by Maggie Holt
‘So where are their mothers, then?’
‘Beggin’ – thievin’ – street-walkin’ – prison – why d’ye think the kids’ve been dumped in ’ere? I tell yer, I’ve ’ad enough of it – can’t wait to get a job in one o’ them munitions factories, an’ see a bit o’ life.’
She clapped her hands. ‘’Ere, come on, it’s potty time an’ we don’t want no accidents. Go an’ get yer potties an’ sit on ’em, else there’ll be no tea.’
There was an uncertain surge in the direction of two rows of tin pots hanging along one wall, and within a few minutes the girls were each seated on one, while the boys stood two or three to a pot, to perform their hourly duty. Mabel caught sight of the little girl who had smiled at her earlier, pulling at her drawers. The tight elastic had left a red mark all round her body and before she could get them down she had wet them. Standing in a puddle, her little face crumpled and she began to cry. The young assistant began to scold her.
‘Ye’ve wet yerself again, Mary, yer dirty pest! I’ve a good mind to smack yer –’
‘No! Let me see to her,’ Mabel cut in quickly and, getting down on one knee, she removed the wet drawers.
‘It’s all right, Mary, dear, Mabel’s here and we’ll soon have yer nice an’ dry again. Oh, just look where that elastic’s cut into her, yer poor little duck. If only I could take yer home with me!’
The unhappiness on the child’s face turned like magic to a trustful smile, which seared Mabel’s heart even more, for she had no home to offer Mary. Two thin, soft little arms went round her neck and a flushed cheek was pressed to hers: it was almost too much to bear, and Mabel had to close her eyes to blink away the tears that threatened to well up for all unwanted and abandoned children. And also for her brother Albert, lost at sea: it was the first time she had actually shed a tear for him.
‘Why, Nurse Court, what’s the matter? Do you know this little girl?’
Mrs Spearmann had appeared at the door of the playroom and was surprised by the sight of this rather surly probationer tearfully hugging a bare-bottomed child.
‘I feel as if I do, Mrs Spearmann,’ Mabel replied tremulously. ‘Did yer ever see anythin’ like these poor mites all sittin’ on pots?’
‘No, Nurse Court, I don’t think I have,’ the lady replied, conscious of Mrs Lovell just behind her. She too had been shocked and oddly shamed by this introduction to the Midway, and as she looked helplessly at Mabel and Mary, the conviction came to her that she would have to do something for these children – though how best to set about it Olive Spearmann had not as yet the slightest idea.
‘We’ll have to go now, Nurse Court, Wilson’s waiting. Say goodbye to this little girl, and – er – we shall come again. Yes, Mrs Lovell, we shall most certainly come again and I shall speak with the Board of Guardians about the staff situation here.’
Somehow or other Mabel disentangled herself from Mary’s clinging arms. All her early longing to care for underprivileged children had been fired with fresh determination this afternoon, and on the return journey she forgot her former irritation with Mrs Spearmann and listened to what she had to say.
‘We mustn’t be too hard on Mrs Lovell, Nurse Court. She’s trying to cope in the face of impossible odds, and I think she means well in her way. She’d probably be quite adequate in a subordinate role under a good Matron.’
She paused, turning over the ideas that were forming in her mind.
‘I’ve been working with a Ladies’ Committee in Clapham to raise funds for sending comforts to the men at the Front, Nurse Court, but now I see that I must leave that work to others and turn my attention to these poor children. They’ve been overlooked because of the war effort and forgotten about. I think I’ll ask Mrs Hodges to take over the committee and just hope she’ll understand that I’ve found something in more urgent need of – er, whatever I can do.’
‘What was that name yer just said, Mrs Spearmann?’ asked Mabel. ‘Mrs Hodges?’ For now she remembered where she had heard the name Spearmann before – and the Ladies’ Committee which sent comforts to the fighting men. ‘Is she the Mrs Hodges who used to be Ada Clay?’
‘Why, yes – do you know her?’ asked the lady in surprise.
‘We worked together at the Hallam Road Babies’ Mission in Battersea and were really good friends. I knew her when she first walked out with Arthur Hodges and I was at her weddin’.’
‘Good gracious!’ Olive Spearmann was astonished. ‘And have you seen Mrs Hodges lately, Nurse Court?’
‘Only when we met by chance in a tearoom. Ada’s gone up in the world since she moved to Clapham. But yer can tell her that ye’ve met her old friend Mabel Court.’
‘Yes, I will tell her and I’ll say how impressed I’ve been by you, Nurse Court. And I’d very much like to stay in touch. You’re just the sort of girl I think I’ll be looking for!’
Olive Spearmann spoke with feeling, for she thought she had found her mission in life.
Friday morning had been busy on maternity, and while Mabel was clearing away after the second Caesar, Mr Poole questioned her about Mrs Spearmann’s reaction to the Midway.
‘She was as shocked as I was, I think, sir – an’ says she’s goin’ to see what she can do for them poor children,’ answered Mabel, who had been wondering about her own next move after completing her training at Booth Street in September. With Harry’s situation so uncertain, she was wondering if the Midway was calling her to do something dear to her heart, something which would give her valuable experience for that distant future life as a Salvation Army wife, caring for children in need.
‘That good lady needs an outlet for her time and money, and I thought I’d show her where to find one,’ said Poole with a sharp look. ‘I shall help her to get on the Board of Guardians and learn something about management. It’s no good just pouring money into a leaking bucket, that place needs root and branch reform; in fact, it needs pulling down altogether and replacing. But for now, with all the pressure on beds and caring for the military, we can only do a patch-up job, and I’ve got plans for our Mrs Spearmann!’ He grinned knowingly at Mabel, but getting no response, he peered into her face.
‘You’re not looking very jolly these days, Court. Is something bothering you – other than old Higgs, I mean?’
Mabel hesitated. Should she tell him about Albert? No, better not. She might start crying and that would never do.
‘What’s the matter, girl?’ he asked with brisk concern. ‘Has your young Salvationist been recalled for service?’
‘No, it’s my –’
‘I say, Nurse Court, ye’re to go to Matron’s office – message just come down!’ said Mrs Hayes, looking round the door.
‘You’d better go straight away, then,’ said Mr Poole. ‘I’ll lay a pound to a penny that it’ll be to do with Mrs S. She was greatly taken with you!’
He smiled to himself as she went off to change out of the shapeless theatre gown and put on her uniform. I may have done that girl a bit of good, he thought with satisfaction.
The tall man standing beside Matron looked much older than when Mabel had seen him last, but his eyes lit up at the sight of her.
‘Ah, come in, Nurse Court.’ Matron was smiling. ‘As you see, I have a visitor, Captain –’
‘Dr Stephen! Oh, Dr Stephen, d’ye know that me brother Albert’s lost at sea?’ The words broke spontaneously from Mabel’s lips before she realised it, and she lowered her eyes and muttered, ‘I’m sorry, Matron.’
‘All right, Nurse Court, but you must allow Captain Knowles to speak.’ Matron glanced at the doctor whose shadowed blue eyes were fixed on Mabel. ‘As a matter of fact, he’s brought very important news this morning. You may sit down.’
‘Yes, I have, Miss Court,’ said the doctor. ‘I’m working at the Stepney and Poplar Infirmary for the time being, while I’m getting over a – an injury. Shellfire.’
‘Oh, I didn’t know – I’m sorry. Yer father –’
‘Hus
h, Nurse Court! Just listen to the Captain.’
Mabel sat with downcast eyes and Stephen Knowles saw the strain she was under. She wanted to ask him about his wife, and where he had been wounded, but Matron’s stern look kept her silent.
‘We’re full up and overflowing with wounded men at Stepney, Miss Court, and – well, yesterday a train arrived from Portsmouth with yet more. Two of them had been in hospital there, suffering from cold and exposure –’
Mabel leapt up from her chair with an involuntary shout. ‘Albert! Oh, Stephen, are yer tellin’ me that Albert – oh, tell me, tell me, for God’s sake – is he alive?’
‘Nurse! Control yourself and let Captain Knowles speak,’ cut in the Matron, but Mabel had controlled herself for long enough and could not keep silent. ‘Just tell me if he’s alive, that’s all, only tell me, please!’ she cried wildly.
‘All right, Mabel. Yes, your brother survived the wreck, but he’s been very ill with pneumonia, and –’
‘I knew it, I said he’d be picked up, didn’t I? Didn’t I?’ And Mabel began to cry. Her whole frame shook with hard, dry, convulsive sobs as she stood holding on to the edge of the desk.
‘Nurse Court, get a grip on yourself!’ ordered Matron, surprised that this girl who had been so brave in the face of bad news seemed unable to cope with good.
‘All right, Mabel my dear, all right.’ Stephen came round the desk and put an arm across the girl’s shoulder, gently lowering her into the chair. ‘Just take some deep breaths and keep your mouth closed – good girl! Otherwise you won’t be able to hear what I’ve got to tell you about Albert, will you?’ He stood beside her chair and kept his hand on her shoulder as he continued, ‘I didn’t recognise him at first, but I learned that he’d been taken from the sea by an escort vessel, and lucky to be alive out of a small handful of survivors. Your brother’s been returned to you and you can see him – so no more tears!’
She clung to his arm as he stood beside the chair and Matron Brewer looked on in some bewilderment at the obvious degree of intimacy between them, though she remembered that his father had been the Courts’ family doctor and had written a letter of recommendation when this girl had applied for training.
‘Miss Court and I were involved on another occasion concerning her brother, Matron,’ he said pleasantly, as if by way of explanation. ‘It was in the rail strike of 1911 and Albert nearly got his head broken. It was thanks to Mabel and Captain Drover that he – er – got out of trouble.’
‘I see. Perhaps Nurse Court should return to her ward now, Captain. It was very good of you to come over with this wonderful news and I’m sure we’re all most grateful.’
‘Ah, but I have a favour to ask you, Matron, before I go,’ he said quickly. ‘We’re extremely short of space at Stepney since the last batch of admissions, and Able Seaman Court and his fellow survivor are not wounded, nor are they strictly military personnel. I’ve been asked to request a transfer to a medical ward here if it can possibly be arranged.’
That afternoon as the early winter dusk was falling, Matron Brewer took two third-year probationers with her to Men’s I where two beds were screened off at the end of the ward. Raising a hand to push the screen aside and putting her left forefinger to her lips for silence, she beckoned them forward to the first bed.
‘Only a few minutes, remember, nurses. These men are still very weak and there is to be no noise, no upset of any kind.’
Mabel stepped to the left side of the bed where her brother lay, gaunt and grey-faced, his black beard obscuring the lower half of his face. His eyes were closed and sunken, and she might have thought him dead but for the air that rasped in and out of his chest. He was twenty-one and looked like a man of forty.
‘Albert!’ she whispered, and repeated his name a little louder. ‘Albert!’
He opened one filmy eye and stared unseeing into space.
‘Albert, it’s yer sister, Mabel. And here’s Norah to see yer, too.’
The Irish girl stood quietly on the right side of the bed. She made the sign of the cross, then put her hands together and bowed her head.
‘Thanks be to the Sacred Heart o’ Jesus, for ever an’ ever,’ she mouthed silently and put out a hand to touch Albert’s as it lay on the counterpane.
He opened both eyes and slowly brought them to focus on the two girls, his sister and his sweetheart. He drew a sharp, painful breath, coughed and took hold of Norah’s hand. A tear oozed from the outer corner of each eye and trickled down to the pillow beneath his head.
‘I fought I was a goner,’ he muttered hoarsely. ‘An’ now I know I am – ’cause I’ve landed up in ’eaven.’
Chapter Nine
THE BRILLIANTLY LIT stage of the Royal Canterbury Theatre might have been miles away from the young man and woman sitting together in the back row of the circle, cocooned in a world of their own. They had watched at the beginning when Prince Charming came on to cheers and applause, scanning the horizon and slapping his shapely thigh as he told of his lonely search for the girl of his dreams; but while he was off stage, their whole attention was centred on each other. In the semi-darkness, thick with the smell of oranges, cigars and sweating humanity, Mabel heard the gusts of laughter as from a distance, while Harry’s whisper of ‘dearest Mabel’ was close to her ear. She sighed with sheer contentment, made perfect by Albert’s restoration from the sea.
Her hat lay in her lap and she had unbuttoned her coat. He breathed in the fragrance of her skin, the clean scent of soap. He slowly raised his left arm and let it encircle her shoulders; she responded by laying her head upon his shoulder and closing her eyes, thankful that they were in the back row. Had Maudie thought of that when she’d got the tickets? Nestling against his brown serge jacket, for he was not in uniform tonight, Mabel let herself imagine that they were truly alone, somewhere quiet and private, far away from the Canterbury, from the Infirmary, from the horrible war. Yet she was grateful for these few brief hours’ respite.
‘I’m so happy,’ she whispered and felt a tremor run through his frame.
For Harry Drover’s desire for her was like a physical ache – a fire within him, that must be kept under control. He had to quieten his breathing, slowing it down to something like normal rhythm, and make an effort not to tremble. He swallowed and silently prayed that the girl beside him, so dearly, desperately loved, might never be affronted by the carnal lust that warred against his better nature. But oh, how he yearned over her, his precious girl without an impure thought in her head!
Ethel Davies, seated on Mabel’s left, was chuckling at the two Ugly Sisters, one in a blonde wig, the other dark, who were trying on gowns for the ball and talking in raucous voices.
‘I got this feelin’ that we’re bein’ watched, know what I mean?’ leered the blonde, pulling an elaborate blue gown over her head, with much wriggling of her hips.
‘Ooh, d’ye think there’s a peepin’ Tom around ’ere somewhere?’ asked the other. ‘Tryin’ to get a look at two young maidens in their next-to-nothin’s, the dirty beast!’
‘’Ere, come to think of it, it could be that Prince Charmin’ takin’ a stroll round the back –’
‘Ah, well, I don’t mind givin’ ’im a bit of a treat – y’know, show a bit o’ leg!’
The resulting contortions and generous glimpses of hairy calves and knobbly knees had the theatre howling. When they clumped off the stage to loud applause, the curtain descended for an interval. Ethel leaned across to ask how they were enjoying the show. Harry hastily lifted his arm from Mabel’s shoulders.
‘Pity Norah and yer brother can’t see it, eh?’ said Ethel.
‘I bet she’s as happy as a lark, waitin’ on him hand, foot and finger!’ Mabel laughed affectionately. Norah spent every moment she could spare at Albert’s side. There had been no need to declare their love, for their eyes had said it all to each other and to the world; Mabel saw that she must now accept second place in her brother’s affections and had told herself very fir
mly not to be silly. Albert was still her brother and theirs had always been a special relationship, a different kind of love. She had her beloved Harry, so how could she possibly grudge such a dear girl as Norah the devotion that now filled Albert’s dark eyes?
The lights went down and the curtain rose on the next part of the pantomime. Poor Cinderella sat weeping in her ragged gown, not allowed to go to the ball – until with a sudden bang and a flash the Fairy Godmother appeared in a cloud of thick blue smoke that trailed out over the orchestra pit. Mabel suddenly thought of Mrs Spearmann: would she turn out to be a fairy godmother to little Mary and the other pathetic inmates of that loveless babies’ home? And would she have a part to play in their lives? She could not get them out of her mind.
Harry sensed her preoccupation and took her hand lightly in his. From now on they must watch the show and applaud Maud’s triumph as Prince Charming; he was seated beside his dearest girl in the cosy darkness and ought not to wish for anything more.
All three of them joined in the prolonged applause at the end, when the Prince and Cinderella took their curtain calls and led the whole house in the final chorus of ‘You Made Me Love You’.
But jostling down the uncarpeted backstairs with the departing crowds, Harry Drover felt that he was leaving a place of warmth and comfort, to be tipped out into the chilly darkness of the Westminster Bridge Road. Mabel and Ethel took an arm on each side of him as they hurried back to Booth Street.
‘D’ye think Norah and Albert’ll get to see it before it finishes?’ asked Ethel. ‘Isn’t it wonderful to see them two together – the way he looks at her!’
The girls chatted on, but Harry Drover’s thoughts were of Mabel and himself, the evening they had just spent together and what it had meant to him. There might not ever be another like it, so he would have to remember every moment. And another voice within him insisted that his physical longing for this dear girl was not shameful at all, but natural and God-given. And that it was no sin to want to show his love for her in the most intimate way before he was torn from her again, to face danger and the threat of death. He shuddered at the thought of losing his life – his young life now restored to health and vigour.