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

to go out buy the sugar beet used to aid fermentation. Micky as usual, had forgotten. The production of crystal clear alcohol depended on this wash. Lenny took pride in the slow and meticulous process necessary to ensure a high quality product. Micky considered it unnecessary. It was a sore point between them and still unresolved.

Micky kicked the pile of boxes at his feet. 'I'm supposed to be boss around here but I don't have a say in anything these days.'

'Leave it out Micky,' Lenny intervened as he emerged from behind the tank, wiping his sweating forehead with his hand. 'I'm sick to death of hearing you complain.'

At that moment, Terry appeared and shuffled past the tank, giving Micky a wide berth.

'Oh, the wanderer returns!' Micky growled irritably and Bella took hold of her brother's arm, pulling him out of harm's way.

'Leave the kid alone, Micky,' Lenny muttered as he examined the dark brown contents of a large glass container. 'The still won't fold just 'cos Terry has a fag.'

Bella watched Micky's face turn scarlet. 'That's rich, that is, seeing as when we was at the lock-up you was always on about me doing a disappearing act.'

Lenny's head jerked up. He drew his muscular forearm across his big nose aggressively. 'Look, those two kids have been more use to me on a Sunday these past months than you are all week. Let's face it, you're a nervous wreck around the still and you're beginning to make me nervous too. So why don't you just push off and deliver them orders.'

Micky looked angry. 'You're talking as if you owned this place,' he accused, taking a step forward and poking a finger in Lenny's shoulder.

Lenny poked a finger back. 'I do, mate. Half of it, anyway.'

'Who says so?' Micky retaliated. 'What collateral have you put up, eh? It's me that pays the rent and just you remember it.'

'Be careful,' Lenny warned angrily. 'You're pushing your luck again.'

'Are you threatening me?' Micky demanded.

'Take it any way you want, you lazy git.'

Micky lunged forward and the two men struggled, falling against the table. All the crates slid noisily to the ground as they wrestled, kicking and shouting at one another, heedless of the spectacle they were making.

Bella grabbed Terry's arm and pulled him under the stairs knowing they would have to wait there the two men had exhausted themselves.

Sean helped Ronnie out of the car. Together they crossed the wharf frontage. An early morning breeze blew off the river and at the door of the warehouse, Ronnie gazed up at the dilapidated shell. Before the Blitz, he remembered this place as a timber yard, serviced by the tugs on the river, a hive of industry. A wave of sadness washed over him at the memory. Those days were long gone. When the Bryants were a close family and Dad's word was law. For a moment he was reluctant to go in. But Micky had left him no choice. Like the old building towering above him, their time as a family was running out.

'Ronnie, give Micky another chance,' Sean pleaded, the strain of the night's events evident on his face. 'He should have told you about the still. I don't deny that. But this is not the time to square it. With Stratton's outfit breathing down our necks, we've got to stick together.'

'Stick together?' Ronnie repeated in surprise. 'Where was Micky last night, when my club was wrecked? Where were you? It's Joyce I have to thank for giving Bernie and Sid an early night. If they hadn't knocked off when they did, you would have found what was left of me floating in East India docks.'

Sean looked shamefaced. 'I know Ron. What can I say?'

'Nothing. The damage is done.' Ronnie saw the tears of regret form in his brother's eyes. 'None of this would be happening if you had been straight with me. What possessed you, Sean? If Micky put you under pressure to deliver for him, then you should have come to me. This substance is as reliable as the weather. It knocked out hundreds of Yanks in the war, was more effective than the Luftwaffe's bombs. In fact Hitler should have dropped bottles of it on London to achieve a successful invasion. Now Micky has finally excelled himself and taken out Sammy Stratton's brother.'

'I know all you are saying is true,' Sean agreed lamely. 'But I'm scared Ron. And I don't mind admitting it.'

Ronnie looked into his brother's terrified face. 'And so you should be. If it's an official pardon from Sammy Stratton that you're looking for, you are going to be disappointed. We are all in over our heads now.'

Watching the tears fill his brother's eyes, Ronnie hardened his heart. He loved Sean as he loved Micky, but they had both deceived him and now all three of them were paying for it.

When they entered the warehouse, Micky and Lenny Rigler were staggering to their feet, covered in dust, their boots crunching on broken glass. They looked as though they'd been fighting but he was shocked to see Bella and Terry hiding under the stairs.

'Ronnie!' Micky gasped as he wiped the dirt from his face.

'Don't let me interrupt,' Ronnie growled.

'What are you doing here?'

Glancing round the warehouse, Ronnie said coldly, 'What do you think?'

Micky shrugged, a sudden smile on his face as he stepped over the glass and urged Ronnie forward. 'Matter of fact, I was going to ask you over, give you the guided tour. There's no time like the present, so come on in.'

Ronnie knew Micky of old, understood the workings of his mind and his ability to regain his composure in the blink of an eye.

'Who told you we was operating?' Micky asked casually, glancing accusingly at Sean.

'The Stratton crew. They came to the club today. As you can see, it wasn't a friendly visit.' He opened his jacket to reveal his bloodstained shirt.

'Christ, Ron! What happened?' Micky looked shocked as he stared at the wound. 'They