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

'Shut up you bugger,' Mr F shouted.

'You going to put Fido away?' Micky asked nervously.

'Nah. He'll do as he's told. Just don't make any quick moves.'

'Where's Alfred?'

'Same as always, under the boards.'

Micky waited for her to take hold of the dog's collar, then he walked down the corridor. At the end of it he pulled back the corner of a heavy rug. Lifting the trap door, he was blinded by a light from the bowels of the earth. 'It's me, Micky. All right to come down, Alf?'

'Please yourself.'

As always on his previous visits, Micky felt claustrophobic as he descended the wooden steps. The small room smelt of musty paper and printer's ink. Alfred Freshwater was watching him closely from under his tweed cap.

How did anyone breathe down here let alone work Micky wondered uncomfortably? There was only one grille above letting in the air. It was even worse than Dad's old lock-up.

'How you doing, Alf?'

The master forger was smoking a fag. Micky watched him adjust his braces over his shirt and take a puff. He leaned against a large iron contraption that looked more like a trouser press than a counterfeiting machine.

'You won't get better than this,' Alfred said, handing him a one pound note. 'Not unless you know the Old Lady of Threadneedle Street personally.'

'I've not had the pleasure,' Micky mumbled as he lifted the paper to the light. It looked just like an ordinary one pound note except it was too new.

'How many have you got?'

'How many do you want?'

'A grand at least. I need Lady Godiva's too. Dirtied up a bit of course.'

'What you up to?' Alfred demanded curiously.

'I need it for an operation for me little crippled sister,' Micky dismissed.

'Pull the other one. Where's the job?'

Micky took the map from his pocket. 'This is the plan. It's foolproof.'

'That's like an actor saying Macbeth on the first night,' Alfred remarked as with ink stained fingers he took the map and shambled over to a chair. For a long time he studied it, the circles and the crosses and the notes made beside them. He looked up at Micky. 'You know my terms, I told you last week. I want a monkey up front as insurance.'

'Two-fifty.'

'It's five and two naughts or get your arse out of here.'

Reluctantly Micky handed over Ivor's stake. 'It's all there.'

Alfred counted them. 'When?'

'Like we discussed. The end of September when the duchess is away.'

'And you're sure this place is empty?'

'As the proverbial tomb,' Micky assured him. 'The nearest living soul is an old bloke who lives down the road and keeps an eye out every now and then. Trust me, all that lolly will be sitting there ripe for the picking. You only have to screw the safe, then we make the switch and vamoose.'

From upstairs there was a sound of barking and growling. Micky jumped nervously.

'Who's that?'

'Could be the law.'

Micky froze. But his terror soon turned to relief as Alfred laughed raucously. 'It's only dinner time. The missus is feeding the lions.'

Micky could believe that as well. No wonder Alfred Freshwater had enjoyed a long and successful career. With his menagerie of animals he didn't have any friends and consequently very few enemies.

Bella rose early before the rest of the household. The smell of autumn was in the air as she opened the window of the airey. It was a distinctive smell, one she loved, as the world hovered between seasons. September was a wonderful month to be married in, just before the heat of summer died. Friday September the sixteenth was a very special day, Ron and Joyce's registry office wedding.

Like Bella and Micky, they had chosen to have a civil ceremony. A service in church seemed inappropriate as they were living together. Nevertheless, Bella had lots to do. First she must wrap up Joyce and Ronnie's gifts; a single gold pin with the letter J that Joyce could pin to her dress. Another with R, intended to be worn on the groom's tie. She also had a garter for Joyce in her favourite colour, purple and a lace hanky of her own. All the traditions would be then be observed; something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue. And last night Joyce had slept in the spare room, whilst Ron had stayed with Sean and Ashley.

But before she did anything, Bella opened the drawer in the sideboard. She took out her own wedding album and sat at the table. She knew she was being sentimental but this morning she couldn't resist a walk down memory lane.

All her own wedding photographs had been taken on Joyce's Box Brownie camera. May had been a lovely month to be married in too, just as summer beckoned.

Her bouquet had hidden her bump and her white and buff wedding dress looked elegant with its little Peter Pan collar, which was, Bella decided, just as fashionable today. Micky was so handsome in his formal dark suit. He gazed down on her as she held tight to his arm looking up at him with love-filled eyes. Turning the pages slowly, she recalled each moment as Joyce had instructed, "smile for the camera".

Even Terry looked a grown man as he stood by Ronnie who was dressed all in silver grey. Sean and Ashley's cheeky bow ties made her laugh as they posed against the big black cars with white ribbons and bows that had carried them back to the Blue Moon.

How special she had felt as she had shaken hands with all their guests at the reception. It was sad to think that the club would never open its doors to the Bryants again. She felt even sadder to see a snap of Lenny and Gina. What had happened to Lenny? Where was he now? How could he just disappear like that?

'You're up early!' It was Joyce, peering over her shoulder. She was wearing her dressing gown and turban. Bella knew that hidden beneath it was her freshly washed,