Christmas to Come: a heartbreaking coming of age saga set in London's East End by Carol Rivers (first e reader txt) 📕

'Keep it down, gorgeous,' he said softly, sliding his eyes round their sockets. 'It's not Lenny I want, as matter of fact…' he lowered his voice again, 'it's his lovely lady – '

'Cut the crap, Micky. I'm busy.'

'As it happens, I'm here on business.'

Her dark gaze narrowed. 'What sort of business?'

He glanced around at the unshaven jaws working mechanically. 'Not here, out the back.'

She eyed him for what seemed an eternity, then jerking her head to the curtain behind the counter she pulled it to one side. Micky walked through.

In the small kitchen he could smell meat and bread and a strong undertone of disinfectant. The private quarters were at the rear, a top floor where Gina and Lenny lived and below a jumble of rooms that acted as lodgings and provided extra income for the business. They were partitioned by a door with a hatch and a long glass cupboard full of provisions, next to which was the cooking range and cupboards. Above these rang a long line of pots and pans.

Gina turned to face him and folded her arms across her chest. 'You were saying?'

'A proposition Gina,' he began smoothly. 'A straight deal. I'd like to rent one of your rooms.'

She curled her full lips into a smile. 'Ronnie kicked you out at last has he?'

Micky looked mildly offended. 'It's for two pals of mine, a couple of kids, actually.'

'I don't rent to children.'

'These are what you might call the more mature variety.'

'How mature?'

'Sixteen at tops.'

'Why should they want a room?'

'Long story, my lovely, but I'm not about to waste your valuable time.' He took out his wallet and counted three five pound notes, flicking the edges and pressing them into the space between her folded arms and apron. 'One of 'em's not well, so they might need a bit of your home cooking, right? So this is for starters. Same again in a month if you fancy the trade. If you don't, I'll make sure they're out of here on the double.'

Slowly Gina plucked at the paper money and scrutinised it closely. She examined the texture with two probing fingers then frowned. 'What's the catch?'

'None.' Micky lifted his hands innocently in the air.

'Who are they, Micky?'

'Honest to God they're just kids. Waifs and strays that used to work the debris for me. I'm doing them a good turn. Been kicked out of home by an old brass that lives with a pervert down Bow Street. You should see 'em Gina. They'd break your heart.'

'I doubt it.'

'Come on, Gina, give it a go, eh? What have you got to lose? You've got all them big rooms out the back doing nothing.'

'How long for?'

'As long as you want.'

Gina studied him before finally pushing the folded notes into a pocket below the apron. Micky swallowed as his eyes followed her movements. She was a big girl, no doubt about that. Lucky old Lenny. Micky had always been partial to women with wide hips and a big fife and drum. With her black hair and flashing eyes she was what he called a real stunner, but the moment she opened her mouth, the attraction diminished somewhat. She had a vocabulary that equalled any docker's, which wasn't surprising as her dad was a stoker and her mother had run the Limehouse cafe for years. When the old girl died, she left the place to Gina who knew the business inside out. When Gina's fancy man did a disappearing act, Lenny had spotted his opportunity. Gina had eaten him alive on their first outing.

'Bring them in the back way. But I tell you Micky, I'm keeping this for my trouble.' She nudged the hidden fivers with her fist. 'I'll give them a night's kip and if in the morning I'm feeling generous, I'll consider the deal. Understand?'

Micky nodded vigorously. 'You're a doll, Gina.'

'I'm a hard bitch, Micky, and you'd better remember it.'

He could smell her perfume under all those fried breakfasts. Her lips were close and her breasts rose in an unexpected way. She looked him straight in the eye. He was tempted, feeling the attraction go straight to his gut.

She moved forward, smiling. 'I don't know what you're up to, Micky, but don't think you can screw me over. Because if you try – I just have to say one word to my Lenny. Your Mars and Venus would end up in the mincer.' Still looking at him under her lashes she pulled back the curtain. 'Bring them up the lane to the back yard.'

Micky ignored the glances as he walked out. But his heart was still pumping. Out on the pavement he took his handkerchief from the breast pocket of his suit and dabbed his sweating forehead. She was a girl, was Gina!

Ronnie strode through the billiard room and nodded to each player as they bent over the large slate-bottomed tables covered in emerald baize. They played with concentration, chalking the end of their queues and sizing up the opposition. Lamps hung down above the tables spilling pools of light on their surface.

Dressed in a formal dark suit, he savoured the respect the men gave him. He congratulated himself again on the decision to offer only limited membership to his handpicked customers. He intended to keep the riffraff out and the club clean.

Negotiating his way through the onlookers, he made his way to the bar and stood for a moment studying his little empire.

He had been in business for six months now and had secured a legitimate licence. He'd taken a gamble when buying the bomb damaged working men's club, transforming it into the place it was today. Having taken an arm and a leg to refurbish, the gamble was worth it. As he and Joyce had anticipated, Poplar was a critical location. Positioned just off the high street, they were no time at all from the city. A club for men