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

posh house and driving a big motor meant a lot, because it would say I was a success to the world. But since I've been doing up places and putting families back in them, it's scratched the itch inside me. Sounds daft I know, but when I look into their faces and they shake my hand, that is what counts. I give them back their roots and I've discovered I want mine back too.'

Joyce smiled easily. 'You're going soft in your old age, Ron.'

'Maybe I am.'

'You've changed, you know. Take the Fortune for instance. I thought you'd blow your top when Micky bought it. Instead you shook his hand and wished him luck.'

'Not much else I could do,' Ronnie replied with a shrug. 'And anyway, I'm not my brother's keeper anymore.'

'You were once.' Joyce touched his hand. 'What's happened to the man who wouldn't let go?'

'Was I that stubborn, Joyce?' Ronnie asked, a little shocked.

'A bit,' she told him gently. 'But your grip of iron is what I've admired about you. Your brothers always came first and everything else after.'

'Including you?'

She nodded. 'Yes, especially me.'

'Joyce, you know I love you.'

'And I love you, Ron. But is it enough? For the first time in a lot of years, I'm not sure I can compromise.'

Ronnie felt his stomach lurch. He knew he didn't see himself as others saw him. He also knew – belatedly – that he had tried too hard with Micky and Sean. But Sean moving out had suddenly made him realize what a home meant. Perhaps Sean and Micky had to leave him before he could find himself? But to be alone and without Joyce? Now that was a different kettle of fish.

'Would Piper Street be a come-down for you?' he enquired sincerely. 'The old gaff's no t up to much I'll admit.'

'I'm not a snob, Ron.'

'But you fancied more?'

'To be honest, I don't know.'

'That's good then. I'm in with a sporting chance.' He took hold of her hand, felt the tiny bones of her fingers inside her soft skin and forced himself to go on. 'I want a family of our own, Joyce. A son would be wonderful, but a daughter just as good, specially if she looked like you.'

She gazed into his eyes, her face sad although she was laughing and her head was shaking. 'Ronnie, you're mad. I'm too old for a baby. And even if I did conceive and give birth, I'd have to look after it. Can you honestly see me as a mother?'

Ronnie nodded. 'Yes, I can.'

She frowned. 'And when it got old enough I'd have to tell it what I once did for a living. That its mother was a Madam, a brothel owner, amongst other things.'

'A good business woman - the best in her day. And I'll make sure he or she's proud of that fact.'

Joyce laughed, her voice shaking as she stammered, 'Ronnie, what's happening to you?'

'I've fallen in love.'

A tear escaped from her eye as she lifted her hands and lay them on his shoulders. 'You are a good man, Ronnie Bryant, the best. But the odds aren't in my favour. I can't see myself as the little woman indoors and I can't – '

'I can.' Ronnie pulled her close and kissed her, keenly aware of her softness and her warmth and loving her all the more because she was vulnerable. 'Marry me, Joyce. This time I really mean it.'

She was half crying, half laughing when she asked, 'You didn't mean it before then?'

'I would have married you years ago given half the chance. But I'll admit I didn't want it then as much as I do now.'

She took out her hanky and wiped her cheeks. Looking under her wet lashes, she smiled. After what seemed like an eternity she asked quietly, 'Oh, Ron, I'm speechless for once.'

Ronnie pulled her against him, his heart pounding like a train. In spite of the glances from the afternoon strollers, he kissed her as though he'd never kissed her before. 'So that's a yes?' he whispered urgently.

Joyce pulled away, staring at him with her dark, serious eyes. 'I must be mad, but …' she nodded, 'it's a yes.'

Ronnie pulled her to her feet. Kissing her passionately, he gave a loud shout of joy. The little kids in the sandpit were giggling at them and he laughed back. He wanted to tell everyone he was going to marry the most wonderful woman in the world.

Teresa and Michael had gone next door for the morning. Daisy Brown was a piano teacher and had a lovely upright piano. She was teaching all the children their scales.

Bella had asked Terry to go with her to Collier Street.

'Can't,' he kept repeating stubbornly even though it was his day off from the garage.

'Mum would like to see you.'

'Going to Sean's,' he just said over and over again.

Bella knew he liked to sweep up the hair and do all the odd jobs for Sean. 'You can go after,' she assured him. 'Be a good boy now and come with me. I'll buy you some nougat on the way.'

In the grocers, everyone was talking about the election. Sir Anthony Eden, the new Tory Prime Minister was glibly promising people they would soon be able to buy their own homes. East Enders were wondering when and if that could ever happen. Why was the working class represented by a toff who knew nothing about them? If the Prime Minister lived on the island for a week, it would be a lesson in life. But wealthy people shied away from the poor. It was better to arrive at decisions in the comfort of parliament and the discreet interiors of gentlemen's clubs.

Bella thought about the prefab. Had the council called and done as she had asked in her many letters? The fumigation was essential to Teresa's return, not to mention the damp.

As they entered Collier Street, Bella saw a man dressed in overalls. He was working outside her mother's, pouring what looked