Christmas Wish (17 page)

Winnie made herself more comfortable, sitting to favour the less damaged hip. Her thoughts were dashing around like painted horses on a merry-go-round. After all these years she was moving out of this place to a very pretty mews cottage that had once been a stable with the coachman living above. For the first time in years she would be alone with only her books and her memories for company. It had been a difficult decision
to arrive at, but she knew her pain was becoming worse and she wasn’t likely to make old bones. However, much as she had convinced herself that she would at last have her independence, the thought of being alone had suddenly become less attractive. Alone. Nobody. No friends. No family.

Those old memories aroused by Magda’s appearance had refused to fade. Magda, she had decided, was the daughter she’d never had.

‘Magda. I meant it about sponsoring you.’

Magda looked at her open mouthed, her fingers falling to play with the string handles of the carrier bags that held all her belongings.

Her hand stilled in its fidgeting. Her eyes were wide and luminous, strikingly beautiful against her creamy complexion and the mass of dark hair falling about her face.

‘I don’t know … what to say …’

Winnie sighed. ‘I’m going to tell you something, Magda. You know they call me Winnie One Leg. You know I have a painful problem with my hip. This is because the baby I was expecting was pulled from me in pieces. There should have been a doctor called and I should have gone to hospital. But there was no one. You’ve seen how it can be with Gertie. My dead daughter is long gone. I would like you to be that daughter to me and, in return, you train as a doctor. A fitting memorial I think.’

The young woman sitting opposite her stared in disbelief, her eyes seeming to fill her face.

Winnie sat hardly daring to breathe – not that she breathed that deeply nowadays. Her lungs weren’t much better than her hips thanks to the deprivations of a childhood in a northern seaport.

‘I’m moving to a little place in Prince Albert Mews. A little cottage where I shall spend the rest of my days. I’d like you
to move there with me – if you would like. Even if you don’t want to fall in with my plan to make you a doctor, I’d still like your company. But only if you want to. If you want to join the girls here, well that’s up to you but that’s not your only option. And well, it will be under new management …’

She let her voice trail away and did not exhibit a single look or word to influence Magda’s decision. It had to be her decision, hers and hers alone. But it had to be done quickly. Reuben or his son would be along to oversee the changeover between her and the new madam.

Winnie looked at the clock, the only thing left on the high ebony mantelpiece.

‘The removal van is coming soon. It’s not safe for you to stay here tonight. I wouldn’t want word getting back to …’ She paused. ‘Certain people.’

‘Bradley Fitts.’

‘That’s right. It’s best you leave right away. Go with the van. I’ll pay them to keep their mouth shut. Set about sorting things out at Prince Albert Mews. I’ll be there as soon as I can. Will you do that?’

Magda was sitting with her hands tightly clasped, her beautiful eyes shining with wonder.

‘Do you mean it? About me becoming a doctor?’

Winnie felt a strange tightening in her throat as though she were about to choke or cough up a fish bone. She wasn’t choking. And she hadn’t been eating fish.

‘Yes. I meant it. It would be a tribute to me. It would be a tribute to your mother.’

When Magda nodded and said a quiet yes in agreement to her plan, it felt in her head as though somebody had shouted out three cheers for Winnie One Leg.

One of the girls came banging on the door to let Winnie know the removal van had arrived.

Winnie shouted back that she’d be just a minute.

Then she stood there, ear to the door until she was sure the footsteps had receded into the front parlour where the girls waited for men.

She handed Magda a thick green shawl. ‘Quickly. Put this shawl around your head and get out there. Climb up into the back of the van and make it look as though you’re something to do with old Tom, the removal man.’

Magda grabbed her carrier bags with one hand whilst holding the scarf tight beneath her chin.

‘And you,’ Winnie said turning to the van’s owner who’d only just stepped into the room, ‘take my girl with you. Not a word to anyone.’

‘Not a word,’ he said, taking the pound note she was offering from her hand. ‘Not a bloody word. Who is she anyways?’

‘My daughter,’ said Winnie. ‘She’s my daughter.’ And in her heart, she was.

Magda got as far into the back of the van as she could whilst tea chests and furniture were loaded in behind her.

Finally the doors were closed and Magda was alone in the darkness. The van smelled of dust and mothballs, but it didn’t matter. Thanks to Winnie, her life was about to change and ultimately her wish might at last come true. But she knew better than to hope too much, better than to rush into things without planning everything in advance. Once she had money there were options, and options were what she dearly needed.

Once the van was heading towards the end of the street, Winnie’s fear loosened.

For a moment she stood looking up at the outside of the house that she was finally leaving.

‘So she’s gone.’ Emily was the only girl not occupied with a man.

Winnie felt her fear re-emerge. She would have preferred that nobody had seen Magda leave.

‘Having her live with you then?’

‘That’s none of your business.’

‘Isn’t it? Bradley Fitts has got a soft spot for our Magda. You know that, don’t you?’

It wasn’t like Winnie to lose her temper, but she could see where this comment was heading.

‘It’s over, Emily. The girl’s father has come home from the sea. She’s off to live with him. Tell Fitts that and make sure he bloody well believes it!’

Emily held her head to one side. ‘What’s it worth?’

‘I thought you were her friend.’

‘I’d like to escape this game too, Winnie. But you know as well as I do that once you’re in it, it’s a devil of a job to escape. Best not to enter the game in the first place.’

Winnie pursed her lips whilst eyeing Emily as though seeing her for the first time. The eyes that looked back at her were as hard as her own had once been, but she hadn’t always been like that. She’d been kindly once – even to Magda – but there it was, whoring had hardened her. Money was everything.

Resigned to what she had to do, a crisp five pound note found its way out of her purse and into Emily’s hand.

‘Her father’s come home. Just you remember to say that.’

Emily’s smile wasn’t exactly sincere. ‘Of course I will, Winnie. Of course I will.’

The next morning Winnie took a taxi to a bay-windowed building close to Chelsea Bridge. The brass plaque set into the wall outside said ‘Cottemore and Brown, Solicitors’.

To set her plan in place, she needed the assistance of those in high places and she’d certainly made the acquaintance of plenty.

Her dear friend, Henry Cottemore, had advised her to buy the pretty little cottage that she was moving into.

‘These sweet little places where coachmen used to live will become very fashionable in future. Horses belong to the past. Cars are the future,’ he’d told her.

Winnie had heeded his advice and bought one for cash, the one thing she was never short of.

Winnie prided herself on knowing some very influential people. A twinkle came to her deep-set eyes when she thought of the men who paid for the services offered by her establishment. City aldermen, judges, merchants and bankers wearing bowler hats and swinging a rolled-up umbrella. They all had their vices and over the years some of these men had also become friends and useful business advisers.

Henry Cottemore was one of these. In his middle years, married to a wife who preferred life in the country to that of the city, he became a regular patron at Winnie’s establishment where he found the companionship and physical satisfaction he so badly missed.

‘Jennifer prefers pets,’ he’d said to Winnie back then. ‘She has three dogs in the house and gundogs out back and she looks after them very well. I only receive the little love she has left, sparse as it is.’

His days of taking comfort in the arms of one of her girls were now only a fleeting fancy, but more often than not he merely entertained the fond memories of how things used to be.

Over the years, out of mutual respect and a shared past, he gave her advice about her investments and knew more of what she was worth than anyone else could possibly know. Winnie was very well off and quite frankly he admired her.

Presuming she wished to make some alteration to her portfolio of stocks, shares and property, he bid her take a seat and asked what he could do for her.

His office smelled of beeswax and was graced with the steady ticking of a wall clock.

Henry rubbed at his hands. ‘Rheumatism,’ he said. ‘Quite frankly, Winifred my dear, I never expected to ever get this old. I thought I would be twenty-one forever.’

‘But we were young once,’ said Winnie with a smile.

‘If only we could turn the clock back,’ murmured Henry. Winnie didn’t respond. Henry was speaking from the experience of a privileged youth. In her case she’d been turfed out to work, an under-maid in a house in Bloomsbury.

The work had been hard, the hours long and the wage almost non-existent. She’d hated that place, the only joy one half day per week off and one full day a month.

On those precious days she’d walked Regent’s Park and if she had tuppence in her pocket, she’d get the tram up to the West End and stare in windows where rich folks shopped.

Sometimes, just sometimes when she’d had more than a shilling in her pocket, she’d gone to the music hall with Ruby the scullery maid. That was where she’d met Reuben Fitts, the man she’d fallen head over heels for and who had quickly blighted her life.

‘Now,’ said Henry. ‘What is it you want to see me about?’

‘You’ve met my adopted daughter, Magda?’

Henry Cottemore contemplated this woman who was much younger than himself and had once been beautiful. Life had not been kind – certainly not in her early years, but something had happened that had ignited a new light in her dark blue eyes. He wondered what it was.

She began telling him about adopting a daughter and how she felt it was like a memorial to the baby daughter who had died.

‘I have plans for her.’

Henry raised a querulous eyebrow.

Winnie saw his questioning look and shook her head.

‘No. She will not be going the way of the working girls. I want to give her the opportunity to be something better. That’s why I moved here so that we’d be separate from all that. No,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘I have other plans for Magda, but I need your advice. I want her to be educated. She did very well at school and has been working in the square on a market stall, but she’s too good for that. She’s bright, really bright. I want her to do more than work in a factory, a shop or even an office slamming her fingers on one of those new-fangled typewriting machines. She’s been accepted for an interview at the medical school at Queen Mary’s Hospital. She wants to be a doctor.’

Henry looked down at his shoes feeling very privileged to share Winnie’s plans. If he’d still been a wild, young stud, he would be curious to see this wonderful girl who had so impressed his old friend. If she was that beautiful, in the past he might have whisked her away and set her up in a nice apartment in Chelsea. But he wasn’t young. He was older and wiser and Winnie, bless her heart, trusted his judgement. He was also in no doubt that Magda was very special to her – female doctors were still few and far between and securing a place for this girl would be a challenge.

‘Does Magda know of your plans?’

‘We’ve discussed the matter, though I don’t think she truly believes me just yet. I suppose I should get her father’s consent if I was going to adopt her legally, but nobody’s seen him for years.’

‘Does she have any other family?’

‘Sisters. A brother. Her aunt who lives across the way from me. Hard as a brick she is. Kept the girl short of food and just about everything else. Puts her neglect down to the father. Reckons the bounder’s failed to send a sou for her for years. My guess is that the Connemara mare as we call the Irish bitch spent it all on herself.’

‘So what is it you require me to do?’

‘You have medical contacts at Queen Mary’s – them that are physicians?’

One finger thoughtfully stroked his lips as he nodded.

‘She has an interview there. I want to make sure it goes well. That they overlook her … background. I want them to give her a chance. I know it can be done – if you know the right people.’

Henry threw back his head and laughed.

‘Winnie, you demand too much.’

‘Is it too much? Isn’t it true you know just about everyone of importance in London?’

‘I wouldn’t go so far as to say that …’

‘Can it be done?’

He met the spark of hope in Winnie’s eyes. Her face glowed with intent and also affection.

‘I’m going to tell her tonight that everything is in place for her to learn about being a doctor, that she’ll pass the interview with flying colours. I want you to make sure she does. Can I tell her that?’

Henry hesitated. Yes, he did indeed know the right people capable of circumventing the normal qualifications needed for a medical student. But Winnie, for all her sordid past, was not a fool. Indeed he regarded her as having an exceptionally bright mind. If she thought Magda was worthy of becoming a doctor, then who was he to argue? He had to take it at face value.

‘How old is she?’

‘She’s eighteen.’

‘That’s very young.’

‘She’s very mature.’

‘I’m glad to hear it. I’ll tell my contacts that she’s twenty and has undertaken a foundation course.’

Winnie nodded. ‘I would appreciate that.’

Henry Cottemore removed his glasses and smiled at her over the big desk with its elegant ink well, and leather-bound blotting pad; legal files were piled at each end like Palladian pillars.