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

'You shouldn't have brought Terry, Micky, that was a bad move. You sprung that one on me.'

'We needed someone to watch the cottage.'

'But not Terry.'

Micky shrugged easily, patting Lenny on the arm. 'Look, stop worrying. He knows what to do. Just keep thinking of the moment when you tell Gina you've bought yourself that little coal yard. She'll know what Lenny Rigler is made of then.'

'I've not bought it yet,' Lenny complained.

'You will have in twenty-four hours, mate. Now, I'm going in to help Alfred with the switch and we'll be home and dry in no time at all. Just keep your eyes skinned, right?'

Micky sighed as he stepped back to the open window. Never again was he bringing Lenny on a job. He'd vowed he wouldn't before, but this was really the last time. What a pain in the backside!

Micky climbed in and pulled out his torch. The beam lit up the big table and chairs. He directed it slowly round to where Alfred stood with his ear to the safe.

'Turn that off.'

Micky did as he was told, making his way across the room in the darkness. 'Have you opened it yet?'

'Almost.'

Micky waited in silence as Alfred tried this combination and that. He began to grow a little worried as time passed. Shouldn't opening the box be a little more straightforward than this? The old girl had just twirled it round. What if it wouldn't open? What if she had put in a special code or something? Micky went cold at the thought.

Micky narrowed his eyes as he looked round the room. He could just make out the shapes of the chairs and shabby furnishings. It was like taking a gulp of air from a church vault. Like Lenny he didn't like this place. It was of a bygone era, like a mausoleum, worse at night that he had seen it in day. He didn't believe in ghosts but if there were any in existence, this was the place to find them.

'Bingo,' said Alfred suddenly. 'She's open!'

'Thank Gawd for that.' Micky joined him at the safe and flicked on the torch.

For a moment there was silence and then the little man croaked, 'Strike a light!'

Micky gasped at the sight of the treasure trove. 'Bloody Norah!'

'You weren't exaggerating, were you?'

Micky stared in wonder at the overflowing interior of the safe. He could smell it from here, the scent of unlimited cash. Rolls of it, wads of it, packets of it, bursting to the safe's seams.

'What's going on?' Lenny demanded from the window. 'Have you got it?'

Alfred nodded. 'We've got it all right.'

'Right, let's get to work,' Micky said as they began to scoop the contents of the safe into one bag and replace it with forged notes from another.

'A good night's work,' Alfred observed as they climbed back out through the window.

'How much did we get?' demanded Lenny as they hurried up the drive to the car.

'I told you, I don't know.' Micky held on tightly to the bag.

'You said two grand each.'

'Yeah, well, we'll have to see.'

'You mean I've stuck my neck out for less?' Lenny demanded, pulling him back.

Micky stopped with an exasperated sigh. 'Do you want me to empty the flamin' bag here and count it under the moon?'

'You said two grand,' Lenny sulked as they began to walk again.

'Oh, put a sock in it,' Micky retorted. 'You give me the earache. I got you a decent gaff at Suzi's and no, that wasn't good enough. Now you're moaning even before we done the job.'

'I just want my money.'

Micky was loosing his temper now. Trust Lenny to start complaining even before they had counted what was left. He was about to make a suitable retort when there was an almighty bang.

'What the hell was that?' Alfred gasped and they all froze.

'Gunshot,' whispered Lenny.

'Where from?' Micky looked both ways. He couldn't see anything. The moon had disappeared and the trees swayed darkly around them. Another shot rang out.

'It's the law,' Lenny breathed. 'They're on to us.'

'How could they be?' Micky declared, trying not to panic. 'We've taken nothing. The funny money's in the safe. They don't know any difference.'

For a brief, desperate second, he thought the old boy might have been watching them and was letting loose with a gun. But Terry would have seen him and Milo sounded the warning. No, it had to be something – someone else, but he didn't know who.

'Let's get out of here,' he rasped, as the cold perspiration trickled down his back. They began to run. Branches and twigs scratched his face. He tripped, pushing the sharp thorns to one side. He heard Lenny puffing behind him and the sounds of the night all around.

When they reached the gate Milo was waiting. Micky closed his eyes in relief. They'd made it.

But the back door of the car was open and a pair of legs stuck out. 'It's Terry,' Milo whispered hoarsely. 'He's been shot. There's a hole in his back.'

Micky watched in disbelief as Alfred bent over Terry. After a while the old man murmured, 'No pulse. This kid is dead.'

'But he can't be,' Micky objected. 'He's my wife's little brother.'

'He's her dead little brother,' Alfred corrected and poked a finger in Milo's direction. 'What happened, mate? You were the last person to see him alive.'

'It wasn't my fault,' Milo answered indignantly. 'I was sitting in the car and saw this figure stumbling up in the darkness. He just opened the back door and fell in.'

They were all silent until Micky blurted, 'I can't tell Bella he's copped it, can I? She thinks he's over at Sean's place for the weekend.'

'I should never have let you con Terry into this,' Lenny accused. 'It was a lamb to the slaughter.'

'Aw, shut up,' Micky yelled then. 'You are a ruddy pain in the arse!'

At this Lenny lunged forward. It took Milo and Alfred to pull him off Micky. 'Listen, you idiots,' Alfred barked, 'fight amongst ourselves and