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

out a chair and sat down. 'I'm the mastermind! A job like this takes a lot of planning. We need the money is in situ when she goes on holiday. I'll have to get in close and personal to the old lady.'

'Is your "printer" trustworthy?'

'I'd stake my life on it,' Micky insisted.

'You might have to, old chap, if anything went wrong.' Miles looked hard now, his gaze unwavering.

'Milo, I kid you not, this is a once in a lifetime opportunity. Nothing can go wrong.'

Miles nodded slowly. 'How do we gain entrance?'

'Simple. We climb in through an open window. There's no alarms, only the old bloke who lives in the cottage and goes round once in a while which is why we need the lookout. I'll suss it out proper when I go up to see the duchess this weekend. When I get back, we'll meet and if either of you want out, that's your prerogative. I'll take my idea somewhere else.'

Micky knew he'd said the right thing. Their eyes showed greed and all he wanted now was Ivor's money to put the plan in motion. And the sooner the better. After all, he couldn't exactly ask Ronnie to finance this little caper! McNee was an impatient sod and he wanted the hefty wedge that was owing to him. Micky wished yet again that he had listened to Ron. The Fortune was costing him dearly in protection. McNee was like a whopping great leech. Too big, too powerful to knock over. The frightener he'd had outside the club had made him realise the only way, was to pay the black-hearted bastard what he demanded. Now this new scam, that little goldmine in the country, was looking even better than it had last week.

'Assuming success,' Ivor murmured smoothly, 'what is our cut?'

'I pay the printer his poke up front. So you get your investment back first, Ivor. Then we split the remainder.'

'How much each?' asked Miles warily.

'A couple of grand a-piece easy I'd say.'

'And the replacement funds – how good are they?'

Micky laughed aloud. 'As kosher as funny money can be.'

The three men looked at one another. Micky waited for the next question. None was forthcoming.

Micky reached down and took a bottle of whisky from the desk drawer. Savouring the moment, he poured them all a celebratory snifter. 'To Downey Manor,' he toasted, at last seeing an end to all his problems.

Bella was wearing a peach coloured, full-skirted summer dress, with a slim white belt around her waist. As she checked her appearance in the bedroom mirror, Michael came in. 'Are you ready yet?'

'Mummy's just putting on her lipstick.'

'How long will you be?'

Bella smiled into the mirror as she smoothed the soft pastel colour on her lips. She looked down at her son. 'All finished now.'

'Uncle Ron said we can go to the park.'

'Pull your socks up and let me comb your hair, then.'

'It's like Christmas,' Michael said excitedly as she combed a parting in his hair.

Bella laughed. 'Don't get too excited or you won't be able to eat your dinner.'

'Can I run out to Uncle Ron now?' Michel screwed up his freckled nose.

'Yes. But don't chase up the airey steps. Last time you grazed your knee.'

But Michael wasn't listening. He couldn't wait to see his Auntie Joyce and his uncles, the first real family gathering in six months.

When they arrived upstairs, the dinner was cooking. Sean was basting the meat and Ashley was preparing the trifle with a generous topping of cream.

'Go and sit down, and we'll have a drink,' Sean said as everyone stood around breathing in the aromas. 'Ashley, get out the sherry and the Babycham.'

'Are we going to the park?' Michael asked Ronnie.

Ronnie grinned. 'Course we are.'

'Make sure you work up an appetite,' Sean called from the kitchen.

Bella knew they would come home sweating and ravenous, eager to eat after their game of football.

Ashley poured Babycham into two cocktail glasses. 'Go and have a chat, you girls.'

Taking their drinks into the front room, Bella and Joyce made themselves comfortable on the couch.

'I'll let you into a secret,' Joyce said softly. 'I've finally said yes to Ron. But don't let on I've told you as Ron is bursting to announce it today.'

'Oh, Joyce that's wonderful news.'

'It's been a long time coming.' Joyce pushed back her dark wing of hair. 'I hope it's the right decision.'

'Of course it is. You and Ron are made for each other.'

'But Ronnie wants a family, a son in particular.'

'And you don't?'

Joyce laughed sadly. 'I never thought I would be a mother. And certainly not at my age.'

'You'll make a wonderful mum, Joyce. You and Ronnie are going to be very happy.'

Joyce smiled reflectively. 'When I caught your bouquet I thought it was just a laugh. I love Ron, but we are good friends first and foremost and neither of us want to change that.'

Bella nodded, recalling her wedding day and her beautiful bouquet of white carnations and pink roses that she had thrown into the air. Joyce had been shocked when they fell into her hands and even Bella had been surprised. Perhaps catching the bride's bouquet was the beginning of their romance? It was certainly the beginning of her own life with Micky. Could she now say the same as Joyce? Were she and Micky still friends as well as husband and wife?

Micky never talked about the club or the garage, or his hopes for the future or his amazing ideas any more. He had once had so much lust for life and shared his passion with her. Now, they rarely sat down and talked. But was it because of her that things had changed? She hadn't been supportive of the Fortune and had complained about not seeing him enough. Even his New Year's resolution to keep her happy had fallen by the wayside. Was she expecting too much of her marriage?

'There's something else I'm worried about,' Joyce added pensively circling the rim of the glass with her little finger.

Bella frowned.