When Wishes Come True

by Jonker, Joan

  Copyright © 2003 Joan Jonker

  The right of Joan Jonker to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  Apart from any use permitted under UK copyright law, this publication may only be reproduced, stored, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means, with prior permission in writing of the publishers or, in the case of reprographic production, in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency.

  First published as an Ebook by Headline Publishing Group in 2012

  All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Cataloguing in Publication Data is available from the British Library

  eISBN: 978 0 7553 9036 6

  HEADLINE PUBLISHING GROUP

  An Hachette UK Company

  338 Euston Road

  London NW1 3BH

  www.headline.co.uk

  www.hachette.co.uk

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  About the Author

  Also by Joan Jonker

  Dedication

  Foreword

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Joan Jonker was born and bred in Liverpool. Her childhood was a time of love and laughter with her two sisters, a brother, a caring but gambling father and an indomitable mother who was always getting them out of scrapes. Then came the Second World War when she met and fell in love with her husband, Tony. For twenty-three years, Joan campaigned tirelessly on behalf of victims of violence, and it was during this time that she turned to writing fiction. Sadly, after a brave battle against illness, Joan died in February 2006. Her best-selling Liverpool sagas will continue to enthral readers throughout the world.

  Joan Jonker’s previous novels, several of which feature the unforgettable duo Molly and Nellie, have won millions of adoring fans:

  ‘Wonderful … the characters are so real I feel I am there in Liverpool with them’ Athena Tooze, Brooklyn, New York

  ‘I enjoy your books for they bring back memories of my younger days’ Frances Hassett, Brixham, Devon

  ‘Thanks for all the good reads’ Phyllis Portock, Walsall

  ‘I love your books, Joan, they bring back such happy memories’ J. Mullett, Lancashire

  ‘I’m an ardent fan, Joan, an avid reader of your books. As an old Liverpudlian, I appreciate the humour. Thank you for so many happy hours’ Mrs L. Broomhead, Liverpool

  Also by Joan Jonker

  When One Door Closes

  Man Of The House

  Home Is Where The Heart Is

  The Pride Of Polly Perkins

  Sadie Was A Lady

  Walking My Baby Back Home

  Try A Little Tenderness

  Stay As Sweet As You Are

  Dream A Little Dream

  Many A Tear Has To Fall

  Taking A Chance On Love

  Strolling With The One I Love

  When Wishes Come True

  The Girl From Number 22

  One Rainy Day

  Featuring Molly Bennett and Nellie McDonough

  Stay In Your Own Back Yard

  Last Tram To Lime Street

  Sweet Rosie O’Grady

  Down Our Street

  After The Dance Is Over

  The Sunshine Of Your Smile

  Three Little Words

  I’ll Be Your Sweetheart

  Non-fiction

  Victims Of Violence

  To Clare Foss, Sherise Hobbs and the staff at Headline, and to Darley Anderson and the staff at his agency, for their kindness, friendliness and encouragement over the years.

  A big hello to my readers and friends

  I hope all is well in your world.

  There is a treat in store for you with When Wishes Come True. It’s a little different from my other books, but I promise you will love it. Our heroine is a young girl who will capture your heart, as she has mine.

  With a mother who shows her no love and thinks she is a cut above their neighbours, Milly’s life is far from perfect. Then she is befriended by the woman next door and her two mates, who bring love and laughter into the young girl’s life. There are a lot of surprises ahead for Milly, her new friends and for my readers. I suggest you hurry through your housework, make yourself a cup of tea, choose the most comfortable chair and put your feet up. But don’t forget to have a box of tissues handy. I went through two while I was writing this book.

  Take care.

  Love

  Joan

  Chapter One

  1925

  ‘Just look at this one, walking up the street as though she owned it.’ Aggie Gordon was standing on the bottom step of her two-up-two-down house, talking to her next-door neighbour, Rita Wells, when she saw a familiar figure turn into the street. ‘Miss Hoity-Toity … she gets on my bleeding nerves!’

  ‘Ah, come on, Aggie, she doesn’t do us any harm,’ Rita said. ‘I don’t know why yer feel so strongly about her, she can’t help it if she’s down on her luck. She’s in the same boat as all of us, without two pennies to rub together.’

  Aggie pulled a face and folded her arms under her bosom. To say she was well endowed in that department would be understating it, she was enormous. ‘Aye, but we don’t all walk down the street with our noses in the air, do we? Stuck-up madam! She wants taking down a peg or two. And if she ever looks sideways at me, I’ll clock her one.’

  Rita turned her head to see a slim, attractive young woman who walked with a straight back and an air of confidence. She’d lived in one of the houses opposite Rita and Aggie for a few years now, but hadn’t made any friends. Her seven-year-old daughter Amelia wasn’t allowed to play with the other children in the street either, which caused most of the neighbours to say the woman was a stuck-up cow who thought she was too good for the likes of them. ‘If she wants to keep herself to herself, Aggie, then that’s up to her, she’s not hurting anyone. It’s the young girl I feel sorry for, she hasn’t got one friend in the street. She’s a nice little thing, too!’

  ‘How d’yer know that when she’s not allowed to speak to anyone ’cos her bleeding mother thinks we’ve all got fleas?’ Aggie shook her head and her many chins danced. ‘Ye’re daft, you are, Rita Wells, yer never see the bad in anyone.’

  ‘While you, Aggie Gordon, are never happy unless yer’ve got someone to pull to pieces. Yer haven’t spoken more than ten words to Mrs Sinclair, but yer can’t stand the sight of her. I’m glad I’m a friend of yours, ’cos I’d sure as hell hate to be an enemy.’

  Aggie’s head wagged from side to side, sending her layers of chins flying in all directions. ‘And why haven’t I spoken more
than ten words to Her Ladyship? Because every time I see her she looks down her nose at me, as though I’m a bad smell.’

  ‘That’s probably because she knows ye’re always pulling her to pieces. Yer’ve got a voice like a foghorn, Aggie, they should use you when there’s a fog over the Mersey to guide the ships in. Unless Mrs Sinclair is deaf, she must hear yer calling her fit to burn and wonder why. The poor woman lost her husband in the war so yer should have some pity for her, having to bring her daughter up on her own. She’s never done you or me no harm, so for heaven’s sake leave the woman alone and pick on someone who can stick up for herself.’ Rita chuckled. ‘Me, for instance, ’cos I could hit yer back.’

  Aggie’s laughter was loud. ‘You! I could knock yer into the middle of next week with just one of me fingers.’

  At that moment the woman who was the target of Aggie’s criticism happened to turn her head before inserting her key into the lock. When she saw Rita nod her head, she nodded briefly in return before opening the door and stepping inside. Once the door was closed behind her, Evelyn Sinclair leaned back against it and sighed. How she hated this mean little house in the mean little street, where most of the neighbours were coarse and vulgar. Particularly the little fat woman opposite, whose language was that of a fishwife. The only person in the street she ever had any conversation with was the woman next door, Bessie Maudsley, and on the odd occasion she had exchanged nods with Rita Wells opposite.

  Evelyn pushed herself away from the door and hung her coat on a hook in the tiny hall before entering the living room. There, she pulled out one of the wooden chairs from the table and sat down. With her chin cupped in her hands, she took a deep sigh. Just looking around the room filled her with despair. There were no mirrors on the walls, no pictures, and no ornaments on the bare sideboard. When she went into the kitchen to make herself a cup of tea, she would find the pantry almost bare. It wasn’t because she was lazy, and spent her days gossiping like a lot of the women in the street. She had found herself a job in the office of a firm of solicitors in the city centre, and worked there five hours for four days a week. But her job was really a junior’s: running errands, making cups of tea and filing the correspondence of the two solicitors who shared the practice. The wages were low, barely enough to pay the rent on this house and buy what food she could to feed herself and Amelia. New clothes were out of the question, and a fire in the grate a luxury.

  Evelyn dropped her head into her hands. What a far cry this was from what she had been used to. Then, as she often did, she closed her eyes and let her mind go back over the years to when she was nineteen. She was an only child, and lived with her parents in an eight-roomed house. Her father ruled her and her mother with a rod of iron. She wasn’t allowed to invite friends to the house, nor accept invitations to visit theirs. But on her nineteenth birthday her father reluctantly agreed that she could go to an afternoon tea dance to celebrate, on the understanding that she was to refuse any requests from strange men to take to the dance floor. She had thought how stupid it sounded to say she could go to a dance but must not take part, but daren’t voice her thoughts or she would have been sent up to her room and told to stay there until Father said she could come down for her meal. So she promised she would not dance, and that she would be home by six o’clock. She would have promised him anything, just to get out of the house and be able to act her age.

  Her office friend, Gwen, had loving parents, and as a result was more sure of herself and more outgoing. When they met up that Saturday afternoon, she linked Evelyn’s arm and grinned. ‘First day of freedom, eh?’

  ‘Hardly a day, Gwen, it’s two o’clock now and I’ve to be home by six.’

  ‘You’ll not set any hearts on fire in that dress, Eve, it’s positively old maiden auntish! Have you nothing more glamorous in your wardrobe?’

  Evelyn shook her head. ‘You don’t know my father, he’s so old-fashioned. I’m lucky to be here at all, never mind worrying about my dress.’

  ‘Then I’m going to put powder, rouge and lipstick on your face, and I’ll do something with your hair. Otherwise you’ll never be noticed.’

  So the Evelyn who walked out of the ladies’ powder room of the Adelphi Hotel was very different from the one who’d walked in. Not that she wouldn’t have attracted many a roving eye without the make-up because she was tall and slim with dark brown hair, enormous brown eyes and a flawless complexion. But whether it was the make-up or not, the friends barely had time to sit at one of the small round tables before a man appeared in front of them, his hand outstretched, and addressed Evelyn.

  ‘May I have this dance?’

  She looked scared. She was about to stutter that she had never been to a dance before when Gwen said, ‘Of course you may, my friend would be delighted. Go along, Evelyn, I will be all right, I can see some of my friends waving to me.’

  So Evelyn, for the first time in her life, found herself in the arms of a man. And what a handsome man he was! Tall, slim, well dressed, with jet black hair and laughing eyes that were constantly changing colour from hazel to dark green. When he spoke his voice was that of a well-educated person and very pleasing to the ear. ‘Are you always so shy? You don’t have to be afraid of me, I won’t eat you.’

  ‘I’m not afraid of you, I’m afraid of standing on your toes! You see, I’ve never been to a dance before and I’m nervous in case I make a fool of myself.’

  ‘No one as beautiful as you could possibly make a fool of themself.’

  And that was how their romance began. After the dance was over and Evelyn could see Gwen was with company, she agreed when her partner asked her to sit with him at another table. She may as well make the most of this opportunity, she thought, there may never be another. When he asked she told him her name, where she lived, and about the father who was very strict but who provided a nice comfortable home for her and her mother. Then the man, oozing confidence and looking at her with more than interest in his eyes, told her his name was Charles Lister-Sinclair. With a smile, he said, ‘I work for my father who is far from strict and keeps me in the lap of luxury. He is also very generous in allowing me as much free time as I wish. So I hope to see much more of you in the very near future.’

  Because she was smitten, Evelyn took a chance and arranged to meet him in her lunch hour the following Monday. She had never dared defy her father before, but she did so want to see Charles again, and if she had to tell lies to do so, then so be it. When she met up with Gwen in the cloakroom later, she was so excited the words poured from her mouth. ‘I’m meeting him on Monday, Gwen, and he’s taking me to lunch. I find it unbelievable I’ve met such a handsome and charming man on my first day of freedom!’

  Gwen raised her eyebrows. ‘You do know who his father is, don’t you?’

  ‘No, except that Charles said his father spoiled him.’

  ‘You are so innocent, Eve! Don’t you know anything about the social life of this city? Charles is one of the most sought-after, eligible young men in Liverpool. There are literally dozens of mothers chasing him for their daughters. He would be quite a catch for any girl, with his good looks and charming manner, quite apart from the fact that his father is one of the richest men in the city.’

  Evelyn gaped. ‘He never said! Except that his father was good to him.’

  ‘No, he wouldn’t brag about his wealth, that’s what is so refreshing about him. Not like some of the young bloods I’ve met at parties who think because their families are well heeled they should be welcome in any virgin’s bed.’ Gwen grinned when she saw the look of horror on her friend’s face. ‘Don’t worry, Charles isn’t like that, he’s a perfect gentleman. And if you can hook him, Eve, then you’ll be the envy of every young female of marriageable age, and that includes myself.’

  ‘I didn’t know you knew him? You never said when he came over to ask me to dance.’

  ‘I’ve seen him around many times, even been to parties where he’s been a guest, but I wouldn’t profess to know
him well enough to introduce him. Anyway, it’s time for you and me to go our separate ways, so I’ll say “Sweet dreams”, and I shall look forward to hearing what happens on Monday. I presume you will not be telling your father?’

  ‘You presume right, Gwen, I’m not going to say a word. If I did, I wouldn’t be allowed out of the house.’

  Sitting at the dining table later with her mother and father, Evelyn was praying that her father would question her about the dance. But it was her mother who, unknowingly, came to her aid. ‘Were there many at the Adeplhi, my dear? Do tell us what type of person freqents these places?’

  Evelyn nodded. ‘Yes, quite a few people, Mother, and some of the dresses on the young ladies were absolutely delightful.’ She saw the familiar frown crease her father’s forehead and hoped her little plan would work. ‘I only knew Gwen, of course, but she did introduce me to one of her male friends.’ She turned her head. ‘I wonder if you know the Lister-Sinclairs, Father? Gwen said they are a very well-known family.’

  The frown disappeared like magic, and his eyes widened in surprise as he lowered his knife and fork. ‘I don’t know them personally, but everyone locally has heard the name. They are a very well-known family, wealthy and much respected in the business world. Cyril Lister-Sinclair has many interests, and is probably the richest man in the city of Liverpool.’ He coughed behind one curled fist before asking, ‘And the son was at the dance, you say?’

  ‘Yes, Father, and seemed very personable.’ Evelyn could tell her father had taken the bait. ‘Quite friendly with many of the people there.’

  Herbert Wilkinson looked across at his wife. ‘Perhaps I have been doing our daughter an injustice, Gertrude, by not allowing her to attend these dances. Don’t you agree?’

  ‘Oh, yes, Herbert, now we know the cream of local society attends them, we can rest assured she is in good company. Would you like to go next Saturday? If your father gives his permission, of course.’

  Evelyn’s plan was working beautifully. She had bargained on this being the reaction from her parents, who were both tight with money and would be delighted if their daughter married a rich man. ‘Oh, I don’t think I want to go again, Mother, I would feel like a poor relation. You see, I couldn’t compete with the fashionable dresses and high-heeled silver shoes all the ladies were wearing. I really felt like a wallflower in this drab dress, and wouldn’t want to go through that again.’