A Child's Voice Calling (23 page)

‘Ah, but what else? Not all o’ her patients have babies, Mabel. Can’t you see, don’t you
know
? She gets
rid
o’ babies, too!’

Just for a moment Mabel thought that her mother meant that Mimi arranged for adoptions. But then some words of her grandmother’s came back to her and she remembered overhearing whispered stories between girls at the Rescue, about extreme measures taken by other girls they had known . . .

Mabel gasped as the truth gradually dawned on her. Of course. Mimi put an end to unwanted pregnancies in exchange for money. In a strange way she felt as if she had stumbled on something dark and dangerous that had been there for years, hidden
from her knowledge but waiting to be revealed one day. Today. ‘But that’s murder – it’s against the law and it’s wicked,’ she breathed, leaning against the draining board beside the sink.

‘Of course it is and she could go to prison for a criminal offence – many times over, only she keeps it very dark.
Now
d’you see what I mean, Mabel? She’s a bad woman and I don’t want you to be beholden to her in any way!’

‘How long have yer known, Mum? How did yer . . . find out?’ asked Mabel, her head reeling.

‘It took me a long time, Mabel – I was very innocent, as you are, when I first met her and lived at that house before Jack and I were married and for six months after – until you were born, Mabel. She used to have girls coming to stay, to be delivered quietly or . . . or to have it done away with. And she still does.’

‘Oh, how
awful
, Mum, yer must’ve been so upset. Whatever did yer do when yer realised?’

Annie gave a brief, mirthless laugh. ‘Oh, I was so green then, Mabel, I only gradually came to understand the kind o’ woman she was, a thoroughly bad character. Why, she’d have got rid o’
you
, Mabel, if Jack hadn’t been sure that he wanted to marry me and told her so in no uncertain terms!
Oh
! Oh, my God!’ She suddenly clapped a hand to her mouth and stood staring at Mabel, her eyes dark in a sheet-white face. ‘Oh, my God,’ she repeated.

Mabel slowly took in the import of the words she had just heard and for a moment stood stock-still, returning her mother’s anguished look. ‘Yer mean yer were expectin’ me before – oh, Mum!’ And she burst into tears, overcome by the two shocks, one
after the other: two revelations of human frailty beneath the surface respectability of their lives.

‘Please try to forget you ever heard me say that, Mabel,’ whispered Annie, shrinking back as if from a blow. ‘Please, Mabel.’

As always, Mabel had to disregard her own feelings when faced with the sufferings of another, in this case her own mother, the woman who had borne her and now depended upon her – the mother she loved. She reached out to gather the trembling frame in her arms. ‘Oh, Mum, don’t worry about it – what difference does it make now, anyway? Oh, my poor mum, I’ll never tell a soul, I promise. We’ll never mention it again, ever.’

They stood there in the kitchen, their arms clasped around each other, and Annie’s colour returned. ‘I’ve loved you so much, Mabel – I’ve loved you all,’ she said brokenly. ‘And I loved your father. We were going to be married anyway, before we knew about – I mean there was never any question o’ not going through with it. But the shock killed my poor father and my sisters never wanted to see me again.’

‘Oh, Mum, yer poor dear – so
that
was why – oh, I see now,’ said Mabel, nodding as she held Annie close and rocked her gently.

‘Yes, you see now, don’t you, Mabel.’

Yes, she understood a lot of things now. And then the thought came into her head:
Harry
. What on earth would he say if he knew about Mimi Court? Her own grandmother that she had taken him to see – an abortionist. She shrank from the very thought of the horrible word. He must never know, she decided quickly. In fact, the less said to anybody, the better. ‘Come on, Mum, we’d better tidy ourselves up or they’ll be wonderin’ what’s going on out here.’
Mabel forced a smile as she withdrew her arms. ‘Let’s put the kettle on for another cup o’ tea all round!’

At that moment Jack came into the kitchen, followed by a trail of cigar smoke. ‘Hey, what’re you two up to, women’s secrets? What’s for supper? I’m famished, so are the others!’

He kissed Annie and winked at Mabel, clearly in a genial mood, and the two women busied themselves preparing the evening meal; Mabel did her best to help her mother behave as if nothing untoward had happened, but poor Annie burned with shame, not least because of her prudish attitude towards the women at the Rescue.

As for Jack Court, the truth was that he had received a humiliating rejection from a woman with whom he had been spending time, and at forty-two was feeling distinctly older and tireder. Maybe the time had come to put that sort of thing behind him and take on the role of the respected paterfamilias, to escort his family to St Philip’s every Sunday and be looked upon as an upholder of Christian family values. And without Albert around with his accusing eyes, it was that much easier.

Or so he thought, before his world tragically fell apart and he lost everything.

CHRISTMAS EVE AT
the Rescue brought two happy outcomes within twenty-four hours of each other. Two young mothers who had written letters home received visits from relatives – the parents of one and the grandparents of the other – who tearfully took the babies into their arms and their hearts. Home they all went and Mabel was jubilant at what she had set in motion.

But Mrs James was not so pleased and looked hard at Mabel. ‘It isn’t always a good thing for a girl to keep a child born out of wedlock, Miss Court,’ she said, frowning. ‘There’s been too many of them sending letters home lately and I think somebody may be putting them up to it. It’s not something to be encouraged and the girls may live to regret it later in life. Others have no right to interfere in these matters.’

The meaningful look in her eyes as she said this made Mabel feel awkward and she suddenly remembered that she was needed elsewhere. Nevertheless, she could not regret what she had begun – how could she?

She often thought of her own mother and tried to imagine Annie’s feelings when she’d discovered that she was carrying Jack’s child while she was still Anna-Maria Chalcott – and how the shock of her hasty marriage had killed her father and alienated her sisters. Oh, poor Mum, what shame she must
have endured and what sorrow! Mabel had promised never to mention it again, but she could not dispel the thought that her mother
might
have had to go to somewhere like the Rescue to have her baby; and that baby would have been herself, Mabel, given up to be adopted by some stranger or sent to a children’s home. Or, if Mimi had had her way . . . Mabel shuddered.

And she still thought her mother mistaken in not replying to Nell’s letter. It would be so good for the sisters to be reconciled after all this time and how wonderful to have an aunt, perhaps two; to have
any
relations other than Grandmother Court!

On Christmas Day Mabel was on duty until five o’clock, and much of the morning was taken up with sitting beside a girl having a long and difficult labour. The local doctor on call for the Rescue was Dr Knowles and he was sent for to advise on Mary Cross’s lack of progress after twenty-four hours of relentless painful contractions. Gravely he pronounced that the baby was lying in a transverse position and could not be delivered in the normal way, only by a Caesarean operation, a dangerous procedure that meant the patient had to be put to sleep. It could not be done at the Rescue. ‘We’ll have to send her to the General Lying-In at Lambeth,’ Mabel heard Knowles say. ‘And she’ll need to go in an ambulance. I’m afraid they won’t be very happy having to turn out on Christmas Day. Especially for one of these poor girls,’ he added with a sigh.

Mabel helped to get the girl ready for her journey, putting a wool dressing gown over her nightdress, and socks and shoes on her feet. Mary was now too tired to groan; there was an acidic smell on her
breath and she gasped as Mabel gave her a drop of water, which was all she could keep down.

Dr Knowles offered himself as escort in the ambulance and helped to carry Mary down the stairs, assisted by the cook, a burly woman whose services were called upon for heavy lifting.

Mabel followed them out to the waiting white van with its red cross painted on the side. ‘Goodbye, Mary. God bless yer an’ good luck,’ she whispered. Mary’s eyes were glazed and unfocused, but her hand clung to Mabel’s until the door was shut with a bang and the van moved off.

A local butcher had donated a large turkey for Christmas dinner at the Rescue, and various churches and organisations had sent gifts of money and provisions to show their charity towards the fallen. Mrs James held an informal service of worship, as she did every Sunday in the Agnes Nuttall room, and Mabel was called upon to play the piano because the woman who usually played was away for Christmas. In spite of being out of practice, Mabel found to her surprise and relief that she had not lost the skill imparted by Miss Lawton, and was able to accompany them well enough. ‘Away in a Manger’ and ‘Once in Royal David’s City’ were accomplished with only a few wrong notes in the bass, hardly noticed by the singers who had Mrs James’s rich contralto to lead them.

After dinner had been cleared away there were the two-o’clock feeds to be given and by half past three, when the dull December dusk began to fall, an air of listlessness and anticlimax set in. There seemed nothing left to look forward to and they talked in low
voices about poor Mary Cross, wondering if she was delivered yet.

Mabel’s eyes turned towards the piano again. ‘Come on, girls, what about a sing-song?’

They clustered round her eagerly, and old music books and sheet ballads were pulled out of the piano stool, a varied selection ranging from English folk songs to rousing patriotic ditties like ‘Drake’s Drum’ and ‘The British Grenadier’. Mabel racked her memory for favourite music-hall songs, but half of them were too romantic for the present company of deserted women and the other half too vulgar. So she began with carols, ‘Good King Wenceslas’ and ‘The Holly and the Ivy’, after which Mrs James chose ‘Come into the Garden, Maud’ which she sang as a solo to Mabel’s careful accompaniment. The girls began to make requests and where there was no music Mabel played passably by ear.

An hour passed quickly by and it was time for tea, but eyes had brightened and hearts were lighter for the impromptu entertainment. A few tears were shed over memories the music conjured up for some of the young women, but they all agreed that it had been a happy hour.

‘You’ve given us a lot of pleasure today, Miss Court,’ said Mrs James. ‘Go home now to your family and take tomorrow as a holiday – you’ve earned it!’

Mabel fairly skipped her way down Lavender Hill towards Queenstown and home to Mum and Dad, Alice, George and Daisy . . . and
Albert
, also home on a surprise visit and waiting for her at the door! Another Christmas present and what better?

‘I was just abaht to come to that blinkin’ Rescue an’ kidnap yer,’ he grumbled, but his dark eyes lit up at
the sight of her and she could hardly speak as they embraced.

‘He’s learnin’ to be a drummer, Mabel!’ squeaked Daisy.

‘You in a band? Never! Ye’re tone deaf, ye’re pullin’ our legs!’ Mabel laughed as he lifted her up off her feet and twirled her round like a ballet dancer.

‘Thank Gawd yer got that job up the ’ill,’ he muttered in her ear. She thought he looked older, and he kept them entertained with plenty of amusing and sometimes hair-raising tales about life on HMS
Warspite
. ‘’Ow’s old ‘Arry these days?’ he asked. ‘Still blowin’ ’ell out o’ that trombone an’ trailin’ after Mabel like a faithful ’ound?’

‘Yer’d better watch what yer say, Albert, it was Harry who brought yer back from that awful infirmary, remember?’

‘You an’ ’im bofe, Mabel. Yeah, an’ if ’e bags my favourite sister, well, I s’pose yer could do worse.’ He grinned, dodging the back of Mabel’s hand as it advanced towards his ear.

He had brought presents for them all: brooches for Annie, Mabel and Alice, a penknife for George, crayons for Daisy and even Jack got a tie. He seemed to have plenty of ready cash and was eager to throw it around. ‘Got three days’ leave, so we’ll go up the Grand an’ book a row o’ seats in the name o’ Court – might as well do the big while I’m ’ere, what d’yer say, Mum?’

Annie beamed happily from her elder son to her husband and back again, but her reply was interrupted by a knock at the door.

When Mabel saw Harry Drover on the step her heart leapt and she joyfully invited him to join them.
‘Come in, come in, Harry, Albert’s here,’ she said, all smiles and blushes.

‘Fancy an evenin’ at the Grand tomorrer, ‘Arry?’

‘That’s good o’ yer, Albert, but I’m due to play in the band at the Citadel, y’see—’

‘An’ much as we’d all love to come along an’ listen to yer trombone, ‘Arry ol’ son, we must admit we’d raver go for a little o’ what we fancy at the Grand.’

‘Don’t be so rude, Albert!’ cried Mabel, though she then turned shyly to Harry and put her head on one side in a prettily pleading gesture. ‘Any chance o’ gettin’ out of it, Harry?’

How could he resist her? ‘Well, er, p’raps I might be able to get a replacement.’

‘Hooray!’ shouted George and Daisy in unison, and Albert muttered, ‘I ’ope yer realise what a favour I done yer, ‘Arry, when I brought yer ’ere. ’Ooever gets Mabel’ll be a lucky sod.’

‘Oh, yes, I know I am, Albert,’ replied Harry with such solemnity that even Albert hadn’t the heart to tease him further, but clapped him on the shoulder and elbowed him in the ribs to show his approval. Harry winced, but flushed with pleasure.

Jack got up to open a bottle of wine. ‘Get some glasses, Mabel, and we’ll drink a toast. Welcome home, Albert, and Merry Christmas all!’ He pulled the cork to echoes of ‘Merry Christmas!’ all round. Mabel caught Harry’s eyes upon her and thought it the best Christmas ever.

Boxing Day brought another visitor to the door: two visitors, in fact. ‘’Appy Chris’muss, Mabel! A’ right if we come in for a bit?’