A Child's Voice Calling (25 page)

Flinging her bag aside, Mabel flew straight at her father, a ball of fury, clouting his head with her bunched fists and shrieking at the top of her voice. ‘Just like a little wildcat,’ the neighbours told each other later. ‘Stop it,
stop it
, leave him alone, don’t yer
dare
! Shame on yer, Father,
shame
on yer!’

Jack Court whirled round and stared at her like the madman Harry said he was. She gave an involuntary gasp at the utter misery on his face. His eyes burned in their sockets and his mouth gaped open, a drooping cavity like the tragic mask depicted on the curtain of the Grand.

Two of the neighbours now ventured in, emboldened by the sound of Mabel’s furious defence of her brother, and she heard a horrifying tale from them. ‘Them poor little kids ’ave been afraid to come ’ome when that brute’s there, Mabel – ’fraid to come ’ome, they been!’

George was giving little whimpering sobs and Daisy was still screaming, but once again Mabel knew that she had to compose herself and take charge. ‘Hush, Daisy, quiet, ‘I’m here now, it’s all right. Mum, you see to George and Alice, you put the kettle on for tea. Mrs Bull – Mrs Clutton – will yer just stay with my mother an’ Daisy for a couple o’ minutes? Thank yer.’ Then, trembling from head to foot, she turned to face her father, beckoning him out into the backyard. He followed her dazedly. ‘Ye’d better make yerself scare and be quick about it,’ she told him with cold emphasis. ‘Somebody’ll’ve sent for the police or the cruelty people, an’ they could be here any minute.’

He seemed to have lost all strength and leaned his head against the wall. ‘Let ’em come, Mabel, I wish they’d come an’ have done with it. I’m done for.’

She did not know what to think. Was he ill? Was he going mad? ‘For God’s sake, Dad, what’s wrong with yer?’ she cried. ‘First yer attack Harry for no reason at all and now this. How
could
yer treat George like that? And
why
? He’s always been a good boy, a son to be proud of – he’s never deserved this.’

The only answer was a groan that seemed wrenched from his very guts. He was clearly suffering agony – was it remorse? – and when he finally managed to speak, his voice was hoarse and desperate. ‘I’ve got to go away, Mabel. Ye’ll have to look after yer mother and the kids.’

‘Just tell me what’s the matter, that’s all I want to know. Are yer ill? Why don’t yer see Dr Knowles?’

‘Nothin’ he can do, not for this,’ he muttered.

‘Then what is it, Dad?’ she persisted. ‘Tell me! I shan’t breathe a word to a soul.’

‘Oh, Mabel, Mabel, if only I could,’ he groaned, putting his hand to his face as tears filled his eyes. ‘God forgive me, girl, if only – if only—’

And in spite of having just seen him brutally attacking his twelve-year-old son for no reason, Mabel could feel pity for the man. She took a breath. ‘Tell me, Dad, is it money?’

‘No, Mabel. There’s never been enough money in this house, but Mimi’s helped out with the rent and we’ve managed. It isn’t that.’

So she asked the other question, clearly and directly: ‘Is it some woman, Dad? Some woman who . . . who’s maybe expecting a child?’

He turned sharply away from her. ‘No, Mabel, no.
Not a child. Don’t ask me, Mabel, just pray for me, girl, that’s all. An’ take care o’ poor Anna-Maria.’

He choked on a sob and she instinctively held out a hand to him. ‘I’ll do my best for her, Dad. And I’ll pray for yer both. So will Harry Drover,’ she could not resist adding.

‘Forgive me, Mabel. I never deserved yer – or her.’

There seemed nothing more she could say. A terrible sense of foreboding gripped her as he let go of her hand and averted his face. ‘I must go. God help me, I must go. Goodbye, Mabel.’

And he was gone.

George had to stay off school because of his swollen black eye and bruised lip. His condition could not be kept from the neighbours who denounced Court in no uncertain terms: ‘Ought to be up before the magistrates, the drunken brute.’

But Court had not been drunk and Mabel had seen a soul in torment looking out of his eyes.

JACK COURT HAD
often been away from home; in fact, it was frequently remarked that he spent more time at racecourses (and heaven knew where else) than at Sorrel Street. But when two weeks had passed with no word at all, Mabel begun to wonder if she should make some enquiries at Lavender Hill police station and local public houses. Yet Jack had told her that he had to ‘go away’, which surely meant that he was some distance from Battersea and she had no wish to walk into the public bar of the Falcon or the Plough in search of his associates, arousing speculation and rumours.

She knew, of course, that she should first check with her grandmother, to find out if Jack had appeared at Macaulay Road. There had been little communication between the two households since Mabel had turned down Mimi’s offer and Annie’s subsequent revelations had distanced her still further in Mabel’s mind. Besides, she was reluctant to face the scornful looks she knew she would get if she went looking for her father there and in the end she asked Alice to go over to Tooting. ‘Just say casually that Dad’s been away since the end o’ March, an’ ask if he’s happened to call there,’ Mabel told her sister.

Alice returned with no news, though she said that their grandmother had seemed irritable and out of sorts. ‘She seemed bothered about something, Mabel, but she didn’t let on about it.’

‘Did yer tell her about him having these fits o’ temper?’

‘I said he’d disappeared after going for George on your birthday and she gave me a funny look, but didn’t say anything – except that she was busy, so I took the hint.’ Alice shrugged.

‘And was that all? No message?’

‘No, she was quite offhand, didn’t ask how George was, or any of us. But she was worried and I’m pretty sure she knows somethin’ more than she says.’

It was not that any of them – except Annie – actually missed Jack and wanted to see him again; life was far easier without his unpredictable moods. Not that they were without problems: Annie seemed to sink into a resigned hopelessness – and helplessness, too, Mabel thought, afraid that her mother might become semi-bedridden, growing progressively weaker as the regular heavy blood loss took its toll. Then she developed more alarming symptoms, sweating and shivering by turns, with a persistent headache and sore throat.

‘Yer must’ve caught a chill, Mum,’ said Mabel, bringing in the morning cup of tea. She plumped up the bolster on the old wooden bedstead with its sagging horsehair mattress, and put her own pillow under her mother’s; she had taken to sleeping with her since Jack had left. ‘Stay in bed today, Mum, and I’ll try to get home around midday to see how yer are – and if yer won’t take a little beef broth and milk pudding I’ll ask Dr Knowles to call, whatever yer say.’ Mabel blamed her mother’s poor appetite for her low resistance to every passing germ.

Annie frowned and shook her head. ‘There’s really no need to have the doctor round. I’ll be all right again in a few days, when I’ve finished with the –
you know, the other.’ She could never bring herself to utter words like ’period’ or anything appertaining to the reproductory system. ‘Besides, he’d have to be paid.’

‘We can pay him his five pence a week, we’re on his panel,’ Mabel answered firmly. ‘Yer health’s more important than new shoes, Mum.’

Yet money
was
a problem, there was no denying it. With nothing from Jack she could not support the five of them on what she earned from the Rescue, let alone pay the rent. Alice resented being asked to contribute all but two shillings of her weekly wages, but George had taken on an early newspaper round and willingly gave all his meagre pay to the housekeeping.

Had Mabel known it, her mother was not only concerned about paying the doctor, she was afraid of what he might find. If he asked to examine her woman’s parts he would discover that hard, painless, nasty-looking place on her tender flesh. Was it the beginning of a growth of some kind? Annie had heard horrid stories of unfortunate women who developed huge cauliflower-like warts in that area, that spread and bled . . .

When the news of the sinking of the great passenger liner
Titanic
broke upon a stunned nation with reverberations that echoed around the world, it seemed to Mabel to be one more disaster in a year that had brought nothing but trouble so far. They had no personal connection with the tragedy, but the newspaper accounts and comments brought home in vivid detail the rapid destruction of the mighty vessel, broken up by an iceberg on her maiden voyage, as if to point up man’s insignificance when
pitted against the forces of nature. Mabel could hardly envisage fifteen hundred lives lost, and tried not to dwell upon the terrible scene; but Annie became almost obsessed by it, lying awake at night beside Mabel, picturing the last desperate struggles of the men, women and children drowning in the icy water. She saw their frantically waving arms, growing weaker as the cold penetrated their bodies, sapping their strength, dulling their minds. She heard their last cries stifled as their faces fell beneath the surface, becoming blank and still, water filling their lungs, stopping their heartbeats.

Her moans woke Mabel who reared up in alarm. ‘What is it, Mum? Is it yer head again? Yer throat?’

‘It’s all right, Mabel, just a dream. I’m sorry – go back to sleep, dear.’

But more often than not Mabel would reach for her dressing gown and go downstairs to light the gas ring and brew a pot of tea for them both.

When Annie developed a reddish-brown rash on her trunk, Mabel hesitated no longer. ‘I’ll leave a message at Hillier Road for Dr Knowles to call today,’ she said.

Annie’s heart sank, but she knew that Mabel’s mind was made up. She hoped that the doctor would be content with looking down her throat, and listening to her chest and back with that thing he stuck in his ears.

She was alone in the house when Knowles called at two o’clock on the fatal afternoon of Tuesday, 30 April and went upstairs to where she lay waiting in dread. As soon as he saw the rash he assumed a bland, professional manner to hide his shock and dismay. ‘Right, Mrs Court, I’ll take your temperature
and pulse. Then I’ll have to make a thorough general examination.’

When he asked her to open her mouth wide while he shone his electric torch into her throat, he saw the ulcers with the characteristic ‘snail-trails’. ‘Mm-mm. Now I’d like to feel your neck and armpits, Mrs Court. Sit up nice and straight for me, that’s right. Let me see if you have any swollen glands. Ah, yes . . .’ There were indeed hard, knotty little lumps on both sides of her neck and under her arms. And in her groins. ‘Come on now, my dear, pull up your nightgown and let me examine you down here – don’t worry, I shan’t need to feel internally, just to look. Can you part your thighs just a little more?’

And he saw the primary chancre. My God, he thought, that this should happen to this woman of all people. How could he tell her? He couldn’t. ‘All right, Mrs Court, that will do. You can cover up again now. Let me ask you a few questions, if I may. I believe your husband’s away at present?’

‘Yes, Dr Knowles, and I don’t have any idea when he’ll be back. He’s been gone four weeks now and we’ve heard nothing.’

‘I believe his work has often taken him away over the years, hasn’t it?’

‘Yes, but not usually as long as this without even a postcard. I just can’t think why he hasn’t been in touch.’ She sighed.

‘Has his health been good on the whole?’

‘Yes, but something’s been troubling him lately, Dr Knowles – before he went away, I mean. Jack’s always been a bit . . . unpredictable, you know, but he had two really bad brainstorms before he left and I know he was just as upset about it as the rest of us.’

‘Mm-mm. Now, Mrs Court, I wonder if you can
remember when you and Mr Court last had conjugal union?’

The question, casually asked, seemed strange to Annie, even uncalled-for. She hesitated. ‘Not for some time. I’ve had this heavy bleeding, you see. But we had been – we
seemed
to be – much more, er, settled. Christmas was such a happy time for us.’ Her mouth curved in a little secret smile at the memory.

Knowles averted his eyes. ‘But what about the last time, my dear, when would that have been?’ he persisted gently.

‘Well, January and Feb—yes, we had a time in February,’ she recalled, ‘just before I started my . . . yes, that was it, about halfway through February, not since then.’

He nodded slowly. Not good.

‘Why d’you ask, Dr Knowles? I know I’ve got the usual women’s trouble, but d’you think there may be something else? Anything like a . . . a growth?’

Knowles hesitated very briefly, entwining his fingers together as he replied, sitting on the side of the bed. ‘Not exactly a growth, my dear, but it could be troublesome if it’s not treated.’ He cleared his throat. ‘And I’m afraid the treatment could be quite long and difficult, involving regular injections of, er, fairly strong substances like mercury and . . . another preparation. You’ll need to have a blood test and attend at a special hospital, the Lock Hospital for Women.’

And then he noticed it, the other nightgown showing underneath the bolster. The sight of it was like a chill hand clutching at his heart.

Annie saw him raise his eyebrows and answered the question he was about to ask. ‘Mabel’s been sleeping with me since Jack went,’ she explained.
‘She’s such a good girl, I just don’t know how I’d manage without her.’

Oh, no. Knowles needed all his professional self-control as a doctor to hide his fears for Mabel. ‘Ah. Now, I don’t think that’s advisable, Mrs Court. You need to avoid any spread of infection such as shared bed linen, towels, cups – contact such as kissing—’

‘Why, it’s not catching, is it, Dr Knowles?’

He cleared his throat again. ‘Not in the usual sense, no, but it’s best not to take any risks, my dear,’ he said, thinking of Mabel working at the Rescue and handling the babies – and of what he would be obliged to do without delay, the further blow he must deliver to that unsuspecting girl. Oh, God, where was mercy? And justice?
She
would need to have a blood test, too, but he did not mention this to her mother. ‘And you’d better keep to your room and have your own crockery and so on.’