A Child's Voice Calling

by Maggie Bennett

  ‘Well, I’ll tell yer, Mabel – and Mr Drover too if ’e doesn’t know already. ’Alf the fathers o’ the bastards delivered at that Rescue o’ yours are the ’usbands an’ sons o’ the families the poor girls work for, though there’s precious few admit as much.’ Mimi’s voice fairly shook with rage. ‘When it’s one o’ the menservants ’oo’s done the deed, a groom or a footman or some such, they don’t get orf so easy – they may ’ave to marry the girl if they want to keep their place. But when it’s young master, or old master, oh, dear me, no, the girl gets thrown out on ’er ear, an’ if she’s lucky she lands on the doorstep o’ the Rescue, poor little fool.’ She turned from the window and paced up and down the room, almost spitting out her words. ‘It’s the woman ’oo ’as to pay for the carelessness o’ the man, Mabel, every bloody time!’

  Harry rose to his feet. ‘Ye’re not well, Mrs Court, an’ yer need to rest. I’ll take Mabel home—’

  This seemed to bring Mimi back to a recollection of her duty as gracious hostess. She shook her head, frowned and waved a bejewelled hand to indicate that there was no need for them to leave. She took a couple of breaths to compose herself and rang the bell for the maid. Harry resumed his seat, looking anxiously at Mabel who sat with downcast eyes; she had never before seen her domineering grandmother in such a state of turmoil.

  The maid appeared and Mimi demanded more hot water. When the girl had bobbed a curtsey and gone, she looked hard at Mabel. ‘Listen to me, my girl. I’d like to see yer make a good life for yerself. Ye’ve got Jack’s brains but more common sense. Albert’s a hothead and’ll end up gettin’ ’imself hanged, and I doubt George has got much upstairs, he’s ’is mother’s son. Alice is a pretty little thing who’ll find ’erself an ’usband ’oo can keep her decently, an’ Daisy’s only a child as yet. But you’re worth a helpin’ hand, Mabel. My offer to take yer on as my assistant at a pound a week and all found still stands, so if yer want to save some money while ye’re waitin’ to start yer trainin’ at nineteen or twenty, I’ll make a midwife o’ yer. But if ye’d rather stay at the Rescue for the pittance they pay, that’s up to you. What d’ye say?’

  She looked hard at Mabel and Drover was conscious of a feeling of revulsion towards this woman. Every instinct warned him that his Mabel would be making a great mistake by putting herself under obligation to her. Mabel looked at him for guidance and he frowned. ‘It’d have to be your decision, Mabel.’

  She nodded imperceptibly and turned to Mrs Court with her answer. ‘Well, er – thank yer, Grandmother, it’s good o’ yer,’ she said politely, ‘but I’d rather live at home and go to the Rescue.’

  Mimi shrugged and curled her lip. ‘Suit yerself. Ye’re still only seventeen, plenty o’ time for yer to see sense an’ change yer mind. Let me know when yer do.’ Dismissing the subject, she turned to Harry. ‘And what d’yer parents think o’ yer young lady, Mr Drover?’

  He coloured and hesitated. ‘They, er, think we’re very young, but I shall never want any other girl but Mabel,’ he answered, using the very words he had used to them.

  ‘Hm. They sound as if they got a bit o’ sense, then – for Salvationists.’

  Mabel looked pointedly at the ormolu clock on the mantelpiece and drew on her gloves. ‘We’d better be goin’ now, Grandmother. Harry’s got a meetin’ and Mother expects me home for tea. It’s been good o’ yer to have us, an’ thank yer for yer offer.’

  ‘Ye’re a fool not to accept,’ said Mimi, getting up. ‘An’ before ye go, take this an’ get yerself some decent new clothes – yer look a proper frump in that old-fashioned coat an’ skirt.’ She pushed an envelope into Mabel’s hand. It turned out to contain ten pounds, nearly six months’ wages at the Rescue.

  On their way to the front door Miss Lawton came softly down the stairs. She stopped when she saw them and Mabel smiled up at her from the hall. ‘Good afternoon, Miss Lawton.’

  ‘Er, oh, yes, thank you – good afternoon, M-Mabel and Mr er—’ stammered the pale, black-clad lady, turning to go back up the stairs.

  ‘Oh, come on down for Gawd’s sake if ye’re comin’,’ snapped Mimi irritably, adding under her breath as Miss Lawton sidled past them, ‘Give me strength! People’ll be thinkin’ this is some sort o’ private asylum on account o’ that one. Goin’ the same way as . . . as the old lady. She’ll end up talkin’ to the fairies, I shouldn’t wonder, an’ I’ll ’ave to pay nursin’ ’ome fees.’

  Mabel did not answer. She had always felt sorry for Miss Lawton who seemed to lead a very lonely life, yet she gave the house a certain air of respectability which Mimi lacked, for all her ostentation. Was this why Mimi tolerated her, Mabel wondered: eccentric though she was, Miss Lawton was at least a lady and never uttered an unkind word about anybody.

  They caught the tram back to Battersea and there was not much opportunity for them to discuss the visit. Harry did not speak of his instinctive dislike of Mrs Court, though he told Mabel that he would far rather she continued working at the Rescue than move to 23 Macaulay Road, no matter how generous her grandmother’s offer.

  ‘I’m glad yer think so, Harry. I know me mother wouldn’t like it,’ she answered wryly.

  He said goodbye to Mabel when they reached Sorrel Street, as he was due to play in the band that evening, and she went in to find the family seated round the fire. Annie was smiling trustfully at Jack who seemed to be in a better frame of mind lately, though he could suddenly swing round to bursts of ill temper for no obvious reason.

  As soon as she and Annie were alone in the kitchen Mabel knew that her mother would demand to know what had passed between her daughter and mother-in-law. ‘Out with it, Mabel, what did she have to say this time?’

  Mabel felt a little irritated by this interrogation. ‘She asked me about the Rescue and if I enjoyed workin’ there – how much I was paid—’

  ‘Cheek! Go on. What else did she want to know? Come on, there was more to it than that.’

  ‘Well, Mum, at least she showed some interest in my work, and asked about the mothers an’ babies, which is more ’n you do,’ Mabel pointed out.

  Annie flushed. ‘I don’t like that sort o’ talk in front o’ your sisters and George. So did she want to know every unpleasant intimate detail? And in front o’ Harry Drover?’

  Mabel rolled up her eyes in exasperation. ‘No, Mum, she offered to take me on at a pound a week an’ all found, to be her assistant. That’s what she said in front o’ Harry, if yer must know. She said I could take me time and think about it. And there’s nothin’ else to tell, so there’s no need for yer to be so funny about it.’

  But Annie’s eyes were blazing. ‘I won’t have you under any such obligation, d’you hear me? Not to her, I won’t!’

  ‘But Mum, she only made an offer to help me on in my career—’

  ‘But don’t you know what she does, Mabel? Good grief, you must know something o’ the ways o’ the world, working at that place!’ Annie cried. ‘Don’t you know what she is?’

  ‘She’s a midwife, Mum! She delivers babies, mostly to women who can pay her well,’ protested Mabel, completely bewildered.

  ‘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 co
uld 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.

  Chapter Nine

  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 accom
pany 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?