When Wishes Come True (7 page)

Amelia sighed. She was seven now, but it was her birthday in a few weeks and then she’d be eight. Not that her mother would even mention her birthday, she never did. Not even a card to celebrate a new year of her life. She’d never had a birthday party, never even been to one because she wasn’t allowed to have friends. Another deep sigh. If she ever got married and had children she’d love them to bits, would always be hugging them and kissing them better when they hurt themselves. But that was a long time off, and until she was old enough to look after herself she’d have to put up with the life she had.

It was Evelyn who opened the door to Bessie the following day. ‘I’ve just called to see if Amelia is better? You know, after the accident she had?’

‘Oh, she’s fine, Miss Maudsley, a storm in a tea cup. She banged herself, but she was as right as rain half an hour later.’

Evelyn was standing four-square in the centre of the step, and Bessie thought, Oh, aye, she doesn’t want me to see the girl. Which only made her more determined. ‘Let’s have a look at her then, I’m not going to eat her.’

Grinding her teeth, and wishing she was in a position to tell this nosy little woman to go away and stay away, Evelyn called, ‘Amelia dear, come and say hello to Miss Maudsley.’

‘Hello there, sweetheart,’ Bessie said. ‘I was expecting to see yer in bandages, like a wounded soldier. But yer look fine to me, as pretty as a picture.’ She raised her eyes to Evelyn. ‘She seems to get taller every time I see her. How old is she now?’

Amelia saw her chance and took it. ‘I’m seven now, Miss Bessie, but in three weeks I’ll be eight.’

Bessie pretended to look surprised. ‘Well, I never! It’s my birthday in three weeks as well! What date is yours on?’

A smile lit up Amelia’s face. She knew she had an ally in their neighbour. ‘Mine’s on the eighteenth, when’s yours?’

‘I don’t believe it! Talk about coincidence isn’t in it! Mine is on the eighteenth, too! Except, of course, I’m forty odd years older than yer. Well, well, how about that!’ Bessie beamed at a very irate Evelyn. ‘Ay, would yer let Amelia come to me for a birthday tea? Just her and me, like, for a little celebration. I’ve never got anyone to celebrate me birthday with, being on me own, so if yer’ve no objection, Mrs Sinclair, can I expect her to come to mine for tea on the eighteenth? It would give me something to look forward to, and I can make some fairy cakes and jelly creams.’

Evelyn was trying to think up an excuse for refusing, but Amelia could see how her mother’s mind was working and begged, ‘Please, Mother, say I can? I’ve never been out on my birthday before.’

Afraid of any more home truths coming from her daughter, Evelyn gave in. ‘Just this once, Amelia, and only because it’s Miss Maudsley.’

Bessie kept the smile on her face, but inside she was thinking that this woman must think she was stupid if she expected her to fall for that. There was no way she would have agreed to the request if she’d had nothing to hide. She was a queer one, all right, but now she’d agreed to Amelia having a birthday tea with her neighbour, then that’s how it would be. Mind you, she’d had to tell a white lie because her birthday was months away. But to see the pleasure on the girl’s face was worth the prayers she would say in bed tonight.

Reg Wells watched his wife run her hand over the maroon chenille cloth she’d just put on the table. There was an affectionate grin on his face as he saw her stand back, her head tilted, to run a critical eye over the cloth and make sure it was perfectly straight before taking a glass bowl from the sideboard and setting it in the middle of the table. ‘Yer should have been in the Army, love, yer’d have made a good sergeant.’ He himself had served a year in the Army when the war was on, and was one of the lucky ones who’d come home. ‘Mind you, ye’re nicer-looking than any sergeant I’ve ever seen, and yer don’t put the fear of God into me.’

‘It’ll take me a while to figure out if that was a compliment or an insult.’ Rita tapped her chin with one finger and looked thoughtful. ‘Is it a compliment to say I’m nicer-looking than a man, and that I’d have made a good sergeant? Oh, I need help from another woman on that, so I think I’ll nip over to Bessie’s and ask what she thinks.’

‘Over to Bessie’s again! Why don’t yer take yer bed over there?’

‘It’s yer own fault, sunshine, yer asked for it.’ Rita turned her head to hide a smile. ‘If yer’d said I was nicer-looking than any woman yer’d ever seen, well, I think I’d have been suggesting we had an early night in bed. But being likened to a man … it’s just put me off.’

‘Excuses, excuses! Ye’re a fine one for wriggling out of things, Rita Wells. But if this nipping over to Bessie’s for a natter becomes a regular habit, I’ll start thinking yer’ve got a fancy man and yer make that yer meeting place.’

Rita’s head went back and her chuckle was loud. ‘I should be so lucky, sunshine! And wait until I tell Bessie that yer think she’s running a brothel, she’ll die laughing.’

Reg’s chair was creaking as he rocked back and forth. ‘Tell her if she is, love, I’ll be one of her customers, as long as I can choose me own wife to slink into one of her bedrooms with. At least I wouldn’t have to beg, or wait until yer were in the mood.’ The creaking of the chair grew louder. ‘I don’t think good-time girls ever have headaches.’

His wife pretended to be outraged. ‘Well, it just shows the way your mind works, that does. Anyway, clever-clogs, good-time girls get paid, or haven’t yer thought of that? And if yer were to pay me, well, I’d make yer the happiest man in the street. Yer’d be guaranteed to go out of this house every morning with a spring in yer step and a smile on yer face.’

Rita placed her arms straight and stiff by her sides, then spread her hands out to give a short exhibition of the dance she’d heard was all the rage in the dance halls: the Black Bottom. She’d never seen it, and was only going by hearsay, but whether she’d got it right or wrong it was enough to please her husband.

‘See how lucky yer are, sunshine, being married to a good-time dancing girl?’ She reached into the glass bowl for the front-door key. ‘Entertainment over now, I’m off to see me mate what lives across the street. I won’t stay long.’ She reached the door, then turned. ‘I’ll mention to her about her letting the house be used by women of the street – she might think it’s a good idea. If it took off, she’d soon be rolling in money and could pack her job in.’

There was no surprise on Bessie’s face when she opened the door because she’d seen her friend crossing over. ‘Come in, girl, I’ve got a bit of news for yer. But yer probably saw me talking to next door, did yer?’

Rita plonked herself on the couch, then put a hand to her heart. ‘I cannot tell a lie, sunshine, ’cos God might be listening. Yeah, I did see yer, and yeah, I’m glad yer’ve got a bit of news ’cos I could do with something to liven me day. And when I’ve heard your news, I’ll tell yer the idea my feller has for yer making yerself a bit of money so yer can retire.’

Bessie’s eyebrows shot up. ‘If he’s got an idea how to make money, why doesn’t he make some for himself?’

‘It doesn’t work like that, sunshine, I’m afraid. But you start and I’ll explain later what Reg has in mind. It won’t half surprise yer.’

‘Ooh, er, yer’ve got me wondering now. Why don’t you go first?’

‘I couldn’t stand the excitement, that’s why, sunshine, me heart would give out on me. So, off yer go.’

‘I hope God isn’t listening because while I was standing next door I committed two sins. I told a bare-faced lie, and I had bad thoughts. Still, they were in a good cause, and I’m sure God will take that into consideration. Anyway, I knocked next door on pretext of asking how Amelia was after she’d hurt herself. It was Her Ladyship who opened the door, and she tried to get rid of me quick by saying her daughter was fine. But I wasn’t going to be fobbed off, so I asked if I could see Amelia.

‘She called the girl to the door and yer’ll never guess how devious I was! I said Amelia seemed to get taller every time I saw her, and asked how old she was. Then, although I could tell the queer one was wishing I’d go and drown meself in the Mersey, Amelia took advantage of what I’d said, and told me she was seven now, but would be eight in a few weeks’ time. That’s when I started to lie me head off. I asked her when her birthday was, and when she told me the eighteenth of next month, I made a great fuss by pretending that was my birthday as well. Honest, Rita, I deserved a prize for me acting. I invited Amelia to come and have tea with me on her birthday, saying I’d never had company to celebrate mine with before.’

Bessie pushed a hand through her greying hair. ‘Honest, girl, I’ve had a ruddy good laugh about it. While I was frying meself an egg for me tea, the tears were blinding me I laughed so much. Anyone would think me and the girl had rehearsed what we were going to say. I could see her mother was blazing, but she didn’t have a leg to stand on when her daughter said she’d never been out for tea on her birthday before. And when I said I would make some fairy cakes, and jelly creams, I bet Her Ladyship was wishing I choked meself on them.’

Rita was sitting on the edge of the couch by now. ‘Yer don’t mean to tell me that Miss High and Mighty agreed to let the girl come here for a birthday tea?’

‘There was no way she could refuse without insulting me, was there? If she had refused, I’d have asked her if my house wasn’t good enough for her.’

‘Well, that certainly is a piece of news. They must have lived in the street for three or four years now, and that’s the first time she’s allowed the girl to mix with us riff-raff. Yer’ve worked wonders there, sunshine, and I’m glad for Amelia’s sake she’s got you to look out for her.’

‘It’s a start, isn’t it, girl? Who knows what will happen in the future? Yer know they say big trees from little acorns grow, all yer need is patience. So, we’ll just have to wait and see what happens.’

‘I’ll get a birthday card for her,’ Rita said. ‘I’d buy her a present, but yer know what the money situation is, we’re living from hand to mouth like everyone else in the street. I’m just about keeping our heads above water.’

‘There’d be no point in buying her a present anyway, girl, ’cos she wouldn’t be able to take it home. Her mother would make her throw it right in the bin, then wash her hands thoroughly before touching anything. A card would be nice, though, she could leave it here if she thought she’d get into trouble.’ When Bessie sat back in a chair, she was so small her feet didn’t touch the floor, and as she couldn’t wait to hear what Rita’s husband’s idea was, she wriggled to the edge of the chair and leaned forward. ‘Well, yer’ve heard my news, so what was it Reg told yer to tell me?’

‘Will yer promise not to throw that cushion at me?’

‘Why would I do that? Ye’re not expecting me to get a cob on over what your Reg said, are yer? When have yer ever known me to really lose me temper with you? Other women in the street, yeah, but never you.’ Her eyes narrowed. ‘D’yer think I won’t like it?’

‘Like it? I hope yer laugh yer ruddy head off, Bessie, same as I did. Yer see, it all started when I told Reg I was coming over here, and he asked me why I didn’t bring me bed ’cos I was spending a lot of time here and he was beginning to think I had a man on the sly, and your house was our meeting place. Anyway, that’s how it started, and I’ll tell yer the rest as long as yer promise we’ll still be mates afterwards?’

Children playing in the street, and neighbours standing at their door having a jangle, all looked over to Miss Maudsley’s house when the roars of laughter began. The children stopped playing, and the women stopped talking, as wave after wave of merriment reached their ears. And, laughter being contagious, it wasn’t long before everyone else had a smile on their face too. Bessie Maudsley’s mood was contagious. It cheered them up, and brought a little sunshine into their lives.

Evelyn stopped briefly outside the building in Castle Street where she worked, and glanced at the gold lettering on a first-floor window which read ‘Astbury and Woodward, Solicitors’. Then she mounted the steps, pushed open the heavy door and hastily climbed the flight of stairs facing her. She was a little late this morning as she’d missed the tram she usually caught, and unless she could sneak in without meeting either of the partners she would receive a glare to reprimand her for her tardiness. But she was lucky. The only person she saw was Miss Saunders, secretary to the senior partner, Mr Astbury.

‘I’m sorry I’m late,’ Evelyn said, hanging her coat on the carved coatstand. ‘I’m afraid I missed the tram and had to take a later one.’

Mildred Saunders, a woman in her late-fifties, had been with the firm since she was eighteen years of age. She was plain, a spinster who still lived with her aged mother, and although always neat, to Evelyn’s mind she was dowdy. ‘You’re only minutes late, and I’m sure that on this rather special day, Mr Astbury would excuse you.’

‘Why is this a special day? Is it Mr Astbury’s birthday?’

‘No, but he has made up his mind that at the grand old age of seventy it’s time for him to retire. He will be staying on for two weeks for the new partner to acquaint himself with the clients he will be taking over.’ Mildred Saunders was usually prim and proper, always working with quiet efficiency and seldom indulging in conversation with Evelyn or the other female member of staff, Janet Coombes, secretary to the younger partner, Mr Woodward. But today she seemed different, and was wearing a smile as she spoke. ‘As I’ve worked with Mr Astbury for so many years, and am used to his ways, I feel I’m too old to begin with a new partner and have decided to retire at the same time.’

‘Is there someone ready to take over?’ Evelyn asked. ‘And if so, do you know him?’

Mildred nodded. ‘Mr Astbury’s nephew is taking over. He’s coming in today so you will meet him. He is also an Astbury, Philip, and is leaving his present firm to take up the position here. I have met him, he seems very pleasant.’

Evelyn couldn’t help herself from asking, ‘Is he a young man, then?’

‘I would say mid-thirties, but I’m not very good at guessing a person’s age. He has several letters after his name, which takes years of exams, so he’s certainly no younger.’ Mildred fixed her gaze on Evelyn for a few seconds. She had never taken to the woman somehow, but couldn’t put a finger on why. There was little known about her except that she was a widow, her husband having been killed in the war. One really should make allowances for her, and help her if it was possible. ‘I believe you told me once that before you married you worked in an office and were skilled in shorthand and typing?’