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

'What if I don't want to?'

'Then you would be throwing away a profitable future.'

'Micky,' Joyce broke in, 'listen to your brother. He's right. The clubs are being carved up, and so will you if you don't get out now.'

Ronnie watched the fury fill Micky's face. He admired his courage, his confidence and the desire to be someone that counted, to be a Name. But he could not see reality. He was wanting something he could not have. Ronnie also knew that Micky would never forgive him for selling out. In Micky's mind the Bryants were losing face and the loss of the Blue Moon and Joyce's business were the ultimate insult.

Micky shoved back his chair and stood up. Ronnie watched as Bella rose too, fear filling her face as she tried to reach out for her husband. But Micky pushed her aside. The door slammed shut and there was silence in the room. An engine roared outside and Bella hurried to the window.

Ronnie watched helplessly. It was the end of an era and everyone in the room knew it. He just wished that Micky could accept the fact too.

Bella was sitting by the fire and the airey was warm, despite the fire having burnt low. The heavy chintz curtains were drawn back allowing the last rays of the sunshine to creep in the big window. It looked out onto the stairs that led up to the front door of the house. Just over an hour ago she had walked up the same stairs with Joyce, unaware of what lay ahead.

She looked at the big moquette chair opposite where Joyce had sat drinking her cup of tea. Joyce hadn't said a word about McNee or the business. Instead, she had listened to Bella, who never needed an excuse to talk about Micky. Joyce had just let her talk to her heart's content as usual. Now Micky had stormed off and Bella knew he had taken Ronnie's decision hard.

Bella felt alone and uneasy. Like Micky, she too found it hard to believe that Ronnie had relinquished the Blue Moon without protest. She didn't know who this Billy McNee was and she wished that Joyce had shared her knowledge of the man with her prior to the meeting so she could have been more prepared. But then that wasn't Joyce. She was loyal to Ronnie in every way and chose her moments carefully. Perhaps she too was anxious about her future? After all, what would she do when both her place and the club were sold? Ronnie had his other business interests. But Joyce had been an East End madam for years, loved her girls and the business itself.

As Bella lifted the tongs and dropped a nugget of coal on the fire, she heard the latch go. Looking round, she hoped to see Micky, but it was Ronnie who stood there.

'Can I come in?'

Bella nodded, replacing the tongs. 'Course you can.'

Ronnie closed the door behind him and took the comfortable chair that Joyce had vacated. The fire started to catch again and he unloosened the button of his suit jacket reclining his long legs in front of the hearth. Bella studied his face, the high, proud cheekbones and generous mouth that were a Bryant trademark. Yet when he looked into her eyes, Ronnie's expression was so different to Micky and Sean's. The light grey of his gaze was always a little unnerving. It was sometimes too intense as if he was reading her thoughts and now as he stared at her, she looked away.

'Don't worry about Micky,' he told her after a moment. 'He was upset, but he'll get over it. I'm sorry he took it so hard, but I have no option.'

'Really?' she replied, staring at he the tiny red flames licking the coal. 'Who is this Billy McNee? '

'He is a thug, pure and simple, but a thug with half the city in his pocket. Joyce wasn't exaggerating when she called his outfit an army. He hires from abroad and ships them over on the boats. Jamaicans, Chinese, Eastern Europeans. They owe their lives to him and more importantly, their families lives. I've never met him. Not until the day he came to the club and brought Joyce's two girls who had agreed to work for him. And they are loyal girls, but like Joyce they could see the writing on the wall.'

Bella looked up sharply. 'But that's a kind of blackmail, Ronnie.'

'It could have been murder.'

'I've never heard you talk like this before.'

'I've never needed to.' He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. 'Listen Bella, I would be the first in line to row out Billy McNee if I thought it was worth it. But Billy McNee is the first in a long line of villains who will try to own the East End. Before the war it was different. We were trading on the business Dad had built up; the scrap and junk, doing deals from the yard and any street corner. We owned our turf, kept to the island and respected the territory of others. But during the war the black market replaced our totting. And now, after the battle with foreigners, we've got wars in our own backyards. Every Tom Dick and Harry thinks he's tough enough to demolish his neighbour. We have two choices as I see it. Get us back in the frame - as is Micky's inclination. Or bow out gracefully.'

'Micky doesn't know the meaning of that word, Ron. He is a fighter.'

'And I respect him for that. But I won't see thirty again and I want peace. If we resist McNee, the repercussions are endless. Would you want young Michael to grow up with his father and uncles carrying weapons and using them? Would you want to see even less of Micky than you do, when there is a chance with the garage you