A Christmas Wish

by Lizzie Lane

  ‘Nonsense.’ Venetia was tidying her hair in the lorry’s rear-view mirror, running her fingers through the thick, dark locks. ‘They’re old fashioned,’ she said as she smeared lipstick onto her lips, lipstick she’d kept hidden in the chamber pot beneath the bed during the day and under her pillow at night. Thankfully it was never discovered.

  ‘The thing is that we’ve left school and should be allowed to do what we want in life. All they want me and Anna Marie to do is help around the farm.’

  ‘I don’t mind helping,’ said Anna Marie timidly.

  Venetia ignored her and carried on with her criticism of the people who’d looked after them for seven years.

  ‘The animals stink. Especially the chickens with all that poo around their backsides. Even the eggs are tarnished with it.’

  ‘Venetia, the animals can’t help …’

  ‘You’re a silly goose, Anna Marie. But it’s not just the animals. It’s being forced to go to mass three times a week. I mean, what’s the point and how do we know God even exists?’

  ‘It’s about belief …’

  ‘Belief my ass. If there was a God, he wouldn’t have taken our mother and split up the family!’

  Anna Marie sucked in her breath. ‘You shouldn’t say that word, Venetia. It’s rude.’

  ‘Ass, ass, ass.’

  It was obvious from Venetia’s expression that she was enjoying teasing her sister.

  ‘Good job Granfer can’t hear you,’ said her sister whilst Patrick, who was used to cussing, kept his attention on the road. ‘You know what happened the last time you remarked that God was dead.’

  Venetia nodded. ‘Aye. Got me mouth washed out with soap and water for my pains. And confession three times a week. Though I still believe what I said,’ she imparted to her sister. ‘If God cared that much, he wouldn’t have taken our mother or parted us from our sister and brother.’

  Anna Marie hissed at her to keep her voice down. ‘And you never mention our father in yer prayers,’ she added.

  ‘Might already be dead,’ snapped Venetia, wishing her sister would stop reminding her of the past and fix her thoughts on the future.

  As the lorry bumped and rattled along the road to Queenstown, Venetia tried to remember what her father looked like. It had been at least two years since his last visit. As usual he’d made all the sweet promises about coming back with presents and taking them off to see Magda, and even Michael if they’d a mind to.

  He’d charmed his daughters, but not his parents. His mother had looked at him with a mix of love and rebuke. His father had narrowed his eyes, growled and asked, ‘What have you come back for?’

  Later she’d seen them in the barn together, not looking the way father should look at son or son look at father. They were squared up as though about to exchange blows. In the morning Joseph Brodie was gone.

  As usual it had hurt badly when he’d failed to keep his promise. Their father was their only link to the past – not that Anna Marie seemed to care so much for him as Venetia did. Venetia, like her mother before her, could forgive him everything.

  The blame, Venetia decided, was with her grandparents for shouting at him the time before that when he’d come home unannounced. They’d called him shiftless, unreliable and self-centred. He’d laughed off their accusations, but she knew, or at least thought she did, that he’d been hurt. He was that kind of man, a bit like Patrick, with his dark hair and blue eyes – Spanish complexion they called it.

  All the way, Venetia tried to persuade Patrick to go with them. He’d laughed and been pleasant enough, but wouldn’t budge. He was not going and that was that.

  ‘Ah, but you’ll change your mind when we get to Queenstown and see the shiny sea,’ she told him.

  In response he grinned and shook his head. ‘You’ll make somebody a nagging wife, Venetia Brodie, and that’s for sure.’

  ‘Yes,’ she said, smiling at him. ‘Worth it though, ’cause I’d make up for the nagging in other ways.’

  She saw his grin widen and hope that he’d be the one she’d marry surged in her heart.

  The sight of Queenstown with its big houses, busy streets and the smell of the sea fair took Venetia’s breath away.

  Anna Marie was also excited, hanging out of the open window, her pale brown hair blowing in tendrils across her face.

  ‘Will you look at all this now? Have you ever seen such a grand place?’

  ‘Of course I have,’ snapped her sister. ‘This is grand enough, though not as grand as London.’

  ‘Oh come on, Venetia. You can’t remember London. We were only little.’

  Anna Marie’s laughter was as bright and bubbly as a brook flowing over moss-covered stones and very surprising. Up until now leaving home hadn’t sat well with her but the sight of the sea had.

  Out of the corner of her eye Venetia caught Patrick eyeing her sister with interest. It hurt.

  ‘Queenstown is grand enough, though I wouldn’t mind going to London,’ he said to her. ‘Though only once I’ve had my fill of Ireland.’

  The lorry grated to a stop outside the dockyard gates. ‘There’s the dock and all the fine ships. That’s where you’ll find them,’ said Patrick, nodding in the direction of brick buildings and towering cranes. ‘Now come on. Get on yer way. I’ve got a long drive back home and can’t be hanging around here.’

  His manner was chirpy, his eyes brilliant and Venetia found herself feeling less enthusiastic about leaving to build a new life.

  After springing out of the driver’s side, Patrick passed across the bull-nosed front of the lorry and opened the passenger side door.

  Gripping Anna Marie’s trim waist with his huge hands, he swung her down from the cab first.

  ‘Why, yer light as a feather,’ he said to her.

  Anna Marie blushed when he held her a little too close for a little too long.

  ‘Are you forgetting the girl you said you’d love forever?’ Venetia’s tone was confident, though underneath she was a little piqued that he hadn’t rushed to help her down from the cab.

  His wide grin and the twinkle in his eyes was reassuring as he turned back to help her down.

  ‘As if I could ever forget you.’

  The kiss he gave her and the way he hugged her close against his body allayed her fears. Patrick Casey was still hers and hers alone. She wound her arms around him and felt the warmth beneath his coat.

  There was nothing in his attentions to Anna Marie. No need to get jealous, she told herself. Anna Marie is scared of going on that boat and he’s just trying to reassure her.

  ‘You’ve noticed she’s a bit nervous about all this,’ she whispered into his ear.

  ‘I did,’ he murmured back, his arms still enveloping her.

  ‘She read about the Titanic and all those people drowning.’

  ‘You’ll be fine,’ he whispered and kissed her again.

  Once their lips parted, she glanced over at her sister, thinking that she would be eyeing her jealously. Instead she saw she wasn’t looking their way at all, but stood there, bag clutched with both hands in front of her and staring down at her feet until the two of them had finished.

  My, but I’m going to miss him, thought Venetia. She looked up into Patrick’s face, feeling desperate for him to change his mind. ‘Come with me, Patrick. Please.’

  He laughed. ‘I couldn’t do that. I couldn’t leave me old dad without somebody to drive the lorry. I’m the only one who can.’

  She knew it wasn’t strictly true, that both his father and his younger brother could drive, though his father preferred to drive a horse and his brother was only twelve years old.

  Venetia chose to believe him. He was torn between his family and her. She couldn’t blame him for that, could she?

  ‘When I make my fortune I’ll come back and buy you a bigger and better lorry,’ she told him.

  ‘I’ll look forward to it.’

  Once she knew for certain that they’d finished hugging and kissing
, Anna Marie came and stood by her side.

  Together they watched Patrick insert the starting handle into the surly beast, turning it again and again before the cranky engine spurted into life.

  ‘Behave yourself, girls,’ he shouted, then with a wave he was up into the cab and gone.

  Venetia brushed a tear from her eye and stood there watching the spluttering, banging old lorry belch out smoke until there was only smoke left. Both the lorry and Patrick were gone.

  ‘So now what?’ asked Anna Marie.

  Her sister sniffed, straightened and thrust forward her stalwart chin.

  ‘We get a job on a boat.’

  ‘What if we can’t?’

  ‘Then we get on the boat anyway – and hope that nobody sees us.’

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Magda 1935

  Magda followed Winnie into her private rooms. It was not the first time she’d been in here, but it wasn’t as it was before. Tea chests overflowed with items that had filled cupboards or sat inside Winnie’s glass-fronted cabinet.

  ‘You’re leaving?’

  ‘I’m not the woman I was.’

  ‘Your leg’s worse?’

  Winnie’s face sagged, the corners of her eyes and lips down-turned, her flesh seemingly too weary to cling to her bones.

  ‘It’s more than that.’

  She gestured to one of the chairs on which were a pile of books. ‘If you’d like to remove those …’

  She slumped into a chair, both hands on her walking stick as Magda lifted the books with slim fingers, placing them gently but firmly on top of another pile.

  What was it about this girl that made her think of her own dead child? She’d had other girls here as disadvantaged as Magda and not felt so inclined towards them.

  ‘I take it your aunt’s been up to her old tricks,’ said Winnie.

  ‘If you mean she’s been drinking and shouting and yelling all around the house, then yes. She won’t let me have my mother’s Bible and tells me such lies about it. First she says it’s locked away in a cupboard that Uncle James made, and quite honestly I hate to destroy anything he made, the poor man. She led him a terrible life. No wonder he stayed at sea. And now he’s dead. Then she tells me she sold the Bible, and then she says she pawned it, and now she says she threw it on the fire.’

  Winnie eyed her steadfastly, her grey hair neatly packed into a black net snood, a necklace of mauve beads at her throat.

  ‘And which do you believe?’

  Magda tapped the fingers of one hand on top of the other.

  ‘I think it’s still there in that cupboard. I think the only way I can get it is if I pay her for it. I don’t know how much she wants, but …’ Her shoulders hunched then fell when she sighed. ‘Knowing my aunt it won’t be for pennies. She’ll take everything I have, that is the little I’ve saved from my wages.’

  ‘How old are you, child?’

  ‘Eighteen.’

  A feeling like the thrust of a knife pierced Winnie’s heart. Her daughter would have been Magda’s age – had she lived – had Reuben Fitts not insisted she get rid of it and get back to work. On her back. With him taking the biggest cut of the money.

  Only the fact that she had nearly died had made him relent and pay her for her troubles – and the fact that his mother had interfered and told him to do the best for her seeing as the experience had left her crippled.

  So he’d given her money, set her up to run this place. Not that she’d done too badly, but the time had come to get out.

  Whilst she sat there, contemplative and thinking thoughts she’d never thought to think, Magda’s eyes swept over the disruption.

  ‘I’m leaving this place,’ Winnie explained. ‘I’m too old and too sick to carry on. It’s time I retired.’

  Magda looked at her in alarm. ‘But if you’re not here, how can I stay here?’

  ‘You can come with me. I’d like that, but only if you’re going to the interview.’

  Magda eyed her resolutely. ‘If I can.’

  ‘Is it really what you want?’

  Magda looked down at the floor whilst she thought about it.

  ‘My mother died because she couldn’t afford a doctor. By the time she got to one, it was too late.’

  ‘Your mother. Of course. It’s not going to be easy. Most doctors are men, but there are far more women doctors than there used to be. The Great War’s mostly to thank for that. First they were not welcome, then they couldn’t get enough. And once it was over, there was a big gap where men used to be and they began crying out for doctors no matter whether male or female. That’s as I understand it anyways.’

  ‘Women doctors would be better at helping women.’ Magda looked into the glowing coals in the fireplace. ‘I saw my mother cough up blood. I heard Gertie screaming. Emily said the doctor took a long time coming and then only came when he was paid double the fee. I wouldn’t do that. I couldn’t do that.’

  Winnie made herself more comfortable, sitting to favour the less damaged hip. Her thoughts were dashing around like painted horses on a merry-go-round. After all these years she was moving out of this place to a very pretty mews cottage that had once been a stable with the coachman living above. For the first time in years she would be alone with only her books and her memories for company. It had been a difficult decision to arrive at, but she knew her pain was becoming worse and she wasn’t likely to make old bones. However, much as she had convinced herself that she would at last have her independence, the thought of being alone had suddenly become less attractive. Alone. Nobody. No friends. No family.

  Those old memories aroused by Magda’s appearance had refused to fade. Magda, she had decided, was the daughter she’d never had.

  ‘Magda. I meant it about sponsoring you.’

  Magda looked at her open mouthed, her fingers falling to play with the string handles of the carrier bags that held all her belongings.

  Her hand stilled in its fidgeting. Her eyes were wide and luminous, strikingly beautiful against her creamy complexion and the mass of dark hair falling about her face.

  ‘I don’t know … what to say …’

  Winnie sighed. ‘I’m going to tell you something, Magda. You know they call me Winnie One Leg. You know I have a painful problem with my hip. This is because the baby I was expecting was pulled from me in pieces. There should have been a doctor called and I should have gone to hospital. But there was no one. You’ve seen how it can be with Gertie. My dead daughter is long gone. I would like you to be that daughter to me and, in return, you train as a doctor. A fitting memorial I think.’

  The young woman sitting opposite her stared in disbelief, her eyes seeming to fill her face.

  Winnie sat hardly daring to breathe – not that she breathed that deeply nowadays. Her lungs weren’t much better than her hips thanks to the deprivations of a childhood in a northern seaport.

  ‘I’m moving to a little place in Prince Albert Mews. A little cottage where I shall spend the rest of my days. I’d like you to move there with me – if you would like. Even if you don’t want to fall in with my plan to make you a doctor, I’d still like your company. But only if you want to. If you want to join the girls here, well that’s up to you but that’s not your only option. And well, it will be under new management …’

  She let her voice trail away and did not exhibit a single look or word to influence Magda’s decision. It had to be her decision, hers and hers alone. But it had to be done quickly. Reuben or his son would be along to oversee the changeover between her and the new madam.

  Winnie looked at the clock, the only thing left on the high ebony mantelpiece.

  ‘The removal van is coming soon. It’s not safe for you to stay here tonight. I wouldn’t want word getting back to …’ She paused. ‘Certain people.’

  ‘Bradley Fitts.’

  ‘That’s right. It’s best you leave right away. Go with the van. I’ll pay them to keep their mouth shut. Set about sorting things out at Prince Al
bert Mews. I’ll be there as soon as I can. Will you do that?’

  Magda was sitting with her hands tightly clasped, her beautiful eyes shining with wonder.

  ‘Do you mean it? About me becoming a doctor?’

  Winnie felt a strange tightening in her throat as though she were about to choke or cough up a fish bone. She wasn’t choking. And she hadn’t been eating fish.

  ‘Yes. I meant it. It would be a tribute to me. It would be a tribute to your mother.’

  When Magda nodded and said a quiet yes in agreement to her plan, it felt in her head as though somebody had shouted out three cheers for Winnie One Leg.

  One of the girls came banging on the door to let Winnie know the removal van had arrived.

  Winnie shouted back that she’d be just a minute.

  Then she stood there, ear to the door until she was sure the footsteps had receded into the front parlour where the girls waited for men.

  She handed Magda a thick green shawl. ‘Quickly. Put this shawl around your head and get out there. Climb up into the back of the van and make it look as though you’re something to do with old Tom, the removal man.’

  Magda grabbed her carrier bags with one hand whilst holding the scarf tight beneath her chin.

  ‘And you,’ Winnie said turning to the van’s owner who’d only just stepped into the room, ‘take my girl with you. Not a word to anyone.’

  ‘Not a word,’ he said, taking the pound note she was offering from her hand. ‘Not a bloody word. Who is she anyways?’

  ‘My daughter,’ said Winnie. ‘She’s my daughter.’ And in her heart, she was.

  Magda got as far into the back of the van as she could whilst tea chests and furniture were loaded in behind her.

  Finally the doors were closed and Magda was alone in the darkness. The van smelled of dust and mothballs, but it didn’t matter. Thanks to Winnie, her life was about to change and ultimately her wish might at last come true. But she knew better than to hope too much, better than to rush into things without planning everything in advance. Once she had money there were options, and options were what she dearly needed.

  Once the van was heading towards the end of the street, Winnie’s fear loosened.