A Child's Voice Calling (14 page)

SITTING ON THE
side of the bed she shared with Alice, Mabel carefully pinned up her newly washed hair, squinting into a small, spotted mirror propped up on the top of the chest of drawers. When all her hair was up she placed the wide, navy-blue hat on her head and surveyed the effect. Ada Clay had given it to her almost new, saying that dark colours didn’t suit her complexion, and Mabel had sewn a few pink silk roses to the crown; she now wished they were white, to match the high-necked, pin-tucked blouse she wore with a navy skirt.

‘Ooh, yer don’t ’alf look nice, Mabel,’ remarked Daisy admiringly, kneeling on her own small bed and watching as her sister dressed to go out.

Mabel removed the hat and tugged at her pinned-up hair so that it puffed out more around her head; a few loose tendrils curled prettily at the nape of her neck. On went the hat again. ‘That’s better,’ she said and proceeded to secure it with a long pin through the back. Daisy was right, she
did
look nice! And of course Harry would think so, too, he always did.

‘I wish
I
was going up to London,’ sighed Daisy, turning round and clasping her knees.

‘I’ll take yer one day soon, dear,’ promised Mabel. ‘Only today Harry and I are meeting my friend Maudie and her young man, and Ada Clay and Arthur Hodges – he’s
her
young man.’

‘An’ Harry’s
your
young man!’ Daisy smiled,
bringing a blushing acknowledgement to Mabel’s cheek.

For it was true. At this very moment Harry would be getting himself ready to go out, just as she was, at his home in Falcon Terrace. How wonderful it would be to walk out and meet her friends with Harry at her side, taking in the sights of London on a fine spring day! This was a treat planned by Maud and Ada for her seventeenth birthday two days ago; a date marked not only by her family and friends but touchingly at the Babies Mission, where Miss Carter had produced an iced cake and made a little speech.

‘You’ve been a constantly reliable assistant ever since we began our work here, Mabel, nearly three years ago,’ she said. ‘I don’t know how I’d have managed without you. And what’s most important of all, the children love you because they know that you really care about them. One day I’m sure you’ll be a first-rate children’s nurse, so don’t let anything stand in your way!’

Mabel had glowed with pride and resolved that she would live up to Matron’s expectations of her. Afterwards Ada had told her of the treat planned for Saturday – today, the first of April. They were to meet Maudie Ling in Piccadilly Circus at two o’clock and all three girls would bring their sweethearts; in Mabel’s case that meant a shy invitation to Harry Drover, which he had immediately accepted.

And there would be no need to worry about her mother. The shameful fiasco of Christmas had proved to be a turning point for Annie, who vowed that nothing like it would ever happen again. The treacherous consolation of the screw-topped jar was completely given up, and although an occasional tension showed in her eyes and the set of her jaw, she
had kept faithfully to her resolve, and Mabel breathed freely again. Jack Court, too, seemed to have learned a lesson, and when he was at home played the indulgent husband and father with an easygoing bonhomie that relaxed the atmosphere. Albert continued to glower when his father was around, but the rest of them were willing to pretend that the disaster had never happened.

Mabel had no idea that Harry Drover had heard her frantically telling Alice to send him away from Sorrel Street on Christmas Day, for his manner towards her remained the same, perhaps a little more protective than before, and never asking questions about her parents, to whom he was always friendly and polite for her sake.

‘Cor, Mabel, there’s a proper toff come to call!’ roared Albert from below. ‘Better not keep ’im waitin’!’

Mabel rose and hurried downstairs to find Harry dressed in his fairly new brown serge suit and chuckling at Albert’s banter. He would always be indebted to the young rapscallion for the sake of his sister, though he worried about the boy’s involvement with the militants among the railway workers. Mabel and her mother hoped that Harry would have a restraining effect on their young hothead.

So there was a sparkle in Mabel’s grey-blue eyes and a spring in her step when she and her young man set out for the West End. Plans were going ahead for the coronation of the new King George V in June, and London wore an air of expectancy as the couple walked down Shaftesbury Avenue to meet the others by the statue of Eros in Piccadilly Circus. Leaning upon Harry’s strong arm, Mabel could gaze up at the huge new Bovril and Schweppes signs
without being jostled by the Saturday crowds, and when they crossed from one pavement to another he guided her through the thronging traffic that seemed to be going in all directions. Open-topped horse-buses were giving way to their motor-driven counterparts and the hansom cab to the taxicab, though there was a new competitor, the electric tram with lines running out into the suburbs.

Mabel revelled in his attentiveness, his constant care for her, she who was so used to caring for others; and as for Harry, he thought every man must envy him the lovely girl whose arm rested lightly in the crook of his elbow.

‘Over ’ere, Mabel!’ called a familiar voice and there was Maudie, waving from the steps where the fountain played below the winged archer. At the same time Ada and her companion emerged from the Underground station, having come up the escalator from the Piccadilly Tube.

The girls greeted each other with hugs and kisses, and Charlie planted an uninvited kiss on Mabel’s cheek, which made her blush and caused Harry to give him a very stern look. He did not offer his hand to Charlie, nor did he smile at Arthur who sported a smart suit and a bowler hat as befitted a junior cashier at one of Sir Thomas Lipton’s chain of high-class grocery stores.

Mabel remarked on Maudie’s eye-catching outfit, a velvet jacket in cherry red over a well-cut skirt in fashionable tartan, with a jaunty green feathered hat.

‘Yer like me new get-up, then, Mabel?’ Maud grinned, twirling round on the pavement to show a froth of lace petticoat and laughing at Mabel’s round eyes. As they walked down Piccadilly, Maud pulled her friend close to her and began a whispered
conversation. Harry stayed close to Mabel and Ada followed between the other two young men, chattering gaily.

‘Yeah, well, me an’ ’Er Ladyship’s like
this,
see?’ And Maudie linked the first and second fingers of each hand together in a symbolic grip. ‘She’s made me ’er own personal maid, which don’t go dahn too well wiv come o’ the toffee-noses above stairs, I can tell yer!’ She chuckled. ‘Knows I can be trusted to keep me mouf shut, see? Cor, she’s a reg’lar little goer, is our Lady Stanley!’

‘What about her husband?’ asked Mabel, not quite sure what her friend meant and hoping that Harry could not overhear.

‘What, that bald ol’ coot? Aw, ’e’s past ’is prime, ’e is, old enough to be ’er farver. Leaves ’er alone to go to ’is borin’ ol’ club, so wot’s ’e expect ’er to do? Oho! Me lady ’as visitors of ’er own – ’specially one ’oo’s right up ’er street, know wot I mean?’ She giggled and tapped the side of her nose. ‘She knows she can tip me the wink, an’ I’ll turn a blind eye, see?
And
I gets double money, straight from ’er ’and into mine. Ooh, yes, there’s more new clo’es where these came from, Mabel!’

Mabel hardly knew what to say. Of course she was glad that Maudie enjoyed her life as a favoured maid to a generous mistress, but it sounded risky and Mabel hoped that her friend knew what she was doing. This Lady Stanley sounded no better than she should be.

‘Now, wot’re we goin’ to do?’ demanded Maud. ‘Show oursel’s orf in the park? ‘Ave a look in Madame Tussaud’s? Go to the zoo an’ gawp at the lions? C’mon, Mabel, it’s yer birfday treat, so wot’s it to be, eh?’

Maudie was happily set to spend the extra bounty bestowed by Her Ladyship and Mabel looked to Harry, thinking that he would prefer a leisurely walk in Hyde Park beside the Serpentine, rather than Maudie’s list of attractions.

While she hesitated Ada spoke up. ‘Shall we go an’ see one o’ these – what do they call them, Arthur? Cine-ma-to-graphy, where yer can sit an’ watch these moving photographs, like at the Electric Picture Palace out at Clapham.’

The idea met with general approval and Harry seemed as interested as Mabel to try the new entertainment. Sitting along a row of seats in a stuffy darkness pungent with the smell of oranges, the six young people gazed at a flickering rectangle of light that magically appeared on the wall before them. It was like a huge black-and-white photograph that moved as in real life: the London streets were reproduced on it, with traffic and pedestrians moving jerkily along. Trains sped silently forward on their tracks and then the scene suddenly changed to a racecourse where horses galloped towards the winning post while excited crowds cheered noiselessly and threw their hats up in the air. A piano played by a young lady tinkled or rumbled, according to what was being shown, and the main feature of the hour-long show was a touchingly sentimental story about a brave dog who finds and saves a lost baby, to the joy of the frantic parents.
Rescued by Rover
brought tears to the eyes of the girls.

‘Wasn’t it marvellous?’ Ada sniffed as they emerged from the darkness into the light of day, to be taken to a tea shop for refreshment and to discuss the wonders of cinema photography.

‘What did
you
think of it, Harry?’ asked Arthur with a sideways glance at Charlie.

Harry cleared his throat. ‘It got me wond’rin’ how many thousands o’ separate photographs they must’ve taken,’ he said seriously. ‘An’ if ye’re goin’ to go to that sort o’ trouble, yer might as well film somethin’ worthwhile, I mean, like, er—’ His voice trailed off as he searched for the right words.

‘Like
what
, Harry?’ asked Arthur as they waited for him to explain, the two young fellows grinning broadly while Mabel shared her young man’s embarrassment.

‘Well, like on the railways an’ down in the coal mines where men work for starvation wages in fear o’ bein’ laid off,’ Harry managed to reply, reddening with self-consciousness but looking Arthur straight in the eye. ‘They could take pictures o’ the way their families ’ave to live, an’ show ’em to Members o’ Parliament an’ that. A lot o’ them got no idea ’ow the other ’alf lives.’

Mabel put down her teacup and concentrated on every stumbling word forced out of Harry by his convictions. Lacking Albert’s forcefulness and restrained by a humility ingrained by a strict Salvationist upbringing, he found himself at a disadvantage in the present company and on the face of it cut a poor figure beside the other two. A fierce protectiveness surged within Mabel and she now spoke up in words learned from Albert. ‘That’s it, Harry, ye’ve just about hit the nail on the head!’ she cried. ‘It was downright wicked to set the troops on them poor Welsh miners last year, an’ somebody should’ve used the cinemato – camera, whatever it’s called, to show everybody what was goin’ on.’ She paused.

Harry gave her a look of heartfelt gratitude and
Maudie picked up the teapot. ‘That’s right, Mabel, ye’ll be givin’ out like one o’ them suffragettes before yer done. Now, wot abaht annuver cup all round?’

Charlie and Arthur noted the warning glint in her eye, but Ada was not so overawed. ‘Aw, come off it, we’re out to have a bit o’ fun, not listen to speeches!’ she protested. ‘We get all that sort o’ thing in the newspapers, we don’t want it on moving pictures as well. Come on, let’s go – nothin’ like a London street for seein’ somethin’ goin’ on all the time!’

‘Depends what part o’ London ye’re in,’ muttered Harry under his breath, but nobody heard him except Mabel who silently squeezed his hand.

Outside on the pavement again, she took his arm and gave him her undivided attention. It was easy for the others to smirk and dismiss him as a killjoy: in her eyes he was worth ten Charlies and twenty Arthurs.

Warmed by her support he felt able to speak more freely to her, hardly aware of the two couples sauntering along behind them. ‘Yer see, Mabel, the streets o’ London may seem to be full o’ the sort o’ vain attractions yer friend Ada talks about, but in the Salvation Army we see the dangers – the temptations below the surface,’ he said earnestly. ‘See them two poor women over there, look, on the other side o’ the road, all dressed up in their finery an’ lookin’ for men who’ll pay ’em—’ He hesitated and glanced at Mabel’s eager face before going on, ‘Pay ’em for the use o’ their bodies, if ye’ll excuse me sayin’ so, Mabel. London’s full o’ them, once fine girls who took a false step an’ landed where those two are now, on a path to ruin, poor lost souls.’

Mabel gasped in genuine horror. ‘Are yer
sure
, Harry? In broad daylight? I know there are women
who walk the streets at night, but not on a Saturday afternoon, surely?’

She looked towards the two women standing on the opposite pavement. One was older and tougher than the other, used to her way of life, with hard eyes and unhealthy skin beneath her painted face. Her companion looked more vulnerable and licked her lips nervously as she put on a smile for a man who passed them by without a second glance.

‘Some o’ these girls’ve had babies out o’ wedlock, an’ lost their jobs – an’ this is the only way they can earn enough to support ’emselves an’ the child,’ Harry continued grimly. ‘The child often gets put out to a babyminder who ’as to be paid, an’ a lot o’ them die from neglect. The Army tries to rescue as many street women as’ll come to the way o’ salvation, but most o’ them are set on a path o’ sin an” – he lowered his voice to add – ’an’ some o’ them get horrible diseases that can’t be cured, an’ that kills ’em in the end. My sister Ruby’s seen some awful cases at the Salvation Army’s women’s refuge in Pentonville.’

Mabel was shocked and saddened. ‘Oh, Harry, how dreadful – and the poor little babies!’ As always, her tender heart went out to the suffering of innocent children.

Harry at once regretted his frankness of speech. ‘Oh, Mabel, I’m sorry – sometimes I let me tongue run away with me, I know.’