‘Oh, Harry, Harry, God must’ve sent yer!’ And she kissed him in front of everybody. His arrival was well timed in every way, for Alice returned accompanied by a police sergeant and his assistant who asked questions about Annie Court’s recent movements and behaviour, her state of health and mind. It was a great support to have Harry at her side throughout this questioning, in which Mabel also spoke of her father’s abrupt departure on 30 March, since when Annie had become more depressed. When asked about other family relatives Mabel mentioned her grandmother Court, but decided not to say anything about her mother’s sisters whom she had never met.
‘Right, we’ll send somebody round to 23 Macaulay Road, Tooting,’ said the sergeant. ‘What’s the situation between yer mother and her mother-in-law?’
Mabel replied that there was no love lost between the two women and that they seldom met.
On hearing about Dr Knowles’s visit to Annie that day, he said that he would go and speak to the doctor, a key witness as the last person to see and talk with Mrs Court, though a woman from Darnell Street, hearing that Annie was missing, now came round to say that she had seen her getting on a city bus around mid-afternoon, shortly after the accident on Lavender Hill.
Henry Knowles prepared himself to respond with apparent willingness when questioned by the police, while not revealing anything of what he considered confidential information, guarded by medical ethics. As a trusted, well-known general practitioner, he knew how to conceal without actually telling a falsehood. ‘Mrs Court has suffered for some years with the usual women’s problems, the result of childbearing,’ he told the sergeant. ‘I said I would arrange for her to see a specialist.’
‘Was her condition serious, Dr Knowles?’
‘It might turn out to be so, which is why I wanted a specialist’s opinion.’
‘Did Mrs Court realise this? Did she understand that her condition might be serious?’
‘I tried to reassure her, but I was not able to give her a definite answer one way or the other.’
‘But in your opnion, doctor—?’
‘It would need further investigation to make a definite diagnosis.’
In response to more questions he admitted that it was possible that Mrs Court might have wandered off in a state of anxiety, believing that she had a fatal illness.
The sergeant thanked him for his co-operation, but looked grave, adding that a detailed description of Mrs Court and the clothes she was wearing would be sent to other police stations in the area and hospital accident departments. ‘And suchlike places, Dr Knowles. Let’s hope that the poor woman’s found soon – and alive,’ he said as he took his leave.
Knowles shivered, silently praying to whatever deity there might be. If Annie Court had thought about what he had said and hit upon the truth he had concealed from her – or if she believed herself to be suffering from the dreaded ‘growth’ that so many women feared – he knew there was real danger that what the police officer had hinted at might turn out to be true.
At Sorrel Street another police officer called to say that a telephone communication had been received from the station at Amen Corner in Tooting. ‘Mrs Court senior says she ain’t seen yer mother, Miss Court,’ he told Mabel. ‘Our man who spoke to ’er says she can’t get over to see yer today. She’ll try an’ get over tomorow if there’s still no news.’
This was cold comfort and Mabel remembered that Alice had found Mimi strangely preoccupied and irritable when asked if she had seen Jack.
While Daisy cried for her mother and the rest of them hung about talking and drinking tea, George sat silent and white-faced, overlooked in the comings and goings around him. Suddenly he got up and took his cap off its hook in the hallway. ‘I’m goin’ out to look for ’er,’ he announced.
‘Oh, George dear!’ Mabel at once reproached herself for not paying more attention to the quiet boy who never put himself forward. ‘It’ll soon be dark, an’ there are lots o’ people lookin’ for her, policemen and—’
‘But I know the places in the park where she liked to walk on Sunday arf’noons an’ when we ’ad the coronation an’ that,’ faltered the boy, rubbing his eyes.
Harry caught Mabel’s eye and shot her a meaningful look. ‘George wants to do somethin’ an’ I reckon he’s right, Mabel,’ he said, getting to his feet. ‘Tell yer what, George – you an’ me’ll go to the park together an’ yer can show me the places where yer mother might’ve gone.’ Turning to Mabel, he added, ‘Don’t worry, Mabel, it’ll be best for him to be doin’ somethin’. I’ll take good care o’ him.’
‘Thanks, Harry, I know yer will.’ His quick sensitivity was what she most loved about him, though at the mention of Battersea Park she immediately pictured the boating lake.
Somehow the day got through to its end. Harry and George returned from the park after an hour, and George and Daisy were persuaded to go to bed. Mabel advised Alice to get some rest, while she and Harry sat up with Mrs Bull to await any news. She was thankful when the other neighbours drifted away to their homes and, after what seemed like the hundredth cup of tea, silence fell upon the trio as midnight approached.
A loud knocking at the door caused all three of them to leap up from their chairs and upstairs Daisy called out, ‘Mummy!’
Mabel wrenched the door open and saw Albert on the step. She burst into tears.
‘Blimey, Mabel, this ain’t much of a welcome for yer poor bruvver,’ he said, reaching out to hold her. ‘An’ ’ere’s me come all the way from Green’ive, fanks to the Sally Army. Hey! Don’t ever remember seein’ me big sister pipin’ ’er eye before.’
He enfolded her in a bear-hug and she quickly wiped her eyes. ‘I’m sorry, Albert, only—’
Only her tears were for disappointment at not seeing her mother and yet there was thankfulness too that it was not a bringer of bad news. And there was relief at having Albert home to share the burden with her, thanks to Harry’s foresight.
Of course Alice, George and Daisy came down to greet their big brother, and when they were sent back to bed Albert suggested that Harry should go home and rest. ‘Yer got work termorrer, ‘Arry, so you get some shut-eye an’ I’ll sit up wiv Mabel, poor gal. An’ yer can send ’er ’ome, an’ all,’ he added under his breath, nodding towards Mrs Bull.
Mabel gave a watery smile as she dismissed the chaperone, but Harry refused to leave her, so while she settled down on the sofa, he and Albert stretched out on the floor with cushions under their heads. They dozed fitfully, aroused by the slightest sound that broke the troubled night, clinging to the flickering hope that Annie Court would return to her home in the morning.
The first day of May dawned clear and bright. Mabel had fallen into a doze when Alice came down, pale and puffy-eyed, to start making tea again and cutting bread for breakfast.
They were all seated at the table – Mabel, Albert, Alice, George, Daisy and Harry – when the knock sounded at the door just before eight.
‘It’ll be Dr Knowles,’ said Mabel quickly, though she had no real reason to believe so.
Albert told her to stay where she was while he answered the door. It was indeed the doctor, accompanied by one of the police officers they had seen before.
‘Ye’d better come in,’ they heard him say and Mabel rose, instinctively gesturing to Alice to take the children out to the kitchen.
Dr Knowles put his arm round her shoulder as the officer informed her and Albert that the body of a woman resembling the description of Anna-Maria Court had been taken from the Thames at low tide, near to Greenwich Pier. Her age, colouring and clothing corresponded to the details on the police file, but positive identification was needed.
Oh, no, no, no, no, no. Mabel heard a low moaning sound and found that it was coming from herself, her own mouth. Harry’s hands were holding hers as she lurched against the doctor.
The policeman was saying that the body was lying in the public morgue attached to St Katharine’s Infirmary near Tower Hill.
�
��That was where they held you, Albert,’ Mabel murmured inconsequentially.
And it was to that chilly, white-tiled place that Mabel was obliged to go as next of kin in the absence of her father, accompanied by her doctor and her dearest friend, Harry Drover. Albert insisted on coming with them, saying that he was the man of the house and had a right. They all stood with her, waiting with bated breath when the aproned attendant drew back the sheet.
What did they see? Mabel never forgot that last sight of her mother’s face, mottled blue and grey, the mouth agape with sagging purple lips. Drowned eyes, half open, held no sense of repose, no peace, only the blankness of death; but beyond doubt this was the body of Anna-Maria Court, so the last faint hope was gone.
Mabel leapt backwards with a jerk as a terrible despair rose within her, bursting forth in a great shriek. Dr Knowles, used to witnessing death and grief, tightened his hold upon her and Harry spoke her name, ‘Mabel – Mabel, I’m here, my love.’
But Albert felt his blood run cold – for a split second he thought the cry came from the corpse. ‘Christ,’ he muttered, and for a moment he could not draw breath and swayed on his feet.
Within seconds Mabel regained control of herself, but felt faint and nauseated. With shaking limbs she let Knowles and Harry support her on either side and lead her out of that death-cold place.
There were formalities to be gone through and forms to be signed by Mabel and the doctor, confirming identification of the body. When they were free to go, Albert suddenly turned to the doctor, grabbing his jacket lapels. ‘Why’d she do it, tha’s what I wanna know! What the bloody ’ell did yer tell ’er – that she ’ad cancer or summat?’
‘Stop that, Albert, take yer hands off this minute,’ ordered Harry, though the doctor did not attempt to resist the gripping hands.
‘I couldn’t lie to her, Albert,’ he said heavily. ‘I said it might be serious, that’s all. I’m so very sorry for you all, more than I can say.’
‘Tha’s all very well, but yer didn’t ’ave to scare ’er to deaf! It was ’cause o’ what yer told ’er she went an’ drahned ’erself!’ shouted Albert.
‘Cut it out, Albert,’ Harry said with quiet authority. ‘Think o’ yer sister Mabel an’ all she’s had to go through – just pull yerself together.’
Albert lapsed into gloomy silence as they returned to Sorrel Street, where the news had to be broken to Alice, George and Daisy that their mother had fallen into the Thames and drowned. Daisy and George began to cry bitterly, and Mrs Bull drew the curtains to signify a house in mourning. The news quickly spread all over their part of Battersea that the Court children no longer had a mother and everybody wondered what Mabel would do.
First she had to deal with the grief of them all, particularly the two youngest who could not take in that they would never see their mother again. She had to be there for them, answering their questions as best she could, with no opportunity to do her own grieving over Annie Court’s tragically shortened life and whatever had driven her towards her death on that fatal afternoon. All Mabel’s attention had to be centred on the bereaved children.
And here was Dr Knowles again, with something else to tell her. ‘Mabel, my dear, you may remember me saying that I was going to arrange for a blood test for your mother.’
Mabel looked up at him wearily and shrugged. Why mention that now?
‘And although I’m sorry to intrude on your sorrow, my dear, I must tell you that you need a similar test, as you were in close contact with her.’
‘What?’ Mabel could not believe her ears, for in her experience blood tests were only done on very ill people. ‘D’ye mean I’ve got to go to hospital for it?’
‘No, no, Mabel, there’s no need for that, I can do it at my surgery tomorrow – we only need about a teaspoonful of clotted blood. And to be on the safe side, I think I should also take blood samples from Alice, George and Daisy.’
‘But whatever for, Dr Knowles?’
‘Your poor mother may have had a bacterial infection and we need to know if it was passed on to others living in the house, you see. I don’t think we need bother to include Albert.’
Mabel stared in horror as a thought struck her. ‘Oh, my God, yer mean TB!’
‘No, my dear, not TB, but it carries a similar danger and the sooner we get the matter cleared up the better. Tomorrow, then, in my surgery, shall we say about three o’clock?’
It proved to be a wretched experience, as Daisy screamed at the very sight of the needle and George turned deathly white when the doctor failed to find a vein in his arm on the first attempt. Alice was also upset and so was Knowles himself, for the possibility of any of the younger ones being infected was almost nil. He was sorry to submit them to it, but wanted to avoid appearing to single out Mabel.
‘How long will it take before we know if we’ve got it, Dr Knowles?’ she asked.
‘About a week – but I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about, Mabel, it’s just a precaution.’
He did not add that the four specimens would have to be sent to the Lock Hospital, nor that he was personally paying for the relatively new and expensive Wasserman test to be carried out on each of them. ‘You won’t be going to the Institute again until after the . . . the inquest and then the funeral, Mabel, so the result will be back before you resume work. I’ll have a word with the Matron if there are any queries,’ he told her, hoping against hope for a negative result.
Messages of sympathy began to pour in. From the Agnes Nuttall Institute came a formal, rather stilted letter of condolence from Mrs James, and notes written on scraps of paper by the mothers. Miss Carter wrote from the Hallam Road Babies Mission and a card arrived from Mr Munday at the Queen’s Road post office, also signed by ‘Beatrice Chatt’.
The vicar of St Philip’s church called to express his shocked sympathy and proved to be genuinely kind. Arrangements for a quiet funeral at Wandsworth cemetery were tenatively discussed – ‘and of course she’ll be buried in consecrated ground, my dear.’ His visit was followed by one from Ada Clay whose wedding was planned for June, though she hesitated even to mention this happy event when she came to offer her sympathy and Arthur’s.
The police now began a search for Jack Court, making enquiries at various places he had been known to frequent. His one-time crony Dick Sammons, now a prosperous publican and respectable family man, said he had not seen poor old Jack for over a year and Bill from Macaulay Road firmly denied all knowledge of his former drinking companion of the turf.
On the Thursday Harry returned to the railway depot where he had another four months to work, though he found time to call at Sorrel Street every day. Albert had permission to stay until after the funeral and Alice was likewise allowed to stay off work. George and Daisy were excused school, though Mabel privately thought they would be better occupied there than in the mournful atmosphere of home. She therefore sent them out to the park with Alice, so only she and Albert were at home when Mimi Court arrived, pale and grim-faced.
‘Well, here’s a fine how-d’ye-do, Mabel, I never thought she’d do such a thing,’ she began and Mabel was silenced by her haggard face. There was no doubt that she was truly shocked and she had an air of disillusionment about her, as if all she had striven for had come to nothing. Yet she had not lost her domineering manner. ‘Here, Mabel—’ She opened her black velvet purse-string reticule and took out an envelope. ‘Ye’ll find twenty-five pounds in banknotes there. Take it, ye’ll need it.’
Mabel stared at the very thought of such an amount. ‘Oh, I couldn’t take that much, Grandmother.’
‘Yer can’t afford to turn down good money. Take it.’ Mimi put the envelope on the table.
Albert whistled. ‘Go on, Mabel, yer can do wiv it.’
‘And ye’re goin’ to have to think about the future, Mabel – what ye’re goin’ to do,’ Mimi went on. ‘Yer can’t make any decisions until the funeral’s over – an’ that’ll have to be paid for – but yer might as well start thi
nkin’ about placin’ the children.’
‘What d’ye mean, placing them, Grandmother?’ asked Mabel, thinking of the babies at the Rescue. ‘What about Dad, he’ll have some say, won’t he?’
Mimi’s expression was bleak. ‘He’ll be away for some time. He’s got troubles that’ve got to be seen to.’
‘Yer bet yer bleedin’ life ’e’s got trouble!’ Albert burst out. ‘Our muvver’s only gorn an’ drahned ’erself on account o’ trouble!’
Mimi eyed him with distaste. ‘Ye’ll have to leave yer father out o’ yer calculations for the time bein’. And I’ll tell yer now, ye’ll have to get out o’ this house.’
Since the horrors of the past day and night, Mabel had scarcely given a thought to their future. It occurred to her that the threat of poverty that had always lurked in the background of their lives might now have to be faced squarely. She glanced at Albert to command silence from him, then gave her full attention to their grandmother. ‘I . . . we appreciate yer coming, Grandmother, and the money. Please go on and say what ye’ve come to say.’
‘Thank yer, I’m sure,’ said Mimi tartly. ‘Well, to start with, you and yer sisters Alice and Daisy can come to live at Macaulay Road. I need an assistant to help with the midwifery, as yer know, and Alice can get work at the main post office in Tooting. Daisy can go to the church school in Church Lane, much better ’n that place in Hallam Road.’
Mabel’s gasp of disbelief was followed by Albert’s low mutter. ‘That ain’t a bad offer, Mabel, don’t turn it dahn out o’ hand.’
‘And with Albert in the merchant service, p’raps George could join him on that, er, ship at Greenhithe.’
‘But he’s only twelve and still at school!’ cried Mabel.
‘’Sides, ’e’s much too soft for the navy,’ Albert cut in. ‘Be the butt o’ every bully on board, they’d ’ave ’im for their breakfuss!’
‘In that case there’s an excellent Dr Barnardo home for boys in Clapham,’ said Mimi, who had obviously been making her own contingency plans. ‘It’s run by a Mr Maillard who trains the boys for—’
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