When Wishes Come True (19 page)

‘Yer’d better start using me front door if yer know what’s good for yer, sweetheart, ’cos I got a good telling off over you. “Aren’t I good enough for her?” That’s what me door said, and it was in a right temper, I can tell yer. In fact, I thought it wasn’t going to let me in. “I’m as good as any door in this street, in fact I’m better than some what have got no brass knockers, so you tell her from me I am not a bit happy about her deciding that the dirty old yard door is better than me.”’

Amelia had run and put her arms around Bessie’s waist then. ‘Oh, you
are
funny, Miss Bessie. It was my mother who told me to use the entry, but I think I’d better apologise to the door, don’t you? I mean, it might not open and close for me if it doesn’t like me.’

‘Oh, worse than that, sweetheart, you don’t know my door. Because I keep it well washed and polished, and the brass shining enough to blind yer, it thinks it’s the pig’s ear. And if it thought for one moment that yer didn’t think it was the most handsome door in the street, well, it would bang in yer face to let yer know who’s boss.’

And so Amelia never used the entry after that. Her mother thought she did, but as she’d never asked, the girl didn’t have to lie to her. It was a source of fun to Amelia, and every afternoon she would have something to say before she knocked on the door. Today she said, ‘You look very posh today, Mr Door, I think you’ve been given a good polish. The most handsomest door in the street, I bet.’

Rita Wells had been told the joke about the door, and when she saw Amelia’s lips moving gave a satisfied smile. The girl had changed so much in such a short time, Bessie was to be congratulated. As it was the birthday party on Saturday Rita was looking forward to getting to know Amelia better, and wanted her to know that if Bessie was ever late getting in from work, she could always cross the road to the Wellses’ house.

Just then the door opposite opened and Bessie appeared with her arms held wide and a smile of welcome on her face. The girl didn’t hesitate to walk into them. It was a happy sight, and Rita sniffed up to keep the tears back. She prayed this story would have a happy ending and her best mate’s heart wouldn’t be broken.

‘Hello, sweetheart.’ Bessie held Amelia from her for a moment. ‘Yer cheeks are as red as the rosy apples on Tommy Flannigan’s fruit cart. Have yer been running?’

‘I always run home, Miss Bessie, ’cos the sooner I get home, the more time I have to sit with you and listen to you talking to the fireplace.’

Bessie noted the word ‘home’, and although it gave her a lovely warm glow inside, she was afraid that if Mrs Sinclair heard she might perhaps put a stop to the arrangement, for she looked the type who didn’t like to see people happy. ‘Oh, I’ve already had a row with the grate, sweetheart, and believe me it needs taking down a peg or two ’cos it’s getting too cocky for my liking. Yer see, when I was walking home from work I thought I felt a nip in the air, and decided to light a fire so we wouldn’t be cold. So I laid the paper and wood down, then struck a match to light the paper. I had the shovel of coal all ready, nice-sized cobs what looked as though they’d catch easy. But, blow me, every time I struck a match, a gust of wind came down the chimney and blew it out. And because yer can’t see wind to tell it off, or give it a good hiding, I put the blame on the grate and we had a real set-to. And talk about cheek! Well, I’ve never heard the likes of it. If I’d talked back to my mam like that, God rest her soul, then I’d have had me backside tanned.’ They were in the living room by this time, and Bessie nodded towards the fireplace where a small fire was struggling for survival. Shaking her fist, she said, ‘If yer don’t pull yer socks up, I’ll not be cleaning you out in the morning. Yer can wallow in yer dirty ashes till I come home from work.’

As though a magic wand had been waved, a single bright flame shot up, and when it began to flicker it looked as though it was dancing. ‘Look, it’s dancing, Miss Bessie! I bet it’s trying to say it’s sorry and it won’t be naughty again.’

‘Oh, a belly dance won’t get it back in my good books, so it needn’t bother. When I see flames going up the chimney, then I just might consider forgiving it. Only might, like, that’s not for certain.’ Bessie put her arm across the girl’s shoulder. ‘It’s only poached egg on toast for tea tonight, sweetheart, ’cos I’m not long in and haven’t had time to do potatoes. But I scrounged a few bacon ribs off the butcher, so tomorrow night we’ll have potatoes mashed with the top of the milk, and lovely bacon ribs.’ She rubbed her tummy. ‘Ooh, I can feel me mouth watering at the thought.’

There was a frown on Amelia’s pretty face. ‘What are bacon ribs, Miss Bessie? I know what ribs are ’cos we’ve all got them and I can feel mine. But I’ve never heard of bacon ribs that you can eat.’

Bessie ground her teeth. What on earth had this child and her mother been living on? Never heard of bacon ribs, indeed. ‘Then ye’re in for a treat, sweetheart, ’cos they are delicious with cabbage and mashed spuds. The best way to eat them is to hold them between yer fingers and bite the meat off the bone. Sweet as honey, it is.’

Amelia’s eyes were wide. ‘I’m learning a lot from you, Miss Bessie. Things I’ve never heard of before.’ Her green eyes sparkled. ‘Like ribs that are as sweet as honey, and you eat them with your fingers. And a talking door and fireplace. I bet none of the girls in my class have doors and fireplaces that talk.’

‘Ah, well, they’re our secret, sweetheart, and you mustn’t tell yer friends or they’ll be jealous.’ Mentally Bessie added that if anyone knew what they were on about, they’d think her and Amelia were ready for the loony bin.

The girl nodded. ‘I won’t tell Mother, either, or she’ll tell me not to be so silly. But it’s not silly, is it, Miss Bessie, not when it’s only in fun?’

At that very moment, Evelyn couldn’t have cared less what her daughter did. In fact, she very seldom gave a thought to Amelia during the day. Particularly today. She was feeling very pleased with herself. She’d asked Philip if it was possible for her to leave half an hour early as she wanted to pick up an outfit she’d put in to be cleaned and the shop closed at half-past five. As Saturday was drawing near, and he intended to use their date to find out if she was really as cold as she seemed, he agreed to her leaving early so long as she made the excuse of not feeling well to the rest of the staff.

Evelyn hurried down the entry with her head bent. The precious dress and cape were wrapped in tissue paper, and she carried them carefully. She wanted to look stunning on Saturday, and her dress must be free from creases. She had it all planned in her head. On Saturday night she intended to be cool with Philip, but a little coquettish to keep his interest roused. If she played her cards right, she’d have him eating out of her hand before the night was over. The only problem she had was meeting him. He wanted to pick her up in his car, but she’d kept her air of mystery and shaken her head, saying she would take a taxi and meet him inside the State Hotel. The only way she could think of doing this was to leave her best clothes in one of the left luggage boxes in Exchange Station on Friday night, take the tram down on Saturday and change in the ladies’ lavatory. Not the best way of doing things, but she couldn’t risk letting him see where she lived, nor could she let the neighbours see her walking down the street in her finery.

After opening the entry door, Evelyn crept quietly up the yard. If Miss Maudsley heard her, she’d wonder why she hadn’t called for Amelia first. Then she tip-toed upstairs to hang the dress and cape on a hanger. She was delighted it had cleaned up so well and looked almost new. Even the dreaded smell of damp had gone.

In the space of a few minutes she was knocking on her neighbour’s door. And because her day had been fruitful, and her future looked bright, tonight she actually smiled at her daughter. ‘I hope you’ve been good for Miss Maudsley? And you do realise how kind she is, looking after you for two hours every night? You and I would be lost without her.’

Just before the knock had come on the kitchen door, Amelia had been shaking with laughter and looking happy and carefree, as any girl her age should. Now she was standing straight-faced, her body as stiff as a board. ‘Yes, Mother.’

Bessie had seen the change come over the girl and was boiling inside. ‘Your daughter is very well behaved, Mrs Sinclair,’ she commented quietly. And because she wanted to get a jab in at her neighbour, she added, ‘Her manners are so perfect, they are a gift. She must have been born with them because they come so natural, yer can tell she didn’t need teaching.’

Evelyn would have taken issue with her over this slur, but with Saturday looming she was in the hands of this little woman who really wouldn’t know what good manners were. Why, if she went into the Adelphi or the State, she wouldn’t know where to turn. She wouldn’t have the least knowledge of which knife and fork to use, or how to conduct a conversation. But right now she did have her uses, and it would be prudent to keep on the right side of her. ‘Yes, I agree, Amelia is very little trouble.’

But Bessie wasn’t finished with her yet. ‘Oh, by the way, while I think on, has Amelia got a frock she can wear on her birthday? I’ve only ever seen her in her school clothes, but I’m sure she has a pretty dress at home.’

Evelyn was caught unawares and didn’t immediately have a reply. And this was so obvious that Bessie mentally chalked one up for herself. After a moment’s thought, Evelyn concocted a lie. ‘It was going to be a surprise, but if it puts your mind at rest, Miss Maudsley, I’ll have to let the secret out of the bag.’ She did this grudgingly for she was stretching every shilling she had so she looked the part for Philip on Saturday. But this stupid little woman had backed her into a corner. ‘I am buying Amelia a new dress for her birthday. She will have it on when she comes to you on Saturday.’

Bessie chalked another one up for herself. The lying so-and-so hadn’t had any intention of buying anything for her daughter until she’d been shamed into it. Still, never mind if the dress would be begrudged, Amelia would be delighted, and that was what counted. ‘Oh, aye, sweetheart, ye’re going to be proper posh on yer birthday. I’ll have to pull me socks up or yer’ll be putting me in the shade.’ She thought of something then and began to laugh, for she knew Mrs Sinclair would find it in bad taste. ‘Ay, I’ll have to tell Aggie to make sure she washes her neck properly. We can’t have you and me all dressed up and Aggie with a ruddy big tidemark what yer could sail a ship on.’

Evelyn’s lip began to curl in disgust, until she saw Bessie watching her out of the corner of her eye. Then she tried to force a smile to her lips, but it came over more like a snarl and made her look ugly. ‘Shall we go now, Amelia? I feel very peckish. Not everyone is as lucky as you, having a meal put down in front of them every night.’

The girl stood on tip-toe to reach her coat which was hanging on one of the hooks near the door. She answered without any trace of animation in her voice. ‘Yes, Mother, I know I am very lucky.’

‘Then come along, don’t dally.’

Bessie looked down at the lino and counted to ten. She and Amelia had been really happy and enjoying each other’s company until Misery Guts came on the scene. God certainly slipped up when he’d made this woman a mother, she didn’t deserve the child she’d given birth to. And it wasn’t only motherly feelings she was lacking, it was all the others too. Selfish to the core, without love or compassion, and a whopping great liar into the bargain was Evelyn Sinclair.

‘I’ll see you tomorrow, Miss Bessie.’ Amelia wanted to kiss her friend goodbye, but knew she’d suffer for it when she got home. ‘Sleep well.’

Bessie ruffled the girl’s thick mop of black hair. ‘You too, sweetheart. And don’t forget, it’s only two days to our birthday. Yer’ve got yer nice new dress to look forward to.’

Evelyn was unable to raise a smile as she pushed her daughter towards the back door. She had been forced into saying she would buy Amelia a dress, but where was the money going to come from? She needed every penny to make herself so attractive on Saturday that she would stand out and Philip would be proud of her. Their first night out together. He would either fall head over heels for her and be trapped, or so disillusioned he would step back. ‘Goodnight, Miss Maudsley, I’ll see you tomorrow,’ she said briskly.

Bessie stood on the kitchen step watching mother and daughter walk down her yard and into the entry. All because one stuck-up woman thought she was too good to be seen coming out of her neighbour’s front door. ‘Silly bugger,’ Bessie muttered. ‘I feel sorry for her ’cos she doesn’t know what it’s like to have a good belly laugh with her neighbours. And she needn’t think she’s pulling the wool over my eyes by saying she’s going to see this old school friend of hers on Saturday, the one what turned up out of the blue, ’cos I don’t believe it for a minute. Not that I care what she does, as long as the girl doesn’t get hurt.’ She closed her kitchen door, still talking to herself. ‘If I ever hear she’s laid a finger on Amelia, she’ll rue the day. I’ll have her guts for garters.’

Bessie walked through and sat at the table in the living room. Her eyes on the grate, she began talking to it. ‘There’s some bad ’uns in this world, and our Mrs Sinclair is one of them. May God forgive me if I’m saying things about her what aren’t true, but I’ve always thought there was something fishy about her, even from the first week she moved in, ’cos it isn’t natural for a woman to ignore her neighbours and look down on them as though they’re muck. Yer never know when yer might need them to help yer. Even dirty Annie, her what lives at the top of the street whose house is filthy and her language enough to make yer hair curl, would knock spots off her next door, ’cos at least she loves her kids.’

Banging her fist on the table, Bessie pushed the chair back and got to her feet. ‘I can’t spend me night talking to a fireplace what can’t talk back to me, so I think I’ll nip over to Rita’s for half an hour for a natter.’ She wagged a stiffened finger. ‘Don’t you dare go out ’cos I don’t want to come back to a cold house. I don’t mind yer dying down a bit if I’m out a long time, but leave a couple of flames to warm the cockles of me heart.’ She reached the door, saying over her shoulder, ‘And behave yerself. No spitting sparks on to me rug for spite.’