An autopsy had been performed on the body and the report showed a severe depressed fracture of the back of the skull with extensive intra-cranial haemorrhage, corresponding to a violent impact with the edge of the stair. There was a high alcohol level in the blood.
In addition, it was revealed that Court had recently been treated at the Lock Hospital and that his condition was seriously advanced.
Albert gasped. ‘Bloody ’ell,’ he muttered under his breath.
Mabel looked at him in surprise. ‘Sh!’ she whispered, shaking her head. Mimi Court, seated alone on a bench behind them, momentarily closed her eyes.
The coroner did not hesitate to bring in a verdict of accidental death and extended his sympathy to the doubly bereaved family. He praised Dr Knowles for his prompt action in attempting to save Court’s life.
The hearing was over. Knowles took a deep breath and assumed a deliberately bland expression to hide his profound relief as he joined the brother and sister, little suspecting that the worst was still to come. As they left the courtroom Mabel told Albert that she would have a word with their grandmother.
‘What for? She ain’t honoured us wiv a visit.’
‘But she’s lost her only son – her only child. It’s worse for her than for us, isn’t it? Come on.’
Out in the corridor they came face to face with Mimi. Dressed in black silk, her shoulders back and her eyes leaden, she spoke to Mabel with businesslike directness. ‘Yer won’t be able to stay at Sorrel Street now – yer can’t support that lot. The offer I made yer’s still open, Mabel, and yer won’t get a better. There’s bed and board for you and yer sisters at Macaulay Road, and I’ll pay yer a pound a week to assist me with local births. I don’t want the boy, though – he can go to the Barnardo home in Clapham.’
Her mouth hardened as she mentioned George and it was this last remark that stung Mabel into a proud retort. ‘My mother’s sisters have taken Alice and Daisy to live with them at Belhampton in Hampshire, so I don’t need yer offer, thank yer. They’ll get a good standard o’ livin’ there and Daisy’ll go to a church school.’
‘Better ’n what Tootin’ can offer,’ added Albert incautiously.
Mimi’s jaw had dropped, but she quickly recovered herself. ‘Oho, so they’ve turned up again, have they? My, oh my! Them Chalcotts must’ve made a tidy little fortune out o’ their drapery an’ furnishin’ store, and I dare say they think ’emselves somebody when they’re nobody but jumped-up tradespeople. Jack an’ Annie never ’ad a penny orf ’em.’
‘An’ ’oo was Jack Court, then?’ demanded Albert. ‘Nuffin’ but a waster an’ a womaniser – couldn’t even run a bleedin’ book so’s to make a profit.’
Mimi rounded on him, her eyes blazing. ‘Guttersnipe! Jack’s father was somethin’ more than yer country tradesmen, he was a prince among men – a prince! And Jack could’ve done a lot better ’n he did, only he went an’ made a foolish marriage to a woman who hadn’t got the sense to – oh, get out o’ my sight, the lot o’ yer!’
She was about to walk away, but Albert would not swallow this insult to his mother. ‘Oh, so it was our muvver ’oo gave ’im the pox, then, was it?’
There was a stunned silence and Dr Knowles put a hand on Mabel’s arm.
Mimi visibly shrank back from the burning scorn in her grandson’s eyes, so like Jack’s. ‘No need for that kind o’ talk in front o’—’ She nodded towards Mabel who stood rooted to the spot, her eyes wide and unbelieving.
‘No, it was the ovver way rahnd, wa’n’t it?’ went on Albert, leaning forward with his face menacingly close to Mimi’s. ‘’E got it orf ’is fancy women, an’ passed it on to ’er, don’t yer reckon? I’d say it was ’er, poor woman, that made the foolish marriage – eh?’
‘Be quiet, Albert, for heaven’s sake,’ hissed Knowles. ‘Have some thought for Mabel!’
But Mabel had found a voice. ‘Never mind me, Dr Knowles, I want to know what they’re talkin’ about. What was my father treated for in – what was the name o’ that hospital?’
Knowles cursed silently under his breath. The inquest had gone off better than he had dared to hope, but now there was to be another kind of reckoning. He would have spared Mabel this.
‘Now ye’ve set the cat among the pigeons, yer young fool,’ Mimi told Albert, who had the grace to look shamefaced.
‘Don’t yer know what the Lock Hospital’s for, Mabel?’ he muttered.
That was when she understood. ‘Oh, my God, that blood test, Dr Knowles – was it for that . . . that horrible disease, syphilis?’ She stared at the doctor who could not meet her eyes. ‘Yes, that’s what yer tested me for, wasn’t it, an’ the others, poor innocent children – the pox, the prostitutes’ complaint. An’ if he had it, then she . . . that rash an’ sore throat she had, was that it? Come on, tell me, nothin’ can hurt her now, not any more!’ Her voice rose and heads turned towards the scene in the airless corridor of the old Magistrates’ Court.
Albert also turned to the doctor. ‘I got it wrong, di’n’t I? Yer tried to keep it quiet, an’ I shouldn’t’ve spoke the way I did. Sorry.’
Knowles tried to give them an answer. ‘To the best of my knowledge your mother didn’t suspect it. She had a much greater fear of cancer, which I don’t think she had.’
‘But did she ’ave – the ovver?’ asked Albert.
‘It seemed like the primary phase, yes. I was going to confirm it with a test, but—’
‘But yer tested me instead, ’cause yer thought I’d got it.’ Mabel felt that the world was crashing around her.
‘I had to be absolutely sure, Mabel, because of the babies at the Institute—’
‘So that was it, that’s why I was sacked from there! Oh, now I see why Mrs James was so cagey with me!’
‘Mabel, will you listen, for heaven’s sake! The Wasserman test was negative for you and the others. You have not got it, it was only a precaution because you’d been sharing bed linen, teacups – there was skin contact and though it’s very unlikely to be passed on this way I had to be sure. And you’re absolutely clear, my dear.’
But Mabel was devastated by the fact that he had thought it necessary to check her for that shameful disease and she continued to stare at him, her eyes a dull and lifeless grey without a hint of blue, two pools of misery in a chalk-white face.
‘Listen, Mabel, your poor mother’s at rest now and you’re a young, healthy woman with all your life before you. One day you’ll be a wonderful children’s nurse—’
But she scarcely heard him. She turned and leaned heavily on Albert’s arm. ‘Let’s go home, Albert,’ she said brokenly. ‘George’ll be waitin’ for us.’
If Mabel’s girlhood had ended, so had George’s childhood. This much was evident when she and Albert got home to find their brother in a near-hysterical state. ‘Where’ve yer been? It’s been hours, I been lookin’ out for yer – thought they must’ve found out what ’appened—’
‘Oh, George, don’t be silly, we haven’t been that long. It’s all over an’ there’s nothin’ to worry about. Let’s put the kettle on, I’m dyin’ for a cup o’ tea.’
George’s need for comfort and reassurance had the effect of taking Mabel’s mind off the shock she had received.
‘Did they ask a lot o’ questions?’ he persisted.
‘Come orf it, mate, they ’ad nuffin’ but sympafy for yer,’ said Albert. ‘No need to worry abaht a fing, honest.’
Albert spoke lightly, but George’s nerves were at breaking point and that night his fears surfaced in terrifying dreams from which he awoke with a loud shout that woke Albert.
‘Bloody ’ell, George, pipe dahn or ye’ll ’ave the ’ole street quakin’ in their beds!’
Albert held his brother as he struggled with unseen assailants and Mabel left her bed to comfort George as she had done when he was a scared little toddler, turned out of his parents’ room to make way for the new baby whose arrival had filled the night with frightening noises.
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‘I don’t like leavin’ yer wiv ’im in this state, Mabel,’ said Albert who was due to return to the merchant service after the funeral. ‘To be honest wiv yer, I don’t fink ’e’s goin’ to get over it while ’e’s in this ’ouse. ’E needs a complete change.’
Mabel sighed and shook her head. ‘I know, I know, but where can he go? He says he doesn’t want to be with the girls and to tell the truth I’d be afraid o’ what he might come out with, especially when he gets these awful nightmares. I’d rather have him near me. They say that time heals everything and he’s young. Poor Georgie!’
‘It’s early days yet.’ Albert shrugged. ‘The ol’ man ain’t even buried.’
It was George himself who made the suggestion that was to change the whole course of his life. The three of them were at breakfast the next day. ‘D’ye know that Dr Barnardo’s sends a lot o’ boys over to Canada to make a new start, like?’ he suddenly asked his brother and sister.
‘Eh?’ grunted Albert, munching bread and margarine.
But Mabel cried out in dismay, ‘Barnardo’s? Canada? Yer don’t mean—’
‘Yes, I do, Mabel. I’d like to go out there with ’em, get away from this place an . . . an . . . yer know, everythin’.’
‘But yer couldn’t, George, not all on yer own!’
‘Wouldn’t be on me own with all them other boys,’ he mumbled.
‘Come orf it, George, no need to go that far,’ said Albert with a significant look at Mabel. ‘Why don’t yer go an’ stay wiv yer aunts an’ the girls at Bel’ampton?’
‘Nah, that wouldn’t do.’ George shook his head emphatically. ‘I’d rather be with a whole lot of orphan boys with no fam’lies, goin’ out to make a new . . . Canada’s a big place.’
‘But George, ye’ve got a family – ye’ve got us!’ Mabel was both shocked and hurt by this insight into George’s sense of isolation. And his desolation.
‘This fam’ly’s broke up,’ he said dully. ‘I can’t go on dependin’ on you for everythin’, Mabel. I got to learn to shift for meself.’
‘But ye’re only twelve, Georgie!’
Albert was as much concerned by the pain and anxiety on his sister’s face as by George’s expressed wish to cross the Atlantic ocean. ‘We know ye’ve ’ad a bad shock, mate, but it’d be better to go an’ stay wiv the girls in the country.’
‘No, Albert, I couldn’t face ’em, not after what’s ’appened.’ And poor George began to cry, getting up from his place at the table.
‘Sit dahn an’ finish yer breakfus’,’ ordered Albert, motioning to Mabel not to speak again. ‘Tell yer what – we’ll go an’ see Dr Knowles today when yer get ’ome from school, an’ ask ’im what ’e finks abaht the idea. See if we can’t sort summat aht. ‘Ow’s abaht that?’
George nodded, wiping his hand across his face, while Mabel looked helplessly from brother to brother, sharing their unspoken thought: that the doctor was the only other person who knew their dreadful secret. He alone could understand their situation and give them guidance. She therefore agreed and George finished his breakfast.
‘I ’ope the doctor comes up wiv somefing, Mabel, else our little bruvver could land us all in Queer Street,’ Albert said later when George had gone to school.
‘Yer mean if he told his friends or teachers—’
‘Or any bugger else ’oo ’appened to be passin’ if ’e broke dahn an’ let it all aht.’
‘I don’t like the thought o’ going back to Bromfelde Road while he’s in such a nervy state.’ She sighed.
‘Er, look, Mabel, I bin thinkin’ abaht what ’e said – nah, don’t shout at me, ’cause it might be the best way aht – an’ the best fing for ’im, yer know.’
‘What might?’
‘Goin’ orf in one o’ these child emigration schemes, makin’ a new start.’
‘What? Albert Court, he’s only a child – he’s twelve years old!’
‘Yeah, but ’e’s not just any twelve-year-old, is ’e? In ’is case it might be a . . . a way aht for ’im, along o’ them ovver poor little buggers wiv nuffin’ to keep ’em ’ere. Remember, ’e was the one to say it first. Let’s see what the doc says.’
In fact, Henry Knowles had been extremely worried about George and had already considered the possibility of a child emigration scheme as a solution to his need for a new beginning, an escape from the knowledge about which he could not talk. The problem lay in putting the idea before Mabel and, of course, to George himself. So when Albert and George marched into his consulting room and took the words right out of his mouth, so to speak, he was more than happy to consider what they said and offer all the help he could.
‘Well, come on, tell me, how did yer get on?’
‘What d’ye want first, Mabel, the good news or . . . or the ovver? Nah, come to fink of it, yer got to ’ave the good news first, ’cause the ovver follers on.’
‘Don’t play guessing games, tell me straight out,’ said Mabel, trembling in her shoes.
Albert hesitated, but George spoke up, searching her face for her reaction. ‘Dr Knowles agrees it’d be best for me to get right away, make a new start – an’ ’e reckons I ought to go to the Barnardo’s in Clapham – an’ if yer like, ’e’ll see about gettin’ me in there straight away.’
Mabel’s heart gave a lurch and she sat down. ‘An’ yer call that the good news,’ she said faintly. ‘Go on, then, tell me the rest.’
Which is—’ began Albert, looking at George. ‘Which is that there’s a shipload o’ boys sailin’ from Soufampton a week termorrer, June the twenty-eighth, goin’ to ‘Alifax, Nova Scotia.’
‘An’ I want to be there with ’em,’ added George.
Mabel felt the blood drain from her face. ‘Oh, my God. Oh, no.’ Visions of the Titanic passed before her mind’s eye. ‘No, no.’
George came and sat beside her. ‘Don’t worry about me, Mabel, it’s what I want, can’t yer see? This ’ouse ain’t ’ome any more, not after what’s ’appened. I’ll be better away from ’ere, I can’t wait!’ He spoke with a certain animation and when she put out her hand to him he took it in both of his, the first positive gesture he had made.
‘But Georgie, ye’re all I’ve got left!’ And her tears began to flow at the thought of the breaking up of the family, the bleak emptiness she would face when both her brothers had left the home they had known all their lives: the only home they had.
‘Don’t cry, Mabel, yer can’t go on supportin’ me. There’s no money comin’ in now and ye’ve got yerself to think about. Oh, Mabel, don’t cry, don’t worry about me!’
‘Dear George, yer were always a good boy,’ she said, wiping her eyes. ‘But I’ll have to see Dr Knowles meself and talk it all over with him.’
‘He’s comin’ rahnd later this evenin’,’ said Albert. ‘I fink ’e reckons George is right.’
And so in what seemed to be a very short time the arrangements were made. The doctor was willing to sponsor George Court as an emigrant on the SS City of York bound for Halifax on 28 June and sent in a medical report. He personally put up the thirty pounds’ fare that would normally be paid by the charity fund of Dr Barnardo’s homes. ‘I’ve spoken to Mr Maillard and he’ll take George into the Clapham home any day convenient to you, Mabel,’ he said. ‘It’ll give him a chance to meet and get to know his fellow passengers before they sail.’
‘It’s all for the best, Mabel,’ urged Albert who was worried about his sister being left alone at Sorrel Street. ‘Can’t yer get a livin’-in job like yer friend Maudie, jus’ till ye’re old enough to start yer trainin’? Get out o’ this place, an’ stop stewin’ over the rent, eh?’
Mabel shook her head. ‘I can’t think about anything at all right now, Albert. We got the funeral to get through next.’
The truth was that she was feeling close to despair and too exhausted by shock and sorrow even to contemplate the future. As Albert had hinted, Mimi’s money was rapidly diminishing and there was nothing coming in.
The rent man called on Friday evenings and there must be no falling behind with it, because Mimi had said she would no longer step in and pay off the arrears as she had done when Jack was alive. But Mabel had neither the energy nor the inclination to start looking for work again.
Jack’s funeral was a very quiet affair, held at nine o’clock in the morning of the following Monday. It was attended by Mabel and Albert, with Mimi Court standing on the other side of the opened grave, a grim-faced figure in black who laid a wreath of red carnations on the coffin. A little group of Sorrel Street neighbours followed the small cortège out of respect for Mabel or for curiosity’s sake. None of Jack’s former associates turned up.
The vicar of St Philip’s read a short passage from St John’s Gospel and said a prayer as the coffin was lowered to lie beside the one committed to earth barely seven weeks before. ‘Enter not into judgement with thy servant, O Lord, for in thy sight shall no man be justified.’
The words seemed to Mabel exactly right for the occasion and she whispered ‘Goodbye, Dad’ as Jack’s mortal remains disappeared from their sight.
Mimi turned away without a word to anybody and made her way to the south gate where a black hansom cab waited for her. Mabel and Albert walked home at a leisurely pace; George had been left with Mrs Bull who promised to have breakfast ready on their return.
‘So George’ll be orf to the ’ome termorrer, an’ I’ll stay for as long as yer want me,’ said Albert. ‘We can bofe go an’ see ’im orf togevver.’
‘My friend Ada Clay gets married the day after he sails,’ remarked Mabel inconsequentially.
‘Does she? Good, that’ll be a nice little do for yer to go to an’ enjoy yerself.’
‘D’ye think I should?’ asked Mabel without much interest.
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