Christmas to Come: a heartbreaking coming of age saga set in London's East End

seemed to be going backwards and wondered if the drink had finally got to him. But he hadn't had that much. The brass had cleaned him out today and he'd had to curb his thirst. Then he felt an excruciating pain, a grip of iron around his neck. The pain intensified and his arms were impaled to the wall. A series of blows to his kidneys and a crunch on his face.

A figure was dancing in front of him. Or was it two? He blinked before trying a swipe, but was flung back on the wall again. His legs buckled. The taste of his own blood was in his mouth.

The last thing he remembered was begging them to stop. But he knew as sure as a tart was a tart he was a goner as the dull drum of planes overhead outweighed his screams.

Bella held Terry against her, listening to the beat of the planes as they drowned the gurgling screams inside the cottage. Ronnie had told them to stay outside until the business was finished. The sky was glowing pink over the houses and smoke filled the night air.

When Ronnie and Micky appeared again the man hung between them, arms outstretched over their shoulders as though he'd been crucified, like the figure of Jesus that Bella had seen on the broken cross in Mary's room.

'Look after your mum,' Ronnie told her jerking his head toward the cottage.

'What's he done to her?' Bella asked nervously.

'Nothing you've not seen before, kid.'

'I told you, I'm not a kid.'

'No, you're not any more,' Ronnie agreed, dragging the man into the road.

'Where you taking him?' she called, scrambling to her feet.

'For a walk. A long one.'

'Is he coming back?' Bella's eyes went wide in the hope she'd never see Jack Router again.

'Go on in now,' was the only reply she was given, so she watched them leave, listening to the man's boots drag over the cobbles. The same boots that had caved in Terry's ribs. Whatever they did to him, it wasn't enough in Bella's books.

Bella took her brother's hand and led him in to their mother's bedside. She lay on the bed, half-dressed, looking at them with dull eyes. 'Look what the cat dragged in,' she slurred.

'We stayed at Micky's.'

'Ah, so it was him and that brother of his, Ronnie Bryant, took my bloke off?'

Bella nodded, keeping her distance as she had learned to do.

'Well, I hope they teach that useless git a lesson he'll not forget. Lift a hand to me, would he? Strike a defenceless woman? Good luck to your Micky and Ronnie, girl. Now, stop bloody staring and get me my fags.'

Bella pulled Terry to the sink. She took the filthy tobacco tin from the draining board, brushing away the mildew coating its surface.

Mary Doyle rolled her own with shaking hands. 'Light me a match, girl.'

Bella did as she was told. Exhaling slowly, Mary sighed in satisfaction.

When the planes grew loud again Bella led Terry into their room. 'Terry's scared,' he sobbed as she made him lay down.

'Say your prayers, then. Jesus will take care of us.' She stroked his head and covered him with the blanket.When he was asleep, she went back to Mary.

'You know, that bastard was going to kill me?' Mary reminded her again. 'See what the fecking sod did? See this? And this?' She gestured to the many bruises and cuts over her body. 'All the same, he was no better or worse than other.' Her face crumpled as she coughed, falling back on the filthy pillow to stare up at the ceiling. Dust fell like rain as the bombs landed. 'Listen to their bloody racket!' Mary exclaimed without moving. 'I might as well stay in me bed. It's as good a place to die as any.'

As Mary fell to sleep, Bella took the lighted roll-up from her fingers. She pushed it down in the stained jar with the others and then went back to Terry. The bombs fell loud and heavy and the cottage rattled as she crawled beside him.

In the darkness she said thank you to God for the prayers that He'd answered. The man was gone and hadn't returned. But then she decided to stop praying when the thought occurred to her that it was Micky and Ronnie who had delivered them from evil tonight.

Not God.

Chapter 5

July1947

Bella tossed back her hair and slid her school tie from her collar. Squeezing it into her satchel, she smiled contentedly. It was the final day of school. She was free at last and more than ready to take on the world. Her full lips turned up in a smile. 'I can only stay till half past six because of Terry,' she said to her friend Dolly Taylor as they walked past the Newcastle Arms.

Spilled ale and musky tobacco wafted out from its doors and windows into the hot day. Bella inhaled the cocktail and felt a thrill. She loved everything about the island, especially in summer when the river was full of movement as the ships passed under the bridges into the heart of the docks. Bets were being laid that it was the hottest summer in years. Bella couldn't wait to be rid of her off damp blouse and purple blue school blazer. It had been worn many times before she had bought it for next to nothing at the market. Over the years she had altered her uniform so many times it looked what it was, a total mess. As soon as she started work, she was going to buy herself some pretty frocks and her pleasure grew at the thought of it.

'You're always rushing off,' Dolly pointed out, breaking the magic spell of the wonderful summer's day.

'Terry'll be on his own. He could get up to anything.'

'You know, I can't see your Terry going back to school after you leave,' Dolly remarked as they linked arms and turned the corner.

'He might.' But privately Bella had no doubt at all that