A Child's Voice Calling

by Maggie Bennett

  ‘Take ’er back to Aunt Nell.’

  ‘But how can I? I just can’t go to the Somertons and say I’ve brought her back after all this time, not after the way grandmother insulted them – ye should’ve heard her, Albert, it was awful, I didn’t dare show me face, I was that ashamed. If I took her back now, they’d have every right to send me packin’.’

  ‘Yer ain’t got no choice, Mabel. You an’ Daisy got to get aht o’ there. Look ’ere, I’ll come wiv yer, an’ ’ave a word wiv this Thomas Somerton. The aunts are decent sorts an’ I reckon they’d do it for our muvver’s sake. Fact is, Mabel, it’s got to be sorted aht before I go back.’

  Albert spoke with urgency and Mabel saw that he was very concerned. ‘And yer really think Aunt Nell ’ud agree?’

  ‘I’d lay even money on it.’

  ‘Shall I write a letter to her? And to Aunt Kate?’

  ‘Nah, let’s use the element o’ surprise, as we say in the navy. Go dahn there this weekend, all free of us, an’ stay somewhere in Bel’ampton, an’ send a message from there sayin’ we’d like to see ’em, very sorry for what’s ’appened, you can do that bit, and leave it to yer bruvver to do the rest!’

  Persuaded by his determination, Mabel agreed. Mrs Court was politely but firmly told that they were taking Daisy on a visit to her Belhampton relations, and although she compressed her lips and said they were making a big mistake by unsettling Daisy all over again, she noted the gleam in Albert’s eye and made no attempt to stop them. Daisy was cock-a-hoop with excitement and chattered happily about seeing her friend Lucy Drummond again.

  On the train down to Belhampton that Saturday morning, Albert told Mabel that he was staying at the Seamen’s Mission on Mercer Street in Shadwell. ‘No need to tell the ol’ girl; let ’er fink I’m puttin’ up wiv a pal. If she can’t even give me a bunk to kip dahn on—’

  ‘Oh, what a shame, Albert, havin’ to stay at a hostel on yer leave!’

  ‘Nah, ’s all right, clean, food not bad. No beer, an’ a bit on the ’oly side, but decent an’ cheap. Stops the young ’uns from bein’ robbed by crimps an’ ’ores. And talkin’ o’ missions an’ stuff, ’ave yer seen anythin’ of ol’ ‘Arry?’ He asked the question quickly, catching her off guard.

  Her mouth hardened and he saw that the subject was painful. ‘No, I broke off completely and yer know why. Please don’t speak of it, Albert.’

  ‘Poor ol’ ‘Arry, worships the grahnd yer walk on, Mabel. Yer won’t ever find a better.’

  ‘I’m not lookin’ for a better, Albert. I’ve told yer before, I shan’t marry anybody.’ Lowering her voice so that Daisy would not hear, she went on, ‘As soon as she’s back at Belhampton, if they’ll take her back, I shall see about trainin’ to be a nurse. I’ll apply to the Booth Street Poor Law infirmary, over Lambeth way.’

  ‘Yer mean the ol’ sick asylum? Gawd, Mabel, it’s a bleedin’ work’ouse!’

  ‘Not any more it isn’t. It’s been taken over by the LCC an’ got proper wards and an operatin’ theatre. One of the mothers was tellin’ me her sister’s trainin’ there, and lives in the nurses’ hostel. The work’s hard, but I was never afraid o’ that, and once I’ve done the three years an’ got me certificate, I’ll look for a job nursin’ children.’

  He saw her eyes soften at the prospect and said gently, ‘That’s what yer was plannin’ to do one day in the Sally Army with ’Arry, wa’n’t it?’ She did not reply and he went on thoughtfully, ‘My Gawd, Mabel, ye’ve ’ad a few setbacks, ain’t yer? First yer lose yer job at the Anti-Viv ’cause o’ me, then our muvver an’ farver went the way they did, and there was all that scare over the p—er, that damned blood test, an’ yer lost yer job at the Rescue an’ fell into the clutches o’ the Duchess o’ Tootin’ – bloody ’ell, Mabel, there’s always been summat to knock yer backwards. Well, I ain’t goin’ back to sea until ye’re free o’ that miserable ’ole.’

  His face was grimly set and only relaxed when Daisy looked up at him and smiled. ‘D’ye think Auntie Nell might say I’m a good girl now, Albert?’

  ‘Not ’alf!’ He tapped the side of his nose and gave her a knowing wink.

  From the train they watched the sprawl of London give way to leafy suburbs with gardens, parks and tennis courts; then came woodlands and stretches of common land with Surrey pines towering above sandy tracks. Even busy towns like Woking, Aldershot and Farnham were surrounded by green countryside, and when they reached the low, rounded Hampshire hills and pretty villages clustering around their church spires, Mabel wondered if her mother had missed the country when she found herself in Sorrel Street.

  From Belhampton Station the little trio walked into the town and Albert led them into the biggest hotel he could see, the Wheatsheaf, where he booked a room for himself and a larger one for his sisters to share. They had a midday dinner at a table in the dining room, though Mabel was too nervous to eat much, and spent the time rewriting the note she had penned to her aunt and uncle Somerton. In it she told them that Albert was home on leave, and that she and Daisy had come down to Belhampton with him.

  We are staying at the Wheatsheaf Inn, and hope that you will allow us to call on you and Aunt Kate. We would like to see you again and Alice. May we visit tomorrow if convenent for you. We send our sinsere regards.

  Mabel, Albert and Daisy Court

  She put the note in the addressed envelope she had brought with her and Albert gave sixpence to a messenger boy to deliver it to Pear Tree Cottage, a mile out of the town. ‘Wait an’ see if there’s an answer,’ Albert told the boy, and Mabel spent the next hour on tenterhooks, wondering if any answer would be forthcoming and what it would be.

  Standing in the yard of the one-time coaching inn, she looked out at the busy little market town, the horse-drawn carts and wagons, the shoppers and strollers. There were very few motor-driven vehicles here as yet, though she saw an open-topped omnibus setting off for Winchester. ‘I don’t see any sign o’ the boy, Albert,’ she murmured. ‘And it’s been an hour since he left.’ She spoke quietly so that Daisy would not hear.

  But Daisy was not listening. She was jumping up and down at Mabel’s side. ‘There’s Uncle Thomas’s carriage, look! And there they are, Aunt Nell and Alice – and Aunt Kate, see, they’ve all come to meet us!’ she cried, running out of the yard and waving.

  And so they had. Daisy was joyfully reunited with Aunt Nell whose tearful smiles of welcome included all three of them. Mabel kissed her aunts and her sister Alice, now a very attractive girl of sixteen, and Thomas Somerton shook hands with Albert.

  Mabel was so relieved and thankful for their forgiving attitude that she forgot all Albert’s instructions and began speaking at once to her aunt and uncle Somerton about the true reason for their visit. ‘Daisy’s ready to come back to yer now if ye’re willing to have her after all the trouble ye’ve been caused – the way my grandmother Court behaved to yer,’ she said in a rush. ‘It’s been eight months and Daisy’s much better now. Yer see, she needed time to recover from—’

  Elinor and Thomas Somerton exchanged a nod of understanding.

  ‘We have always been willing to have her back and in fact we have missed her very much, Mabel,’ said Somerton gravely. ‘But if we do take her back, it must be on our terms this time. We would have to adopt her and change her name to Somerton. And she must not ever enter the house of that Court woman again.’

  Mabel looked at Albert, who stepped forward, beaming with approval. ‘Exactly what I was goin’ to suggest meself, Mr Somerton. Yer took the words right out o’ me mouf!’ he exclaimed, causing his sister Alice to grimace with embarrassment. ‘Mabel meant well, but it’s been a trouble to me, I can tell yer, knowin’ they was livin’ at that house with such a woman. Ye’ve taken a great weight orf me mind, sir.’

  Which left Mabel with little to add except her grateful thanks, while tears of relief flowed. ‘I just don’t know what I’d’ve done if ye’d refused,’ she admitted guilelessly and Aunt Kate put a
comforting arm round her shoulders.

  ‘How could they – how could we possibly refuse, Mabel? You’re so like your mother – our sister Anna-Maria.’

  And that, it seemed, was reason enough for their forbearance and forgiveness. There was no need for any of them to stay at the Wheatsheaf that night, for Daisy’s room was waiting for her at Pear Tree Cottage, while Aunt Kate insisted that Mabel and Albert should stay with her at Pinehurst, the family home where their mother had grown up with her sisters.

  Nothing had prepared the brother and sister for the spaciousness and many comforts of the house, the luxury of feather beds, an indoor water closet, gleaming polished furniture and a garden with green lawns and flower beds. Even Albert was overawed and Mabel knew that his thoughts, like hers, were of their mother and the life she had left behind for ever when she married Jack Court. When she had to marry him, thought Mabel, and all because of me. Had Anna-Maria wished that she had never indulged in that long-ago lovemaking? For the resulting changes and events had ruined her health and brought her down to the grave at thirty-seven. In the silence of the country night Mabel mourned afresh for her mother.

  On the Sunday morning they all walked to the parish church where they occupied a whole pew four rows from the front. Again Mabel pictured her mother worshipping in this same church, following the same order of service and singing the familiar hymns. She watched the handsome middle-aged rector move towards the carved pulpit and ascend its curving steps to deliver his sermon. ‘My text this morning is taken from the first epistle of St Peter, chapter 4, verse 12,’ he began, his fine voice resounding through the nave. Then he stopped and gripped the side of the pulpit, his face drained of colour as he stared intently at one face among the many upturned before him: the girl in the pew with Miss Chalcott and the Somertons.

  Mabel felt his gaze upon her and shifted uncomfortably. Murmurings began to be heard in the congregation, and Aunts Nell and Kate exchanged a significant glance. The rector’s wife half rose from her place in the front pew where she sat with their five children.

  The rector must have made an effort to take command of himself, for he turned his eyes away from Mabel, took a deep breath and collected his thoughts sufficiently to continue with his sermon, though at times he hesitated, as if he had lost the thread of his subject.

  As was customary at the end of the service, the rector greeted each member of the congregation as they left by the south door. As he held out his hand to Mabel, he once again seemed unable to say a word.

  Miss Chalcott quickly interposed. ‘This is our niece Mabel Court, Mr Drummond, and this is her brother Albert. They are in Belhampton on a visit, and little Daisy has come back to live with her aunt and uncle Somerton.’

  ‘Oh – ah, I see,’ he said quietly, managing a smile for the brother and sister. ‘I hope you enjoy your visit, Miss Court – Mr Court.’

  Mabel was swiftly moved on by her aunt, and when they were away from the crowd around the door, Albert turned round and asked, ‘What d’yer reckon was up with ’im? Looked as if ’e’d suddenly seen a ghost.’

  ‘Ah, yes,’ murmured Aunt Nell who was standing nearby, and Mabel saw that her eyes were full of tears. ‘I’ll have a quiet word with you later, Mabel.’

  They all ate Sunday dinner together at Pear Tree Cottage, and when it was finished Nell drew Mabel aside and took her out into the garden. ‘My dear Mabel, I feel that I should tell you something,’ she began. ‘As a young man our rector was in love with your mother; in fact, they were practically engaged. But then that man – your father – came on the scene. Father had engaged him to take our photographs, and as soon as Anna-Maria saw him she completely lost her head and never gave another thought to poor Mr Drummond. He was quite heartbroken and I’ll never forget his face when – oh, Mabel, it was dreadful – such a scandal.’

  Mabel looked wordlessly at her aunt on hearing this incredible tale, or so it seemed to her. It showed yet another aspect of her mother, a wilful, flirtatious girl who had let her heart rule her head, spurning the love of a worthy young man who adored her, in favour of the charming, improvident Jack Court. And to think how it had all ended . . .

  ‘And as you’re so like her as she was then, Mabel, Mr Drummond must have indeed thought he was seeing a . . . a ghost,’ said Nell sadly. ‘He was inconsolable at the time.’

  ‘But he married somebody else, didn’t he?’ Mabel pointed out. ‘The lady in the front pew.’

  ‘Yes, happily he went into the Church and married Miss Perrott as soon as he was ordained. But Anna-Maria was his first love and he’s never forgotten her, one could see that this morning.’

  But now she’s dead, thought Mabel, only a ghost from the past. And Mr Drummond has got a wife and family.

  Just as Harry Drover will, one day . . .

  Before Mabel and Albert left Belhampton, Aunt Kate made her eldest niece an offer of a permanent home as her companion. ‘You’d be near to your sisters without having the responsibility for them, Mabel, and you’d benefit from a healthy country life. And I’d love to have you here at Pinehurst.’

  There was a note of pleading in her words, and Mabel wondered if, like Mr Drummond, her aunt saw Anna-Maria in her niece and wanted to make amends for past unkindness. ‘It’s ever so kind o’ yer, Aunt Kate, but I’m goin’ to apply to train as a nurse, so I’d best go back to London, y’see.’

  ‘But Elinor and I can’t bear the thought of you going back to that dreadful woman at Tooting and staying in her house.’

  ‘It won’t be for much longer, Aunt, I can’t wait to escape! But I want to be a nurse above all else and I need to get me general training done.’ She went on to explain that with Daisy back in Belhampton, she was now free to pursue her lifelong dream, and that her friend Miss Carter had advised applying to a Poor Law infirmary as the best option for a girl of her background, and that the training was free.

  ‘My dear Mabel, if it was a question of paying for you to train at a good hospital—’

  ‘No, Aunt Kate, you and Aunt Nell have done more ’n enough for us all,’ said Mabel quickly. ‘I’d rather go to Booth Street infirmary – I’d fit in better there, if yer see what I mean. But thank yer, Aunt Kate. I’ll never forget how kind ye’ve been – you and Aunt Nell and Uncle Thomas.’

  Without being asked, Daisy willingly promised to settle down with her Hampshire relations. ‘I’ll be good this time, Mabel – I really will,’ she said and Mabel knew that at nine years old her sister had learned that there could be no going back to the old life. ‘I like bein’ here at Aunt Nell’s house better than Grandmother’s,’ she confessed. ‘Ye’re not goin’ to stay there for ever, are yer, Mabel?’

  ‘No, dear, I’m going to be a nurse and look after ill people.’

  There were hugs and kisses and promises to write when the brother and sister boarded the London train, and although the parting was painful Mabel’s elation at the prospect of freedom from Macaulay Road buoyed her up; she was ready to face a furious outburst on her return without Daisy.

  But Mimi was coldly dismissive, and hardly seemed surprised. ‘Hm. I thought as much, yer had it all planned with that foul-mouthed brother o’ yours, didn’t yer? She’d better not decide to come back, ’cause I won’t have her, the ungrateful little minx.’

  Mabel did not answer. She had already composed her letter of application to the Matron of the Booth Street Poor Law infirmary and Albert had warned her not to breathe a word about it to anybody, though she wrote to Miss Carter and Mrs James to ask them for references. Both consented, Mrs James all the more readily because she had a conscience about Mabel’s summary dismissal from the Institute at a difficult time in her life. Mabel was also asked to give the name of her general practitioner who unknown to her sent a highly commendatory letter.

  On the day before Albert was due to return to sea, he had another serious talk with his sister. ‘Good luck wiv yer interview, Mabel, an’ remember, not a word to the Duchess until the day yer sling yer ’ook
. I wouldn’t put it past ’er to try an’ scuttle yer chances. She’s goin’ to miss yer pedallin’ all rahnd Tootin’ doin’ ’er work.’

  ‘I can’t ever thank yer enough for what ye’ve done, Albert,’ she said seriously. ‘It’s made all the difference in the world, gettin’ Daisy back to Belhampton.’

  ‘Well, she couldn’t’ve stayed ’ere, could she? An’ the sooner you get out o’ the damned place the better, an’ all. I worry about yer, ol’ gal.’ He pinched her cheek as he spoke and she knew how much he meant what he said. Then he told her he had been to see Harry Drover at Clapton. ‘Still pinin’ for yer, Mabel, an’ ’e ain’t never goin’ to alter.’

  Her heart gave a lurch at the thought of the meeting between the two of them and what might have been said. ‘Yer didn’t say anythin’ about me, did yer?’ she asked anxiously.

  He gave her a quizzical look. ‘I did as much listenin’ as talkin’. Don’t forget he’s a Sally Army man, which means there ain’t much ’e don’t know abaht yooman failin’s.’

  ‘Oh, Albert, yer didn’t talk about anythin’ . . . confidential, did yer?’

  ‘Sometimes there ain’t no need to discuss anyfin’, Mabel. People ain’t always as daft as yer fink. Anyway, toodle-oo, old gal, an’ take care – I won’t be ’appy until ye’re shot o’ the ol’ witch.’

  ‘Goodbye, Albert. And thanks for—’ She hugged him close, unable to say another word.

  ‘I must tell you, Miss Court, that a large number of young women have applied for nursing training at this hospital since it came under the jurisdiction of the Local Government Board and the appointment of a Medical Officer. Daughters of clergymen, schoolmasters, councillors – I’ve taken them on as probationers and you have to realise that with over seventy applicants for less than twenty appointments, I have to be very careful in selecting the right ones.’

  Mabel’s heart sank. The Matron of the Booth Street infirmary was a square-faced, broad-shouldered woman of about forty-five, with a starched and frilled white cap perched on her iron-grey hair. She sat opposite Mabel across a desk on which lay the application letters and details of the other young women being interviewed that day, and she prided herself on her intuitive judgement of character. ‘I see that since leaving school you have worked at a nursery for pre-school children and a refuge for unmarried mothers. Miss Carter gives you a very good reference and Mrs James describes you as a willing worker.’