good Jewish girl and settle down, then you’re my son. Now, you are nothing to me. You get nothing from me. You earn your own money to spend on prostitutes. Go home. Pack your bags and bugger off.’ She crossed her arms. ‘I put up with your father for long enough. I don’t put up with you. Enough already. Go! ’
As Manny pushed past Lily, he said quietly, ‘You’ll pay for this.’
Lily knew that day she had made an enemy.
Chapter Four
The sound of the piano being played in The Sailor’s Return could be heard the length of the street. ‘My old man said follow the van, and don’t dilly dally on the way.’ The words of the song were being sung lustily by most of the patrons. In the corner, banging out the melody on an old tinny piano, was Sandy, so named for the colour of his hair.
In his mid-forties, Sandy was paunchy from living too well, his complexion bloated from too much liquor. But his hair, worn long in the neck, curled softly and shone, the overhead lights picking out the chestnut tones. A brightly patterned silk scarf was tucked in the neck of his shirt, over which he wore a maroon-coloured smoking jacket that had seen better days. Nevertheless, it gave Sandy a jaunty, decadent air.
Coming to the end of his number, he stopped playing and angrily tossed his head when a male voice demanded he carry on.
‘Shut your face, you old fart. I’m going to have a peaceful drink.’
‘Ooooh!’ the locals chorused, used to his tantrums.
‘Half a bitter please, Declan.’ Then turning towards Tom, standing next to him at the bar, he said, ‘Honest to God. They don’t give a girl a break, that lot.’
With a grin Tom said, ‘Don’t complain. If they didn’t want you to play, then you’d have something to bitch about.’
Sandy looked coyly at him. ‘Oh, I do like a strong and masterful man.’
‘Where did you get that scarf you’re wearing?’
Fingering it lovingly, the pianist said, ‘I was given it last week by a Dutch sailor. Now there was a masterful beast.’
‘I swear you get worse,’ chided Tom, his eyes crinkling with amusement.
‘Well dearie, you know what Mae West says: “When I’m good, I’m very very good, but when I’m bad … I’m better”.’ He downed his beer. ‘Best get back to the rabble. Any requests?’
‘“I’ll Take You Home Again Kathleen”. It was me mother’s favourite.’
‘All right, my lovely. I’ll play it just for you.’
Taking his drink with him, Tom wandered over to an empty table and sat down. Listening to the familiar strains of the song, he pictured his mother. He missed her, he realised. She was a simple woman who would have made any sacrifice for her family with love and without complaint, but she had been unable to settle in England away from her precious mountains. She and the rest of the family had returned to Ireland. His mother had been in tears when he decided to stay behind.
He hadn’t done badly he thought. He’d got himself a trade and the respect of his peers, after many a battle. As a young man, he’d had to learn to stand on his own against all adversaries, and there had been many. Life was a constant struggle for survival in the docks.
He knew now how to handle himself, asking no quarter and giving none. He had survived. Now he thought it was time to settle down. To be honest, he’d only begun to think this way since he met Lily. Before that he was happy as a single man, but somehow she had made him take stock of his life.
He so enjoyed her company. She made him laugh with her ready wit, and she was appreciative of everything he did for her. She was warm, affectionate, and caring. There was a quirkiness about her that he found appealing. He thought of her dark bouncy hair, her blue eyes, the feel of her in his arms. He longed to make love to her, to hear her cries of delight when he caressed her. She was definitely the woman he wanted to be the mother of his children.
He frowned when he pictured the look on Manny
As Manny pushed past Lily, he said quietly, ‘You’ll pay for this.’
Lily knew that day she had made an enemy.
Chapter Four
The sound of the piano being played in The Sailor’s Return could be heard the length of the street. ‘My old man said follow the van, and don’t dilly dally on the way.’ The words of the song were being sung lustily by most of the patrons. In the corner, banging out the melody on an old tinny piano, was Sandy, so named for the colour of his hair.
In his mid-forties, Sandy was paunchy from living too well, his complexion bloated from too much liquor. But his hair, worn long in the neck, curled softly and shone, the overhead lights picking out the chestnut tones. A brightly patterned silk scarf was tucked in the neck of his shirt, over which he wore a maroon-coloured smoking jacket that had seen better days. Nevertheless, it gave Sandy a jaunty, decadent air.
Coming to the end of his number, he stopped playing and angrily tossed his head when a male voice demanded he carry on.
‘Shut your face, you old fart. I’m going to have a peaceful drink.’
‘Ooooh!’ the locals chorused, used to his tantrums.
‘Half a bitter please, Declan.’ Then turning towards Tom, standing next to him at the bar, he said, ‘Honest to God. They don’t give a girl a break, that lot.’
With a grin Tom said, ‘Don’t complain. If they didn’t want you to play, then you’d have something to bitch about.’
Sandy looked coyly at him. ‘Oh, I do like a strong and masterful man.’
‘Where did you get that scarf you’re wearing?’
Fingering it lovingly, the pianist said, ‘I was given it last week by a Dutch sailor. Now there was a masterful beast.’
‘I swear you get worse,’ chided Tom, his eyes crinkling with amusement.
‘Well dearie, you know what Mae West says: “When I’m good, I’m very very good, but when I’m bad … I’m better”.’ He downed his beer. ‘Best get back to the rabble. Any requests?’
‘“I’ll Take You Home Again Kathleen”. It was me mother’s favourite.’
‘All right, my lovely. I’ll play it just for you.’
Taking his drink with him, Tom wandered over to an empty table and sat down. Listening to the familiar strains of the song, he pictured his mother. He missed her, he realised. She was a simple woman who would have made any sacrifice for her family with love and without complaint, but she had been unable to settle in England away from her precious mountains. She and the rest of the family had returned to Ireland. His mother had been in tears when he decided to stay behind.
He hadn’t done badly he thought. He’d got himself a trade and the respect of his peers, after many a battle. As a young man, he’d had to learn to stand on his own against all adversaries, and there had been many. Life was a constant struggle for survival in the docks.
He knew now how to handle himself, asking no quarter and giving none. He had survived. Now he thought it was time to settle down. To be honest, he’d only begun to think this way since he met Lily. Before that he was happy as a single man, but somehow she had made him take stock of his life.
He so enjoyed her company. She made him laugh with her ready wit, and she was appreciative of everything he did for her. She was warm, affectionate, and caring. There was a quirkiness about her that he found appealing. He thought of her dark bouncy hair, her blue eyes, the feel of her in his arms. He longed to make love to her, to hear her cries of delight when he caressed her. She was definitely the woman he wanted to be the mother of his children.
He frowned when he pictured the look on Manny
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