Lily of Love Lane (13 page)

As Lily thought this over, she washed up her cup and saucer and made her way to bed. No matter what had happened at the dance, she wouldn’t trade being with Charles tomorrow for all the
tea in China.

It was, as Charles had promised, an early start. She heard his car arrive at eight o’clock and wondered, as she tiptoed down the stairs and opened the front door, if
anyone was looking out from their windows.

Charles opened the passenger door and helped her in. She soon forgot all her doubts and worries. His immaculate appearance was almost too much to absorb, from the way his dark hair was hidden
under a smart brown felt hat and his overcoat in dark brown wool clung to his broad shoulders.

Soon Love Lane was behind them and they were driving along the Westferry Road. The docks were still and only the seagulls screeched above them. The engine was a comforting purr and although it
was cold, once again he provided a warm blanket.

Lily had worn her one and only best coat that he had seen before and couldn’t be disguised, but she hadn’t worn a hat this time. At the crack of dawn this morning, she had washed her
hair. The water had been freezing, but she had lit the fire in the front room and her hair had soon dried. No amount of trying to straighten it overnight had worked before and so she hadn’t
even tried. After all, he had commented on its appearance on their trip up West. Whilst drying it she had placed her index and middle fingers in the waves, encouraging rather than trying to
disguise its natural curl.

Lily looked out on the morning, her heart beating fast. A streak of blue sky between the houses slowly filled with a blush. Like a lovely pink rose opening up, the day was beginning and she was
eager to share it with her companion.

There were so many clothes, Lily thought she was in heaven. No wonder Petticoat Lane was called what it was, and not Hog Lane as it had been called in the early 1800s! Stall
upon stall of clothing, sold at knock-down prices, so that she wanted to stop at every one. The Old Girl’s Stall at Cox Street was nothing compared to this. Though she had come up to
Petticoat Lane with Uncle Noah as a child, then with Hattie in later years, she had forgotten how busy it was. The last time they had ventured up it was raining and Hattie had bought an old
umbrella. But it had blown inside out before they had got home and the spokes had poked through the cloth. They had had a laugh about it, but Lily reminded herself that today, she was searching for
something of real value, not a frivolous amusement.

Now, as she strolled beside Charles, the market was full of tantalizing colour and the sound of voices – some tongues were foreign and some were cockney. The air was filled with scents of
perfumes and fragrances of food. Every conceivable article was on display. The stalls and boxes spilled with coats, dresses, underwear, stockings, shoes, trousers and jumpers, all of which were
examined in detail by the throng of women who jostled and fought each other. A big man smoking a pipe pushed his way in to restore calm as a fight broke out over ownership of a pair of old riding
breeches. Neither woman was prepared to let go, and Lily felt Charles laugh beside her. He steered her gently away, as the cursing and oaths became louder.

‘Let’s hope our bargain doesn’t have to be fought over,’ he said as they approached a long bench piled high with all sorts of curios. Lamps, crockery, ironmongery, toys,
pots, pans, furniture, food, delicacies and, of course, dozens of umbrellas. Beyond were flower sellers, a pie and mash stall, a fish stall and hot baked bread vendor, competing for business with
the pastries, sweets and toffee apples. As far as the eye could see, there were articles of every shape and kind. They stopped next at a shelf piled high with Eastern jewels and mystic stones.
Little trinkets hung from above against the gaudy silks. Beads, necklaces, bracelets and scarves were entwined as a thick, sultry smell filled the air.

A dark-eyed, brown-skinned woman called out to Lily. ‘Come along, dear, and try one of these on your pretty finger.’ From a plump purple cushion she lifted a large ring. ‘A
real ruby this one, just what you’ve always wanted.’

Lily paused to admire the glistening stone. The woman pounced on her lifting her hand to slide on the ring.

‘A ruby indeed,’ said Charles smilingly as they gazed at its false brightness.

‘To you sir, just three bob. Now what do you say to that?’

Charles cupped Lily’s elbow with his hand. ‘It’s my young friend’s decision,’ he said quietly. ‘Though to my mind a stone of this poor quality does nothing to
justify the beauty of the hand it adorns.’

Lily looked up at her companion. In the hustle and bustle around them, the world seemed to stop still. Her blush was almost as deep as the colour of the ring.

‘Your gentleman has a way with words,’ said the woman, giving Lily a narrowed glance.

‘It’s a lovely ring,’ Lily said politely, slipping it off and handing it back. ‘But not for me, thank you.’

‘It would have brought you luck,’ the woman cried after them. ‘Come back and I’ll halve the price.’

Charles slid his arm around her waist to guide her from the path of a man carrying a tray of hot bread on his head. ‘A bargain of sorts?’ he said wryly and they laughed.

‘If she had been a true traveller and the ring had been a sprig of heather, I would have accepted as it’s considered unlucky to refuse a gypsy,’ Lily said.

‘Do you really believe that sort of thing?’

‘I don’t know if it’s true. But yes, in a way I do believe.’

Charles nodded slowly. ‘Then the next heather sprig I see, I shall buy it for you. I should like us both to have good luck, Lily. In fact, I should like our friendship to prosper in every
way.’

Lily looked up at him. Her tummy turned a summersault as his dark eyes looked intensely at her. She felt bewildered. What was he saying? That he wanted their business arrangement to prosper? Or
was it – dare she even think it? – something of a more personal nature?

The painting was leaning against the wall, hidden by a heap of clothes and women’s boots. To the side of it was a large stand of many types of nuts that was looked after
by a boy of no more than about nine. He was spooning the nuts into the open bags of the women who paid him and patted him on the head. The walnuts and Brazil nuts and furry-coated coconuts were
hidden in a cloud of dust each time he shook the sacks in which they were stored. Lily saw he was a street urchin, dressed in rags, but with the bright, shrewd eyes of a dealer set close together
under a shock of black hair. His smile was instant as they approached.

‘Here y’a missy, open yer bag for a penneth o’ nuts.’

Lily smiled politely. ‘No thank you, but I am interested in that picture behind you.’

‘It ain’t mine,’ the boy shrugged. ‘You sure you ain’t wanting some o’ these?’

‘I’m sure.’ Lily squeezed past him and bent down to the picture. It was in a terrible condition but there was something about it that she liked.

‘Who does it belong to?’ she asked as she rubbed away the dirt with her handkerchief.

‘What’s telling worth, then?’

Lily smiled. ‘Sixpence, if you can run and find the owner.’

The boy closed the sack with his filthy fingers, looping the string into a light knot. ‘Give us the sixpence first,’ he demanded, holding out his black palm.

Charles immediately provided the coin. When the boy ran off through the crowd, they examined the painting.

‘It’s beautiful,’ Lily said as Charles held it up.

‘Do you think so?’

‘Yes, but the canvas is torn. And the frame’s broken.’

‘No matter, they will mend easily.’ Charles nodded as they stared at the dirty oils depicting a young peasant woman feeding a large black bull. ‘Tell me, what do you think of
the subjects, Lily?’

She gazed at the unlikely coupling. ‘I like them because the bull looks strong and powerful, whilst the girl is delicate and yet she’s not afraid to feed it.’

‘How very perceptive.’

‘All I know is, I’d hang it up on me wall, if I had a big house like yours.’

He smiled. ‘Well then Lily, let your intuition be our guide. I think this is what we have been looking for. Our morning’s search has certainly not been in vain.’

A small man came rushing towards them. He wore a suit that didn’t fit properly over his big arms and was too short in the sleeve. His face was ruddy and coarse under a filthy cap. The boy
was pointing and the man slipped his thumbs into his waistcoat pocket when he saw them. A crafty smile came over his face as he noted the picture already in Charles’ hand.

‘How much do you want for this?’ asked Charles.

‘It ain’t for sale.’

‘Then why bring it to market?’

‘It’s me own. For me good lady. I bought it today.’

Charles nodded slowly, replacing the painting by the wall. ‘A pity since I was prepared to take it on.’

‘I saw a much nicer one along the Lane,’ said Lily, turning to slide her hand confidently through Charles’ arm. ‘This is torn and tattered and by comparison, quite
dull.’

‘Yes, indeed,’ replied Charles, a smile of complicity playing on his lips. ‘It was just a whim, anyway.’

Pleased with their charade, Lily smiled mischievously back. As they walked away, the dealer jumped in their path.

‘I could be persuaded to sell, I s’pose,’ he muttered, rubbing his filthy hand over the stubble on his jaw. ‘If I was offered a fair price.’

‘It’s broken,’ Lily said haughtily.

‘And filthy,’ agreed Charles.

‘Yer, but it would come nice with a clean-up,’ pointed out the man.

The boy ran to Lily. ‘Tell yer what miss, me gaffer might sell it for what he bought it at.’

‘Why would he do that?’

‘’Cos yer a pretty lady.’

Charles laughed and placed his hand on the boy’s shoulder. ‘What an excellent young man you are. Why don’t you go and make deliberations on our behalf?’

The young boy nodded and ran off. Lily smiled at Charles knowingly as they watched the older man shaking his head fiercely.

‘What a clever pair they make,’ said Charles softly in her ear.

She nodded. ‘But we are cleverer.’

‘Do you think we shall win?’

‘No doubt about it,’ Lily nodded. ‘Whatever he asks for, we’ll halve.’

Charles looked amused. ‘What a clever girl you are.’

When the boy returned, he stood with his thumbs in his ragged pockets. ‘It’s a gift to you, mister, at five bob.’

Charles glanced at Lily. She shook her head.

‘I would consider two and six,’ said Charles dismissively. And a little more quietly added, ‘Bear in mind, young man, you have already earned a commission.’

Lily tried to hide her amusement as the boy went off again. When he returned, he held out his hand. ‘The deal’s done.’

Two minutes later, Charles and Lily were returning the way they had come. They drew many glances from the passers-by as Charles carried the picture under his arm.

‘We make a good partnership, don’t you think?’ Charles said as he placed the picture in the back seat of the car and helped her up.

Lily nodded. She had enjoyed every moment.

‘Now, here is your pay, Lily.’ He pressed a ten shilling note in her hand. She felt embarrassed. She would have willingly accompanied him for nothing.

‘This is too much.’

‘Not at all. I would have paid full price for that picture. Your knowledge of the trade was invaluable.’

Lily looked at the large note. Somehow it didn’t make her happy. Although she knew it would bring a big smile to her mother’s face. ‘Thank you,’ she said quietly.

‘The pleasure has been all mine, Lily. Now, I must take you home.’

Lily folded the note into her purse. She looked at all the familiar sights as they passed: the tall, smoke covered houses; the taverns and shops; the dirty gutters and cobbles; the mounds of
horse dung being scooped up by the street children that would later be sold for a half-penny a bag. She wanted to sit beside Charles and savour it, let the day go on forever. But she knew it had to
end.

She wondered if he would ask her to help him again. But he merely tipped his hat and thanked her for her help as he helped her out from the car.

Lily watched him drive off and was rewarded by the sight of his gloved hand raised in salute from the window. As the car turned out of sight, her happiness faded. Did he now have everything he
wanted for his house? Had she only been useful to him for a short while?

W
hen, that afternoon, she told Hattie about Petticoat Lane and the picture, Hattie didn’t say much. Instead, as they walked through the foot
tunnel to Greenwich, Hattie couldn’t wait to relay her own news.

‘Reube told me last night at the dance that he wants us to go up West for the ring,’ she said excitedly.

‘Oh, that’ll be nice.’

‘Did he say anything about the ring to you? Like how much he plans to spend?’

‘He wouldn’t, would he?’ replied Lily as they walked briskly along. It was a cold March day with a stiff breeze. ‘We’re best friends you and me. He knows I’d
tell you straight away.’

Hattie giggled as she laid a restraining hand on her soft brown hat. Lily’s blue hat, after so much steaming, was a tight fit and remained in place. ‘I’m hoping for a diamond
ring,’ said Hattie. ‘Nothing too extravagant, mind. A single stone, perhaps. It means a lot to a girl, does a ring.’

Lily thought of the wonderful moment when the dark-skinned woman had thrust the so-called ruby ring on her finger. It had felt so special though the design was far too opulent. She would never
wear a thing like that. And it couldn’t have been a ruby, as it would have cost the earth. But just feeling it on her finger had been exciting. And when Charles had given her that compliment
about it not doing her justice . . .

‘Lil, are you listening to me?’

‘Yes, course I am.’

‘Well, what do you think?’

‘Of what?’

Hattie stopped to frown at her. ‘You haven’t been listening, have you?’

‘Course I have.’ Lily was grateful for the gust of wind that blew them on.