Chapter Fifteen
‘MABEL, MABEL! LET me stay with yer, Mabel, please!’
Daisy rushed at her sister with outstretched arms as she’d done as a toddler and at once Mabel knew that she had to make a supreme effort to pull herself together. ‘Sh, Daisy, it’s all right, Mabel’s here,’ she whispered, resolutely stifling her own emotional turmoil. Looking up over the child’s dark head, she met her grandmother’s sardonic gaze; and beside her stood a uniformed policeman.
‘Well, here’s a fine how-d’ye-do, I must say! And there was me thinkin’ that Daisy was livin’ in the lap o’ luxury, with all the comforts that her Aunt Bountiful could provide – an’ now she turns up on the doorstep sayin’ she’s run away. Dear me!’
‘Don’t send me back, Mabel!’ cried Daisy.
Mabel hugged her closely. ‘No, dear, I won’t send yer back, sh, sh.’
‘But what do we say to the constable who’s had his valuable time taken up?’ demanded Mimi. ‘He’s been tellin’ me all about yer poor aunt an’ uncle, nearly out o’ their wits with worry.’
Mabel was annoyed by this heavy sarcasm directed at a frightened child. ‘I’ll take care o’ her, constable,’ she said promptly.
‘That’s up to you, miss, only I’ll ’ave to telephone through to the Bel’ampton police to let ’em know she’s turned up ’ere,’ he replied, glancing down at his notebook.
‘And I’ll write to my Aunt Somerton as soon as I can,’ said Mabel.
‘Good. It’s best to keep in touch with all yer family at a time like this.’
He looked at Mimi who gave him a smile and a gracious nod of dismissal. ‘I’m very sorry ye’ve been troubled, officer, but I think we can sort this out ourselves now. Good day to yer.’ After seeing him out, Mimi irritably asked Miss Lawton what she was gawping at and, seating herself in an armchair, turned her attention to the runaway. ‘So what happened, Daisy? What went wrong?’
Daisy’s eyes turned to Mabel who smiled back encouragingly. ‘I just missed Mabel – and George,’ she said in a small voice, overawed by her grandmother’s stern presence.
‘But yer had yer aunt and uncle – and Alice?’
Daisy hung her head in silence, fidgeting with her hair ribbon that had come adrift. Tears welled up in her eyes and Mabel decided to intervene. ‘For goodness’ sake, Grandmother, she’s only eight and she’s been through so much. Can’t I take her up to my room and let her rest an’ have somethin’ to eat? She must be starving.’
As had happened in the past when faced with Mabel’s defiance, Mimi Court capitulated. Her heavy features softened somewhat. ‘Yer can share a room up on the second floor. I’ll tell Elsie to make up the bed an’ bring yer up some cold mutton and bread. I’ll put the kettle on meself.’ She got up from the armchair. ‘An’ I’m sorry I had to fetch yer back from the weddin’, but with the copper standin’ there takin’ notes, I needed yer to show yer face an’ calm the child down.’
‘Thank yer, Grandmother,’ replied Mabel, though she perceived that Mimi Court was as pleased as Punch at this development. Another point scored over those jumped-up Chalcotts!
The sisters shared their supper picnic-style on the bed and Mabel felt it was time to ask some questions. ‘Now, Daisy, tell me exactly why yer ran away from Aunt Nell and Uncle Thomas. Weren’t they kind to yer?’
‘Yes, they thought they were kind, but I missed yer so much, Mabel, and it made me naughty,’ came the innocent reply. ‘Alice doesn’t care about Albert or George, she’s so pleased to get away from that post office an’ Miss Chatt, an’ all she thinks about is nice clothes an’ havin’ her hair up, and Aunt Nell kept on sayin’ how sensible she is an’ why can’t I be good as well – an’ even you wrote an’ told me to be good, and – oh, Mabel, I just want to be back like we were before!’
Mabel shook her head. ‘Daisy, dear, nothing can ever be the same as before, because things change. We all change – I mean, for a start we have to grow up—’
‘There’re other people livin’ in our home now, Mabel, did yer know?’
‘Yes, dear, that’s why I’m livin’ here with Grandmother since George went to Canada,’ replied Mabel, realising that Daisy had been given only sketchy information about recent events.
‘Where’s Canada, Mabel? When will he come back? Uncle Thomas said it was a long, long way across the sea, an’ I told him yer wouldn’t’ve sent George that far – would yer, Mabel?’
The same question again, with the same implied reproach. ‘Daisy, dear, I can’t explain everythin’ now, but George really wanted to go, and he’s workin’ on a big farm and sends yer his love. He’s got a good friend called Davy who looks after him.’
‘The one yer told us about, the handsome boy with blue eyes?’
‘That’s the one. He’s as good as another brother, George says. I’ll show yer the letter I got from him this morning. Now, d’ye want a slice o’ bread an’ butter with yer meat an’ pickle?’
‘An’ yer will let me stay here with yer, Mabel?’ repeated Daisy, anxiously scanning her face.
‘Yes, dear, yer can stay until—’ Mabel was about to say until ye’re ready to go back to Aunt Nell, but settled for ‘as long as yer like’. She had not the heart to promise anything less and, while realising that Daisy needed more time to adjust to the enormous changes in her short life, Mabel did not foresee the extent to which she was compromising, even endangering, her own future prospects.
Going to church the next morning, Mabel took the opportunity to thank Miss Lawton for coming to fetch her from Woodlands on Saturday.
‘Oh, I – it was no trouble, M-Mabel, Mrs Court asked me to—’
‘I just want to thank you, Miss Lawton, that’s all.’ Mabel smiled.
‘An’ I’m goin’ to stay an’ live with Mabel an’ Grandmother,’ added Daisy, looking up brightly.
This produced a disappointing reaction from the lady who clutched her black prayer book convulsively and looked very doubtful. ’Er, I see. But Mabel, d’you think it might be better if – I mean such a . . . a young child, yet old enough to . . . to—’ She glanced quickly at Daisy, then shook her head. ‘Forgive me, I didn’t intend to speak out of . . . out of turn.’
‘What exactly d’ye mean, Miss Lawton?’ asked Mabel, though by the sinking of her heart she already knew. Miss Lawton had touched upon a doubt in her own mind.
‘It’s nothing to do with me, M-Mabel. I do beg your pardon. Please excuse me.’ And not another word did she utter on the subject.
The sisters were in their shared room upstairs when the knock came at the door on Monday, announcing the visitors that Mabel had been half expecting. She knew that Aunt Elinor and Uncle Thomas would not give up Daisy without a fight, and Aunt Kate was with them when they arrived on Mimi Court’s doorstep.
The doorstep was as far as they got. ‘I beg yer pardon, but little Daisy’s restin’,’ Mabel heard Mimi say. ‘She’s worn out after makin’ ’er escape from Bel’ampton.’
‘Look here, Mrs Court, we demand to see my wife’s niece,’ said Thomas Somerton angrily.
‘Oh, yer do, do yer? Well, excuse me, my good man, but yer can’t demand anythin’. I’m ’er natural grandmother, closer in blood to my son’s child than any o’ you lot. An’ after the way the poor little thing was treated, I wonder yer dare show yer faces ’ere.’
Up in her room Mabel winced at such incivility towards her mother’s relations.
‘We treated Daisy with all the kindness and patience due to our poor sister’s daughter,’ retorted Aunt Kate, for Aunt Nell was in tears. ‘We had the doctor to see her and the rector. She’s only suffering the effects of . . . of what’s happened and her place is with us.’
‘Pity yer never felt so kind and patient to ’er mother, then, ’stead o’ turnin’ yer backs on ’er. Yer never cared a brass farthin’ for ’er children then,’ sneered Mimi. ‘And as I got work to do, I won’t detain yer any longer. Good day to yer.’
‘But Mrs Co
urt—’
‘Get orf my property, or I’ll call a policeman to ’ave yer shifted. Go on, shove orf!’
This parting shot sent the Belhampton relations from the door, Somerton white with rage and his wife sobbing openly. Kate said nothing, but walked stony faced behind them, pondering the truth of what the woman had said: she would be haunted for the rest of her life by her cruel rejection of Anna-Maria.
When Mabel tried to write a letter of apology to the Somertons she found it very difficult. In the end she thanked them for all their kindness and said that perhaps it was better for Daisy to spend some time with herself after all the upheavals she had been through that year.
There was no early reply. Not until Christmas could Nell bring herself to write to that address.
Later that week Mrs Court took her youngest granddaughter to register as a pupil at the old parish school in Church Lane. It had all the advantages of the church school at Belhampton, with the added attraction that the children spoke like Londoners and Daisy felt accepted from her first day.
As soon as Ada and Arthur Hodges returned from their honeymoon at Clacton-on-Sea, they visited all their relatives and friends. When Mabel went into the parlour and found her grandmother chatting amiably with the couple she burned with shame. How on earth could she face them after her hysterical outburst at their wedding?
But Ada stepped forward to greet her friend with a smile and a kiss. ‘Hello, Mabel, how are yer? Arthur and me – and I – we’ve been that worried about yer, and yer friend Maudie said it was all ’cause o’ losin’ yer parents an’ George goin’ to Canada, as if it was any business of anybody.’
The words poured out in a rush, for the new Mrs Hodges had been practising her speech. In fact, she had been quite angry and upset by Mabel’s behaviour, and it had needed a talking-to from Maud Ling to make her understand the pressures that Mabel had been under. Maud had told her not to be a silly little goose but to be thankful for her own good luck; so with her new and attentive husband at her side, Ada was prepared to be forgiving.
She was rewarded by Mabel’s tears of gratitude and Mrs Court’s gracious reception. ‘And, er, I’ve brought this for yer, too, Mabel,’ she added, fishing in her handbag and taking out an envelope. ‘It was dropped in at Lipton’s and addressed to you.’
Mabel recognised the writing and thrust it deep into her pocket. What was there left for Harry Drover to say to her after the way she had treated him? As soon as she was alone she took out the brief note. ‘If your ever in need of a Freind send to me by the S. Army and I will come to you. H.D.’ She decided to tear it up and throw it on the fire. The trouble was that her hands refused to obey orders, and it joined the other two at the bottom of the drawer with the little silver cross and chain.
The girls settled down into everyday life at 23 Macaulay Road and Mabel so enjoyed having her little sister back in her life again that it took her some time to see that Daisy’s arrival had trapped her in that house of secrets. The weeks went by and 1912 drew to a close.
‘Ooh, Mabel, look, we’ve got presents from Auntie Nell and Auntie Kate, and picture cards with holly and snow on!’
Mabel was both touched and embarrassed when gifts arrived from Belhampton, and insisted that they must wait for Christmas morning before unwrapping them. She herself had been able to afford really good presents for her family this year, including her two brothers, both so far away. She bought shirts and socks for them, not forgetting Davy Hoek, wrapped them carefully, had them weighed, stamped and committed to the uncertainties of sea travel a good two months before Christmas. To her aunts she sent embossed leather purses and to Uncle Thomas gloves, while Alice got a petticoat with broderie anglaise edging. For Daisy she bought a pretty lavender-coloured frock and a pinafore to go over it, and for her grandmother she decided on a bottle of lily-of-the-valley scent.
Alice had written them a letter all about dancing lessons and how she was learning to ride at the Paddocks, an expensive school for young equestrians. She described her new silk dress, which she was planning to wear at a Christmas ball. It all sounded a very long way from life at Macaulay Road.
Daisy had a letter from her friend Lucy Drummond, the rector’s daughter, who said that life at Belhampton was very dull without Daisy Court and begged her to return.
‘Can we go and visit ’em all in the new year, Mabel?’
‘No, we certainly can’t, not after yer ran away and gave Aunt Nell all that trouble in return for her kindness.’ Mabel spoke quite sharply and Daisy looked downcast. ‘It’s very good o’ the aunts to send us anythin’ at all, Daisy, and yer must be sure to write and thank ’em.’
But Mabel’s spirits rose on Christmas Eve when a short message arrived from George and Davy, saying that Mabel’s gifts had safely reached McBane’s farm. It proved to be the highlight of Christmas, which was otherwise rather disappointing. Several calls came in from women in labour, some brought on by overwork or over-indulgence, and Mabel was out for almost all of Christmas Day and Boxing Day.
Daisy was vexed at her absence and declared crossly that she didn’t want to go to church with Miss Lawton. ‘She fidgets all the time and drops her book,’ she grumbled to Mabel who was just on her way out to a case. ‘It makes me feel silly standin’ there beside her.’
‘Ye’ll jolly well go to church with her, and what’s more ye’ll behave yerself an’ be civil to the poor lady,’ Mabel told her sternly. At breakfast she had given Miss Lawton a framed print of St Nicholas’s church at the time of its dedication, when it had been surrounded by fields.
‘Oh, yes, a . . . an excellent reproduction, just like a country church – thank you, Mabel, thank you – most kind.’ And to Mabel’s surprise there were tears in the sunken brown eyes.
When she came in late that night, tired and chilled, she found Miss Lawton waiting up for her, fussing with a teapot and cups. ‘I . . . I’ve got the kettle on, Mabel, and there’s some Christmas cake if you, er—’
‘Ooh, that’s nice.’ Mabel sighed, sinking wearily into a chair without removing her coat.
‘And . . . and if you wouldn’t mind, there’s something here that belonged to my dear mother – see, I made it for her years ago, and now I . . . I’d like you to have it.’ It was a bookmark embroidered in tiny cross-stitch on stiff linen, with the words, Do not be afraid, the LORD is with thee in blue lettering surrounded by white and yellow daisies in a green stem-stitched border.
Mabel pictured the young girl with her needle and silks, and was deeply touched. It was obviously of value to the lonely spinster. ‘Are yer sure yer don’t mind partin’ with it, Miss Lawton – Ruth?’
‘Yes – er, no, Mabel. I want you to have it, because . . . because it’s good to have you here and makes me think of your dear mother when she . . . when she first came here and you were born. I . . . I was glad for her when she moved into her own home, but . . . but I missed her.’
‘Thank yer, Ruth. I’ll put it in her prayer book and never part with it. Thank yer.’ And she kissed Miss Lawton who smiled and blushed as she poured out the tea. ‘Tell me about that time, Ruth,’ she said, also smiling. ‘What was my mother like then?’
‘Oh, no, it’s very late and I mustn’t keep you up, Mabel, you must be so tired, and I . . . I’d better go now. Goodnight, Mabel, and thank you.’ And she fluttered away upstairs as if she were afraid of what might be said if she stayed.
On the 27th there was at last some time to spend with Daisy and to examine their presents: the books from Belhampton about good children and noble deeds, the new shoes and dresses from their grandmother; but Mabel was tired and Daisy was bored with staying indoors.
Mimi snapped irritably at Miss Lawton as they sat in the living room, ‘For God’s sake stop fussin’ an’ shufflin’ around, woman. Get yer crocheting out and fidget with that instead.’
Daisy rolled up her eyes at Mabel who suggested that they play ludo. At once the memories of that disastrous Christmas two years ago returned and Mabel
reflected on what changes there had been since them. Both parents were gone, Albert and George immeasurably far away, Alice was living the life of a well-bred young lady, and only herself and Daisy were left, the eldest and youngest of Anna-Maria’s children. Whatever would she think if she could see them living here at the house of the woman she had never liked?
And of course there were thoughts of Harry: where would he be spending Christmas? Very likely at some shelter for the down-and-out, giving up his time in the service of those society had no time for. Dear, faithful, loving Harry whom she had spurned so savagely, yet who still considered himself her friend.
Oh, Harry, Harry, I only did it for your good . . .
‘Come on, Daisy, it’s your turn to shake the dice – ooh, look, ye’ve thrown a six!’
With the beginning of another new year Mabel’s doubts and dissatisfaction grew. Although she enjoyed the work with local mothers and babies, and had more money than she’d ever had before, she became increasingly uneasy about the other aspect of her grandmother’s practice. True, she played no part in it, but the fact of living in a house where such things took place gave her a sense of being tainted, of associating with something dark and dangerous – and criminal. If Mimi were to be found out one day, who would believe that Mabel had nothing to do with it? With Harry gone from her life, her lifelong ambition to be a children’s nurse was all that was left of her dreams, but how could she hope to pursue a respectable career with such a stain on her character? Whichever way she looked at it, she could not pretend that she did not know. How long could she go on turning a blind eye to something that offended against her deepest instincts? It would be better to get a low-paid job as a cleaner or a minder of old ladies, as she had done before.
But now there was Daisy. As Miss Lawton had hinted, Mimi Court’s house was no place for a child, but where else could she go? And while she remained at 23 Macaulay Road, Mabel had to stay there too. Too late she realised her mistake in not being firmer with her sister and returning her to Belhampton straight away.
A Child's Voice Calling Page 30