by Rosie James
They were passing a large country house, set back from the road, and there were groups of girls and women all standing around talking, some sitting on the grass, some lying outstretched with their hands beneath their heads. ‘What are they doing there?’ Alice persisted.
Fay automatically slowed down as they drove slowly past. ‘That’s funny,’ she said, ‘That place was always derelict, wasn’t it…there was certainly never anybody living there.’
The occupants of the car were all craning their necks to get a better look…rewarded by some ribald shouting, and one or two offensive gestures by a few of the women, most of whom were obviously heavily pregnant.
‘Oh dear,’ Fay’s grandmother said, ‘that’s not very polite of them, is it? But poor things…not a rosy future for any of them I’m afraid.’
‘But who are they?’ Alice said. ‘What are they all doing there?’
Mrs. Reynolds shook her head sadly. ‘They’re fallen women, dear,’ she said, ‘you know, all having babies with no father. Illegitimate.’ Fay’s mother whispered the unpleasant word. ‘These sort of places look after them ’til they give birth,’ she added.
Suddenly, Alice gave a cry and leaned forward further still. ‘Oh Fay…stop…stop, for just a minute…’ she pleaded, and Fay did as she was asked, drawing the car slowly to the side. She turned to look back at Alice.
‘What’s going on?’ she said. ‘Why are we stopping?’
‘Because…because I think I know that girl…that woman…the one standing on her own over there. I…I must just go and speak to her, just for a second. Can I, Fay? Please?’ She glanced around at the others. ‘I’m sorry to hold us up, but I won’t be more than a couple of minutes…I promise.’
The others readily agreed, and Alice immediately got out of the car and ran back the short distance to the house, crossing the road and going over to the woman she thought she knew. The woman whose hands were clasped around her bulging stomach, whose long dark hair was drawn fiercely back from a pale, lined face.
Alice was the first to speak. ‘Lizzie?’ she said uncertainly. Could this be Lizzie?
But this was definitely Lizzie. A few years older than Alice, she had once been a little kitchen maid at Clifton, brought in from Muller’s Orphanage each day to help Betty. And for a reason which Alice hadn’t then understood, had always hated her.
The woman nodded, looking away briefly. ‘Hullo, Alice,’ she said.
At 6.30, everyone took their seats at the farm’s long kitchen table, and Alice automatically glanced upwards, expecting to see the family’s laundry airing on the long wooden clothes rail high above the range, where it usually was. But Mabel had obviously decided that when having company, personal items should be well out of sight, and Alice was quite sad to see that today the rail was completely bare, with not even a single pair of socks in sight, let alone a pair of Mabel’s bloomers or the farmer’s long-johns waving gently in the warm air. That homely sight had been one of Alice’s cherished memories of living here…the comfortable everydayness of the domestic routine, the smell of freshly laundered clothing pervading the room.
The table, as usual, groaned with the surfeit of good food, and as all the guests tucked in everyone exclaimed over and over again that they had never eaten so much in their lives. And Mabel Foulkes, sitting in her usual place at the head of the table, looked around her and smiled happily. To her, there wasn’t a better feeling in the whole world than giving people a proper, home-grown, home-cooked meal, and then seeing every single plate completely cleared. Of course, she had to admit that their own pigs did have that special flavour, and accompanied by all the freshly dug vegetables, well, what more could you ask? You couldn’t go wrong, could you? Not to mention the wonderful fresh eggs from her precious chickens, and the milk from their own herd guaranteeing the success of her famed egg custard – which she always laced with a little brandy and swirls of cream. It was one of her specialities. Kept for special occasions.
And this was a special occasion, because their three Land Girls were here again, this time accompanied by Fay’s mother and grandmother. It was lovely to have other folk visit them now and again – which seldom happened – and Mabel’s eyes misted as she gazed across at the younger members of the gathering all laughing and teasing each other, reminiscing. She knew that Roger loved being with the girls…he’d been really looking forward to today, and she remembered how low he’d been for a while after the war had ended and they’d all gone home. And at that time, Walter, too, had been even more grumpy than usual…even though they had their local lads who’d returned from their various war duties, and who’d picked up the threads of normality again as if those five disruptive tumultuous years had hardly happened. But now those times were long gone, seeming to leave in their wake troubled waters for some.
Fay’s mother interrupted Mabel’s thoughts. ‘I never realized what a huge place you have here Mr. Foulkes,’ she said, glancing across at the farmer. ‘My goodness, it must be something to keep it all going…you must have to work very long days,’ she added. Earlier, the visitors had been given a long, leisurely tour of the farm, had met the dogs and all the animals the chickens, geese and goats – and afterwards had been shown the rather primitive toilet facilities. Which Fay’s grandmother had used without the slightest problem.
Walter stirred in his chair – he’d been having a little doze for a few moments, letting all the nattering wash over him – ‘Ay, well…farm work ain’t for the ’alf earted,’ he said. ‘But you get used to it – like our Land Girls ’ad to.’ He paused, nodding over at Alice, Fay and Eve. ‘I believe we were lucky in they three,’ he said. ‘They got good at everythin’ pretty quick.’
Mabel was pleased at that. Her husband never threw compliments around. But it was funny – ever since Alice’s wedding he’d softened a bit. Well, Mabel thought so. Because he had really enjoyed that day out away from the farm, and being with completely different people. Apart from grumbling about having to wear his dark suit – which admittedly was a bit tight around the waist and bum – and have a proper tie around his neck for a change – he hadn’t moaned once after that. He’d seemed quite awe-struck in the church – and that reception, well… Everyone had come up and made friends, all talking as if they’d known each other for ages. And the bridegroom had spent about half an hour asking Walter all about the farm – and enquiring about his arthritis! I mean, nobody expects that, do they? Not on someone’s wedding day! And bless her, Eve had brought another tin of that liniment with her today for Walter’s poor, swollen fingers…that stuff she’d brought back from Bath with her over the years had done him the world of good. Well, she’d explained that her parents knew all about medication and it was they who’d insisted Walter should have some of their own supply, and try it. Mind, you could go to the doctor now and ask for anything you thought you wanted…the National Health Service had been on the go since July, and it didn’t cost anyone a penny. Not one penny. But Walter would never go to the doctor. Didn’t trust any of them…though perhaps after meeting Alice’s husband he might start to think differently. Mabel doubted that, but still, it was nice to know that all medicines were free now. Free for everyone…though she had heard that the queue of patients waiting to see the doctor could hold you up for the whole morning and half the afternoon as well.
Just then, Fay spoke up. ‘We were really sorry that milking had come and gone before we got here today, Mrs. Foulkes,’ she said. ‘Evie, especially, had been looking forward to doing it again,’ she added, grinning at Eve.
It was 8 o’clock, and it would soon be time for Fay to drive them back home. Mabel stood up. ‘Now then, tea or coffee?’ she enquired, but before anyone could reply, there was the sudden strident ringing of the telephone in the scullery. Roger immediately stood up. His parents didn’t touch the thing if they could help it, and he left the kitchen to answer it, after a few moments returning to speak to his mother.
‘It’s Uncle Bart, Mum,’ Roger said, raisin
g his eyebrows. Uncle Bart never rang them. Never rang anyone.
Mabel frowned, then went into the scullery, coming back in a few moments. ‘That were my brother Bart…Bartholomew,’ she said. ‘Just lettin’ me know ’ee’s ’ad a funny turn and ’ad to call the doctor.’ Mabel shook her head. ‘Wonders’ll never cease! ’Ee’s never been ill in his life before – but ’ee sounded a bit funny I must say.’
The farmer snorted. ‘Oh I expect ’ee’s just ’eard about the free Health Service,’ he said, ‘an’ ’ee’s goin’ to make the most of it! Trust ’im! Never parted with a penny of ’is own money ’sfar as I d’know.’
‘Walter! Don’t be unkind!’ Mabel protested. But she had to agree with Walter. Her bachelor brother – five years her senior – owned a very profitable farm in South Devon. He’d always employed very few staff, and had a reputation for meanness. Which upset Mabel a bit, but when she thought about all Roger’s birthdays her brother had missed, never even sending a card never mind a present, that upset Mabel Foulkes even more. They were a small family, Roger the only one to represent the next generation, you’d think Bart would send his nephew a few bob on his birthday.
‘Well, any’ow, wha’s ’ee expect you to do about it?’ Walter Foulkes demanded sulkily. Even thinking about his brother-in-law got up his nose. Mabel shrugged.
‘Just lettin’ me know, I s’pose,’ she said reluctantly. Her brother had always been a funny one. Never quite knew where you were with him…but perhaps if he was poorly – for the first time in his life as far as Mabel knew – he needed to talk to someone…to family. And she was all he had. All he had ever had.
Finally, everyone got up from the table, the guests preparing to leave the farm – but not before Mabel had insisted on giving them each a large bagful of farm produce to take home with them. And all the Foulkes, including Walter, assuring them that next time they were passing they should look in. That they would always be welcome.
It was gone 9 o’clock before Fay drove her car load of passengers away from the farm, and Fay’s grandmother – who’d insisted on taking her turn in the back seat with Alice and Eve – said –
‘Well, our Fay, no wonder you had such a good time during the war with that lovely Foulkes family. Mind, I was surprised how big the cows were when you got up close, and I s’pose you had to sit very near to their…bums…when you were milking.’ She paused, her mind running over the events of the afternoon. ‘And those top fields with all the potatoes up there! Must be thousands and thousands of plants, and you said digging the things up was the job you didn’t like, Fay, did you? Never mind, with such beautiful scenery all around it must have seemed like one long holiday,’ she added. ‘The rest of us were having a war – you were having a holiday!’
The three girls glanced at each other. But said nothing.
It was gone midnight before Fay and Alice crept into Miss Downs’s place, shutting the front door behind them and treading noiselessly up the stairs. For once, Fay’s landlady had not stayed up to see her tenant in.
Presently, with them both glad to lie down in their beds after quite a tiring day, Fay turned on her side to look across at Alice.
‘Who was that woman you went over to talk to, Alice?’ she said curiously. ‘You know, earlier….when you asked me to stop the car? You told us that you’d known her for a long time, but that was all. Who was she?’
‘She’s called Lizzie,’ Alice said quietly, ‘and we knew each other as children – it was when my mother and I went to live at Clifton permanently, and she – Lizzie – came in every day to help around the house…help Betty in the kitchen.’ Alice paused. ‘Lizzie was an orphan, living in one of the George Muller homes, and someone would drop her off at Clifton in the morning, and take her back there each night. So we saw each other quite a bit.’
‘That was all right then,’ Fay said, but Alice interrupted –
‘No…it wasn’t, really,’ she said. ‘Because Lizzie always hated me. From the moment we took up residence she used to stare me out and make horrible faces at me, and say nasty things.’
There was a long pause, then Alice went on – ‘She was jealous, you see, that not only was my mother there, but also that I was treated like one of the Carmichael family – I lived-in, while poor Lizzie had to go back each night to the orphanage.’ Alice shook her head briefly. ‘It’s all so clear now, of course…poor girl…it must be so terrible never to know who your parents were, never to belong to people you can call your own, mustn’t it…’
Fay didn’t bother to answer that, but listened as Alice went on – ‘But Lizzie, too, had been very lucky knowing the Carmichaels, because when she was sixteen the professor got her a job at the Infirmary, and she went on to train to become a nurse…a proper nurse. He made sure she had a way of earning her living.’
Fay shrugged. ‘So – what’s she doing in that “Home for the Fallen?”’ she asked bluntly.
Alice found it hard to go on for a moment – then – ‘It’s horrible…she was telling me that a couple of years ago she left the Infirmary to work in a little private hospital a few miles outside the city…run by a brother and sister. Lizzie thought it would be a change to work in the countryside…but…one night…he, the man…the owner, came into her room and raped her.’ Alice swallowed hard, finding it difficult to imagine the scene. ‘Lizzie said she didn’t think I’d believe her, or that anyone would believe her, but that is exactly what happened. She said she’s never had a boyfriend…never slept with a man in her life. Now, after just one…event…an event forced on her – she is expecting a child, and it is not her fault.’
There was silence between them as Fay, with mounting anger, took all this in, and Alice went on – ‘Of course, as soon as they knew she was pregnant, she was thrown out of her job, and obviously out of a home as well. She confronted the man, and – naturally – he denied ever touching her. And who else could she tell? Who would believe a pregnant woman over an authoritative man? So Lizzie had no one she could turn to…and she said that she didn’t want the professor to ever hear about it because she would feel so ashamed. After everything he had done for her she’d landed herself in this mess…’
Fay sat up as if she’d been struck. ‘She didn’t land herself in the mess!’ Fay said, trying to keep her voice down. ‘A bloody man landed her in it! I hope he rots, rots in hell! How do they get away with it! How have they ever got away with it! It’s not bloody fair…and never has been!’
Alice wasn’t surprised at Fay’s reaction. ‘But the worst of it is,’ Alice went on, ‘is that they – the people at the Home – expect her to give up the baby. She’ll have just a few weeks to decide what she’s going to do about it, but what choice does she have, really? I mean, she has no home, and no family who could look after the child for her to go back to work…she is well and truly stuck. And they keep telling her that it’s the right – the only – thing for her to do, for herself, and the baby.’
Fay flopped back down on the bed, feeling so angry at what she’d heard that she knew she was never going to get to sleep. ‘So – what is she – Lizzie – going to do?’ Fay asked.
‘She’s not sure, yet,’ Alice replied. ‘I’ve given her our Chelsea address, and begged her to keep in touch…to let me know when the baby’s born. She’s got a few months to go, so she said.’ Alice paused, adding – ‘I told her we’d help her…somehow…’
Sleep didn’t come easily for either of them that night. Fay’s mind was a boiling turmoil of hate and anger at the injustices of life, while Alice was trying to work out how best to help Lizzie, to try and throw some light into the darkest corner, yet, of that poor woman’s life. To hold your baby in your arms, then be made to give it away – must be the most terrible thing in the world.
Suddenly, Alice knew exactly what she had to do, and she sat up, hugging her knees. She’d speak to Sam about it as soon as he came home, but he’d be in perfect agreement – as the professor would – Alice knew there was no doubt about that
. And it would all work out perfectly – because Sam had just been told that his assignment at Great Ormond Street was to end sooner than expected, and that he was to return to the Bristol Infirmary until further notice. So – before the end of the year they would be back at Clifton…where there was plenty of space to accommodate Lizzie until after the baby was born – and where they could both be looked after until further notice, and until it was decided what the future might entail for them.
Alice flopped back down, delighted and excited. Single-handedly, she’d worked out the perfect solution for Lizzie. And Betty would be thrilled to have a little baby in the house again.
Alice’s eyes clouded for a second, wondering how she would feel when it actually happened…a baby born at Clifton was going to be wonderful, but it would be even more wonderful if it was hers. If it was a Carmichael baby…
Chapter Twenty
14th November 1948
At 10.10 pm, in a room on the first floor of Buckingham Palace overlooking The Mall, Her Royal Highness the Princess Elizabeth gave birth to her first child. A son. A prince. To be named Charles…
Alice turned away from the mirror, biting back her tears. A royal baby, a son – born to his adoring parents…to the adoring public.
Sam came in then, handsome and immaculate in his dinner suit, and he gazed down at Alice. ‘You look wonderful, darling,’ he murmured, planting a kiss on the top of her head. ‘I am looking forward to showing you off to all my friends tonight.’
To be held at the Grosvenor Hotel, this was the first proper dinner engagement Alice was to go to with her husband, but there would be many more in the future. And she knew she must prepare herself to be what Helena had been to Edward when meeting distinguished colleagues. But Helena herself had been distinguished in her own right, while Alice certainly was not. Yet Sam was telling her, in so many words, that he would want her to be by his side for all the years to come…doing her duty as his wife, his partner and support. And she had promised to do that – hadn’t she? When he’d proposed? And she had meant every word. But the reality of her situation would keep giving her these niggling doubts…was she really prepared for the life ahead of her? Was she up to it? Was it what she really wanted, after all…?