A Child's Voice Calling (35 page)

‘And what about Mr Drover?’ she asked at length. ‘What’s
he
say about all this?’

Mabel turned her face away. ‘I’m not seein’ Mr Drover any more, Grandmother,’ she replied in a deliberately hard voice. ‘I can’t ever join the Salvation Army now and it means so much to him – it’s his life. We’ve got to forget each other.’

‘Hm. So that’s the way of it, I thought as much.
Well, Mabel, I reckon ye’ve made the right decision. I never saw a future for yer there. Now listen to me. My offer still stands. Yer can help out with local confinements and learn midwifery from me. Not a bad class o’ woman in Tooting. I don’t take on the low sort, they book with that old gossip Taylor in Fishponds Road. But for the next couple o’ weeks yer can rest and feed yerself up. Yer won’t be sorry yer came here.’

‘Thank yer, Grandmother.’ Mabel tried to sound appreciative, but she was drained of energy and enthusiasm, and felt that her dreams had all collapsed around her. Her sisters were being well cared for at Belhampton and Albert seemed happy enough in the merchant service, but she was haunted by the thought of George somewhere out on the Atlantic and the words of Harry’s impassioned letter were written on her brain:

Dearest Mabel,

Whatever your feelings to me may be changed yet you must know that your in my thoughts every day. I pray that you be happy again and in the Lord’s care.

I believe that your suffering is because of the grate shock of your parents deaths and then to say goodby to poor George going so far away. I trust it was the right thing to do but it seems so hard when he has a kind Aunt to go to in the country and him so young only twelve.

Mabel I will not trouble you in your grief but I beg you to send me word of how you are. You must know that I will wait for as long as my love for you which is for the rest of my life until you feel better and able to see me again. I prommise
not to follow you or trouble you but I pray for your Salvation and the Peace which passeth all understanding.

In September I shall start my training to be an officer in the Army. It is at Clapton, but you can write to meet at 8 Falcon Terrace at any time.

From your Friend as always,

Harry W. Drover

Mabel had intended to throw the letter on the range fire, but could not bear to part with such a declaration of love. She thought of putting it in her mother’s Bible, but in the end she hid it under the clothes in the bottom drawer of the little chest in her room at number 23. In time she trusted that he would forget her and find another girl to share his life . . .

But would she ever forget him? ‘Oh, Harry, Harry, I’m doing this for your good,’ she whispered into her pillow when she could not sleep and saw his pitying face in her mind’s eye.

More letters followed as the July days passed. ‘My dear Mabel,’ wrote Aunt Nell.

Mabel laid the letter aside, longing to hold her poor little sister in her arms. As it was, she could only write to her, sending loving messages in which she hoped that Daisy would be a good girl even though she felt sad. She told her sisters about Davy, ’a very strong and handsome boy’ who had promised to take care of George on the voyage. What more could she say? Only to hope and pray that Davy would honour the trust she had thrust upon him.

Then came a very surprising letter from her friend Ada. ‘Dear Mabel,’ she wrote.

Oh, poor Ada! Mabel had completely forgotten about her wedding, but this postponement meant that she could attend it after all, if Mimi had no objection. But oh, the endlessly repeated expressions of surprise and disapproval over George’s emigration, every one of which Mabel took as a personal reproach to herself. Her aunts, her friend Ada, even Harry – and poor little Daisy. Only her grandmother had not offered a comment, and Mabel had the uneasy feeling that Mimi suspected some kind of cover-up and was glad to have George out of the way. At least she did not add to the chorus of shocked dismay.

And neither did somebody else. ‘Oh, er, excuse me, Mabel, if you’re feeling well enough, there’s a young lady to see you,’ announced Miss Lawton one afternoon when Mimi was away on one of her private visits to a special client.

Mabel jumped up from the sofa. Who could this be? When she saw the smiling, saucy face at the door she literally wept with emotion, holding out her arms.

‘’Ere, that ain’t no way to greet an ol’ pal – hey, Mabel, what’s all this abaht, eh?’

‘Oh, Maudie, I never was so glad to see anybody in me life!’ And Mabel frankly gave way to sobs while Miss Lawton fussed around them.

‘W-would you like to sit in the garden where the maids can’t, er, hear you, and I’ll make some tea for you both,’ she offered.

‘Fanks, Miss, er, that sahnds like a good idea. ’Ere, come on, Mabel, wipe yer eyes an’ tell me all abaht it. Ada Clay tol’ me yer was ’ere, an’ ’ow ye’d lorst bofe yer muvver an’ farver. Gawd, I’m sorry, Mabel.’

On the wooden garden bench Mabel clung to her old friend and it was some time before she could bring herself to speak of her mother.

Maudie groaned. ‘Christ, Mabel, yer poor muvver. Fought she ’ad a growf, did she? So many poor souls get pulled aht o’—’ She checked herself from saying
the river
and simply shook her head, truly shocked at what she had heard.

Mabel then told her of Jack’s death, the accepted version from the inquest, and how the aunts from Hampshire had turned up and taken Alice and Daisy, and of Albert’s return to the merchant service after the funeral.

‘Well, did yer ever? An what abaht young George? Nice little chap, couple o’ years older ’n Teddy, ain’t ’e? ‘As ’e gorn wiv ’is sisters?’

Somehow it was harder to tell Maudie about George than it was about the deaths of her parents. Mabel prepared herself to hear the expected wail at the way he had been packed off to Canada with a shipload of Barnardo boys, straight after his father’s funeral. ‘He had to get away, y’see, Maudie, out o’ that house after what he’d seen. I didn’t want him to
go, but I knew it was best for him – and there was this older boy who said he’d look after him. Oh, Maudie, I didn’t send him away, though everybody thinks I shouldn’t’ve let him go.’

Mabel wept afresh, and Maudie held her close as they sat in the sunshine. ‘Don’t mind what ovver people say, Mabel. Yer know fings abaht yer own bruvver that they don’t. Same wiv me an’ Teddy, after all what we’ve been frough. Only we don’t look back, an’ neiver must
you,
darlin’.’

She kissed her friend’s cheek, and Mabel was overcome with sheer gratitude for her understanding. They sat in silence for several minutes while Maud considered what she had been told. She knew plenty about domestic violence and last straws, and she suspected that Mabel had not told her all. Poor Georgie, she thought, shouldn’t wonder if he’d been sent off to get him out of the way and shut him up, poor little bugger. Mabel had been lucky with that old doctor, anyway, and Maud wondered which one of them had chucked the bastard downstairs. ‘So what’re yer doin’ ’ere, then?’ she asked, thinking a change of subject was called for. ‘Never thought yer liked yer grandmuvver.’

‘I didn’t think I’d fit in at Belhampton, somehow, Maudie, and she’s goin’ to teach me to be a midwife while I’m waitin’ to get into a Poor Law infirmary to train as a nurse – if they’ll have me,’ replied Mabel dully. ‘There are plenty o’ worse places than this.’

‘That’s what I fought – looks all right to me.’ Maud looked round appraisingly. ‘Where’s Mrs Court now – out on a baby case, is she?’

‘Er, yes, in a manner o’ speakin’.’ Mabel hesitated because Mimi was visiting a wealthy woman who required another service than midwifery. ‘Oh, I’m
that glad to see yer, Maudie! It’s time yer told me somethin’ about yerself now.’

For the rest of the visit they talked of Maud’s life at Bryanston Square and Ada’s postponed wedding to which they had both been invited. Maud longed to ask about Harry Drover, but sensed that the subject would be distressing to Mabel, and there had been sufficient tears for one afternoon. There would be time enough to talk at the wedding, which was something to look forward to, like a treat in store.

‘Well, what d’ye think of it, Mabel?’

Mabel stared in wide-eyed wonder at the most expensive present she had ever been given: a brand-new bicycle from Jewell’s cycle shop in Tooting High Street. ‘Oh, Grandmother – I’ve always wanted to ride one.’ She could not believe that this smart black-and-white machine was truly hers alone.

‘Yes, well, ye’d better learn to ride it, then. I can’t take yer to every case in a cab.’

Mimi spoke briskly, but was obviously pleased by Mabel’s reaction; and within the next two days the bicycle was being successfully ridden by its first owner who pedalled vigorously up and down the asphalt surface of Macaulay Road and out into Church Lane, still an unmade-up dirt road where she promptly caught the front wheel in a rut, wobbled out of control and lost her balance: over went the cycle and down went Mabel with it.

Mimi tut-tutted when she saw the grazed knee and torn stocking. ‘That’ll teach yer to look where ye’re going,’ she observed, though Mabel was far more concerned about the machine. It was well supplied with accessories, including a wicker basket attached to the handlebars in front, and a toolbox behind the
saddle. It also had a metal bracket at the back to which a small wooden box could be attached for carrying equipment.

For this bicycle was for work rather than pleasure, though Mabel loved the sense of freedom it gave her as she pedalled around the neighbourhood, pushing the machine up steep inclines and freewheeling down the other side. It was for visiting the homes of local women to attend them in labour under her grandmother’s supervision. Mimi would go on the first visit when called out, travelling in the cab of a local driver she used, while Mabel followed on her bicycle. When the necessary preparations had been made and if labour was at an early stage, Mimi would return home, leaving Mabel with the woman. Hours of sitting with girls at the Rescue had given her good insight into the process and, when she judged the delivery to be near, she sent the husband or a neighbour to fetch Mrs Court whom she would then assist. Mimi’s reasoning was that if labour was quick the delivery would be easy enough for Mabel to cope with on her own, and if it was longer and more difficult, there was time enough to send for herself and possibly a doctor if need be. Mimi was on familiar terms with the local general practitioners, private and panel, and whatever they thought of her, it did not take long for them all to appreciate Mabel; the women also liked her and trusted themselves to her care, even though she was not on the midwives’ register.

‘A couple o’ years with me and ye’ll go in front o’ the board for registration, twice as good as them hospital know-alls,’ said Mimi, well pleased with her assistant, though Mrs Taylor, another local midwife and deadly rival of Mrs Court, was loud in her
condemnation of such use of a young unregistered girl.

‘There’ll be big trouble one o’ these days,’ she predicted grimly. ‘Just you wait an’ see!’

By the end of July Mabel was reasonably settled into the day-to-day life at 23 Macaulay Road with Mimi and Miss Lawton. There was also Elsie, now nearly forty and taciturn as ever, who occupied a special position in the household as Mimi’s assistant with her
other work
, as Mabel mentally referred to it. When certain female clients arrived at the house, Elsie made up the bed in the small back room, usually only for a day, though they occasionally stayed overnight. Only Elsie waited upon them, taking up drinks and refreshments on a tray, and staying closeted with them after Mimi had carried out the treatment they had come to receive. Once Mabel met Elsie on the stairs carrying an enamel can with a red rubber tube attached to it which had a bulb on the end, like the ‘soap syringe’ used for giving enemas to women in early labour to empty the bowel. Elsie whipped the apparatus out of sight, but Mimi was heard berating her behind closed doors: ‘Why the ’ell don’t yer put a cloth over it, yer fool?’

Mabel glanced questioningly at Miss Lawton as they sat in the living room. As always, the lady was unwilling to comment, but Mabel felt sure that she must know what was going on.