A Child's Voice Calling (39 page)

She was trapped and her worst dread was that sooner or later she would be drawn into her grandmother’s grim speciality. Try as she might to keep out of it, she feared that one day it was bound to happen . . .

It happened at the end of February.

The uncommunicative Elsie suddenly collapsed on the stairs, a victim of a virulent strain of influenza. The bucket she was carrying tipped over, sending a
stream of bloodstained water across the landing and pouring down the stairs.

Mimi swore, having just completed a procedure on a young woman in the back bedroom. The two maids were in the kitchen, knowing better than to show their faces when Mrs Court had a special client. In the living room Mabel and Miss Lawton heard the commotion.

‘I’d better go and see what’s up,’ said Mabel, rising. She had been writing up her casebook for February.

‘Oh, no, Mabel, stay here, do!’ implored Miss Lawton.

But then Mimi called down, ‘Are yer there, Mabel?’ – and when Mabel went upstairs she found Elsie lying on the landing in a pool of dirty water.

‘Me ’ead – me throat – oh, Gawd,’ she moaned feebly.

‘Get ’er into ’er room, will yer? An’ then get a cloth an’ a mop to clear up the mess,’ ordered Mimi through the half-open door of the back bedroom.

Mabel dragged Elsie by the shoulders into her room and somehow or other got her to climb up on to the bed. Covering her with a blanket and faded eiderdown, she went to fetch a mop and bucket from a cupboard next to the back bedroom. Having cleared up the spillage and wiped down the area with carbolic, she went to attend to Elsie who was sweating and shivering with a high fever. She managed to take off her top clothes and pull on a thick woollen nightgown she found under the bolster; then brought a mug of water to moisten her dry lips. ‘How long’ve yer been feelin’ bad, Elsie?’ she asked.

‘Since yes’day evenin’, only I didn’t dare say
nothin’,’ muttered the woman. ‘An’ then I jus’ couldn’t stand up no more.’

For the rest of that day Mabel checked on her at intervals, giving her drinks and helping her to sit on the chamber pot. At ten o’clock she took her a cup of weak tea and two aspirin tablets to swallow. She wiped the burning forehead with a moist facecloth. ‘Try to sleep, Elsie – ye’ll feel better in the mornin’,’ she told her, fervently praying it would prove to be true.

Mabel had no idea of the time when Mimi called her in the night with a tap on the door. ‘Come an’ give me a hand, Mabel – I got a bit o’ trouble ’ere.’

‘What is it, Mabel?’ asked Daisy, sitting up in bed.

‘Sh, dear, it’s nothin’ – go back to sleep,’ answered her sister, getting out of bed, and putting on her dressing gown and slippers. Closing the door behind her, she followed Mimi’s broad figure into the back room where an ashen-faced girl of about twenty lay in the bed. A white enamel pail beside her was filled with bloodstained rags and there was blood splashed on the bed, on the floor, down the front of Mimi’s apron and even streaked across her face.

What nightmare was this? Mabel shivered involuntarily as she met Mimi’s eyes.

‘Bleedin’ like a stuck pig, an’ I’ll ’ave to pack ’er,’ muttered Mimi, breathing heavily. ‘We’ll ’ave to raise the foot o’ the bed – get it up on this chair.’

Mabel obeyed, and together they heaved and strained to lift the bottom of the bedstead until it rested on the seat of a wooden chair. The girl’s head fell back on the single pillow, her eyes closed and her mouth slackly open. For one terrible moment Mabel thought she was dead.

‘Fainted,’ said Mimi. ‘All to the good, ’cause ’er blood pressure’ll drop. Let’s ’ave another look.’ There was a rolled-up huckaback towel between the girl’s legs which Mimi removed; it was soaked through with blood. ‘It seems to ’ave stopped, but I’ll put a cold pack in. You keep yer ‘and on ’er pulse while I get the doin’s.’

Mimi began by passing a rubber tube into the girl’s bladder to drain off the urine, not an easy matter in the circumstances, and her hands shook slightly as she located the orifice. Then, for what seemed an eternity, Mabel supported the girl’s parted legs while her grandmother inserted a length of wet gauze into the vagina with a pair of forceps, inch by inch, foot by foot, yeard by yard, until it was tightly packed.
This girl ought to be in the hospital round the corner
, said an insistent voice inside Mabel’s head, though aloud she said nothing.

‘Right, that’s done,’ panted Mimi at last. ‘Now down with ’er legs an’ keep ’em together – careful! – that’s right. What’s ’er pulse like? Ah, she’s comin’ round, that’s good – all right, Rowena? Ye’ve ’ad a bit of a bleed, nothin’ to worry about. I s’pect yer could do with a drink o’ tea – no, better stick to water for now.’

The girl’s eyelids fluttered. ‘Drink,’ she whispered through dry white lips.

‘Give ’er a glass o’ water, Mabel – make sure she drinks,’ ordered Mimi. ‘I’ll go an’ tidy up this lot. ‘Er name’s Rowena if she says anythin’.’

Mabel sat down beside the girl who appeared to be asleep, but suddenly opened her eyes. ‘Where’s Sister Mimi?’ she asked in a weak but well-bred voice. ‘I’m dying of thirst – and I’ve got the most fearful headache.’

‘All right, Rowena,’ replied Mabel. ‘Here’s a drink o’ water for yer.’

‘Thanks. Are you a maid or something?’

‘No, I’m . . . I’m Mrs Court’s granddaughter,’ said Mabel and immediately wished she had not admitted to the relationship.

She held the glass while the girl drank gratefully. ‘Ah, that’s better. What’s your name?’

‘Mabel.’

‘Mabel, your grandmother’s a saint. She has saved me and I’ll always be grateful to her,’ whispered Rowena, closing her eyes. Mabel realised that she was referring to the pregnancy that had been ended, not the haemorrhage that had followed. This girl clearly had no idea how close she had come to bleeding to death.

‘’Ow’s she doin’?’ Mimi had come back with tea on a tray. ‘Hm.’ She nodded approvingly. ‘Feelin’ better now, Rowena? Ready for a nice cup o’ tea? There’s one for yerself, Mabel, plus a drop o’ the old oh-be-joyful.’ She put down the cup and poured out a weaker one for Rowena, adding two teaspoons of sugar. Lowering her head close to Mabel’s ear, she whispered, ‘Close thing, but she’ll be all right now. Thought we was goin’ to end up in Tooting Bec,’ she added, referring to the hospital facing Graveney Common. ‘Which would’ve taken a bit of explainin’.’

Mabel made no reply. She was sickened by the way Mimi had put Rowena’s life at risk and despised herself for not disputing the issue of sending the girl into hospital; but how could she have defied her grandmother? And how could she have refused to assist, thereby adding to the danger of a fatal haemorrhage?

She picked up the cup of tea, took a sip, tasted the
brandy and put it down again. ‘D’ye need me any longer?’

Even Mimi must have heard the coldness in the question, for she raised her eyebrows slightly. ‘No, go back to yer bed, I can manage, thank yer.’

In the morning Daisy asked innocently if a baby had been born in the night. ‘I heard a lot o’ talking and hurrying up and down, and yer weren’t there with me, Mabel, so I thought maybe somebody was having a baby.’

‘No, dear, not a baby – just a lady not very well, that’s all.’

‘D’ye mean Elsie?’

It seemed simpler just to nod and say that poor Elsie was feeling better this morning.

Rowena stayed another night and left after Mimi removed the pack. Elsie remained in bed for the rest of that week, gradually recovering from influenza and cared for by Mimi who summarily banished Mabel from the sickroom. ‘You got yer own work to do on the district,’ she said. ‘I’ll take over now.’

But this was not good enough for Mabel, who had thought long and deeply about Rowena and what had very nearly happened to her. And to them all. ‘I’ve got somethin’ to say to yer, Grandmother.’

‘Oh, yes? Go on, then.’

‘Don’t ever ask me to assist yer again with somethin’ like that, because I shall refuse.’

Mimi Court stared at her. ‘Oho, Miss Prim ’n’ Proper! Don’t yer get on yer high horse with
me
, Mabel Court. Remember where yer liveli’ood comes from – yerself an’ Daisy both!’

‘Yer don’t keep me for nothin’, Grandmother,’ retorted Mabel in a voice of cold anger. ‘I’m yer assistant midwife, an’ do more ’n half yer work out
on the district. I may turn a blind eye to the rest, but don’t ask me to help yer with it again.’

Mimi was about to reply angrily, but decided to use a different approach. ‘Listen, Mabel, I saved that girl. She was desperate an’ told me straight out that she’d do ’erself in if her parents found out she was expectin’. Now they never will. She’ll be presented at Court an’ do the season along of all the other young ladyships, an’ all ’cause I helped her out. All right, so she ’ad complications, but I pulled her through. So yer can save yer breath. An’ by the way, there’s yer money for this week – five pounds.’

‘I’ll take one pound as usual, Grandmother, I don’t want any more,’ Mabel said, picking up one of the five one-pound notes.

‘Call it for lookin’ after Elsie.’

‘No, thank yer.’

‘I’ll give it to the Salvation Army, then,’ said Mimi with a knowing look.

‘Give it to who yer please,
I’m
not takin’ it.’

‘Suit yerself.’ Mimi looked as if she might say more, but seeing the unflinching blue-grey gaze confronting her without fear, she merely shrugged.

It was a small triumph for Mabel to refuse payment from Mimi and tell her that she would not assist her in that way, but the atmosphere remained charged and Mabel found it difficult to meet Miss Lawton’s frightened eyes after the Rowena incident. There seemed no way out of the situation she had got into and as her nineteenth birthday approached she pictured herself pedalling around Tooting for years to come, doing more and more work for which Mimi got paid. And if another emergency arose such as had occurred with Rowena, how could she possibly refuse to help? Beliefs and principles were
all very fine, but in matters of life and death Mabel was learning that they could become compromised.

What on earth would her aunts at Belhampton say if they knew of her dilemma? As for Harry – but she would not let her thoughts stray in that forbidden direction.

And still it went on. Since Rowena’s near fatality Mabel noticed that fewer women came to the house, but Mimi Court still went on her visits to clients in their own homes, having usually been recommended by others she had saved from social disaster. She would set off in the morning, often returning the same day, sometimes the next, saying nothing of where she had been but looking quietly pleased with herself. Her absences were never remarked upon and sometimes it seemed to Mabel that the whole household took part in a conspiracy of silence.

How long would this state of affairs continue? However Mabel might twist and turn, she could see no way of escape from the house of secrets.

SPRING RETURNED AND
daffodils danced on the edge of the common where the horse-chestnuts were coming into bud along Dr Johnson’s Walk; in April Mabel could hardly believe that a whole year had passed since her mother’s death. At Macaulay Road life went on as usual, with no prospect of changing. Mabel cycled to the homes of mothers before and after the birth of their babies, Daisy attended school and Miss Lawton, who had given up teaching the piano, went twice weekly to the Tooting Home, an imposing building that had formerly been a college and was now endowed as a home for the aged poor. It was no workhouse but a genuine refuge for its elderly inmates who enjoyed Miss Lawton’s musical afternoons.

‘I love to see the pleasure on their faces, and I . . . I feel that I can still be of service,’ she told Mabel, tucking her music into a large tapestry bag.

‘I bet they count the days to Tuesdays and Fridays, Ruth.’ Mabel smiled, knowing how much these afternoons meant to the lonely spinster. She wished that they could have a closer relationship, but Miss Lawton always shied away from any attempt at intimacy; it was as if there was an invisible barrier around her that prevented it.

‘That’ll be the butcher’s delivery, Mabel – just go and pay him, will yer? I’ve left the money out by the
door,’ called Mimi one afternoon following the mournful anniversary.

Mabel drew back a little when confronted not by the butcher’s boy on the step but a tall, dark, foreign-looking man with rough black hair and a distinctly bristly chin. She stared at him. ‘Heave to, lady, an’ spare a copper for a seafarin’ man in port!’ He grinned, showing two prominent white incisors.

‘Albert? It’s
Albert
!’ Mabel took a moment to recognise the boy who’d turned into a man. ‘But ye’re so tall and brown and—’

‘An’ good-lookin’, yeah. Steady on, gal,’ he added as she flung her arms round him on the doorstep.

‘But it’s been that long, Albert – there’ve been times when I’d’ve given anythin’ to see yer – speak to yer – come in, come in, Daisy’s at school, but she’ll be that excited – oh, Albert!’

Mimi appeared in the passage, drawn by Mabel’s excited welcome for her brother.

‘Look who’s come home from the sea, Grandmother!’

Mimi offered a cool cheek for him to kiss, asking how long he was on leave and where he was staying.

‘Docked this mornin’, got ten days an’ stowin’ me kit wiv a pal up the Mile End Road.’ Albert was quick to sense that he was not welcome to stay in this house. ‘Left ’em unloadin’ at Tobacco Ware’ouse – couldn’t wait to see Mabel an’ Daisy. ’Ere, let’s ’ave a proper look at yer, Mabel. What’re yer up to nah, then?’

Happy as she was to see her brother, Mabel felt constrained in Mimi’s presence and was thankful there was no client in the house. ‘I’ll put the kettle on. Are yer hungry, Albert?’ she asked.

‘Wait a minute, gal, I got somefin’ for yer.’ And
from his rolled-up bag he produced a beautiful soft cashmere shawl in cream and brown. ‘Soon’s I spotted it I could jus’ see it on yer,’ he said admiringly, arranging it round her shoulders. ‘I got a bunch o’ them little coloured bangles for Daisy to put on ’er arms, an’ bits o’ jade an’ stuff for the aunts at Bel’ampton. Cor, yer look a treat in that, Mabel – really suits yer!’