A Child's Voice Calling (7 page)

This had the effect of taking the wind out of Annie’s sails, for she could not deny it: she had needed Mabel’s presence for moral support. ‘Well, you are Jack’s mother, after all,’ she returned. ‘You brought him up to be what he is and so you ought to know – you—’ Annie’s words died on her lips as she began to tremble all over with the suppressed resentment of years. It now rose up within her and overflowed in a torrent of rage and frustration. ‘We hardly ever see him, he spends his whole time going from one racecourse to another, everything he earns ends up in other men’s pockets, he can’t keep it in his own – I can’t put up with it any longer – I’m not going to. I haven’t even paid Miss Lawton for Mabel’s piano lessons this week!’

Walter let out a wail, clinging to his mother’s skirt
as he sensed the tension in her body, the unfamiliar high pitch of her voice.

Mimi’s eyes narrowed and she turned to Mabel. ‘Take that poor child out round the back, Mabel,’ she ordered. ‘I’m not having scenes in front o’ children. Go on, take him out directly. And
you’d
better sit down, Annie, and take a hold on yerself.’

Mabel glanced at her mother’s flushed, angry face, then picked up her little brother who whimpered in protest, and took him out through the kitchen and scullery to the backyard where there was a wooden seat. She sat him down beside her and put her arm round his thin body. ‘Don’t cry, Walter, dear, I’m here – your Mabel’s here,’ she whispered. Then she noticed that Miss Lawton was hanging out some washing on the line and smiling nervously at the children.

Since her elderly mother had died she had remained at 23 Macaulay Road, a woman with no status in the household, largely ignored by Mimi and despised by the maids. ‘Er, hello, Mabel. It’s a lovely day, isn’t it?’ she said.

‘Yes, Miss Lawton. Say hello to Miss Lawton, Walter.’

Walter’s only response was to hide his face against Mabel’s shoulder, and she shrugged apologetically at her piano teacher who bent down to stroke a black-and-white cat sitting on the path. The seat was placed below a wide sash window and through its open top came the sound of upraised voices from the living room beyond the kitchen.

Mimi was berating her daughter-in-law and Mabel listened in growing dismay, knowing that Miss Lawton could also hear. ‘And what did
you
bring from yer fine Hampshire home, eh?’ they heard
Mimi demanding. ‘Not a penny. Them sisters o’ yours grabbed the old man’s money and yer never once went back to fight for yer fair share. Yer let yer husband an’ children lose the lot, just ’cause yer was too proud – huh! Too ashamed to show yer face there again, more like!’ As always, Mimi’s refinement was forgotten as her anger rose. ‘Yet yer got the barefaced cheek to come ’ere expectin’
me
to fork out from me own savings, just ’cause ye’re hopeless at managin’!’

‘Oh, yes, and suppose I
had
brought money with me, what would’ve happened to it?’ cried Annie shrilly. ‘I’ll tell you – he’d have gambled it all away on the damned horses, every last penny of it. Any cash in Jack’s hand is a bet, nothing more. His wife and his children could starve to death for all he cares. Tell me, Mimi Court, what kind of a man was Jack’s father? Was
he
a hopeless gambler, too?’

‘You mind yer tongue when yer speak o’ Jack’s father, Mrs Somethin’-or-nothin’,’ retorted Mimi. ‘’E was a
gentleman
, better ’n any jumped-up country draper, but that’s neither ’ere nor there. Let me ask
you
a question: what’ve
you
done to keep ’im at ’ome an’ away from all this bad influence? All ’e comes ’ome to is an ’ouseful o’ mouths to feed, no idea o’ discipline, an’ yerself lookin’ as if yer was dressed from a Jew’s second-’and clo’es shop!’

‘And why is that?’ screamed Annie hysterically. ‘Who is it gives me the children year after year, and doesn’t pay me to feed and clothe them properly? Oh, it was a black day for me when Jack Court crossed my path!’

‘I’ll tell yer what, Anna-Maria bloody Chalcott, it was even blacker for Jack – the biggest mistake ’e ever made, marryin’ a useless creature like you. Can’t even use a needle and thread to make clo’es for
yer children! Oh, ’ow I wish I’d tried ’arder to make ’im change ’is mind an’ look out for summat better – though Gawd knows I did me best.’

Mabel gave a gasp of shock at hearing these bitter words and when they were followed by the sound of her mother’s pitiful sobbing she could listen no longer. It was not to be borne. She jerked up from her seat. ‘Come on, Walter, I must go an’ help poor Mummy.’

‘Oh, but Mabel—’ began Miss Lawton, white and scared-looking. ‘H-hadn’t you better leave the little boy with me while you go and—’

But Mabel had already picked up her brother and marched indoors, through the kitchen and into the living room. If they were going to leave, she did not want to have to come back for Walter and besides, he would be frightened if she was out of his sight. She found her mother sitting and weeping inconsolably. Mimi had turned contemptuously away from her, but as Mabel entered she raised her head and seemed about to speak; Mabel brushed past her and went straight to Annie. ‘Come on, Mother, let’s get out o’ here and go home,’ she said, ignoring Mimi. ‘We won’t get anything out o’
her
, she’s as hard as nails. Come on.’

Annie’s face was streaming with tears and her best hat was askew as Mabel gently pulled her to her feet and smoothed down her skirt and jacket. She put Walter into his little wheelchair where he sat grizzling dolefully. ‘Let’s go, Mother,’ said Mabel again, taking Annie’s arm. ‘Sooner we’re out o’ here the better.’

‘Just a minute, young miss, I want a word with yer,’ interposed Mimi, seizing Mabel’s other arm. ‘’Oo gave
you
leave to—?’ But she stopped in
mid-sentence when Mabel angrily shook off her hand and spun round to look straight into her eyes. The burning fury in the level blue-grey gaze was more accusing than any words and Mimi recoiled from it, biting her lip and clearly disconcerted. She cleared her throat and spoke in an almost conciliatory manner. ‘’Ere, I can let yer have ten shillin’s to see yer through till Jack turns up again,’ she muttered, taking the lid off a ginger jar on the mantelpiece and extracting two banknotes. ‘’E’ll be ’ome again on Friday, I shouldn’t wonder. An’ yer can take another ten for Walter, what with ’im bein’ sickly an’ all. An’ I’ll settle with the, er, Lawton woman for the piano lessons, rather ’n let ’er think yer can’t pay.’

The suddenness of this concession took both mother and daughter completely by surprise and much as they would have liked to throw Mimi’s two ten-shilling notes back in her face, they knew they could not afford the luxury of refusing money. Annie kept her eyes lowered as she pocketed the notes and Mabel said ‘Thank you’ with cold dignity on behalf of them both. Mimi saw them to the door without uttering another word.

It was a victory of sorts, because they had got what they went for, albeit at the high price of Annie’s humiliation, for which Mabel thought she would never forgive her grandmother. And yet she had shown that she was not afraid of the formidable woman, in spite of being beholden to her for money; nor would she ever be bullied into submission by anybody in the future. On reflection Mabel realised that she had grown up in some way today and it was a good feeling, though her heart ached for her mother.

On the silent bus journey home, Mabel took Walter
on her knee and pondered on some of the things she had heard said, certain mysterious references that had been made. What had her grandmother meant by the ‘fine Hampshire home’ and the ‘sisters who had grabbed the old man’s money’? What old man? And why had her mother not denied any of it? Mum never spoke about her own family and had only said that both her parents were dead; she had not mentioned any sisters, or a fine home or money. Yet Mabel had noticed certain things about her mother that did not seem to belong to Sorrel Street. She spoke differently from her neighbours, in a better kind of accent, like Dr Knowles or the vicar at St Philip’s church. Mum was more like a
lady
than Mrs Bull or Mrs Finch, and certainly Maudie Ling had been impressed, declaring Mabel’s mum to be ‘ever so posh’.

Mabel glanced towards her mother sitting on the bus with her hat pulled forward to conceal her red, swollen eyes. Now was not a good time to ask, but Mabel longed to know more about the – what was it, the Chalcott family? – because any sisters of Mum’s would be her aunts, and Mabel longed to have an auntie, as so many of her school friends had.

There was little opportunity for finding out more about her mother’s history in the weeks that followed. Dr Knowles’s predictions proved to be only too true, and as soon as summer gave way to September’s chillier days and early frosts, Walter developed a cough that racked his small frame and left him wheezing and blue round the mouth. Mabel’s time was taken up in looking after him and the others as Annie’s pregnancy advanced, and only she could get him to take Dr Knowles’s medicine
from a teaspoon, bribing him with promises of sugary drinks, rubbing embrocation on his chest and back, and wrapping him in flannel for the winter. His constant coughing and whining got on Jack’s nerves, and Mabel had to comfort her mother when her son’s illness and husband’s ill temper reduced her to tears.

Mimi Court began to visit Sorrel Street more often than formerly, bringing extra food and comforts, though she had few encouraging smiles for her grandchildren. She stood over Walter and shook her head gloomily – and rolled her eyes upwards at the prospect of yet another child. This time she had said nothing to her daughter-in-law: it was Jack who had been taken aside and scolded so severely that he’d quailed before her, and for a time appeared to turn over a new leaf, which is to say that he spent more time buying food for the family and handing over the greater part of his earnings into Annie’s keeping.

But Walter’s condition steadily declined and he lay passively in his mother’s or Mabel’s arms, his hollow eyes pleading as if for help that none of them could give. It was heart-rending, and Dr Knowles worried about Mabel as the inevitable end approached. She had not been to school for a month and her piano lessons had lapsed. Her fair hair hung in rat’s tails and the dark smudges under her eyes told of disturbed nights; she wore a perpetual anxious frown and even snapped at Albert when he tried to tease a smile from her. He shrugged and slammed out of the house, returning later with a Cadbury’s chocolate bar for her, which so touched her that she did not ask where he’d got it.

The doctor eventually took Jack Court aside and spoke seriously to him. ‘The boy’s dying, Court, and it can only be a matter of days. If it’s any consolation
to you, I don’t think he’d have grown up to be a normal child.’

‘What d’yer mean – that he’d’ve been an idiot?’ asked Jack gloomily.

‘Well, let’s say a bit on the slow side. My impression is that his brain’s damaged, possibly at birth, or there may have been a fault in development. Be grateful for what you have, Court, the rest of your children are healthy and sound – and you have a real treasure in Mabel.’

‘Yeah, we don’t want
her
to go down with anythin’,’ said Jack wearily. ‘She’s the only one of ’em with any bloody sense.’

Knowles turned away from him in despair and tried to have a word with the grandmother; but when he met her on one of her visits to Sorrel Street he distrusted her on sight. She nodded graciously to him, raising her eyes heavenward to indicate both Walter’s destination and the unsatisfactory household at number 12. She wiped her eyes on a lace-edged handkerchief, but the doctor suspected that she felt no real grief for her grandson. Something about her repelled him, though he could not say exactly what.

The end came a few days later, on a raw November day. Mabel and her mother had had a terrible night with the little invalid who had alternately burned with fever and shivered with cold. His face took on a pinched appearance like a shrunken, wizened old man, and Annie had held him against her breasts until she had fallen into an exhausted sleep and Mabel had taken him from her.

Now it was afternoon and Mabel sat by the living-room fire nursing Walter on her lap, wrapped in a blanket and mercifully asleep at last. Annie was in
her bed, completely worn out, and George was quietly playing on the hearthrug with a bundle of kindling sticks that did duty as soldiers. As the room darkened in the winter dusk, Mabel’s head began to droop.

She was roused by the banging of the front door and the clatter of Albert’s and Alice’s boots in the hallway. They had returned from school and Mabel was at once alert.

‘Hey, Mabel, d’yer know what?’ shouted Albert. ‘Yer friend Maudie’s been caught thievin’, an’ the coppers’ve taken ’er away!’

‘Oh,
no
, poor Maudie!’ cried Mabel in dismay. She had not seen her friend for some time. ‘Was it from a market stall?’ she asked, remembering how Maudie used to crawl under the street traders’ displays to pick up fruit and whatever scraps might have fallen.

‘Nah! She was ’elpin’ ’erself from the kitchens o’ toffs’ ’ouses up Belgravy way – y’know, them posh places!’

Mabel clasped Walter more tightly as she asked, ‘And what about her poor little brother Teddy?’

‘Dunno. She was after summat to feed ’im on, I s’pose.’

Tears filled Mabel’s eyes at the thought of her friend’s desperate plight. What would happen to Maudie and her brother now?

‘What’s the matter with Walter, Mabel?’ asked Alice suddenly. ‘His mouth’s open an’ his eyes are all funny – oh, Mabel,
look
! Is he . . . is he dead?’ Her voice rose to a scream of fear. ‘He’s dead, he’s
dead
!’

‘Sh, Alice,
sh
, be quiet, ye’ll wake Mummy. He’s . . . he’s just asleep, that’s all.’

But her fingers trembled and she felt sick at heart as she carefully pulled back the blanket from the
little grey face. The body was still warm against hers but limp and lifeless. It was true. His heartbeat and breathing had stopped. Walter Court lay dead in his sister’s arms, five weeks before his second birthday.

Alice and Georgie began to wail in unison, while Albert stared open-mouthed at Mabel’s stricken face. She stifled the cry that rose to her own throat, knowing that she had to be brave for the rest of them and especially for her mother. ‘Albert! Run next door and fetch Mrs Bull – tell her to hurry up and get here before poor Mummy comes downstairs – oh, quick, be quick! And Alice, you go for Dr Knowles!’