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

So that was the score, Ronnie thought edgily. No chance of waiting for Micky and Sean. Suddenly he wondered if he would ever see the inside of the Blue Moon again. Whatever Micky had done, he had excelled at it.

'Thanks for the offer,' Ronnie replied with a smile on his face. 'Some other time maybe, when the odds are more even?' He thrust his head forward and chinned the man facing him. Blood spurted from his mouth on impact, spraying over them both.

'He nutted me! He's broken my teeth, the bastard!'

Spinning sideways, Ronnie was free. He listened with satisfaction to the shrieks of agony. Then felt the prickle of fear as he saw the glint of a knife. He dodged sideways, but the blade flashed sharp and close. He backed slowly up the stairs, but the weapon swept into his jacket. If it had penetrated him, Ronnie knew he couldn't yet feel it. He turned and vaulted the cloakroom counter melting into the shadows beyond. His last thought was of his brothers and how much time it would take them to find him.

Sean Bryant and his friend, Ashley Crane, were laughing together in Sean's bedroom. There were two suitcases open on the bed and Sean was sitting by one of them, a frown on his forehead as he held up the jacket of a shiny grey suit. His blue eyes twinkled under his shock of light brown hair that was plastered up and away from his forehead. He liked to dress snappily and his recent investment pleased him. The suitcases were filled with gents clothing, recently acquired from a West End store. Sean's smooth features and expressive mouth were highlighted by the mid-grey dullness of the cloth but Ashley, dressed in a striped green shirt and dark trousers, shook his head in disgust.

'It's definitely not you, Seany. Grey is so dull, you need a colour to lift your complexion, not swamp it.'

Sean looked disappointed. 'But it's a dead ringer for the type of suit that Cary always wears. Look at the stitching, feel the quality.'

'But Cary Grant is tall and tanned.'

'So what are you saying, Ashley?'

Ashley Crane drew his short, expressive fingers over his pale hair, almost always worn as a crew cut. 'You're not a Cary, if anything, you're more a Bergman.'

'Now that's being rude.'

'I'm only teasing. Don't get shirty.'

Sean impatiently thrust the jacket back into the suitcase. He adored Ashley but sometimes he just didn't understand the burning desire to look good. No, not just good, unique. Sean's two passions in life were inherited from his parents. Cooking from his Mum who had taught him everything she knew and clothes from Dad, whose family were royal weavers, so the story went. Sean smiled at the thought because Dad's tall tales were legion. That being said, he was a real sharp dresser. Sean liked to think if he didn't have the hard edged masculine lines of his two brothers, he was right up there in the fashion stakes.

'So what's this?' He drew out a white vest and held it under his chin. Without waiting for his friend to reply he laughed derisively. 'This is supposed to be Oxford Street and I wouldn't be seen dead in it, whatever it is.'

Ashley put his hand on his hip and looked thoughtful. 'You know who you remind me of?'

'No, who?'

'What would you say if I said Montgomery Clift?'

Sean's blue eyes widened. 'You're serious?'

'Absolutely. White vests are all the rage in America.'

A little put-out that he hadn't offered this information himself, Sean frowned again. 'How do you know?'

'I read all the magazines, don't I?'

'And I suppose you've seen Montgomery Clift wearing one?'

'I got hold a copy of Life last year and he looked dead gorgeous. I tell you, that boy is going to be big in Hollywood. Honestly, the photos would make you drool.'

'You never mentioned him before.'

Ashley smiled flirtatiously. 'No, well we've all got our fantasies.'

Sean dropped the vest back in the suitcase. 'I can't see the attraction myself. He's just a kid. Now if you're talking steamy, Cary is the tops. That kiss on the balcony in Notorious! It went on forever. Wasn't that our first film together?'

'No, it wasn't,' Ashley replied, looking hurt. 'Our first film was Bogie and Bacall, remember? The Big Sleep. Oh God, it was lovely.' He blushed. 'And we held hands when it was dark.'

'We must have been daft to chance it,' Sean breathed excitedly. 'Anyone could have seen us. One of them usherettes for instance, always shining their torch in your face! I really don't know how we had the nerve.'

'It was lust pure and simple,' Ashley admitted with a grin. 'I nearly died of happiness when you asked me to go to the cinema.'

'Did you really?'

'I never thought we'd last this long.'

'Neither did I.'

Sean gazed at his friend and felt a deep longing to take him in his arms, making certain he was real and he wasn't dreaming. Instead, he said softly, 'When I was young I felt so confused about being – you know, the way I am. Mum and Dad produced two great strapping blokes like Micky and Ron and there was me, all curls and freckles and terrified that Dad would find out I was a nancy boy.'

'You shouldn't refer to yourself as that.'

'It was what they called me at school,' Sean admitted miserably. 'I didn't even know what it meant. It started after our Dad died. I never thought I'd miss the old man so much, especially as he was such a real man and there was me, hanging round Mum all the time and learning how to make apple pies and custard.' He laughed gently. 'But I had a respect for my Dad. He was my hero. But one day he was there, the next he wasn't. Everything fell apart in my life. The other kids took liberties at school and it was Ron and Micky in the end that made them stop. They caught