Christmas to Come: a heartbreaking coming of age saga set in London's East End by Carol Rivers (best motivational novels txt) 📗

croaked when he saw her. He nodded to the array of bottles on the table beside him. 'What do you fancy, a gin and it? Scotch on the rocks, or a chaser of rum?' He raised his eyebrows slowly, tiredly. 'Oh, pardon me, I forgot. You're not much of a drinker are you?' He laughed, a sound that soon became a cough.

'Oh, Micky, I - ' Bella began as she rushed up to him but pulling up short when she saw the blood-soaked handkerchief that Ronnie was holding. 'Ronnie?' she whispered, 'are you hurt?'

He shook his head and reached down to gently pull Micky's jacket to one side.

Bella felt sick and faint. This isn't happening she told herself as she gazed at the wound under Micky's shirt, oozing blood rapidly.

'It was McNee,' Ronnie told her gently, his voice full of controlled emotion.

'Oh, God,' she whispered. 'Micky, oh, Micky!'

'The bastard got me before I got him,' Micky said, in an almost unconcerned matter.

Bella was shaking from head to foot. She made herself look at Ronnie. 'What can I do?'

'I need something to stem the blood.'

She looked around but could see nothing, so she hurried to a room adjoining what looked like an office. It was a small kitchen of sorts and she opened a drawer or two and eventually found several cloths. They weren't very clean, but what did it matter, Bella thought in a moment of clarity as she hurried back to her husband and brother-in-law. Deep down inside her she knew that Micky had been fatally wounded and whatever she and Ronnie did now, was more for them than for Micky.

Ronnie pressed the cloths against Micky's chest. 'I have to get a doctor, Micky,' he said, sliding his other hand under Micky's head so that he could draw breath easier.

But Micky held Ronnie's arm. 'McNee must pay for what he's done to me, Ron. He drained me dry. Then he moved in on the Fortune and trashed the Flamingo.'

'You should have got out of it, Micky,' Ronnie said quietly. 'I tried to warn you that the writing was on the wall years ago.'

Micky nodded slowly, a thread of blood appearing on his lips. 'At least you got a fair whack for the Blue Moon in the days when McNee was half a businessman. But the racket is out of control …' He tugged Ronnie's cuff with limp fingers. 'I should have got out like you said but I did my head in with the booze and the pills.' He looked at Bella, smiling the first genuine smile she had witnessed in years. 'I'm sorry gel, for what happened to Terry.'

'Why did you take him to Downey Wood, Micky?' She had to hear it from his lips.

'I wish I never had. That job only brought me trouble. Most if it went to line McNee's pocket anyway. I just saw the money sitting in the old lady's safe doing nothing …' He coughed, spitting up blood. 'Terry must've gone off for a piss or poke around in the bushes...' His voice drifted away as his face drained of colour. His head rolled to one side as his eyes stared sadly up at her. 'I love you, Bells. Always have. Them tarts meant nothing. They were just a - '

Ronnie lifted his brother's head. 'Don't talk any more, Micky. I'm going for help.'

'It's over for me, now …'

Bella took his hand. 'Don't say that, Micky. We'll get you to hospital.'

'Remember the rats, Bells?' he whispered, gripping her fingers tightly. 'Them fat buggers … the ones down the docks … by the bridge? One day they'll dig up the bastard there. I've seen to it. Given the nod to some friends of mine …' He began to choke and Bella took him in her arms. She held him, laying her head next to his. For all he had done, he was still Micky, the man she had fallen in love all those years ago.

'Tell, Michael … tell him his dad said to remember Robin Hood, eh? The good old days - ' His lips trembled as he looked up at her. 'You was a good girl, Bells, the best …' His hand dropped from hers.

Bella looked at her dead husband and felt the grief flow through her. She would never see him again in this life, or talk to him. They had had become strangers, but still at the end, they were man and wife. He had told her he loved her and she believed him. But what use was that love now for either her or Michael?'

Ronnie placed Micky's arms by his side and closed the lids of his eyes.

'There's nothing more we can do now. But when I find that bastard McNee – '

She gripped his arm. 'No, Ronnie. Micky didn't know what he was saying. This has got to end now. Micky only had himself to blame. We all loved him, but it wasn't enough.'

He gripped her arm and helped her up from the couch. 'We have to the call the police now, but first, we decide what to tell them.'

'I don't want to talk about Terry or implicate Lenny,' Bella said in a choked voice as she gazed on the still form. 'None of that will bring back Terry, will it?' The tears were wet on her cheeks as she opened her bag with trembling fingers, stained with Micky's blood and took out a card. 'This is Inspector Reynolds number. Though I never expected to use it.'

Ronnie slipped his arm around her shoulders. They were both holding back tears, remembering the life of Micky Bryant, husband and father, friend and brother, a dearly beloved son, who had somehow lost his way and had never managed to find the path back again.

Bella closed her eyes and prayed that in the next world, he would have learned through his experiences in this existence. And that the love she had always had for him - still had - would shed light