Christmas Child: an absolutely heartbreaking and emotional Victorian romance by Carol Rivers (classic english novels txt) 📕

Bella looked at her brother now. He didn't have a bad bone in his body. At least, what bones were left after the bashings he got from Jack Router. And that was what hurt her the most. What made her angry. What made her feel so powerless. She could take the man groping her. She made herself take it, so he wouldn't touch Terry. And the one thing in her favour was Mary's jealousy, her need for men as much as their money. She was still young and beautiful in her own eyes. Her daughter's youth was an anathema to her. She resented it. Jack knew that too and he played on it.

Another hour passed and dusk began to fall. The pretty snow flakes stuck to Bella's dark lashes and surrounded her brown eyes like tiny stars. They couldn't stay here much longer. Bella knew they would freeze to death. Terry's lips were blue and his face a ghostly white.

'Come on, we're leaving,' she told him, shaking him awake from the frozen doze he was falling into.

'Where to?' Terry whimpered as she hauled him to his feet.

'Back to the debris.'

Terry's big eyes filled with tears. 'I want to go home, Bells.'

In a grown up fashion far beyond her eight years, Bella took hold of her brother's shoulders. 'Listen Terry, might as well face it. We've got no home. Not when he's with her. Not when he thumps you like he does. And certainly not when they're both pissed. We'd be dead meat if we went back now and you know it.'

The tears trickled down Terry's cheeks. He said nothing, just stared at Bella and sniffed back the mucous streaming from his nose. She took his hand and squeezed it. 'I promise I'll find us a place to kip. And something to eat. All right?'

He nodded slowly and Bella took one last glance at the cottage. No sign of them coming out yet. She could only guess they'd drunk themselves daft. There would be hell to pay when they woke; in the absence of alcohol, the fighting and screaming would start. Bella had hoped that her mother would tire of the man, but for better or worse, she kept with him. And as far as her children were concerned, it was mostly the worst.

Shivering uncontrollably herself now, Bella hugged Terry to her. 'About a mile down the road is the pie and mash shop. In the blackout, no one will see us turn over the bins.'

Terry sobbed softly. 'I was sick last time we did that.'

'Listen,' Bella consoled him with her innocent logic, 'if pigs can eat that muck, so can we.'

He hung his head and she pulled him along the alley. It was dusk and the blackout was strictly enforced. There was no light showing, not even a full moon. But she knew every step of the way. When they'd eaten, they'd walk to the debris. She'd seen the remains of a burned-out house today. Some of its blackened rafters hung loosely inside. She'd take Terry there. It was better than sleeping in the open. And if the rest of the roof didn't fall in on them, that would be a bonus.

They could even make-believe they were in a posh house and were having a proper Christmas. They could pretend to open presents from under a Christmas tree. And sit round an imaginary fire opening them. She liked pretending. As they stuffed themselves with plum pudding, she would tell Terry the story about Joseph and Mary riding on the donkey and following a star. Mary and Joseph didn't have no home at Christmas either. In the end, the star led them to a stable where Mary had her baby in the straw. There was cows and sheep and the donkey, too. It was a pity there wasn't no animals on the island, only rats. Thousands of 'em, all over the place. Just as hungry as she and Terry were.

Bella hurried on, dragging Terry beside her. She was eager to investigate the bins at the back of the pie and mash shop and find shelter before it was too dark. And she might be wrong about the Germans. Their planes could be on their way over this minute. P'raps they hadn't even heard of Christmas.

Well, nor had she and Terry, really. Not until last year, when Micky had bunged them both a tanner along with two of his mum's apple pies.

Chapter 1

PART ONE

The London Blitz

March 1941

'You bugger, don't you hit our Terry again!' Eight-year-old Bella Doyle stared defiantly up at the big man whose fist was clenched in readiness to strike.

Jack Router turned his bloodshot gaze slowly from the small boy huddled in the corner to scrutinize the parcel of rags and lice infested hair gazing up at him.

'What did you say, girl?'

Bella moved cautiously backwards, out of reach of the man who had just knocked seven bells out of her little brother. Drunk and swaying Jack Router might be, but when the occasion warranted it, she knew he could turn on a sixpence.

'I said leave him alone. You're a bastard bully for clobbering our Terry. And I'm telling me Mum when she comes home.'

'Oh you will, will you?'

Instantly regretting her quick tongue, Bella knew there was no escape. Above her, the gaping hole in the ceiling where the rafters of the roof hung down and to her right, the closed door and blacked-out window. Not that she'd try running anyway. Not without Terry.

Jack Router curled a thick, grubby finger in her direction. 'Come here now, Bella. We should be friends you and me. Give your Uncle Jack a little cuddle. That's all he wants. And you like it, you know you do, girl.'

With her back pressed hard against the wall of the derelict cottage, Bella inched her way towards Terry. The man watched in amusement, his belly quivering above his belt as he enjoyed the child's terror.

'What's it to be then, eh?