Letters from Alice

by Petrina Banfield

  The almoner stared at him coldly.

  ‘This is utterly ridiculous!’ Alexander complained, stamping his foot. ‘We are talking about a few upstarts who want nothing more than fame and notoriety. No doubt one of them thinks that coming out with these loathsome accusations is the way to achieve it. And there I was, offering them an opportunity to better themselves from a genuine sense of charity.’

  ‘You mean, you used your power, influence and prestige to draw desperate people into your lair,’ Alice said, ‘knowing only too well that they would be too frightened of the possible repercussions to report you.’

  ‘None of them complained, and neither did their parents.’

  ‘No, they didn’t. They turned a blind eye to your actions, focussing instead on the financial benefits of association with someone like you, but the fact that these women and girls had no one to safeguard them makes your actions even more deplorable, not less.’

  Alexander pulled a hanky from the pocket of his waistcoat and dabbed his brow. ‘Those girls were no different to any other woman I have ever met.’ He ran his eyes pointedly over Alice. ‘You all use your womanly wiles to get what you want, then complain when a chap tries to capitalise on it. You all say one thing and mean another, when it comes down to it, and don’t try to pretend that you’re any different, Miss Hudson.’

  Peter Harland lunged between Frank and the constable. Grabbing Alexander by the throat, he spun him around and slammed him against the wall. The fundraiser gave a little whimper, his eyes wide with fear.

  The police constable’s hand hovered over his truncheon, his eyes flicking between his boss and the scuffle going on in front of him. Frank picked at an invisible thread on the collar of his shirt. ‘Frank!’ Alice shrieked.

  The detective pulled his pocket watch from his waistcoat and studied it. After several beats he looked up, gave the throttling a contemplative glance, then threw his colleague another small nod.

  The constable moved forward and slapped a firm hand on the doctor’s shoulder. ‘I’ll take it from here, thank you, Sir.’

  When Peter Harland backed away, the police officer turned Alexander around and pulled his hands behind his back. After securing him with a pair of handcuffs, he led him out of the room, the fundraiser making offended, whimpering protests as he was manoeuvred up the dim staircase. ‘Get your filthy hands off me, you damned viper! I will have your jobs, all of you!’

  Alice hurried to the door and called up the stairs after him: ‘You are going to pay for Daisy Redbourne’s upkeep, Alexander, I will make sure of that!’

  When Alexander’s wails had faded away, silence lowered itself over the basement. After a few moments, Alice turned to Frank and looked at him keenly. ‘What brought you here, Frank? How did you know what was going on?’

  The detective sat on the edge of Alexander’s desk. ‘A number of disturbing rumours had alerted our attention over the years, but there was no solid evidence of any impropriety, and no one in the community willing to talk to us. It was only when we received a tip-off from a hospital employee that we felt we had something firm to move forward with. Any accusation must be treated with caution of course, and though the rumours were stacking up, there wasn’t much else to go on. So, with someone in Hargreaves’ position … Well, the only way to bring someone like that down was with an investigation on the inside.’

  The almoner stared. ‘And who was this employee?’

  Frank lifted his brows. ‘I’m afraid I can’t reveal my source.’

  There was a soft rustle across the room. ‘It was me,’ Dr Harland said softly from the shadows.

  Alice’s eyes widened in surprise. ‘You? I don’t understand.’

  The doctor explained that he had witnessed Molly arguing with Alexander on the street after she had visited to ask for his help in terminating her pregnancy. When Molly was found dead a few days later, he called police to report his suspicion that Alexander may have somehow been involved in her death.

  ‘Molly found out what had been going on at the studio,’ Alice said flatly. ‘Charlotte told us.’

  Frank nodded: ‘We suspect that she threatened to expose him.’

  Alice frowned at him. ‘But Molly died as the result of a botched operation?’

  Frank nodded again. ‘There was no foul play involved. At least, not from Alexander. He is a dandy and a pathetic excuse for a man, but he is not, I suspect, a murderer.’

  Alice turned back to the doctor. ‘You knew about this scheme? And about Charlotte posing for him?’

  ‘Not at first. But after seeing the way she reacted on the night of Daisy’s birth, when you suggested bringing her to the Royal Free, I started to wonder whether he might be the reason she was so resistant.’

  Alice gave another slow nod. ‘So that’s why you insisted on taking her to Banstead?’

  Dr Harland nodded. ‘I thought it was the safest option. Alexander is a weak and cowardly individual, but I had no way of knowing that at the time. That’s why I wanted Daisy to remain with Elizabeth. I had no idea how great the risk to her might be.’

  ‘And you kept all of this to yourself.’ Alice started pacing in front of Bess Campbell’s desk. ‘You let me socialise with the man. I went out to dinner with him! And yet you saw no reason to warn me!’

  ‘For all I knew, you were an accessory before the fact.’

  Alice stopped mid-pace and rounded on him, her jaw dropping open. ‘You thought I was complicit?! In something as foul as this?!’

  He shrugged. ‘Not at first, but when I saw the two of you socialising together, I thought perhaps …’ Alice’s cheeks flushed with fury. ‘Oh, for pity’s sake! You were never in any danger.’

  ‘How could you possibly know that?’

  There was a small pause and then he said: ‘Because I would never let that happen.’

  Alice turned and paced some more, then stopped and turned. ‘So I was right. You were following me?’

  The doctor gave a small nod. ‘Frank couldn’t watch Alexander around the clock. I had to be certain.’

  Alice’s brow furrowed. ‘So, all those times you were absent from the ward …’

  ‘I wanted to make sure he didn’t hurt anyone else.’

  ‘But how did you keep tabs on us from up on the chest ward?’

  The doctor pressed his lips together. Across the room, Winnie began fumbling with the contents of her handbag. Alice glanced at her. The older woman stilled, then looked up sheepishly. ‘Oh yes, alright. It was me, dear.’

  ‘Winnie?! You were spying on me?! Why did everyone know about this except me?’

  The older woman’s face slackened. ‘I didn’t know, not about Alexander.’

  Dr Harland stepped forward. ‘I asked Winnie to help me to protect a patient. She knew how disturbed you were about Molly’s death. I told her that you were compromising the health of another patient because you were desperate to help her.’

  Alice stared at Winnie. ‘So all those times I thought you were being awkward …’

  ‘It was him,’ Winnie said, pointing to Dr Harland with her chin wobbling. ‘He led me to believe that you were unstable. I had no idea about any of this. This is an entirely different kettle of fish.’

  Alice looked at the doctor. Their eyes fixed. After a long moment, Bess Campbell cleared her throat. Everyone looked at her, and then Frank walked over to fetch his hat from the stand in the corner of the room. He tipped it towards his colleagues. ‘Well, thank you, all. It’s been an experience.’

  Bess Campbell, Winnie and Dr Harland said their goodbyes. A noisy conversation struck up between them. The detective gave Alice a meaningful look and she followed him to the door. ‘Frank?’

  ‘Alice,’ he said, reaching for the almoner’s gloved hand and lifting it to his mouth. ‘It’s been a pleasure getting to know you.’

  The almoner clasped his hand and shook it. ‘It has certainly been interesting, Frank,’ she said with a grin. ‘But I have to say, I’m rather looking forward t
o things getting back to normal. As normal as it gets around here anyway.’

  Frank laughed, but then his expression turned serious. ‘I wanted to ask you about what you said earlier, to Alexander,’ he said, above the murmur of conversation across the room. ‘Do you have any evidence that he’s responsible for Charlotte Redbourne’s predicament?’

  Alice stared at him. ‘Well, no, not exactly. I made the assumption after she told us about the photographs.’

  ‘But she didn’t name him specifically?’

  ‘She implied it.’ The almoner frowned. After a moment she shook her head and said: ‘Actually, I suppose she didn’t specifically, no. She was in a distressed state so we did not linger over the details. It was I who made the assumption.’

  Frank nodded. ‘Don’t worry. We’ll piece the whole unfortunate picture together in the fullness of time. But in my experience, these things generally follow the same pattern, and after taking statements from several women, I would say that molestation is not Alexander’s modus operandi.’

  Alice looked over at Winnie and then back to the detective, her expression creased. ‘But, Frank, if Alexander is not responsible, who is?’

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  [The almoner] was freshly interested in [their] plight, in what they had just been through and what was still before [them] … It does [anyone] good to become aware, if only for a moment, that someone, especially a stranger, is really delighted with the chance to help [them]. They knew that she really cared about them, that she had a stake in their fortunes, [and] that what hurt them hurt her.

  (A letter from the American physician Dr Cabot on the dedication of the almoners of St Thomas’s Hospital, 1918)

  The next morning, Saturday, 25 February 1922, the leftover tasks that might usually have absorbed the beginning of Alice’s weekend were firmly swept aside. Huddled in her long cape, cloche hat and ever present gloves, the almoner set out early for Banstead Hospital, arriving at the gatekeeper’s lodge just after 10 a.m.

  ‘Back again, Miss?’ The toothy porter gave her an enthusiastic smile and followed her to the gate. ‘Those dirty old dogs got a fright yesterday, didn’t they? I don’t suppose they’ll show their faces again.’

  Alice smiled. ‘If they do, I want to know about it. You can reach me at the Royal Free.’

  ‘Oh, I’ll give you a nudge, don’t you worry about that,’ he called through the gates after she had passed through.

  Southern England had been battered by a series of thunderstorms overnight. The softened grass gave way under Alice’s boots as she made her way to the main hospital. A plump nurse with swollen ankles escorted her to the day room, where Charlotte was sitting quietly, reading a book. The teenager looked up when Alice walked in and, after a flicker of surprise, gave her a tentative smile. ‘We’ve been keeping her hands busy with lots of painting and needlework,’ the nurse told Alice, as if Charlotte was out of earshot. ‘We find quilting works wonders for patients, especially those with a temper.’

  The almoner suggested a stroll in the courtyard. Charlotte nodded. The nurse limped off to fetch the teenager’s hat and coat, fussed over the fastenings so that she was buttoned up to the neck, then unlocked the doors leading to the garden. She sank heavily into one of the armchairs and watched them through the glass, her bloated feet raised on a stool.

  Outside, Charlotte slipped her arm through Alice’s as they strolled around the old walled garden. It was a tranquil place and they might have been anywhere, were it not for the smoke billowing from the industrial-sized chimneys behind them, and the occasional, high-pitched wheedling cry of a patient. It was a bright, cold morning, the newly washed cobbles beneath their feet glistening in the winter sun.

  They walked to a wooden bench at the far end of the garden and sat side by side. Charlotte nodded along silently as Alice updated her on Alexander’s arrest. She grinned when the almoner described the fundraiser’s reaction to events, but when Alice kept a studied gaze on her face, her smile disappeared. ‘What will happen now, about Dad’s habit?’ she asked quickly. As an almoner, it was a ruse Alice would have been familiar with; an attempt to delay the more painful but inevitable conversation that lay ahead.

  In a patient tone Alice said: ‘As I told you before, he will be offered support. We have hostels for people who have become slaves to their vice. I will see to it that he gets help, I promise you.’

  Charlotte nodded silently. Alice reached for her hand. ‘Charlotte, Alexander is not the father of your child, is he?’

  The teenager snatched her hand away. She dropped her gaze to her lap, shoulders tense.

  ‘You must see that this avoidance cannot continue forever,’ Alice continued. She reached out and touched the teenager’s chin, gently steering her gaze upwards. When their eyes met she said: ‘Now is the time for you to summon all of your courage and tell me the truth.’

  The teenager angled her face away, her gaze skittering over the lawn. When she eventually turned back to face the almoner she whispered under her breath: ‘I’m afraid.’

  ‘I know. But trust me when I say that we will not let anything happen to you, Charlotte. This I can promise you.’

  The teenager took a deep breath and swallowed hard. Above her, the clouds moved quickly across the sky. ‘I can’t,’ she said eventually.

  Alice’s gaze sharpened. She touched Charlotte on the shoulder and said: ‘If we are to keep your brothers and sisters safe, it is vital that you share what you know with us.’

  Charlotte sprang to her feet and began pacing back and forth across the cobbles. Alice rose, apologised for pressing her, then emphasised the importance of safeguarding the welfare of the younger children. The teenager stopped at that and spun around. ‘Why is it me that has to tell the secret, when I never wanted it forced on me in the first place? It’s shameful. It’s humiliating, and I just wish to heaven that it would all go away!’

  Alice levelled her gaze. ‘In my experience, the only way to make terrible secrets lose their power is by exposing them to the air, Charlotte. The longer they stay hidden, the more they fester and grow.’

  ‘All right!’ Charlotte blurted out with an angry sob. ‘I will tell you, though I pray to God you’ll not think me wicked like me mum does.’ She took a few gasping breaths, tears rolling down her cheeks, then blew out slowly, settling her gaze on Alice. ‘It was my dad. He hurt me, and I don’t want him doing to the younger ones the things he did to me!’ She covered her face with her hands and wept.

  The almoner was at her side in seconds then, patting her on the back and sweeping her long hair behind her ears. After drawing her back towards the bench, she sat by her side and put her arm around her back. The teenager dropped her head onto Alice’s shoulder, allowing herself to be consoled. After several minutes, when she had quietened, the almoner kneeled in front of her and clasped both of her hands.

  ‘You have been very brave, Charlotte. We can now see to it that your brothers and sisters are safe.’

  Charlotte began to pant again, her chest heaving rapidly up and down. ‘But how are you gonna do that? By taking them away and sticking them in the workhouse?! That’s not safe, that’s worse. I’ve heard about them places. And it’ll break my poor mum’s heart. Oh, she’ll hate me! I never should of said nothing!’

  ‘Please, let’s not get carried away with panicky ideas. I have no intention of seeing any of them in the workhouse.’

  ‘But you mean to take them away?’

  ‘That depends.’

  ‘On what?’

  Alice fixed her with a steady look. ‘Did your mother have any idea what you were suffering?’

  Charlotte shook her head, tears rolling down her cheeks. ‘I tried telling her once, but I couldn’t find the words. She was so dead set on keeping ourselves to ourselves in case someone found out about Dad’s habit, I weren’t sure she’d cope with hearing that as well.’

  The almoner squeezed her hands. ‘Well, then, if you’re telling the truth, it is likely that
the children can remain where they are.’

  Charlotte nodded, her shoulders sagging with relief. Some moments passed. Eventually, when the teenager had dried her eyes, Alice sat beside her again and said: ‘I’m sorry you didn’t feel able to confide in me, Charlotte.’

  The girl’s eyes widened. ‘Dad said I must never tell!’ she cried. ‘He said it would break Mum and she’d end up in the Bedlam. And Mr Hargreaves said no one would ever believe me if I ever said anything about the things he was doing. He said no one would ever let me onto the stage if I tried to spread rumours about important people.’

  Alice shook her head. ‘I’m so sorry. They were terrible secrets to have to keep to yourself. Was there no one else you felt able to confide in?’

  ‘I told Mum about Mr Hargreaves,’ she said in a voice thick with tears. ‘But she said he was an important man and I was to keep him happy. She did her best to help, even saved up and bought me a silk chemise for the photos. She said that’s how all actresses get their jobs. I suppose it’ll never happen now.’

  There was a pause and then Alice got to her feet. ‘Come now, Charlotte,’ she said, reaching out her hands. ‘A new life awaits you. There are big changes ahead for girls like you. Absolutely anything is possible.’

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  A devoted soul … can store up power … from delight in a snowstorm or in sunshine after rain … waiting for its chance to be passed on in some way.

  (American physician Richard C. Cabot on the dedication of London hospital almoners, 1918)

  A month after Charlotte’s disclosure and Alexander Hargreaves’ arrest, Alice travelled by tube to London Bridge station and from there made the short walk to The City of London and Tower Hamlets Cemetery. It was Monday, 27 March 1922 and the sky was granite grey, the air sharp with a northerly wind.

  Cold air currents from Ireland had brought icy showers of hail and sleet to the capital over the last few days, but the worst was not over; the most severe weather of the whole winter was still to come, with Londoners set to confront a raging blizzard just a few days later, on the 31st.