Christmas to Come: a heartbreaking coming of age saga set in London's East End Carol Rivers (best sales books of all time .txt) 📖

It was Friday and Bella was walking down Manchester Road wondering where to try next. The evidence of war was still clearly visible; houses reduced to debris, others ugly and neglected. People had tried to breathe life into them, but the smoke and the soot covered them like grubby shawls. She had never really noticed them before. Hadn't seen them the way they looked today, cracked and broken. The last time she had walked this way was with Dolly. They had been happy and laughing as they walked past the Newcastle Arms. The sights and smells that had excited her then, now depressed her. As did her reflection in a pane of glass. Her hair was dirty and hung down on her shoulders. Her coat was shabby and shapeless. She moved past quickly.

When she came to Cubitt Town, the prefabs now seemed a long forgotten dream. They were a pretty buttermilk colour with flat roofs and a square of green grass at the front. Bella dug her hands into her pockets. She didn't have the inclination to walk to Cox Street where she intended to buy herself a cup of tea. She couldn't afford it, anyway.

The factory workers would be turning out soon, flush with their pay packets. For the girls, Friday night was hair wash night. The men disappeared down the pub. The kids stayed up late in the streets on summer nights, knocking a ball about. Friday night was the best night of the week.

Bella walked quicker, already missing the money that she had begun to take for granted. She had lost a good job because of her pride. Now she was walking the streets, tired, hungry and alone.

She had no idea what to do next.

Bella knew something was wrong when she saw Terry sitting on the pavement. He stood up when he saw her coming, his eyes full of confusion.

'What's up, Terry?' Bella saw the bundle at his feet.

'Terry's not allowed in any more,' he said as the door was flung open and Mary Doyle stood there, her arms full of Bella's clothes. She threw them on the pavement beside Terry's. 'So the prodigal returns, does she? Well, not to this house she doesn't. Thought I was daft enough not to know what was going on behind me back, eh?'

'I don't know what you mean.' Bella began to pick up her belongings.

'Don't lie to me, you brazen cow. Gave up that fine job for an easy life did you? Well you'll not find it so fecking easy when you have to pay all the bills, my girl. Sweet Jesus, did you think you could pull the wool over Mary Doyle's eyes?'

'It's not a crime to chuck a job in,' Bella retaliated, hiding her humiliation at being discovered.

'A common little tart is what I've bred,' Mary Doyle shouted back. 'And she's had the gall to look down her nose at her mother all these years. And now she's working the street herself like any old tom.'

Bella looked astonished. 'Who told you that?'

'Who hasn't!' her mother screamed at her, stepping forward to push her shoulder. 'The Rose is bursting at the seams with the news of me own girl touting for trade. And you're brazen enough to leave the house and come home, with your pockets full of easy money, without her own mother knowing it.'

'They've told you wrong, Mum,' Bella said emptily. She knew that whatever she said in her defence, Mary Doyle would ignore.

'So they have, have they? My own friends and neighbours are lying are they? When they tell me they've seen you every day this week walking the island with your arse for sale? And him, that idiot!' She narrowed her eyes at Terry, 'Keeping your filthy secret and tricking his own mother. Sure, it's a pair of devils I birthed, not babies.'

Bella almost smiled at the thought of the Mary Doyle ever having a neighbour or friend who was not a liar. But she didn't voice her thoughts, nor did she try to stop the tirade as it continued. The daughter who had cost her mother a happy life and crippled a decent man. Who deceived her mother at every turn and denied them all a worthy existence. Mary Doyle finally stood heaving and breatless, her face shining with sweat.

'Go ahead and believe your so-called friends and neighbours,' Bella said calmly. 'Why should things change now? I've never been able to make you listen. But I'll tell you this before I go, Mum. One day you'll be left without anyone. Not even that animal who beat our Terry black and blue, will stay with you. So you're welcome to what you believe. I hope it makes you happy. And one thing more. Our Terry never knew I lost my job. He couldn't tell a lie to save his life. He might be a bit backward but he's an innocent, Mum. Which is a miracle, seeing the womb he got dragged out from.'

Bella swept her clothes from the ground. She nodded to Terry. 'Come on, our Terry.'

'Good riddance to bad rubbish,' Mary Doyle shrieked as she stepped back in the house and slammed the door in their faces.

Bella looked at Terry. Now they really were on their own.

Chapter 11

That night they slept at the back of the old Islanders. The pub had taken a direct hit in the Blitz but a shed remained with half of its roof. They curled up inside it, too tired to notice the wet or the rats. The next day they went to Hailing House and drank soup for the destitute served up by voluntary workers. Afterwards, they visited the flour mill. Bella asked for work but the answer was no. She did the same at the rope makers but the factory was fully staffed.

The second night they slept on an old rotting wreck; a coal barge washed up on the mud. Its skeleton was open to the elements and rotting but a filthy tarpaulin left inside was