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

'Any idea why they're here?' Ronnie asked curiously.

'I wouldn't like to guess. But just now I got a touch of the old eyeball.'

Ronnie studied the two men, then nodded. 'Ok, leave it with me.' Turning to make his way up the blue carpeted stairs to the foyer, he reflected that Sid and Bernie weren't due in for an hour, after their stint at Joyce's. That left him only with Gino and the waiters and his doorman, Henry.

Ronnie approached the well padded, dark-suited figure and smiled. 'Henry, a word in your ear.'

'Sure, Mr Bryant.'

'How did Tweedledum and Tweedledee get in?' Ronnie nodded to the strangers.

'They had cards, Mr Bryant.'

'Remember their names?'

'Jones or Smith, I think. Something ordinary anyway.'

'Have you seen them before?'

Henry squinted, narrowing his small eyes in his big hairless head. 'Nah. Are they trouble?'

'Probably not, but Gino tells me they're the Indigo's men. Leave the door to me and go round to Piper Street. Fetch Micky and Sean, ok?'

'I'll be back before you know it.'

'Good man.'

Ronnie watched him unlock the door and leave. Casually turning back to study the room he wondered if it was coincidence that had two new faces turning up on Saturday, the busiest night of the week. All the club chairs were taken and tables booked.

Ten minutes later the two men rose and made their way to the bar. The bigger of the two rudely pushed in between the customers, spilling drinks and causing a disturbance. Ronnie felt his stomach contract. An argument broke out and the other man grabbed Gino. Ronnie was down the steps and across the room in an instant. He registered shock on his customer's faces as they quickly scattered. An impromptu visit from the law was a result none of them welcomed.

'You two faced little runt,' the big man snarled. 'Call this a full measure?' He threw the contents of his glass into Gino's terrified face.

Ronnie clamped a hand on the man's shoulder. 'What's your problem, pal?'

The large, domed head turned slowly. 'Ah, Mr Bryant himself.'

'You know me?'

'Let's say, I'll be getting to know you.' He looked around him, screwing up his eyes in his fleshy, red face. 'And I'll be getting to know your turf even better. Sammy said this club was a joke and he was right. Look at all them ponces, running off like girls.'

'A matter of opinion,' Ronnie replied smoothly. 'Now, my compliments to your boss, but you're taking up valuable time. If you've got something to say, say it. Then you can get the hell out of here.'

The big man smirked. 'Your muscle has just walked out of the door. You're on your own here and my mate is a real charmer.'

A nasty laugh came from behind him. 'Yeah, Mr Stratton said you was a hard nut to crack. Which is why I brought me jemmy along. It's just the job for smashing up a spot of resistance.' With a smile on his face, he demolished the glasses on the bar with the iron bar and taking another swipe, he put paid to the row of optics. Ronnie tried to move, but a bear-sized paw stopped him. 'You're going no where, sonny boy. You got a ringside seat for this act.'

Ronnie watched the last of his customers flee, Gino and the waiters among them. Angry with himself for not heeding Joyce's warning, he knew he should have taken her seriously, doubled security. He had ignored good advice to his own cost. Sammy Stratton had tested his strengths and found them to be lacking. The man was evil and this was going to be an all out howler.

As he listened to the splintering of glass around him, he considered his options. Without a weapon, he was powerless. As much as he valued his property, he valued breathing more. Unless Henry arrived back with the reinforcements, he was going to be totalled. What was troubling him, was Sammy Stratton's motive. It was hard to believe they had none, except jealousy. They knew he would retaliate. His revenge would be sweeter than anything they could accomplish. He would make sure of that. It would be war and they knew it. But did the Strattons need that kind of aggravation? They were big names, had fearsome reps and were respected. What had he done personally to upset them?

Looking into the ugly face before him, Ronnie said lightly, 'You've made your point, I am listening. Are you going to tell me what Sammy wants and save us all a lot of trouble?'

'You'll find out soon enough,' the man grunted, pushing Ronnie backwards. 'When we've finished with this dump, you're making a little visit, chauffeur driven, to the other side of town, where Mr Stratton's got a few questions for you and that runt of a brother of yours.'

'Micky?' Suddenly Ronnie felt a chill go over him. Whenever Micky's name came up and it had cropped up once or twice lately, there was trouble. Micky had sworn he was clean. And Ronnie had believed him.

Ronnie landed hard against the wall. He was growing tired of this big ape pushing him around. He wanted to retaliate. But he knew his satisfaction would be short lived. He would have to wait until reinforcements arrived.

If they arrived…

But his gut was telling him the fun was likely to be over by the time they got here.

A stool sailed through the air, fragmenting the mirror on the wall. It was worth a small fortune and Ronnie had been glad to pay it. Now he was yearning to rip these two clowns apart.

Two fat fists reached out and grasped his lapels. He could smell his assailant's bad breath. Another stool washed through the remains of the booze. 'Suddenly run out of conversation have we? Need a little light entertainment? Well, my boss has got a nice quiet room for you back at the Indigo and a comfy chair. All you have to do is sit in it and me and my friend there