A Child's Voice Calling (45 page)

When the guard came to fetch Harry, neither of them noticed him, and he stood regarding them for a minute before giving a shrug and walking away. The five minutes lengthened to fifteen before he returned. ‘Time’s up, I’m afraid, and Mrs Cheale’s here to see to, er, Miss Court.’

‘Don’t worry, Mabel, I’ll be waitin’ for yer nearby.
I’ll come to the Magistrates’ Court with yer,’ Harry assured her as he left.

Mrs Cheale raised her eyebrows. ‘Got a good ’un there, gal, I’d ’ang on to ’im if I was you. Just the sight of a Sally Army uniform should do the trick an’ get yer orf.’ As she bustled around, she told Mabel that a strange woman was at the duty desk upstairs. ‘Brought ’erself in, poor ol’ soul, askin’ to go in a cell. A case for Springfield Asylum if ever I saw one. Yer see all sorts ’ere, I’ll tell yer!’

Presently the constable on duty with Sergeant Wragge came down to speak to Mabel. He looked rather amused. ‘We got this old lady in, a Miss Lawton, lodges with yer grandmother and wants to see yer. Says she’s got somethin’ important to say, though she could be ravin’. Sergeant Wragge says ye’re to come up to the custody office an’ let her tell yer, only we’ll sit in on it, right?’

‘Miss Lawton!’ cried Mabel. ‘But she was questioned by a policeman yesterday and said—’ She broke off, wondering if all the upheaval and anxiety had turned poor Ruth’s brain. ‘Can Mr Drover sit in on it, too?’ she asked as she followed the constable upstairs. ‘He’s very good with people in distress.’

‘Oh, I don’t know about that, miss,’ came the reply, but in fact Harry’s uniform gained him admission under Wragge’s watchful eye, provided that he stationed himself against the wall and kept silent.

With her black coat unbuttoned and her black silk hat set at a rakish angle on straggling grey hair, poor Miss Lawton made Mabel think of a bedraggled old bird. Eyes darting, she backed away when Mabel approached her. ‘No, no, Mabel, I’ve found my
courage and I’ve come to tell the truth!’ she shrilled. Turning to the sergeant, she went on, ‘This young woman is innocent, officer, completely innocent! She had
nothing
to do with Lady Stanley’s death, nor any of the other clients who came to my sister for her services.
I’ve
known what went on, I’ve known for over thirty years, but Mabel had nothing to do with any of them, nothing at all!’

Mabel paled and did not dare to look at Harry. What was he about to hear?

‘Just a minute, Miss Lawton, did yer say yer
sister
?’ asked Wragge. ‘D’ye mean Mrs Court, the missing person?’

‘Yes, but she’s not Mrs Court, she’s Miss Prudence Lawton, my younger sister and I’ve never told a soul all these years. I promised I wouldn’t, but not any more. No more! No longer!’ Her eyes glittered as she looked around at the two policemen and Mabel, and in spite of her bizarre appearance there was a certain strength of purpose in her manner that Mabel had never seen before. Likewise her speech flowed freely: gone was the nervous stammer, the constant fidgeting with her hands. ‘I owe it to Mabel, don’t you see?’ she continued. ‘If anybody should be in a cell, let it be me! Oh, Mabel, I’m your aunt, your great-aunt, and you’re my niece, and I’ve never been able to say it – to be what I am to you – please forgive me!’

She covered her face with her hands, and Mabel rose at once and went to her side. ‘There now, Ruth – Aunt Ruth – don’t cry,’ she murmured, though feeling utterly bewildered. ‘I . . . I’m glad ye’re my aunt, y’see, I’ve always wanted to be closer to yer.’

Another
aunt she hadn’t known she had – and Mimi not Mimi, but . . .
who
?

‘So yer sister’s real name is Prudence Lawton, is that right?’ asked the sergeant, writing in his notebook. ‘Did yer say Court was her married name, then?’

‘Oh, no, officer, she took the name Court after she had the boy, her son Jack. They were very good to her, the Masood family, and bought the house on Macaulay Road for her to bring up the child. The midwife who delivered Prudence took her on as an assistant and taught her midwifery – just as she’s taught
you
, Mabel. They worked together for a short while, until Prudence started taking special clients – that was about the time that she took in our poor mother and me when we were without means. We were practically starving.’

Mabel trembled. The story which the police sergeant clearly found incomprehensible began to make sense to her. ‘Yer mother, Ruth,’ she said softly. ‘Was she the old lady that my mother knew?’

‘Yes, Mabel, that was my poor dear mother and your great-grandmother. A sweet and gentle soul who endured great humiliation all her life. Our father was a country clergyman, you see, and we grew up in a small village in Essex. But he was not – well, he was not what he should have been and there was trouble with a young woman, more than one, in fact, and it became a scandal. He had to leave the parish overnight and our mother was left with us two girls, quite penniless. We had to leave our home and go into lodgings. Prudence hated it and went off to London, and I stayed with mother. I made a little money with piano lessons, but mother never recovered, it was the strain, you see, her faculties deserted her and we had to move on from one place to another until there was nowhere else to go. We
would’ve had to go to the workhouse if an old acquaintance hadn’t told us about Prudence, known as Mrs Court and living as a widow with her son. She thought she’d left her old life behind and she wasn’t pleased to see us when we turned up at Macaulay Road – but she took us in and kept us, only I had to promise never to say who we were. Thank God – oh, thank God that mother never knew how Prudence supported us all, though
I
knew, I
always
knew and never said a word. Jack never knew that I was his aunt, nor that my poor mother –
our
mother – was his own grandmother. We lived on sufferance all that time – my lips were sealed, you see.’

She paused and looked up pleadingly. It was the longest speech that Mabel had ever heard her make; usually she could barely string two sentences together.

It was at this moment that she caught sight of Harry and, disobeying the sergeant he stepped forward, placing his hands on her shoulders. ‘Ye’ve been a dutiful daughter, Miss Lawton. What yer sister did was no responsibility o’ yours, so don’t blame yerself for it.’

‘Mr Drover! You’ve come back to Mabel – and you know she’s innocent, don’t you?’

He nodded. ‘Yes, Miss Lawton, I know.’

Sergeant Wragge was quite bemused and Mabel could only look on in astonishment. How did Harry know what Mrs Court did and why wasn’t he thoroughly horrified by it? Or had he misunderstood?

Evidently not, because Miss Lawton went on confidingly, ‘All those women who came to the house, and those Prudence went to visit in their own
homes – I knew about every single one, Mr Drover, and I used to pray for them. And do you know, Prudence never lost one, not until now. But Mabel had nothing to do with them.’

‘Nothin’ to do with these – abortions, yer mean?’ asked Sergeant Wragge point-blank, thinking it was time he asserted his authority and made it clear what they were talking about.

Mabel winced, but Ruth answered him at once. ‘Absolutely nothing, officer, I swear. She looked after the maternity cases in Tooting. Prudence never took on local women in trouble – her special clients paid her a hundred pounds, that’s how she made her money. They were much wealthier than the ones Mabel attended.’

Mabel simply could not believe her ears. To hear the unmentionable openly talked about in a police custody office and Harry of all people listening – it was incredible.

And more incredible revelations were to come. Sergeant Wragge’s curiosity had been aroused by what he had heard. ‘This son of hers, Miss Lawton, this Jack Court,’ he cut in. ‘Didn’t he get killed last year in an accident? Fell downstairs an’ broke his skull if I remember. Was he her only, er, child?’

‘That’s right, officer, Prudence was barely twenty when Jack was born. His father was a gentleman, the son of a high official in the Indian Civil Service, received at Queen Victoria’s court. The boy had been brought over to be educated in England when he met Prudence.’

The two policemen exchanged a grin and Mabel recalled the scene outside the coroner’s court when Mimi had angrily rounded on Albert and told him that Jack’s father had been a
prince among men
. An
Indian
prince? She could just hear Albert laughing his head off at the very idea. Yet it would account for his swarthy appearance and Alice’s and Daisy’s dark-eyed beauty.

Ruth Lawton’s shoulders suddenly drooped. She seemed drained of all energy and her face was grey with exhaustion. Wragge must have noticed too, for he closed his notebook and advised her to go home and rest.

‘Home? I’ll be moving into the Tooting Home from now on, officer – Prudence won’t want me at 23 Macaulay Road after this. And do you know, I don’t mind at all. I’m free for the first time in years. Free as air!’ She beamed a seraphic smile upon them all.

‘Take her down to the waiting room and get her a cup o’ tea,’ Wragge told the constable, standing up and looking embarrassed about returning Mabel to her cell. ‘Though I dare say ye’ll get off on account o’ the lack of evidence against yer, miss, an’ havin’ the, er, captain as a character witness,’ he added, assigning Drover a rank he had not yet attained. He stifled a yawn: it was time for Sergeant Whittaker to take over on the day shift.

They never saw the arrival of Mrs Taylor at the front desk, demanding to see Mabel and informing the constable that they had taken in the wrong Court.

‘Yer can’t see nobody,’ he told her. ‘There’s been enough busybodies in an’ out o’ here already, it gets more like the Elephant an’ Castle by the minute. Tell yer what, though, missus, yer can take that poor ol’ lady ’ome.’ He gestured to where Miss Lawton sat on a form, smiling dreamily to herself.

‘What? Indeed I’ll do no such thing! What a cheek, treatin’ me as if I was no better than ol’ Mother
Cheale!’ spluttered the indignant midwife, sending forth a spray of tiny drops of spit. She looked Miss Lawton up and down. ‘The poor ol’ soul looks three ’alfpence short o’ tuppence, anyway.’ She stared harder. ‘’Ere, I know where I’ve seen ’er. Don’t she lodge with that Court woman ’oo’s ’opped it? Yeah, that’s ’er, name o’ Lawton. Plays the pianna for the ol’ paupers in the Tootin’ ’ome.’

‘And Mrs Court’s sister, so she says. If ye’d be good enough to take her home, she’ll tell yer the ’ole story,’ said the constable artfully.

‘What? Oh, I see – well, all right, then, in that case. I’m always ready to do anybody a good turn.’ She walked over to the old lady in sudden goodwill. ‘You jus’ come along o’ me, dearie, an’ I’ll soon get yer home. Well, I never!’

The officer from Lavender Hill station hardly noticed the two women as he strode into the station with new information. ‘All right, Whittaker, yer can let her go. The ol’ man’s called it off.’

When Mabel was once again let out of the cell and taken upstairs to the office, she could scarcely take in what was being said to her.

Harry, on the other hand, could hardly contain his joyful relief. ‘Ye’re free, Mabel, ye’re
free
, praise the Lord!’ he cried, impervious to Whittaker’s angry glare.

‘B-but what about the magistrate?’ faltered Mabel, clinging to the edge of the desk as her knees turned to water.

Disapproval was written all over Whittaker’s surly features as he reeled off the formalities of discharge from police custody. ‘I jus’
told
yer, Court, the case is orf, all charges withdrawn, an’ yer can go.’

‘Doesn’t Miss Court get any kind of apology for
bein’ detained in a filthy cell for twelve hours?’ demanded Harry.

‘Why?’ snorted Whittaker. ‘Jus’ ’cause the charges are dropped don’t mean the crime ain’t been committed. Lady Stanley’s as dead as she was before, but ’er ’usband’s pretendin’ she died o’ natural causes, so’s to save a scandal. Not that everybody won’t guess it was an abortion. Well, go on, then, I’ve signed yer discharge, what’re yer waitin’ for?’

But Mabel neither heard nor saw him. A buzzing in her ears drowned out all other sounds and a web of wavy black lines criss-crossed her vision, getting darker and thicker, blotting out the light.

Harry caught her in his arms as she fell.

‘HOW’RE YER FEELIN’
now, dearest? Fancy a cup o’ tea or somethin’?’

Mabel opened her eyes and at first had the extraordinary sensation of being in bed with Harry beside her, but as she returned to full consciousness she found that she had been fast asleep on the sofa in Mimi Court’s front parlour.

It was now midday and Harry was bending over her, his brown eyes full of tender concern. ‘There’s been a lot o’ callers, Mabel, but I wouldn’t let any of ’em disturb yer. There was a Mrs Hollis who left a note – here it is – she says yer can go an’ stay with her if yer haven’t anywhere to go, but—’

‘Who? Oh . . . oh yes, Mrs Hollis,’ said Mabel, recalling the dawn birth in Furzedown Road. ‘My little Anna Mabel’s nearly a year old already.’ She smiled. ‘Mm-mm – that was a lovely sleep, Harry.’ She yawned and stretched, unable to remember ever feeling so warm and safe and cherished, not since her earliest childhood and the shelter of her mother’s arms. ‘Where’s Miss La—Aunt Ruth?’ she asked, looking around.

‘Packin’ her clothes ready to go to the Tootin’ Home. The vicar o’ St Nicholas’s church has put in a word for her and the Matron’s got a place for her today.’

‘
Today
? But the Tooting Home’s a—’

‘It’s not a workhouse, but a place of refuge for the
aged poor of the parish, Mabel,’ said Miss Lawton, coming into the room at that moment. She was pale and there were dark circles under her eyes, but her manner was composed, with just a little hint of anticipation. ‘It will suit me very well, Mabel, and I’ve already met quite a few of the elderly folk through my musical afternoons there,’ she continued. ‘Prudence often said I’d end up in a private asylum at her expense, but she won’t have to pay a penny to the Tooting Home.’ She paused and added with a self-conscious little blush, ‘As a matter of fact, the Matron says I’m just the sort of resident she prefers.’