left alone to die. Vittorio had been a good man really. It was such a waste of a life – all because of that waster.
The local and national papers had been full of the disaster. The headlines made Lily very angry.
‘Local villain dies a hero.’ The various articles had given the story a more scandalous slant, making Lily even more notorious as Vittorio’s mistress. At the end of the week, the club was declared beyond repair by a builder Lily had called in. Everything inside was either burned or ruined by fire.
Lily stood with Rachel, looking at the debris. ‘So much for our success. We’re back to square one.’
‘Hardly,’ said Rachel. ‘Vittorio had the place well insured. He gave me the papers to keep for safety.’
Lily looked at her with surprise. ‘He did?’
‘Yes. So we’ll have the money to start afresh. That’s something.’
Lily said, ‘I don’t know if I can go through all that again.’
‘Rubbish! Of course you will. In time, when we are able to think straight, you’ll be champing at the bit, wanting to sing again. Besides, we have Victoria’s future to consider.’
‘We?’ said Lily. ‘Victoria isn’t your worry, Rachel. Why should my problems be yours?’
‘Trying to get rid of me, are you?’
Lily looked at her with affection. ‘Never. You are an important part of my life, you know that.’
‘Then stop talking a load of old cobblers. We must find another place and start again.’ Her voice faltered. ‘You see, darling, if we don’t then that little sod Manny has won. Now we can’t have that, can we?’
Looking at the remains of the Club Valletta, Lily pulled back her shoulders and a look of determination crossed her face. ‘No. I would rather die than have him destroy us.’
Rachel squeezed her hand. ‘Thank God! I thought I was going to have to do battle on my own.’
Looking at her Lily said, ‘Never! We are in this together … always.’
It was not until Vittorio’s funeral that the full impact of the tragedy hit Lily.
Two magnificent black horses bedecked with black plumes pulled the hearse, bearing a rich mahogany casket with brass handles, slowly along the road. Behind them followed a car in which Lily and Rachel sat silently. Lily was wearing black mourning clothes – smart widow’s weeds, while Rachel wore a stunningly chic black hat with veil.
The church was packed. Vittorio might have been a villain, but he’d been admired by many. He’d also been a hard man, but a fair one. It was only those who had tried to cheat him who had felt his wrath. George Coleman stood at the back of the church, his eyes filled with tears. He’d been with The Maltese for years and felt his loss deeply.
Lily saw no one but Rachel, to whose hand she clung throughout the funeral service. She stood tall as the coffin was lowered into the ground, staring down at the deep pit, knowing that inside the wooden box was Vittorio’s charred body. She remembered his smooth olive skin, his deep-brown eyes, his mellifluous voice. Suddenly she felt the deep void in her life. She would never see him again, be held in his strong arms. Be loved. It was only at this moment that she realised how much she’d loved him in return. Silently she wept.
The mourners left her alone to pay her last respects, a small figure dressed in black yet surrounded by a myriad of colourful blooms from the funeral wreaths. Her own was a sheaf of roses, next to a childlike posy from Victoria.
After a while, Rachel walked over to Lily and squeezed her arm. ‘Come along, darling. Leave him with God.’
Chapter Twenty-Five
Rachel and Lily, both still dressed in mourning, sat in the office of Vittorio’s solicitor. George Coleman, too, had been summoned.
The solicitor opened Vittorio’s will and started to read.
‘“This is the final will and testament of Vittorio Teglia, made on the fourteenth day of May 1923.
‘“If in the event of my death, my finance business is still in operation, I wish all outstanding monies to be collected and added to my estate.
‘“George Coleman is nominated to this task. For this and the faithful service he has given to me over the years, I bequeath the sum of three thousand pounds in the hopes that he will use it to enjoy what’s left of his life.”’
George looked stricken. He turned to Lily. ‘I didn’t expect this.’
Laying a hand on his arm, Lily said softly, ‘He thought a lot of you, and you’ve earned it.’
The solicitor continued: ‘“I have set up a trust fund for my daughter, Victoria, which will be administered by my solicitor. It will pay for a private education and ensure that if she uses it wisely, she will never be financially
embarrassed. I have insisted on certain clauses in the said fund, to protect her from spending it foolishly. But I wish her to carry my name.”’
Lily saw Rachel smile.
‘“To Lily Pickford, I bequeath the rest of my estate in recognition of the happiness she has brought to my life. I hope before she ever has to listen to this I will have told her how much I have grown to love her. I ask her to bring our daughter up to be as honest as she is and to teach her the true values of life.
‘“To Rachel Cohen, my partner, who I know is financially secure, I leave five hundred pounds with which to do something completely frivolous. But at the same time, I entrust her to use her astute financial acumen to help Lily in her business endeavours. Knowing she has Lily’s future at heart, I ask her to be Lily’s adviser.
‘“I do not want Lily to wear mourning for me. As she well knows, I don’t associate black with anything so sad. I don’t want her to grieve, but to be the bright and happy woman I’ve always known. I ask her to get on with her life. With her indomitable spirit and the financial security she now has, I don’t want her to mourn my passing, but to remember the happy times we spent together.”’
There were tears in Lily’s eyes as the solicitor came to the end of the document.
‘I’ve not been able to arrive at a final figure of Mr Teglia’s estate, Miss Pickford. That won’t be clear until the finance company is wound up. But I can tell you that you are a very wealthy woman.’
Lily sat shaking her head. ‘I would willingly give it all up if Vittorio could still be alive.’
That night, in Rachel’s home, Lily was still stunned by the day’s events. ‘It all seems so unreal,’ she said.
‘Well, he took good care of you. That’s all you ever wanted. But he loved you too and I suspect you loved him in return.’
There was sadness in Lily’s eyes as she said, ‘Yes, I did, but I didn’t realise it until the day of the funeral. When it was too late. Isn’t that awful?’