A Child's Voice Calling (31 page)

Oh, God, help me. Help me to save George, please.

She went to the front door, which was still ajar. A younger playmate of George’s was idly kicking a ball around the street. ‘Johnny!’ she called. ‘Johnny Tonks! Come here, I need yer to go for Dr Knowles in Hillier Road. D’ye know the way?’

‘’Course I do, Mabel. What’s up?’ he asked with interest.

‘Go straight round to Hillier Road and ask the doctor to come at once, d’ye hear? Say my father’s fallen downstairs and knocked himself unconscious. Hurry up, don’t stop to talk to anybody, just fetch me the doctor and I’ll give yer sixpence.’

Please, God, let Dr Knowles be in, please, Lord, please.

The boy whistled. ‘Cor! I’m on me way.’

She was about to shut the door when Mrs Bull appeared, aproned and highly curious. ‘What’s up, Mabel? That brute back again, is ’e?’

‘It’s all right, Mrs Bull, just look after Daisy for me, please. I got the doctor comin’ round.’

‘’E ain’t gorn for poor little George again, ’as ’e?’

‘No, George is all right, it’s me father who’s been taken bad. Just take care o’ Daisy for me, Mrs Bull, an’ I’ll let yer know later. Thanks, goodbye.’

She shut the door on any further questions, went to the kitchen and put on the long hessian apron she wore for cleaning the stove and other dirty jobs. Back in the living room she seized hold of both Court’s legs and straightened his body; then she pulled him round and dragged him by the legs out of the room and into the passage, to the foot of the stairs. There she took another deep breath, braced her muscles and heaved his legs up the first three stairs until his head was just at the foot of the bottom stair, his arms trailing on either side. He was not as heavy as she had expected and she noticed even in the present desperate moment that he had lost a lot of weight. She quickly arranged his legs so that one pointed straight up the stairs and the other was kinked at the knee. She spread one of his arms across his chest and saw the thinness of his grey face: his head seemed already a skull.

I’m sorry, Dad, I’m sorry. I’m doing this for George.

Next she went to the kitchen to fetch a floorcloth, a broom, dustpan and brush. She wiped the table top and took a clean cloth from a drawer to spread over it. She picked up the glass vase, re-filled it with water and rearranged the marguerite daisies in it. She
picked up the damp red chenille tablecloth and drew in a sharp breath when she discovered a wet envelope marked
Mabel
in her mother’s handwriting – so there
had
been a letter – no time to read it now. She thrust it into her pocket and took the cloth out to the kitchen, pushing it under the sink.

Then she tidied the room, rearranging the hearthrug. Off came the apron to go under the sink with the tablecloth and she wondered if there was time to check on George. There was not a sound from upstairs and she pictured him cowering in his room; should she go up past the sprawled body on the stairs to try to comfort her young brother? As she hesitated she heard Dr Knowles at the door and Johnny Tonks demanding his sixpence; while she went to the kitchen for her purse the doctor fished in his pocket and found a sixpenny piece. Then she opened the door, he entered the house and saw the body lying at the foot of the stairs.

He gave a groan, quickly stifled. ‘Oh, Mabel, Mabel. Your father? Oh, my God.’ He closed the door behind him. ‘What happened?’

‘I came home from Mrs Goring’s and found him lyin’ here, Dr Knowles,’ she said, her voice sounding unnaturally high. ‘George must’ve come in and gone out again, leavin’ the door unlocked – he’s out somewhere – and Dad must’ve come in and tried to get up the stairs, but he was drunk and fell. Then I came home and found him,’ she repeated.

The doctor knelt down beside the body and put his hand inside Jack’s clothes to feel his chest. He looked at the eyes, touched the nose and ear lobes. Smelt the whisky. Without looking up, he spoke very gently and kindly to Mabel: ‘Did you do this, Mabel? You
can tell me, my dear, and I’ll do all in my power to get you off.’

She drew in a sharp breath and put a hand to her throat. ‘What? No, I, er, he was drunk and sayin’ things about our mother, how he never—’ She stopped with a gasp, realising that she had just contradicted herself and not knowing how to go on.

But George shouted down from the landing above them, where he had been listening. ‘No,
no
, she never done it, not Mabel!
I
done it,
I
’it ’im over the ’ead – she wasn’t even ’ere!’

‘Oh, George,’ moaned Mabel, covering her face with her hands as her brother came flying down the stairs, jumping over the body.

‘
I
done it, I tell yer, doctor! – don’t listen to ’er!’

‘Be quiet, George, we don’t want the whole street to hear,’ said Knowles quickly. He was thinking fast, concentrating his mental powers on the situation before him. He knew he had to be bold and resolute to carry out the plan forming in his mind. First of all, he needed to get the body out of the house before the police were involved. ‘Your father’s deeply unconscious, but I think I can make out a heartbeat,’ he said levelly. ‘He must go to hospital immediately if he’s to have a chance. The Bolingbroke’s the best place, but there’s no time to ask the police to send for an ambulance – Joe Cribb’s wagon may be around – can you send that boy out again, Mabel?’

Johnny Tonks was asked to go and fetch old Joe Cribbs and the versatile horse-drawn vehicle he hired out to carry furniture, drums of paraffin, sacks of potatoes or whatever needed to be shifted. It had a rickety covered frame to conceal Joe’s cargoes from prying eyes and was locally known as Joe’s wagon.

While they waited for it, Knowles carefully examined the back of Court’s head and found grim evidence of a violent blow that had shattered the occiput. ‘Must have hit the edge of the bottom stair where the carpet’s worn thin,’ he murmured. ‘Can you bring me a towel, Mabel?’ There’s a fair-sized blood clot here.’ While he wrapped the towel around the head and neck, he continued to talk to them both, keeping his voice low and matter-of-fact. ‘He came in drunk and started attacking George who had just come home from school. George ran up the stairs to escape from him, and, er, Mr Court pursued him, but fell and hit his head on the bottom stair. Mabel came in from work and found him lying here. George was hiding in his room upstairs, not realising that Mr Court had fallen and knocked himself out. Do you both understand what I’m saying?’

Mabel and George looked at each other and then at Knowles.

Mabel steeled herself. ‘Yes, Dr Knowles, we understand.’ She nodded and managed an encouraging smile for her brother. ‘We heard that, didn’t we, George?’

The boy nodded dumbly. He looked terrified.

‘And then Mabel sent young Johnny for me and I got here as quickly as I could,’ went on Knowles. ‘I found that there was a heartbeat, so got him away to hospital as soon as possible, so that he could have one of those X-ray photographs taken of his head. Ah, now I think I hear Joe at the door, so remember what I’ve said about what’s happened. For your sister’s sake, George, keep your mouth shut, there’s a good lad.’

He went out to answer Joe’s cheery ‘Hello!’ at the door, putting a finger to his lips. ‘Sh-sh, Joe, we’ve
got a chap unconscious here and he’s pretty bad, I’m afraid. I’ll need a hand to help get him into the wagon, only we’ll have to be careful, he’s got severe concussion.’

Joe turned down the corners of his mouth as they carried Court out of the house and into the wagon. ‘Jack Court’s a goner, ain’t ’e, doctor?’

‘No, I think there’s a chance of saving him if you can get him to hospital. I’ll get in at the back with him. Don’t hang around, Joe, there are enough eyes watching us already.’ He quickly turned to Mabel. ‘I’ll be back, my dear. Put the kettle on and make some hot sweet tea for George and yourself. You’ll get neighbours coming round, so just tell them what we’ve agreed happened this afternoon. Don’t let them question George, keep him quiet in his room and tell him I’ve got it all in hand. Oh, and Mabel – there’s a small bloodstain on the living-room floor, near to the hearth. Get it wiped away, my dear.’

She nodded and even managed a half-smile. ‘Yes, Dr Knowles, thank yer.’

‘All right, Joe, get going,’ he said and got in beside the corpse. Joe tightened the reins and the wagon rattled out of Sorrel Street.

Under Thursday, 13 June 1912, in the Admissions Book at the Bolingbroke Hospital, an entry was made concerning a John Court, forty-two, of 12 Sorrel Street, Battersea, London SW, who had arrived at 5.10 p.m. but had not been admitted, due to being certified as dead on arrival.

When Alice came home Mabel had to break the news to her of their father’s fatal accident, and how badly it had affected George who was resting in bed and not to be disturbed. Before Alice could start asking questions Mabel told her to go to Mrs Bull’s
and bring Daisy home. From then onwards neighbours came and went, as they had done after Annie’s disappearance, and the news spread like wildfire through Sorrel Street and beyond.

Dr Knowles was very much in evidence, assisting the police by his presence when they came to interview Mabel and George, so soon after the tragic loss of their mother. George simply nodded dumbly to the questions gently put to him and the brief statements bore out the story already on everybody’s lips, interspersed with comments like ‘Drunken brute, ’e got what ’e deserved’ – though there were those who remembered how charming and open-handed Jack Court could be in the right mood. It was generally agreed that he had deteriorated in recent months. ‘Why ’e even went for Mabel’s young man, ’im in the Sally Army.’

Harry. Mabel’s heart sank at the thought of that excellent young man who had supported her throughout her mother’s disappearance and death, and since. How could she face him now, knowing what she knew, and having done what she had done? The deception that she and Dr Knowles were engaged upon was undoubtedly wrong, no matter how good their intentions; and for the sake of her fellow conspirator – and George – she could never tell another person the truth about how her father had met his death. Not even Harry. So either she must deceive the man she loved, or break with him and let him find a worthier wife. And how could she possibly do
that
when they loved each other so much and had promised to wait for years, if necessary, until they could be married?

Harry, of course, rushed to Sorrel Street as soon as the news reached him, intending to put his arms
around Mabel and comfort her – and George and Daisy – as well as he could.

But Mabel drew back. ‘No, Harry, George is in bed and mustn’t be disturbed, and I’m too tired to think. Please, I can’t talk to yer tonight. Thank yer for comin’, but I need time—’

‘
Harry
!’ Daisy came hurtling down the stairs and ran straight into his arms. He rocked her backwards and forwards while he and Mabel looked helplessly at each other over the top of her head. There were so many things he wanted to say: that Jack Court had been a troubled soul but was now at rest, and God would be his judge – or, putting it another way, he would no longer be a menace to his family. Harry longed to sympathise and soothe, but for some reason words deserted him and, not being allowed to see George, he departed with a sense of loss that he could not understand.

A message arrived via police officers that Mr Court’s mother had been informed and was in a state of shock, unable to visit or receive visitors. No condolences were exchanged between Macaulay Road and Sorrel Street, which was a small relief to Mabel who had no desire to see her grandmother. She felt as if she were in the grip of an evil dream from which there would be no awakening and which nobody could penetrate.

Except . . .

The door of number 12 was open when Albert Court walked in just before ten. Seeing him, Mabel swayed on her feet and almost fell into his outstretched arms. ‘Bloody ’ell, ol’ gal, sod this for a lark, eh?’

He was the most welcome sight in the world and they held each other close for a long moment without
saying anything at all. A police message had arrived for him only hours before he was due to join a merchantman at Tilbury Docks, his training days being over. ‘I got word from ol’ ‘Arry an’ all, it’s gettin’ a bit of a reg’lar thing, i’n’it, ’im fetchin’ me ’ome?’

How much should she tell her brother? Or rather, how could she conceal anything from Albert? As it turned out, there was no need to think about what she should say, because as soon as she took him to George’s room the boy burst into floods of tears and she left them alone together. Albert slept with his young brother that night and Alice was asked to let Daisy take her place in Mabel’s bed.

At midnight, when the house was silent, Mabel crept downstairs and turned on the gaslight. Sitting down at the table, she at last took out the envelope containing her mother’s letter and spread the scrawled and blotted sheet before her.

My dear Mabel best of daughters, I have not much time to ask you to forgive me. I have an illness which will kill me and I cant face the pain and lingering as I seen other poor women go that way. Your father may not come home again and he also may not live long.

Now Mabel, you must write to Mrs Elinor Somerton who is my sister Nell and tell her that you are orphans. I shoud ansered her letter but now you will anser it and ask her to come to her neices and nepews to give help if she can.

She lives at Pear Tree Cottage, Beversley Lane, Belhampton, Hampshire.

I pray you will be happy with the Drover boy who is a good Christian as you were all broght up
to be. Time is short and I leave you with a mothers love my own beatifull little Mabel.

Anna-Maria Chalcott Court.

Mabel seemed to hear her mother’s voice speaking clearly to her as she read and could picture her face as vividly as if she stood before her in life. Although her tears flowed freely, she was consoled by the message that had waited six weeks to be found. It brought her a measure of reassurance, even though it confirmed that Annie Court had taken her own life. Mabel had never believed that her death had been accidental.