Riches of the Heart Read Free

almost handsome.
    ‘Nice young girl like you should be home, tucked up in a warm bed, not wandering around the streets.’
    ‘I’m not wandering,’ was her sharp denial.
    Looking at his watch, the man frowned. ‘I have to go, but if you want a job, come and see me. I’ve got a nice little room with a comfortable bed just waiting for you. Good food too.’ He put his hand out to stroke her hair. She pulled away. Looking at her shabby attire he added, ‘And nice clothes.’
    Lily was beginning to feel uneasy. ‘You don’t know me, so why would you put yourself out to give me a job? What’s in it for you?’
    He was amused. ‘Let’s just say I like the look of you. You’re a bright girl, nice-looking – and I could help you.’
    ‘No thanks,’ she answered spiritedly. ‘I can take care of myself.’
    He grinned. ‘Can you now? I run the Club Valletta, in Bernard Street. Come and see me. Ask for Vittorio.’ Opening the door, he left.
    Lily was relieved at his exit, but puzzled as well. No one offers a girl such things for nothing, she thought. And anyway, who was he? As she was mulling over the conversation, Bert came across to her.
    ‘Listen to me, sunshine. You keep away from The Maltese.’
    ‘Who?’
    ‘Vittorio Teglia. Everyone calls him The Maltese.’
    ‘Why?’
    ‘Because his family come from Malta, an island in the Mediterranean. He’s a dangerous man to know. I’m giving you some fatherly advice, ducks. Don’t you have anything to do with him.’
    A shiver went down Lily’s spine.
    The cafe began to get busy, and she slipped out through the door. The park no longer seemed a dangerous place in the daylight. She made her way to an empty bench, well away from the one used by Maria, and watched the street come alive.
    The noisy rattle of trams began to shake the air. The road became full of dockers on their bicycles, packed together like a flock of birds, first swaying one way then the other, following the curve of the road. She marvelled that no one fell off. Fruit-sellers were busy setting up stalls for the day. Newsboys called out the latest headlines: ‘Lloyd George sends the Black and Tans to Ireland!’ A middle-aged woman pushed her flower-laden cart on her way to the National Provincial Bank, where she’d had a daily pitch for years. Lily recognised her and waved.
    A throaty roar from a liner echoed as the RMS Olympic tested its engines ready to sail to New York. Its four red and black funnels belched out thick dark smoke.
    Still suffering from hunger pangs, Lily made her way to Kingsland market, cocking an ear to the banter which passed between the stall-holders getting ready for the day. One woman, setting out some cabbages, clutched two against her breast. ‘Nice pair you’ve got there, gel,’ called the man on the next stall.
    ‘Now then, you cheeky monkey. One more word from you, I’ll squeeze your tomatoes.’
    ‘Best offer I’ve had this week,’ he replied with a laugh.
    ‘Going to see the new Douglas Fairbanks picture this week, Nell?’ called another. ‘It’s on at the Gaiety.’
    ‘Yeah, not half. He could swash my buckle any time.’
    A watery sun made its appearance, and in her own way Lily felt happy wandering around. Thoughts of the night to come were pushed to the back of her mind. She watched carefully as the traders sorted the bad fruit from the good, noting the wooden boxes containing the discarded pieces. She smiled to herself as she watched them serve their customers from the fruit at the back of the display, giving short measure with dexterity.
    Waiting until the market was busy and the traders occupied with customers, she filched some rotten apples and a couple of bananas, stuffing them into her pockets. Nonchalantly, she moved away to eat her fill, then went back to replenish her store – leaving before she was discovered.
    Next she made her way towards Canal Walk, commonly known as The Ditches. It was a narrow pedestrian-only street that sloped down