When Wishes Come True

by Jonker, Joan

  Kitty gave her brother a sly kick on his shin. ‘Yer asked for that, our kid. Now explain to her what a snob is.’

  Kenny gave her daggers. ‘Everyone knows what a snob is, soft girl. It’s someone what walks round with their nose stuck in the air, and talks funny.’

  Milly’s green eyes were flashing. ‘Oh, you think I talk funny do you? That means you can’t understand me. So I won’t talk to you any more because I’d only be wasting my time. I’ll talk to your sister instead.’

  Kenny wasn’t going to be beaten by a girl, especially one younger than him. He had his pride. ‘I never said I couldn’t understand yer, I said yer talk funny, an’ yer do, so there!’

  Aggie thought they’d carry on for ages if they were let, so she said, ‘Drink yer tea up, Milly, then yer can come to Bessie’s with me while I light her fire.’

  Rita was standing at her front door to make sure Aggie did her fair share. And it was Rita, watching her neighbour and Milly crossing the cobbles, who saw Aggie’s fleecy-lined bloomers showing below her skirt. ‘Ay, sunshine, I see yer’ve got yer blue fleecy-lined ones on today, eh? Giving the neighbours an eyeful, are yer?’

  Aggie stopped when she reached the opposite pavement and looked down. She shook her head and tutted. ‘Bloody things, I’ll pull them up when I get in Bessie’s.’ But she was only on the second step when she nearly tripped over. The elastic had snapped on the waist of her bloomers, and the whole lot was around her ankles. ‘Oh, bloody hell! The elastic’s gone, I’ll have to take them off.’

  Rita gasped. ‘Not in the street, Aggie! Wait until yer get in Bessie’s!’

  ‘I can’t walk in the bleeding things, d’yer want me to break me bleeding neck?’

  ‘No, I don’t want yer to break yer neck, Aggie,’ Rita said, dying to laugh. ‘And I don’t want yer to make a spectacle of yerself either. Ye’re letting the tone of the street down.’

  ‘Sod the tone of the street, that’s what I say!’ Aggie bent down and lifted one foot after the other to climb out of the offending bloomers. Holding them aloft, she shouted, ‘I’ve only got the same as every other woman in the street, so to hell with modesty.’

  Milly’s face was a picture no artist could paint. She had never seen anything like it in her life, and although she knew her mother would be disgusted, she herself thought it was very funny. When she saw Rita doubled up, it was a signal for her own infectious giggle to make itself heard. And Aggie’s son and daughter, not surprised or ashamed of anything their mother did, were in stitches. ‘Oh, Mam,’ Kitty croaked, the tears running down her face, ‘wait until we tell our dad, he’ll laugh himself sick.’

  ‘If either of yer say one word to yer dad,’ Aggie warned, pointing the hand holding the bloomers at them, ‘then I’ll separate yer head from yer body.’

  Rubbing the tears from her eyes, Rita ran across the cobbles. ‘I’ll light Bessie’s fire, sunshine, you go and put another pair of bloomers on.’

  ‘No can do, queen, ’cos I haven’t got another pair to put on,’ Aggie said, stuffing the bloomers into her pocket. ‘I’ll go without, no one will be any the wiser.’

  Rita managed to look horrified. ‘Yer can’t walk around with no bloomers on! How would yer feel if yer got run over and yer were laying on the ground, a crowd of people around yer, and you with no knickers on? I’d have to pretend I didn’t know yer, I’d be that mortified.’

  Cool as a cucumber, Aggie asked, ‘Oh, aye, queen, how long have the trams been running down this street then?’

  ‘Well, it wouldn’t have to be a tram or a car, sunshine, it could be the coal cart or the rag and bone man. It could even be the milkman with his pony and trap.’

  ‘Ooh, ay, queen, yer’ve given me a belting idea.’ Aggie thought if she was giving all her neighbours a laugh, she may as well have one herself. ‘If the rag and bone man does happen to come down the street while I’m in Bessie’s, will yer ask him to hang on a minute while yer give me a knock? I could give him the pair of bloomers in exchange for a goldfish. Then that would be my feller’s dinner sorted out, ’cos he’s partial to a bit of fish is Sam.’

  ‘And yer don’t think he’d notice it was a goldfish on his plate?’ Rita asked, while telling herself Aggie had more to do than stand and talk, there were two fires to be lit. ‘I don’t think there’s anything wrong with Sam’s eyesight.’

  ‘Nah! I’ll smother the plate with chips and he’ll tuck in without a word. It’ll be a nice surprise for him when he gets a taste of fish.’

  ‘Ye’re past the post, you are, Aggie.’ Rita held out her hand to Milly. ‘Give us the key, sunshine, and I’ll light Bessie’s fire while my mate runs home to make herself presentable.’

  But Aggie was quick to intervene. ‘Not on yer bleeding life, Rita Wells, I’ll light the ruddy fire if it kills me. And I’ll do it without bloomers on.’ Her chins anticipated movement and nodded in unison with her head. ‘And I bet the grate won’t notice nothing. If it does, think of the treat it’ll get.’ She nodded to Milly. ‘Go on, girl, open the door and let’s get on with it.’

  ‘Yer better had get on with it, Aggie Gordon,’ Rita told her retreating back. ‘Bessie will be in soon and yer haven’t even made a start. And yer’ve got Mrs Sinclair’s to do as well.’

  Aggie’s laugh reached the few neighbours who were watching through their windows. ‘I was going to say don’t get yer knickers in a twist, queen, but as bloomers and knickers are a delicate subject right now, I’ll say don’t be getting yerself all het up, it’s not worth it. Life’s too short to spend it worrying.’ She grinned into her mate’s face, then said to Milly, ‘Come on, queen, let’s get this here fire lit.’

  As Milly sat on the couch watching Aggie light Bessie’s fire, she was thinking how lucky she was now, with all these friends. They were always so cheerful, and they were really funny, especially Aggie, who always seemed happy even though she only had one pair of bloomers. Mind you, she was right when she said no one would know the difference. As she knelt in front of the grate, you could see the top of her stockings, but that was all.

  ‘There yer are, queen, that should be roaring up the chimney by the time Bessie gets home.’ Aggie didn’t find it easy to get to her feet because of her size, so she shuffled her bottom along the floor until she was by the couch, then pulled herself up. ‘Straight to your house now, queen, and get the fire lit for yer mam. She doesn’t come in until after six, so the place should be warmed through by then. I’ll have it done in no time, you’ll see.’

  Unfortunately for Aggie, she couldn’t have been more wrong. She was expecting the grate to be cleaned and the fire laid out ready for lighting, like it was in Bessie’s. So she got an unpleasant shock when Milly let her into the living room and she found the grate with the remains of the night before’s fire. It was full of ashes and they’d spilled over on to the hearth. The bars were grey with it as well. Aggie was taken aback. ‘Ay, queen, doesn’t yer mam clean the grate out before she goes to work?’

  Milly shook her head. ‘No, Auntie Aggie, she cleans it out when she gets home, then sets it for a new fire.’

  Aggie got very uppity, and so did her bosom, tummy and chins which all quivered in unison. ‘Well,’ she bridled, ‘no one told me I’d have to clean the ruddy grate out. Wait until I get me hands on that Rita Wells, I’ll marmalise her for lumbering me with this.’

  ‘But Auntie Rita had to clean it yesterday,’ Milly said. ‘I know ’cos I was here with her. She got a surprise, like you, but she soon raked the ashes out and wiped the hearth down. It didn’t take her long.’

  ‘Well, she might have said something to me. I mean, I don’t know where the ashes go, or where there’s a floor cloth.’

  ‘Shall I do it, Auntie Aggie? I know what to do ’cos I’ve done it for my mother.’

  But Aggie wasn’t going to let a young girl show her up. ‘No, queen, I’ll do it. I see there’s a poker on the companion set, I’ll rake the ashes down into the ashcan, then carry it to th
e midden.’

  The first mishap occurred when Aggie was being too rough with the poker and brought down a fall of soot. It went on her hair and face, and her hands and arms were black. When she tried to wipe it away, she only made matters ten times worse. As she turned her head, an open-mouthed Milly could only see the whites of her eyes. ‘Don’t worry, queen, I’ll get a good wash down when I get home. Everything is under control. I’ll take these ashes out, then set the fire ready for lighting,’ Aggie told her.

  Trying to be helpful, Milly pointed to what looked like a small poker. ‘If you put that in the handle of the ashcan, Auntie Aggie, it will be easier to carry out to the yard.’

  ‘Yes, queen, we’ve got one of them and they’re very handy.’ With all the ashes now in the ashcan, Aggie got to her feet with the help of the coal scuttle at the side of the hearth. And all would have gone well if she hadn’t tripped over the fireside rug, fallen flat on the floor and sent the ashes flying everywhere.

  Milly put a hand over her mouth, closed her eyes and pictured her mother’s face if she could see what was happening in her living room. There was soot and ashes on the sideboard, the mantelpiece, the couch, the table the chairs. Not to mention the whole floor and in the air of the room. ‘I’ll try and help you up, shall I, Auntie Aggie?’

  ‘Yer’ll never make it, queen, and I’ll never be able to get meself up. So will yer take the ashcan out to the yard, and then run for Rita? She’s very good in a crisis, is Rita, never gets flustered or nothing like that. And hurry, queen, ’cos we don’t want yer mam coming in to this.’

  Milly’s feet didn’t touch the ground. Fear of her mother coming home to the house in such a mess lent her wings. She was out of breath when she knocked on Rita’s door. ‘Come quick, Auntie Rita, ’cos there’s been an accident.’

  ‘Oh, my God, what sort of an accident, sunshine?’

  ‘Auntie Aggie is lying on the floor, and the room is full of ashes and soot.’

  Rita didn’t even bother to close her door, she was over the road like a shot, followed by Milly. She stood in the doorway of Evelyn’s living room and didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. I’ll do neither, she thought quickly, there’s no time. Crying won’t help, and I’ll leave the laughter until tea time, then all the family can join in. ‘What the hell d’yer think ye’re doing, Aggie, lying on the floor instead of getting some of this dirt washed off? Mrs Sinclair will have a fit if she comes in to this.’

  ‘Oh, I’m having a little nap, queen, what d’yer think I’m doing?’ Aggie’s mountainous bossom was beneath her, and it wasn’t very comfortable. ‘Don’t just bleeding well stand there, give us a hand up! And none of this would have happened if Mrs High and Mighty had cleaned her bloody grate out before she went to work, instead of leaving the dirty work to some other poor sucker.’

  Rita stood astride her. ‘Let’s talk later, eh, when ye’re standing upright. Now if yer can press the palms of yer hands into the floor and raise yerself a little, I’ll try and get me arms around yer tummy. While you’re pushing, I’ll be lifting.’

  She’ll never do it, Milly said silently as she looked on. She’ll never lift Auntie Aggie, not in a million years. But much to the girl’s surprise and admiration, after one big heave Rita had pulled her mate to her knees. ‘I’ll give yer a hand to get to yer feet, Aggie, but yer’ll have to help yerself as well, ’cos I’m not Man Mountain. But for heaven’s sake, don’t put yer hands on anything, the room’s bad enough without you making it worse.’

  After a struggle, Aggie was standing upright, her eyes blazing out of a black face. ‘If yer so much as grin, Rita Wells, so help me I’ll strangle yer.’

  ‘Oh, I’ve no intention of laughing now, sunshine, there’s too much to do. I’ll do me laughing with Reg and the kids while we’re having our meal. They’ll think I’m exaggerating ’cos this is like a slapstick Laurel and Hardy film, but they’ll get a good laugh.’ Rita surveyed the room. ‘I think the best thing is for you to go home and clean yerself up, Aggie, ’cos ye’re covered in soot and yer’ll only make things worse here. I’ll put the kettle on for hot water, and while I’m waiting for it to boil, I’ll get Milly to show me where the brush is, to clear the worst of the top dirt off. Then I’ll mop out.’

  ‘I’m not leaving yer with this lot,’ Aggie said. ‘I’ll nip over and give me face and arms a good swill, then I’ll be back. But I’ll tell yer something for nothing, queen, I ain’t clearing this grate out again. If she wants her fire lighting, then she’d better set it before she goes out.’

  ‘Get moving, Aggie, we’ll talk it over after. In fact, I’ll have a word with Bessie, and if this fire isn’t set for lighting each day, then I’ll do here and you can do Bessie’s. Yer can’t get up to any mischief in Bessie’s, all yer need to do is strike a match.’

  While Aggie was at her sink trying to get the worst of the soot off, Bessie was walking up the street on her way home from work. She was looking forward to a warm house and to seeing Milly. She was surprised when Kitty Gordon came running over to her. ‘Me mam fell over in Mrs Sinclair’s house, Auntie Bessie, and she’s come home black with soot.’

  Bessie’s heart sank. Just when things were going to well, something was bound to come along and spoil it. Giving a deep sigh, she passed her own house and entered the open door of her next door neighbour’s. The room was a hive of activity, with Rita on her hands and knees washing the hearth down, and Milly brushing the floor as best she could. ‘Oh, dear, what’s happened, Rita?’

  The story didn’t take long, and the way Rita told it, it sounded so funny Bessie was laughing as she took her coat off. ‘Another pair of hands won’t go amiss, sweetheart, I’ll get the mop and bucket ready. We’ve got three-quarters of an hour at least, so we should make it. We’ll leave the front and back doors open so the lino will dry before Mrs Sinclair arrives.’

  When Aggie came back over, most of the work had been done. There was still a smell of soot in the air, but with back and front doors wide open, that should disperse pretty soon. ‘I’m sorry I had to leave yer to it, but I couldn’t get the bleeding soot off meself. Me hair is still thick with the ruddy stuff, but I’ll give it a good wash tonight. And I had to take me dress off and put it to soak in the sink.’ She pulled at the skirt of the dress she was wearing. ‘This was the only one to hand.’ Her eyes were taking in all the work that had been done since she’d gone home. ‘I feel bad leaving yer to do the dirty work, Rita. And you, Bessie, yer’ve put in a full day at work, as well.’

  Bessie tried to keep a straight face. ‘Well, Aggie, yer did very well for yer first day, I must say. There’s not many could bring about a fall of soot, then trip up and spread the ashes over everything in the room. I wonder what trick yer’ve got in store for us tomorrow?’

  ‘Now, now, queen, there’s no need to get sarky with me, anyone can trip over a ruddy rug what’s curled up at the corners. And the fall of soot must have been an act of God, ’cos I didn’t do nothing to cause it. Milly is my witness, she’ll tell yer I didn’t do nothing.’ Then she saw the unfairness of it, and got her dander up. ‘Anyway, I’m giving me notice in, I’m not having anything to do with lighting that fire no more.’

  Rita chuckled. ‘That’s good, sunshine, it saves us giving yer the sack.’

  ‘Giving me the sack! Well, the bloody cheek of you! You ain’t giving me the sack ’cos I won’t let her!’

  ‘Yeah, we agreed to sack yer,’ Bessie told a disbelieving Aggie. ‘But the minute we gave yer the sack, we had another job lined up for yer. Same pay, less work.’

  Aggie looked suspicious. ‘Oh, aye, pull the other one, it’s got bells on.’

  ‘Leave it if she’s not interested, Bessie,’ Rita said. ‘I’ll do both jobs.’

  ‘Sod off, Rita Wells, and mind yer own business. Now, Bessie, what did yer have in mind for me?’

  ‘You light my fire, and Rita lights this one. How does that suit yer?’

  ‘Suits me fine, Bessie.’ Aggie was grin
ning from ear to ear. ‘I’ll take the job.’

  Chapter Twenty

  Each Wednesday before their tryst in Philip’s apartment, to allay suspicion Evelyn would leave the office at one o’clock and Philip would follow a little later. Then she would be back at her desk dead on two o’clock, while he strolled in ten or fifteen minutes later. After all, he could please himself what he did, there was no one to question his movements or time-keeping. He would have been quite happy for them to leave and return together, and to hell with what the rest of the staff thought, but Evelyn wasn’t prepared to have her name bandied about. So far no one had made any comment on the regular pattern set for each Wednesday lunchtime.

  But the regularity of their timing hadn’t gone unnoticed by one member of staff, and that was Mr Woodward’s secretary. Janet Coombes had watched the comings and going of the pair, and was convinced they were having an affair. Secretly she was consumed with jealousy. She had made several advances towards Philip, to whom she was very attracted, waylaying him whenever the opportunity arose. But although he was very polite, he made it perfectly clear he wasn’t interested. The attention he paid to Mrs Sinclair was like a slap in the face for Janet, who was much younger than Evelyn, and considered herself much prettier and more modern in her dress. And she had never been married, so wasn’t second-hand goods.

  Her jealousy was like a festering sore that wouldn’t go away. She strongly suspected that although they left the office separately each Wednesday, they met up somewhere and spent the lunchtime together. But where? Consumed with jealousy and bitterness, she determined to find out.

  When Evelyn left the office on this particular Wednesday, she made her way to the apartment feeling happy and looking forward to having Philip to herself for an hour. Little did she know she was being followed.

  Janet kept back at a safe distance, with an excuse ready if Evelyn should turn her head and see her. She stopped when Evelyn stopped, and watched with mounting interest as her target let herself into a door between two office blocks. There’s something underhand going on here, she told herself, but is Philip Astbury involved? The only way to find out was to wait in a doorway opposite for ten minutes to see if he turned up. If he didn’t, then what was the snobby Mrs Sinclair up to? Perhaps she had another fancy man, Janet wouldn’t put it past her. She’d wheedled her way into Mr Philip’s heart. How many others had she done the same to? It would be worth watching that door, even if it took up the whole of her lunch hour.