But Terry stood where he was. 'Terry take Bella's tea.'
Ronnie watched with interest as his brother hesitated. Ronnie could almost hear the cogs in his brain working, which of course, Terry couldn't. But it was instinct that had Terry standing his ground.
Micky shrugged. 'Have it your own way, pal. I'm going back for a kip on the settee.'
When he had gone, Ronnie handed Terry the tea. 'Tell her to get dressed and come down for some breakfast,' he said quietly and Terry nodded, balancing the china in the palm of his hand.
Alone once more, Ronnie lifted the pot and replenished his own cup. He was glad to see that Micky didn't always get his own way. And in Bella's case, he hoped it would be a long time before he did.
'What was Joyce going on about last night?' Bella asked in a whisper as Micky drove them home. She was feeling sick and her head was still spinning. How much champagne had she drunk last night? 'She said something about me being dragged into something I can't get out of.'
'Did she now?'
'I can't remember the rest.'
'You do trust me, Bells, don't you?'
'Course I do. Why shouldn't I?'
He reached across and grasped her wrist, squeezing it gently. 'Attagirl. I want you with me when we hit the big time. That was all she meant. She's all right Joyce, but she and Ron aren't chancers whereas I am. Ron and old Joycie are a bit negative, if you know what I mean. Funny thing is, I was doing all right whilst Ron was away fighting. Used me initiative and called a few nice shots. But when he came home from France...' Micky thoughtfully slid the wheel slowly through his fingers, 'well … he was a different man. Takes life too serious now if you ask me. Needs to lighten up a bit. But in all fairness, what can you expect after seeing so much blood and guts spilled right in front of your eyes?'
'That must have been terrible,' Bella agreed softly.
'Yeah, but the war's is history. This is the here and now. I respect them both, of course, but I've got me own style and won't have it cramped,' he ended with a sideways glance at Bella who was trying to think through the waves of nausea that still swam around her stomach. 'Anyway, just as long as I've got you with me – and Terry of course,' Micky added quickly, aware of Terry's presence in the back of the car. 'You are with me, girl, aren't you?'
'You know I am Micky.'
'So our business is our business, right? We'll keep it under our hats, rather than worry Ron.'
Bella nodded slowly though she didn't really understand. She knew one thing though. She wasn't ever going to get drunk again.
'What's this Dixons like then?' Micky asked changing the subject so quickly it took Bella a few moments to catch up.
'All right.'
'You could give it the elbow any time you like, you know. Come and work for me. We'd make a good team I reckon.'
Bella felt a warm wave of pleasure break into her gloom at Micky's persuasive words. She really did loathe the thought of Dixons on Monday but she didn't want to be a failure in Micky's eyes. And if she chucked in the job now, it might seem she really couldn't stand on her own two feet.
'Anyway, give it some thought.'
She pointed to the corner. 'You can drop us off here, Micky.'
'We're not there yet. And you're still looking a bit Tom and Dick.'
Bella nodded slowly. 'I need some fresh air, Micky.'
'What about coming for a hair of the dog that bit you?' he said enticingly.
'I need more champagne like I need a hole in the head, Micky Bryant.' She managed a smile as she reached for the handle. 'Thanks for the lift.'
'Well, it was worth a try.' Micky grinned and stopped the car. 'Want me to walk you in?'
She shook her head and her heart gave its usual flutter as his smile broadened. If he only knew how much she fancied accepting his offer of a job. But her pride wouldn't let her.
He winked. 'I'll be in touch soon. Good luck with them snobby types at Dixons.'
She stood with Terry on the pavement and watched the shiny black car move away. When it was gone, she frowned at Terry who stood quietly beside her. They'd stayed out all night and were actually rolling home on Sunday morning. She laughed at herself despite the hangover from hell. Her mother probably had a worse one.
'Come on Terry. Let's walk down to the river and sit on the dock. Pretend we're going on the boats.' It was a game they played as kids and Terry grinned.
'Terry jump the barges,' he laughed, his eyes creasing up at the corners. 'Won't fall in.'
'You better not, because I'm not jumping in to save you today.' Bella caught her breath and tried to keep down the breakfast of bread and dripping that Ronnie had made her eat. If she fell in the water now she'd sink like a brick.
The alcohol was still in her throat like bile. She'd only just managed to keep the tea down that Terry had brought her. Ronnie had said the first hangover was always the worst. Bella was going to make it her last. You weren't in control when your brain was fuddled. And that was a luxury she could ill afford.
Christmas was four weeks away. Bella was going to spend her hard- earned wages on clothes. But Cox Street was unusually quiet; business was taking second place to the big wedding up West. Princess Elizabeth and Phillip Mountbatten were getting married and the event was headlines. The BBC had broadcast that hundreds had slept overnight in the Mall in order to catch a glimpse of the couple riding in the Irish state coach. There
