Letters from Alice

by Petrina Banfield

  ‘Then you shall have to return at a mutually agreed time,’ Elizabeth snapped, moving towards the door with a sweeping gesture.

  ‘I really must insist on seeing the child. I cannot leave until I have checked that she is safe,’ the almoner said with biting finality. It was then that the door to the parlour opened and Dr Peter Harland stepped into the room, the baby, wrapped in a white blanket, sleeping in his arms. Alice stared at him, eyes wide. ‘So, it was you,’ she said scornfully. ‘I knew it.’

  ‘What?’ he demanded as he took a step towards her. ‘What is it that you think you know?’

  ‘I found this on your desk,’ Alice said quietly. She produced a card from the pocket of her cape and held it out to Elizabeth, though her gaze remained on the doctor.

  His face stiffened with anger. ‘So, it’s a birthday card from my sister. What were you doing ransacking my office? Rooting through my personal property?’ Several feet away from him, Elizabeth reddened and sucked in her lips.

  ‘Why did you do it, Elizabeth?’ Alice asked, ignoring the doctor and turning to settle her gaze on his sister.

  The older woman hesitated, then began to stammer. ‘I have not, I mean, I have absolutely no idea what it is you think – I …’

  ‘My instinct was whispering something to me from that very first night, Elizabeth,’ the almoner cut in, waving the card in the space between them. ‘I dismissed it because Charlotte was my priority at the time, but I should have known that you were not to be trusted. The handwriting –’ she said in explanation, turning to Peter Harland. ‘It matches the writing on the threatening note that was sent to me. And now I’m left wondering whether the two of you are even related in the way you claim.’

  The doctor stared at her with his jaw hanging slack, but when the almoner turned back to Elizabeth, the older woman dropped her gaze and looked away.

  ‘You are lovers, as well as siblings, are you not?’ Alice ventured, her gaze remaining on Elizabeth. ‘You should know that I have come across several cases such as yours in the last year; more than you might ever imagine, I should think.’ She paused, glancing over at the horrified doctor and then back to Elizabeth. ‘Fear of producing a monster prevented you from having a child between you, didn’t it?’ Alice continued. ‘So you used a young girl to produce an infant that was at least related to one of you.’

  Dr Harland gave a harsh laugh and moved further into the room. ‘At first I thought you were quite a sensible woman, albeit highly strung,’ he said, the baby beginning to wail in his arms, ‘but it’s clear now that you’re not just a firebrand. You are genuinely, certifiably unhinged!’

  Elizabeth strode over and took the waking infant from him. ‘She’s perfectly sane, Peter,’ she said evenly, cuddling the baby to her chest. ‘I did send the note.’

  The doctor blinked between them, pained confusion evident on his face. Eventually he let out a moan. ‘Why in God’s name would you do that?!’

  ‘I thought it would scare her off. I just wanted to make her go away!’

  The doctor cradled his head in his hands and staggered past them, dropping heavily onto a chaise longue. Elizabeth rounded on him. ‘I’m sorry, Peter, but I did warn you. I told you I can’t give her up, not now. You can’t ask it of me.’

  Alice stared at her. ‘Are you expecting me to believe that he knew nothing of this note?’

  Elizabeth turned to face her. ‘He did not.’

  ‘But the two of you are lovers, are you not? And Daisy is his child?’

  Peter Harland groaned loudly. Elizabeth shrieked a laugh. ‘For heaven’s sake, I spent half my life raising him. He most certainly is not my lover!’

  Alice shook her head. ‘I don’t understand.’

  Elizabeth heaved a heavy sigh and sank down into an armchair. ‘We lost our parents in the blizzard of ’91,’ she said, staring down at the baby resting in the crook of her arm. ‘I was sixteen but Peter was just a young boy. We muddled along together as best we could. I tried my best to be a mother to him, but I’m afraid that left no room for finding a relationship of my own.’

  Behind her, Peter rubbed his broad hands over his eyes and then dragged them down his face.

  ‘Oh, stop with the guilt, will you?’ Elizabeth said, shifting around in her chair. ‘I don’t regret it for a single second. I’m so proud of what you’ve managed to achieve, given the cards you were dealt, Peter. Prouder than you’ll ever know. But you must see that I’m owed this. It’s my turn now.’

  There was a pause. Alice stared at him, then turned back to his sister. ‘But Daisy is not yours, Elizabeth,’ she said, her tone softening. ‘She was never meant to be yours.’

  Elizabeth sprang to her feet. ‘You were the ones who turned up at my door,’ she spat out, eyeing Alice resentfully. ‘I never asked for any of this. You brought the girl here and let her bleed out all over my rug.’

  ‘She already has a mother,’ Alice said evenly.

  ‘Oh, but what life can she give her?’ Elizabeth demanded, her voice rising. ‘And what life would she have for herself? Do you think any man will be interested in her when they find out that she has a child in tow? I can attest to the fact that they’ll run for the hills at the first sign of a dependant, let alone a bastard one.’

  ‘For God’s sake, Lizzie,’ Peter Harland barked. ‘I told you not to let yourself get carried away with this.’

  ‘Oh yes, that’s easy enough for you to say! You’re not the one who’s carried a hole around inside you all these years, Peter.’ There was a pause. Elizabeth appeared to make efforts to gather herself before continuing. ‘Can’t you see this is better for all of us? Without a scar on her reputation, the girl will be able to find work, perhaps even gain the chance of a good marriage.’

  ‘But Charlotte will not be whole until her child is returned to her.’ Alice’s voice was firm, but her features had softened. Elizabeth looked down at the baby, a tear rolling down her cheek. ‘You must satisfy yourself with being her aunt, not her mother.’

  Peter Harland let out a loud scoff. Elizabeth looked up sharply. ‘Where on earth would you get such an idea?’

  Alice eyed the doctor with a level gaze. ‘Do you think I had not guessed?’

  Elizabeth swivelled on her heel towards her brother, who held up despairing hands, and then turned back to Alice. The baby began to moan in her arms. She got to her feet and said: ‘What are you talking about?’

  Alice kept her gaze on Peter Harland. ‘Do you think I missed the look that passed between you and Charlotte on that first night? I couldn’t quite grasp hold of it at the time, but something has been niggling at me ever since. And then I came to realise – you and she were in a relationship. You are the child’s father.’

  Dr Harland gave a bitter laugh and dropped his head back into his hands. ‘There is no point in denying it,’ Alice persisted, looking down at him. ‘It is not a coincidence that you brought us here, to Elizabeth’s door. Believe me, I know exactly what sort of man you are.’

  ‘I don’t think you have the faintest idea what sort of man he is,’ Elizabeth interjected bitterly, beginning to bob from one foot to the other to soothe the fretting infant. ‘And how on earth would he ever have been able to get near the girl, with all that hissing and scratching going on?’

  ‘Well, someone got close to her, Elizabeth. And you said it yourself the first day I met you. Your brother is dour, cold and completely lacking in any sense of empathy.’

  ‘Now you listen to me,’ Elizabeth said, dipping her head fiercely towards the almoner. ‘I may not be reticent in highlighting my brother’s frailties, but I love the bones of him. You’d be hard-pressed to find a man finer than him.’

  ‘So it is honourable to pursue an agenda of ridding society of its most vulnerable, is it? And it is fine to use one’s privileged position to take advantage of young girls?’

  Elizabeth blinked. ‘I’m not following any of this.’

  ‘Were you aware that your brother frequents the Marie
Stopes clinic with the intention of promoting a superior race?’

  ‘It’s not politics that takes him there! You may find the idea inconceivable, but my brother and I have strong social consciences. He works a few shifts at the clinic now and again, that’s all. He’s trying to help society’s most vulnerable, for pity’s sake!’

  ‘I don’t believe that either of you can claim the high moral ground for proposing that some women shouldn’t have babies simply because they are poor!’

  Elizabeth stared at her. The doctor took a long slow breath and got to his feet. ‘What I’m trying to do, what all of the doctors who work at the clinic are trying to do, is to relieve some of the strain on the most wretched of women, so that they can begin to take control of their lives. What is so wrong with that?’

  Alice’s gaze flicked between Elizabeth and the doctor. ‘What is your connection to Charlotte? It wasn’t just that look. I know from her reaction when I mentioned you. She was –’ She stopped, scrambling for the right word, ‘– frightened.’

  The doctor sighed. He ran his fingers through his hair, took a few paces back and forth, and then turned to face her. ‘I met Charlotte only once before the night she gave birth. It was a year or so earlier. She was brought into the hospital in a panic and was referred to me with breathing difficulties –’

  Alice nodded. ‘As I suspected. Something you categorically denied when I asked you directly.’

  ‘Will you let me finish?’ he said, glaring at her. She gave him a small, tight nod. He took a breath and then continued. ‘Once stabilised, she confided in me that she was several months into an unwanted pregnancy and had sought the help of an abortionist, one of those butchers across town. He’d gone about his business with a metal catheter but Charlotte had fainted and then fled in a panic. On examination I found that she was still pregnant, though bleeding heavily and –’ The doctor stopped, flicking his tongue over his lips.

  ‘Peter, you are not obliged to share any of this with her.’

  He looked at his sister. ‘She won’t stop, Elizabeth, not until she has the truth. It must be done.’ He turned back to Alice. ‘I have lodgings close to the hospital. It’s convenient for times when I’m on-call or working late. I took Charlotte there as soon as I could and finished what had been started.’

  There was a loud intake of breath from the almoner. ‘So you broke the law.’

  Dr Harland took a step towards Alice. ‘Do you have any idea what it’s like to face a dilemma like that? What would you have had me do? Refer her to one of those herbalists you see advertising in the local paper, so that they could get to work on her with one of their lead potions? Or should I have sent her home, where she might have been so desperate that she got to work on herself with her mother’s meat skewer? Because that’s what would have happened.’

  ‘You should have reported the case to your superiors and sought advice.’

  ‘The girl was beside herself. It was an urgent situation and I had to make a rapid clinical judgement.’

  The almoner turned to leave. Peter Harland caught her arm. ‘What are you going to do? If you report me, I’ll be made a scapegoat. I could be imprisoned. Is that what you want?’

  Alice made a noise of exasperation in her throat. ‘Oh, I don’t know!’

  There was a long silence, each of them avoiding each other’s gaze. A few feet away, Elizabeth lifted the baby onto her shoulder and rocked back and forth, patting her gently on the back. When the infant had quietened, she glanced across the room and asked: ‘Where on earth did you get the idea that my brother is in favour of eugenics?’

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  The almoner’s function is neither to preach a moral, nor to act as a machine to turn out ready made plans for the future. The almoner can only help in so far as she is able to establish her position as a friend and advisor who is prepared to assist when the need arises, and realises that her chief task is to foster in the girl herself that courage and determination without which her life cannot be rebuilt, for those who have suffered disillusionment the future makes very hard demands.

  (The Hospital Almoner: A Brief Study of Hospital Social Science in Great Britain, 1910)

  On the Friday of that week, Alice made the same journey to Banstead Mental Hospital as she had three weeks earlier – the two o’clock train taking her from Victoria to Belmont Railway Station, where she disembarked and travelled the rest of the way on foot.

  It was almost forty-five years since the first patient had been transported by omnibus to the hospital. Johanna Farell, a woman who believed that she was possessed by the devil, was escorted by two wardens through the gates of the newly built asylum on 27 March 1877. While apparently being ‘clean in her habits’, after less than two years in placement, Johanna ‘did not seem to have any intelligence left’.

  The first male patient, Mr John Scanlon, arrived the next day. Mr Scanlon had allegedly made two murderous attempts on the life of a detective; one using a loaded pistol while under the influence of chloroform, the other by sneaking arsenic into the detective’s glass of ale while he sat in a public house. Not only did Scanlon exhibit a ‘general wild state of manners and language’ but also stood accused of ‘exposing his person’ in Shepherd’s Bush.

  Mr Scanlon suffered continued delusions until he met what was described in the records as a ‘rather sudden death’ on 11 March 1886. He was buried in the grounds of the hospital shortly afterwards, just short of nine years after his committal.

  Patients from all walks of life passed through the doors of Banstead Mental Hospital through the decades that followed, some for the crime of being gay, others for having a child out of wedlock. Commentators noted a startling rise in the number of people falling victim to mental illness around the turn of the century. Industrialisation was considered by some to be the cause; its effect on the public disorientating, particularly at a time when God seemed to be withdrawing from their lives.

  At just after 3.30 p.m., the hospital came into distant view. It was Alice’s third visit since Charlotte had been admitted in early January, only this time she wasn’t alone. Keeping in step beside her was the almoners’ office typist, Winnie Bertram. She trudged along breathlessly, handbag looped over her arm, her face red with effort. Behind them, marching purposefully through the woods, pasture and open fields of Banstead, came thirty-five wellington-clad members of the Women of Westminster Book Club.

  It was two hours from sunset but there was no sign of the temperature dropping. Warm air from the Azores had brought record highs to the country that day, some areas reaching 55 degrees Fahrenheit. The high walls surrounding the grounds of the hospital, austere through the chill, overcast days of winter, perhaps appeared less so against a cloudless blue sky.

  The buck-toothed porter’s face lit up when he caught sight of Alice through the window of the gatekeeper’s lodge. When he emerged, however, and took in the army of grey-haired comrades surrounding her, his jaw dropped in surprise. Alice stepped forward and spoke quietly in his ear. He frowned, then his disappointed expression was replaced by a toothy grin. A few minutes later, he waved the almoner through the tall wrought-iron gates and watched as she led the women over the stone tracks, and into the grounds.

  A dark Bentley rolled over the tracks about ten minutes later, quickly followed by several other top-end vehicles. As the cavalcade neared, the Women of Westminster Book Club members stepped out of the shadows. Linking hands, they formed a line across the entrance to the hospital.

  The driver of the first car, a middle-aged man with black hair smoothed back from his forehead and a pencil-thin moustache, stuck his head out of the window and stared at the women in astonishment. Winnie, who was nearest, strode over and leaned down to speak to him. His eyes widened further. Moments later, with a loud crunch of gears, he threw the car into reverse and turned in a tight circle. Winnie straightened with a look of satisfaction as he sped away, then hoisted her handbag high onto her shoulder and dusted her hands.


  One of her fellow readers stepped forward as she returned to the line – a tall woman dressed in a tweed jacket and matching long skirt. As she made her way over to the next car, several other women marched forward, one to each of the remaining cars in the line.

  Within a minute, all of the cars, about twenty in total, began performing panicky three-point turns over the grass, each of the drivers desperate to make their escape. As they drove away, in haphazard lines three or four wide, the women clapped and cheered.

  At the gate, the buck-toothed porter stood outside the entrance to his lodge, watching the unfolding spectacle with amazement.

  The women had a spring in their step as they left the grounds that afternoon. Walking in pairs, they made their way along an unlit road that led to Banstead village, where they intended to reward themselves with a celebratory drink in the local pub, the Woolpack.

  Alice and Winnie, remaining behind, passed through the main entrance to the hospital, and signed themselves in at reception. The two women entered the main dining hall of Block A soon afterwards, through one of the doors nearest the stage.

  Charlotte was stacking wooden chairs up against the far wall when Winnie and the almoner entered. Dressed in a long shift with a woollen shawl draped over her shoulders, she was chatting to a fellow patient as she worked, often throwing her head back in laughter. She smiled warmly when she caught sight of Alice, and came straight over to speak to her.

  ‘Charlotte, this is Winnie,’ the almoner said, touching the typist’s arm. ‘She works with me. I hope you do not mind my bringing her along.’

  Winnie gave her a motherly smile. The teenager acknowledged her with a small smile then turned to Alice. ‘I’ve been given a leading role in the show tomorrow night,’ she told the almoner, her eyes bright. ‘And Doctor says I’m making good progress.’

  ‘That’s wonderful, Charlotte. I’m so pleased to hear it.’

  Charlotte hitched her shoulders up and clasped her hands in front of her. ‘I’m hoping it won’t be too long now, before I can get out of this place. I can’t wait to see Daisy.’