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

Bella nodded. 'Michael is becoming fussy about what he wears. He likes nice clothes to impress the girls at the youth club. Some of them look very grown up with their make-up and heels. They're only thirteen or fourteen, but the youngsters grow up quickly these days. I just hope Michael keeps a sensible head.'

'Assuming his father has warned him against the evils of sin,' Gina remarked sarcastically.

Bella didn't reply. Her son was normally a happy-go-lucky teenager but on the rare occasions he saw his father, he became quiet and withdrawn. He was as wary and confused as she was at Micky's irrational behaviour and mood swings.

As far as the romantic side of their marriage was concerned, it was non-existent, Bella thought sadly. No hugs or cuddles or fond words. The last time they had made love was months ago. She'd tried to please him, but eventually he'd pushed her aside irritably gone straight to sleep. She no longer worried where he was when he didn't come home. She knew. He might as well be living on the premises of his new club, the Flamingo.

Gina glanced her way. 'So what is Michael doing this morning?' They never stayed on the subject of Micky long for Bella knew that Gina had guessed long ago the marriage was struggling.

'He's gone to Saturday morning cinema with Teresa. And then they're going down the Dockland Settlement. Him and his mates have got a skiffle group started. They only muck about with an old tea chest and washboard, but he loves it.'

'A bit different to going up the market like the old days.'

Bella nodded. 'That would bore him now.'

'One day he'll be coming in here to give us a hand.'

Bella laughed. 'Or bring his mates in to guzzle the coffee! And I'd probably end up paying the bill.'

As she said this, Gina put down the cloth and looked levelly into her eyes. 'No, you wouldn't, not if you was the owner.'

Bella stared at her in surprise. 'What did you say?'

Gina grinned. 'How do you fancy being a joint owner of a coffee bar?'

'This place?'

Gina nodded. 'The bloke that owns the freehold is selling. Would you come in with me?'

Bella smiled incredulously. 'You're joking of course.'

'I'm deadly serious. I want a real partner who understands the business.'

'But how much would it cost?' Bella asked doubtfully.

'He wants three grand. That means one and a half each.'

'That's a lot of money.'

'I don't know how you're fixed. Would Micky help?'

'I don't know.'

'It's a good investment.'

Bella frowned. 'What would you do if I refused. Could you still afford it?'

Gina shrugged. 'I'd raise the money somehow.' She paused. 'It's not just the money, Bella. It was you that helped me turn my business into an investment. I was at an all time low after Lenny did a bunk and then the tea urn went on the blink. It was you that said why didn't I install one of those new-fangled coffee machines you'd seen up the Brompton Road, remember?'

Bella smiled. 'Yes and you asked me to come and operate it.'

'To get you over Terry, really,' Gina said gently. 'I knew working here would get you out of yourself. Apart from that, I was glad to have you back again. We work together well and understand each other. Will you give my proposition some thought?'

Bella felt a curl of excitement in her stomach. 'All right, I will.'

'Good girl!' Gina exclaimed raising her voice above the noise of the hissing coffee machine. 'Don't forget, Espresso is big. Coffee bars are the in-thing. We've got good heads, Bella. Let's make them work for us.'

As more young people filed in the door, Bella tried to imagine that the business was half hers. It was a big responsibility. Not the same as keeping accounts and being a part-time waitress. But she was independent now. Ronnie had taught her to drive and she had a little car. She had also saved for a rainy day. Why shouldn't she branch out?

Bella could see the opportunity. But what would Micky think of the idea?

Micky was on a trip. And had been for the past twelve hours. He had arrived at The Flamingo with his new squeeze and shown her a good time. As it was his club, all bought and paid for thanks to the duchess, he could do exactly as he pleased. It was a heady sensation that hadn't yet worn off. The staff did the hard work, that's what he paid them for. His manager and doormen, the little chics behind the bar and the high class tarts who paid him fifty percent of their tote. Let them take the strain.

He was happy as Larry here in the back rooms where the beautiful colours flowed in abundance. Time and space evaporated. The LSD had never given him a bad trip, it was a confidence booster. As he relaxed beside the young girl who could have been Leyla, but for the fact Leyla had overdosed and departed this mortal coil three years ago, he was in psychedelic heaven. He had found Nirvana. He had also discovered a prosperous income from drugs. Handfuls of these bourgeois, arty types trying to score from dodgy cockney villains to impress their friends! Well, he was their man.

He grinned foolishly. And the pot smokers, too. Roll on the beatniks and the musicians and the long-haired radicals. They had actually convinced themselves they were going to change the world. As God hadn't managed to do it in the long aeons of ownership, what hope had they, Micky often thought to himself? He would make sure the revenue he was generating from these monkeys was going to stack up. The duchess's money was long gone, and that bastard McNee was up to his old tricks again. He'd been hoping that the Krays, with whom he had a nodding acquaintance, would cement McNee ten feet down, under a fly-over. But unfortunately, Reggie had been nicked.