When Wishes Come True

by Jonker, Joan

  ‘D’yer think she’s all right in the head?’ Rita asked. ‘I mean, what makes her think she’s better than any of us? Oh, I know she talks and acts posh, but that could all be put on! If she’s from monied people, she wouldn’t be living in a two-up-two-down, would she? I’ve always thought there was a bit of a mystery about her, ever since she moved into the street. I wouldn’t say that in front of Aggie, I always stick up for the woman when me mate’s pulling her to pieces, but I can’t help thinking there’s something weird about the airs and graces she puts on. And she wants reporting for the way she treats her daughter. The poor kid has no fun at all, she’s missing her childhood years.’ Rita let out a deep sigh. ‘God knows, they’re not children for long, they should be allowed to enjoy every minute of it while it lasts. And playing rounders or tag or going on the swings doesn’t cost nothing, so why doesn’t Mrs Sinclair let Amelia be her age and play out with the other kids?’

  ‘I haven’t got no answer for yer, Rita, ’cos I’ve spent hours trying to puzzle her out meself. The clothes she wears are years old, but yer can tell they were very expensive when she bought them, and she does look after them.’ Bessie gazed up at the ceiling before coming to a decision. ‘I’m going to tell yer what I know about her, but yer have to give me yer word that it isn’t repeated to anyone, not even your Reg, although I know men don’t tittle-tattle like women.’

  Rita made a cross on her chest. ‘On my honour, sunshine.’ A smile crossed her face. ‘Anyway, me and my Reg don’t spend our time in bed telling tales, we’ve other things on our minds.’ The smile became a chuckle. ‘And it’s not what ye’re thinking either, Bessie Maudsley. Our conversation before turning our backs on each other usually consists of me asking him what he’d like for dinner the next day, and him telling me to blow the candle out.’

  ‘Yer’ve got a good man there, Rita, he’s one of the best in the street. But let’s get back to Her Ladyship next door. You won’t have noticed this because she always uses the back door but she’s forever on the cadge. It’s bread, tea or milk, things like that, and it’s usually twice a week. It’s been going on since the week she moved in, and she doesn’t come herself, she sends Amelia. I got fed up with it after a while, thought she had a bloody cheek and felt sorry for the kid who looked terrified. So when I was asked to lend them sugar one day, I wouldn’t give it to the girl, said I’d carry it for her and give it to her mother myself. I followed her up the yard and into the kitchen. That’s how I came to go in the house and found she had little in the way of furniture but what she had was pure solid mahogany, the likes of which you and I would only ever see if we walked up Bold Street and looked in the windows of the posh shops there. She’s only got a couple of pieces, mind, but enough for me to think that somewhere along the line she’s known a better life.’

  Rita leaned forward, her eyes wide and her voice angry. ‘Are yer telling me that she’s been borrowing off you all these years? You, who has to work hard to keep yer own head above water? She’s got some nerve, she has. All la-di-dah, but she sends her kid out the back way to scrounge off yer?’

  Bessie shook her head. ‘Not now she doesn’t, girl, ’cos the day I took the sugar to her, I told her straight that anything she borrowed must be paid back, in full, every Saturday when she’d her wages. So, while she still borrows, I make sure I get it back. If I didn’t, I’d tell her to find herself another sucker. But I’m fond of Amelia, she’s a good kid with a lovely nature.’

  ‘It’s a shame,’ Rita said. ‘The kids all make fun of her because of the way she speaks, and there’s nothing she can do about that now. I know it’s not her fault, but yer can’t blame the other kids because she’s different from them.’

  ‘Nobody is blaming them, girl, certainly not me. But before I go and put the kettle on to make us a cuppa, let’s finish off the business with next door.’ Bessie laced her fingers together. ‘Now all the information yer’ve had off me tonight came with a price attached. I’ve never told anyone before, and you know, girl, I’m not a gossip. But I told you because I want a favour off yer, and that is, will yer keep yer eye out for Amelia? I know yer can’t see right into their living room, and I know her mother won’t let her play out, but with yer living opposite yer might just see something that makes yer think the girl is being badly treated. And if yer do, I want yer to tell me. Oh, I know it’s none of my business, but the kid has nobody else with her welfare at heart so I intend being a busybody and keeping an eye on her. Obviously I can’t do it while I’m at work so that’s why I’m asking you to do it as a favour for me.’

  ‘Of course I will, particularly now I know that woman’s capable of hitting the child for nothing. She certainly wouldn’t get away with it if I saw her. I’m on nodding terms with her, much to the disgust of Aggie, so I might try and take it a bit further, to where we pass the time of day. I’m not saying she’ll co-operate, or that we’ll become bosom pals, but it’s worth a try. In any case, I’ll keep an eye out, sunshine, yer have my word on it. And now, if it’s not asking too much, will yer go and put that ruddy kettle on? Me tongue is hanging out!’

  Next door, Evelyn was still seething. Betrayed by her own daughter! Now everyone in the street would know their business and be laughing because they were living on stale bread. She had worked hard to teach Amelia how to act like a lady, to enunciate her words and be careful not to associate with the poorer class of people who lived in the street because one day they would be back where they belonged, with people of their own class. She never told her how or when this would happen, and would never admit to herself that it was only a dream. She was so wrapped up in herself, it hadn’t occurred to Evelyn that while she could keep Amelia away from the children in the street, she had no control over her during school hours. Never once had it entered her head that, for all her teaching and dire warnings, she couldn’t control every one of her daughter’s waking moments. Nor had she sensed that her child was very confused and unhappy. She was forced to have one personality at home to please her mother, then to become someone different at school. The one she attended was for the children of working-class parents, some of them living in abject poverty, and Amelia quickly learned she must speak like them if she didn’t want to be pushed around and laughed at. At school she spoke with a working-class Liverpool accent, while at home she spoke as her mother wished her to.

  Now and again, in her head, Amelia questioned her mother’s attitude towards her. She knew Evelyn wasn’t the same as the other mothers in the street, who hugged their children as they set off for school, and laughed as they played games with them. She wouldn’t say what she thought out loud because it would only bring forth a tirade from her mother, but inwardly she wondered why she was never kissed, or loved like all the other children. She did try to do everything she was told so her mother would love her, but no matter how hard she tried, she never received a word of praise or affection. Young as she was she knew this wasn’t fair, and wished she was allowed to mix freely with other children instead of having to be careful of every word that came out of her mouth.

  ‘Well, young lady, are you going to apologise?’ Evelyn bent to poke the girl in the chest. ‘I want you to say you are sorry over and over again until I say you may stop. Now do as I say.’

  The injustice of it brought tears to the back of Amelia’s eyes. ‘But I haven’t done anything wrong, Mother, so I don’t understand. I only did as you asked, why should I be punished for it?’ She rubbed the cheek that was still tender from the smack she’d received. ‘You hurt me.’

  ‘Don’t you dare answer me back! If you continue to disobey me then I shall have no alternative but to smack you again. And I can assure you it will hurt you much more this time. Now, I want to hear you saying you are sorry.’

  Amelia had never answered her mother back, nor questioned anything she was told to do. But a little demon in her head was telling her now that if she didn’t stick up for herself she’d never be like the other children in the street. ‘Miss Bes
sie thought I was very clever, and I think I was too! I told her you would be pleased, and she said she would be if someone got her a loaf for a penny.’

  The mention of their neighbour’s name had a sobering effect on Evelyn. She relied on Miss Maudsley to help her out when she was desperate, without a penny in her purse. And she hadn’t forgotten the little woman’s remark about seeing Amelia herself tomorrow, and asking her daughter if she was all right. But she wasn’t going to give the child the satisfaction of seeing her weakening or she would soon become out of control. ‘I am tired – too tired to argue. So instead of the chastisement I had in mind, I will instead send you up to your room where you will stay until the morning.’

  Amelia was glad to get out of the room and away from a mother she could no longer understand, and who, more and more, was beginning to frighten her. So she took the stairs two at a time. Instead of going into her own little room, which was at the back of the house, she entered her mother’s and went straight to the window to look down on the street where boys and girls were playing, shouting to each other and having a fine time. Oh, how she wished she could join them. She pulled aside the net curtain for a better view, just as one of the boys on the opposite pavement looked up. He stared at her for a while, then smiled and waved. There was no return smile or wave because Amelia had quickly dropped the curtain. She would really be in trouble if her mother knew she was looking out of the window, never mind having one of the street children smiling and waving at her. But when her mother didn’t come running up the stairs to give her another ticking off, the fear subsided and Amelia felt a warm glow. That was the first time since she’d lived in the street that one of the other children had smiled at her. Mostly, when she was going and coming home from school, a gang of girls would walk behind her and shout and make fun of her.

  Stepping over the floorboards she knew would creak, Amelia made her way to her own bedroom and lay on the bed staring up at the ceiling, which was badly in need of attention. It had once been white, but now was a dirty colour, with cracks everywhere and plaster peeling off and falling like snowflakes on to her bed and the lino-covered floor. But although she was staring at the ceiling, she wasn’t seeing it. She was thinking about the boy who had waved and smiled at her. He lived opposite, next to the house where the fat woman lived. The woman her mother said was the most common, ill-bred person it had ever been her misfortune to meet. But Amelia thought the woman looked a warm and happy person, who always had a smile on her face. She did talk loudly but there was no harm in that. It didn’t matter how noisy you were, if you had a smile on your face. The boy’s mother was nice, she always let on when she saw Amelia. There were two boys. The one who had waved was the smallest, so he must be the youngest. He was a big lad, though, and Amelia guessed he’d be about nine or ten. They were lucky to have such a nice mother who was always hugging them, even in the street.

  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 lon
g 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.’