A Child's Voice Calling (29 page)

‘I’d never let my sisters live under
her
roof!’ Mabel broke in, knowing what her mother had said about Mimi’s other source of income. ‘And as for George goin’ into a
home
– well, I’ll never agree to it,
never
!’

Albert did not reply. He could not bring himself to point out that she might have no choice in the matter. And by her shadowed eyes and the grim set of her mouth there was no need. He stared moodily at the worn hearthrug and for once could think of nothing to say that would lighten his sister’s heart.

When the police discovered that Jack Court was a patient undergoing treatment in the Lock Hospital at Hyde Park Corner, they went to interview him there and found that he already knew about his wife’s death, having received a message from his mother.
He was in such a state of shock and grief that he was scarcely able to answer their questions about his marriage and his relationship with his children. The hospital authorities were able to confirm that he had been an in-patient since 11 April and would be unable to attend the inquest on his wife’s death or the funeral. He pleaded that his family at Sorrel Street should not be informed of his present circumstances; only his mother knew where he was.

Nevertheless, a discerning police officer decided to pass this information on to Dr Knowles and let him decide how much or how little to reveal. Knowles listened, nodded and saw no reason to divulge his knowledge. Not at this juncture. The inquest loomed before him and he might have to use it then, though he was counting on his former acquaintance with the grey-haired coroner to keep the medical evidence to a minimum, particularly the post-mortem report.

The inquest on the death of Anna-Maria Court, formerly Chalcott, took place on the following Monday at Lavender Hill South-Western Magistrates’ Court, in the small wood-panelled room adjacent to the main courtroom. Mabel attended, dressed in black, with Albert at her side. The coroner expressed his sympathy for the brother and sister, and the business was mercifully brief. When Dr Knowles was called upon to tell the hearing about his last visit to Anna-Maria Court on the afternoon of 30 April he stated that Mrs Court had expressed fears that she might have a ‘growth’, as she put it, and that he had neither confirmed nor denied the possibility.

‘Did you detect any evidence of cancer, Dr Knowles?’ asked the coroner.

‘She was anaemic due to menorrhagia and I could not rule out malignancy.’

‘Were there signs of any disease of a serious nature?’

The doctor spoke up clearly. ‘I suspected a bacterial infection in addition to menorrhagia, but I could not be sure and intended to arrange for a blood test.’

‘Which, of course, she never had?’

‘No.’

The coroner handed the clerk a copy of the post-mortem report to pass on to Knowles who took it and glanced at the findings. Suffocation by drowning – a high alcohol level – skin lesions and enlarged glands consistent with primary infection by
spirochaeta pallida
, the causative organism. He nodded and handed it back to the clerk.

‘Would you agree with this forensic report, Dr Knowles?’

‘Yes, I would.’

‘Thank you. And did you give any indication to the deceased of your suspicions?’

‘I told her that she might have a serious condition, yes, and that I would arrange for her to see a specialist in women’s diseases.’

‘Nothing more than that?’

‘No.’

The coroner seemed satisfied with these answers and, after considering that there was no conclusive evidence of suicide, he brought in a verdict of accidental death by drowning. Dr Knowles momentarily closed his eyes in thankfulness and Mabel whispered to Albert that she would be able to tell the children truthfully that it had been an accident.

‘I’ll tell them that Mummy slipped on the quayside
near to the Tower an’ fell in the water. No need for them to go through life with the burden o’—’ She broke off, leaving the sentence unfinished, and tightened her hold on her brother’s arm while she struggled with tears and agonised silently about what their mother must have gone through in those last hours.

It seemed to Albert that something had been hushed up. That report had been handed round but not read out, and he had a jolly good mind to call at the court the next day and demand to see it. Then he decided that he’d better not; for one thing it would make no difference now and perhaps he didn’t want to know anyway.

With the burial certificate duly signed, the only thing left now was the funeral, a very quiet graveside ceremony at Wandsworth Cemetery on the Thursday of that same week. Again Mabel was supported by her brother, leaving George and Daisy at home in the care of Alice.

Just as the vicar began to intone ‘I am the Resurrection and the Life’, Mabel saw Harry Drover slipping through the gate and hurrying over to join them in the corner of the burial ground where the plain coffin was about to be lowered. Comforted by his presence, she stole a glance at him as he stood bareheaded in the early May sunshine and felt the warmth of his loving thoughts directed towards her, though they did not get a chance to exchange more than the briefest of greetings. As soon as it was over he returned to the railway depot where the company made him forfeit a day’s pay.

When they reached home, Mabel found a brief note from Dr Knowles to let her know that all four
blood tests had proved negative and that there was no need for further action on that score. Pleased as she was with this assurance, she could not have imagined Henry Knowles’s profound relief on her behalf.

The next day, Friday, Albert returned to the
Warspite
and the parting was painful. ‘I ’ate leavin’ yer wiv this lot, Mabel, gal, not knowin’ where
’e
is, an’ nobody to turn to bar that ol’ crow at Tootin’,’ he said glumly. ‘Take my advice an’ don’t get on the wrong side of ’er, yer never know when yer might need ’elpin’ ’aht and she’s all we got left. I ought to be due for leave again in anuvver free monfs, an’ I’ll send yer what I can—’

‘Albert! As if I’d take money off yer, don’t be daft,’ she said quickly. ‘Don’t forget I’ve got Harry, not that I’d take cash off him either, but yer know what I mean, havin’ him around makes all the difference. I’ve never forgotten it was you who brought him home with yer, Albert.’

‘Yeah, ’e’s a good bloke is ol’ ‘Arry,’ he agreed, touched by the tender smile that lit her tired face. ‘But ’e’ll be off to this bleedin’ college in a couple o’ monfs, an’ then yer won’t see much—’

‘
Albert
, your language! An’ it’s four months yet before he starts at Clapton. Don’t forget I’ll be back at the Rescue next Monday, so that’ll be a bit o’ reg’lar money comin’ in. Oh, an’ won’t I be glad to see ’em all again! I’ve really missed the babies, I can tell yer.’

But another shock awaited poor Mabel. On the Saturday morning a note arrived from Mrs James telling her that her position as nursery maid was no longer available; it had been filled by an older girl. She thanked Miss Court for all the valuable work she
had done at the Agnes Nuttall Institute and wished her success in finding new employment.

‘But this can’t be right – I don’t believe it’s true!’ cried Mabel to Alice, waving the piece of paper in her face. ‘She’s always praised me – said they couldn’t wish for a better nursery maid, an’ even Sister Lilley told me I had the makin’s of a good midwife – she
can’t
treat me like this!’ And putting on her hat, jacket and gloves, she made her way straight up to the Institute.

Mrs James was embarrassed by Mabel’s direct demand for an explanation. She had been thoroughly unnerved by Dr Knowles’s gravity when he’d spoken of the blood test, and having read of the bizarre circumstances of the unfortunate Annie Court’s death in the local paper – which sounded like suicide, whatever the coroner said – even the doctor’s message about a negative result could not persuade her to re-employ Mabel Court. After all, she had the safety of the babies to think about, didn’t she?

Besides, there was something else. ‘I’ve had a letter of complaint from a girl’s father, Miss Court, a Mr Parsley of Benfleet, who says that you encouraged his daughter Ellen to write home and ask her parents to come and visit her and the baby – with a view to letting her take the child home and keep it.’ Mrs James adjusted her pince-nez and looked hard at Mabel, who coloured and bit her lip. ‘And seeing that the Parsleys went to a great deal of trouble and expense to keep Ellen’s condition unknown to their acquaintances, this has caused them much distress. Mr Parsley says his wife hasn’t had a night’s sleep since receiving the letter and I feel that I have no
course but to . . . to replace you, Miss Court. I’m very sorry about your mother, of course—’

‘Please, Mrs James,
please
, let me come back an’ I’ll never tell another girl to write home!’ implored Mabel, devastated by the prospect of losing her job at the Rescue, especially as it now meant more than ever to her as a source of income. ‘I’ve always wanted to nurse children an’ I’ve loved every minute I’ve spent with the babies – please don’t sack me now –
please
!’

It was Mrs James’s turn to look flustered. ‘I’m sorry, Miss Court, I really am, but I’ve filled the position now and haven’t another to offer you. This business over the Parsley girl has caused me a lot of trouble, and—’

‘Beggin’ yer pardon, Matron, it was nothin’ like the sort o’ trouble that was goin’ on here just before I came,’ interrupted Mabel with a flash of spirit. ‘An’ if Mr Parsley looks upon his dear little grandson as somethin’ to be hushed up an’ kept out o’ sight, then it’s
him
who ought to be ashamed of ’imself, the old humbug!’

‘Mabel!’ Mrs James was so taken aback that she used Mabel’s Christian name and could not bring herself to utter a rebuke. The truth was that she found it difficult to meet the girl’s clear grey-blue eyes. ‘Mabel, I’m so sorry, you didn’t deserve this – I’m sorry,’ she repeated lamely. ‘I’ll pay you a month’s wages in lieu of notice.’

And so once again Mabel Court, now the breadwinner for her family, could not afford to be proud. She took the money and left the Agnes Nuttall Institute for ever.

‘What did she say, Mabel?’

Alice was alarmed by her sister’s white face as she swept into the house. Her eyes burned with a bitter sense of injustice and she now turned them on Alice. ‘Just take over for me, will yer, I got to think what to do. No, don’t say anythin’, Alice, just leave me to meself for a bit. Sort the jobs out between yer, an’ get somethin’ on the table for dinner. I shan’t want anythin’.’

In their shared bedroom she threw off her hat, jacket and gloves, sank down on the bed and, for the first time since losing her mother, gave vent to her true feelings, sobbing into the pillow for sorrow and beating it with her bunched fists in helpless rage.

What could she do in the face of this latest blow? Where could she turn for help?

Mimi? No fear,
she
would put George in a Dr Barnardo home.

Harry? Dear, patient, loving Harry who had said he would wait for ever. How could she expect him to keep that promise now that she had full responsibility for the family? George was twelve and Daisy only eight – how many years before they’d be independent of her? And how would she pay the rent, feed and clothe them, keep them
respectable
as their mother had always insisted, with only Alice’s wages coming in until she, Mabel, could find some wretched cleaning job or slave all day in one of the factories on the riverside, when the children needed her to be at home? She had eighteen pounds left of the money Mimi had given her, but when that was gone, what options were open to her?

To work at home would mean making matchboxes or brushes by the hundred, notoriously ill-paid employment and poor women slaved over it round
the clock to make a bare living. She could hand-sew but had not got a sewing machine or the requisite skill to do dressmaking to order, or even alterations. To take in washing would turn every day into Monday, with other people’s sheets and towels forever hanging across their living space and the ironing board always at the ready. ‘Oh, Mum, why did yer – Mum, where are yer?’ she groaned, remembering how Annie had looked when she had spoken of her lost life in Hampshire – and her shame when she had inadvertently let out to Mabel the circumstances of her hasty marriage.

Oh, poor Mum – was there anything Mabel could have done to save her that last dreadful act? Mabel could not believe that it had been an accident, but could never be sure.

‘Mum, I loved yer so!’ she sobbed afresh. She bit on the sheet to stifle her crying, in case the others heard. Poor little Daisy had already suffered enough without having to listen to Mabel giving way to despair.

Then she remembered Harry telling her that he prayed for them all every night and morning; if she was going to be a Salvation Army wife one day, shouldn’t she do the same?

Kneeling down beside the bed, she tried to think of the right words. She began to say the Lord’s Prayer, but stopped halfway through and simply prayed from her heart: ‘O Lord, just give me the faith that Harry’s got and listen to his prayers for us!’

HENRY KNOWLES COULD
hardly conceal his anger and dismay when he called at Sorrel Street and found Mabel out of a job. He cursed himself for frightening Mrs James unnecessarily and felt directly responsible for this latest misfortune.

‘I was well on me way to becomin’ a nurse, Dr Knowles,’ Mabel told him miserably. ‘I’d been hopin’ to go from there to start trainin’ in a year or two, only . . . only—’

‘Only now you’ve got to be mother and father to your brothers and sisters, you poor child,’ he said heavily. ‘All I can say is that you’re young, Mabel, only eighteen, and there’s plenty of time ahead of you to become a nurse, but – oh, dear, I’m so sorry.’

‘And unless Dad turns up again pretty soon, I’ll have to earn some money, Dr Knowles. If I go back to cleaning the Polytechnic’ – she grimaced – ‘I’ll have to leave the house very early and Alice’ll have to do a lot more to help.’

She spoke grimly and the doctor ached with pity for her, unable to think of anything useful to add, though privately he resolved to find some sort of suitable work to tide her over.