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WHEN WISHES COME TRUE
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'II 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 ute 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?'
'Hardlya 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 frequents 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.'
'Oh, I'm sure that, under the circumstances, and because we want you to
mix in the right circles, your father would give you an allowance to buy
suitable clothes. We can't have our daughter looking less attractive than
the other ladies. Aren't I right, Herbert, when I say you will give Evelyn
an allowance for some new clothing?'
'Of course, my dear.' Herbert Wilkinson was what you would call a sombre
man who seldom smiled, and had never been known to laugh aloud. But right
now he was positively beaming. He had a good job and was well paid, but
he was a greedy man; not content with being well off, he wanted to be
wealthy. And now, perhaps, through his daughter and her newfound connections,
he could well find himself on the way to riches and social acceptance.
'When we've finished our meal we can discuss what is needed so that Evelyn
can mingle with the best in society as an equal.'
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