A Child's Voice Calling (5 page)

At the top stair he stumbled, and Annie shrieked.

‘All right, Mum, I’ve got him – come on, Dad, this way,’ ordered Mabel, taking hold of his arm with both hands and pulling with all her strength, though she was trembling with cold and a kind of horror at seeing her dad in this state. She knew that she had to brave and overcome her repulsion for Mum’s sake, but her instinct was to get as far away from him as she could.

‘Because she says sho – because she says sho – whoops!’

Together the heavily pregnant woman and the seven-year-old girl pulled and pushed the man through the door, whereupon he fell across the bed. Annie was out of breath and clutched at her bulge: Mabel stood barefoot in her nightgown, regarding him as she would a drunken man lying in the gutter. Her own
father
!

‘She ish my lily of Laguna—’

‘I’m not going to bother with undressing him, he can sleep in his clothes,’ panted Annie. ‘If we could just get his boots off to save the quilt – I’ll hold his legs and you pull, Mabel, first this one – ah! Now the other. Good girl.’

‘She ish my Lily and my rose!’

‘He’s had a good day on the course, but he was with that Dick Sammons and they’ve drunk the lot between them – and no doubt he’s treated half a dozen others,’ said Annie with a sigh.

The boots were slung into a corner and Mabel began trying to turn her father round on the bed so that he was lying in his usual place on the right side.

‘Not yet, dear, there’s something else he’ll have to do first,’ Annie sighed. ‘Can you pull the chamber pot out from under the bed? Come on, Jack, you’ve got to have a wee-wee before you go to sleep.’

But Jack was too drunk to stand without support and Mabel had to hold the pot while Annie fished in his trousers and pulled out his male member, which immediately rose in her hand to a half-erection.

‘For shame, Jack, it goes down, not up – here – I’ll hold it for you while you go. Hold the pot higher, Mabel, don’t let him miss it. Careful, Jack – you can go now.’

And go he did, a streaming torrent that hit the chamber pot and splashed up in Mabel’s face. Annie directed the flow as he tried to kiss her.

‘Wheee-eee!’ he giggled, gushing like a waterspout and swaying between wife and daughter. ‘She ish my lily of Lagooonaaah – she ish my lily and my rose!’

Mabel forced herself to grip the sides of the pot until the stream had finally dribbled to a stop and Annie tucked the spout into his drawers, leaving his trousers unbuttoned. ‘Your grandmother Court taught me that,’ she said, her face white with fatigue. ‘Always make a man pee out the drink before sleeping, she told me, or you’ll have a flood before morning – but oh, Mabel, you little dear, what a sight for you to see!’ And she burst into tears.

Mabel rushed to throw her arms round her mother. ‘Poor Mum! Don’t cry, Mummy, please – oh, I just
hate
him when he’s like this, he’s not like Daddy at all.’

Annie hastily wiped her eyes on her apron. ‘Don’t mind me, Mabel, your father gets very silly when he’s drunk, but he’s not a bad man like some. He’s never deliberately hurt me. Not like poor Mrs Finch, Lily’s mother – her husband’s a brute when he’s drunk, and hits out at her and the children. And I know for a fact that he’s wet right through a feather
mattress till it dripped on the floor beneath – ugh, just imagine it.’ She shuddered, then smiled and patted Mabel’s cheek. ‘As your grandmother says, it’s a man’s world, Mabel. Now get back to bed, dear, or you’ll catch cold.’

Mabel returned to the bed she shared with Alice, thankful that her little sister had not been woken up by the daddy she adored. But she lay awake for some time, thinking of her mother lying beside Dad with his sour-smelling breath and his heavy snoring. And how
rude
he had been, showing his great big
thing
like that, and laughing while he wee’d in front of her and Mum like some dirty boy who didn’t know any better. Albert would never do a thing like that, even though he was often naughty in other ways. Before she finally fell asleep Mabel vowed that she would never get married; she simply couldn’t understand why any woman would want to.

As Christmas approached Annie drooped, and the care of the younger children fell more and more on Mabel’s shoulders; yet she still found time to escort children to and from school as the need arose, delivering them to their classrooms and fetching them as soon as the bell sounded for the end of lessons. Mothers recommended her for her watchfulness, the way she kept the children from straying, and they all liked and trusted her. For her part she enjoyed being with her charges and loved the little clinging hands in hers, the anxious eyes of five- and six-year-olds looking out for her – and the way their faces brightened when she appeared to collect them from their homes or their classrooms. Teachers would call out, ‘Who’s waiting for Mabel Court?
Don’t worry, she’s on her way’ – or, ‘She’s just seeing to a little boy who’s lost his cap.’

‘There’s a children’s nurse in the making,’ she heard one of them say as she went off with her flock one afternoon as the light was failing.

‘As long as she’s not worn out before her time, like so many of those girls,’ came the reply.

Mabel also became much more adept at spending her earnings to the best advantage, knowing exactly how much bread, tea, sugar, or offal could be had for her halfpennies and farthings, carefully counted out; she learned to bargain with street traders and when she managed to save a few coins she hoarded them for Christmas in a small canvas bag she kept under the mattress.

There was no time to linger at the Friday evening stalls, now darkened by December fogs, but Maudie still lugged Teddy there, coughing as she pulled the malodorous shawl more tightly around them both.

‘What’ll yer get for Christmas, Maudie?’ asked Mabel as they shivered beside the chestnut man’s welcome blaze.

‘Chris’muss? Don’t make me larf – the ol’ man’ll be canned the ’ole time, an’ so’ll me muvver an’ all.’

‘
What
?’ Mabel thought she had not heard right. ‘Did yer say yer
mother
’ll be drunk too?’

‘Lor’ bless yer, she puts up wiv ’im pissed every Friday, so she reckons it’s ’er turn for once,’ Maudie explained as if this were quite reasonable. ‘Yeah, they’ll bofe be rollin’, same as last year. Glad when Chris’muss is over, I am.’

‘Oh, Maudie – oh,
Maudie
, yer poor thing – and little Teddy too – oh!’

Mabel did not know what to say. Since she had begun to earn and spend a little money of her own,
she had seen much more of the darker side of life, the daily drudgery endured by women and children, especially when the man of the house was brutalised by habitual drinking. She saw the burden it placed on families already short of the basic necessities of life.

But the thought of
mothers
getting drunk truly upset her, and her heart ached for her friend and the poor little baby brother, the only survivors of a family of five children. What had happened to the other three, what kind of lives had they had and how had they died? Mabel thought of how horrible it was when her own father had come home so drunk and she hardly dared think of what might have happened to the helpless little Ling children. She longed to be able to help Maudie and Teddy in some way, and other children in need of love and care, and the thought came to her that one day she
would
be a children’s nurse as the teacher had said; but for the time being it seemed that there was nothing she could do, nothing she could give.

Only the fragile friendship of a child.

Annie had insisted that she didn’t want Mimi to deliver her fifth child and had booked Mrs Lowe, one of two midwives who attended most of the women in their neighbourhood. A Mrs Bull two doors away had agreed to come in and look after the family while Annie was lying-in, and all the preparations had been made. Georgie was moved into the children’s room to share Albert’s bed next to Mabel’s and Alice’s, and the cot was made up ready beside Annie’s bed for the new baby. Clean cotton rags, towels and newspaper were stored in an orange box, along with a cake of soap and baby clothes. A
washing bowl and jug, a chamber pot and two buckets stood in readiness.

When the pains started on a blustery night five days before Christmas, Jack was away and the younger children in bed.

Annie gritted her teeth and pressed her palms into the small of her back where the pain was sharpest during contractions. It’s strange, she thought, how you always forget how bad it is until the next time comes and then you remember. Whatever happened, she must not frighten the children; in a small house every sound carried. ‘Mabel! You’d better call Mrs Bull and then go for Mrs Lowe. I don’t think this one’s going to be long.’

While Mabel went to call the midwife, Mrs Bull arrived and busied herself in the kitchen, relighting the range fire to heat water for the midwife’s use and to brew tea.

Mabel came running in, her face red with the exertion and her hands cold from wearing no gloves. ‘Mrs Lowe’s out with somebody else, but Mrs Clements’ll be comin’ as soon as she can!’

Annie groaned. ‘She’d better be quick, then – oh! Aah!’ She bit the sheet and gripped the bedhead topped with its brass knobs.

‘Go back to yer bed, Mabel, this ain’t no sight for a little gal,’ said Mrs Bull, but Mabel was reluctant to leave her mother’s side. When they heard the knock at the door she ran down to let in Mrs Clements who was short and stout, and carried a black bag that matched the hat and coat which she removed and hung up in the narrow hallway.

Once in the bedroom, her sharp button eyes took in the situation at a glance. She opened her bag and took out the first requirement, a bottle and an enamel
mug. ‘Come on, Mrs Court, come on, dearie, ’ave a swig o’ this to ’elp yer pain an’ settle yer, like,’ she said firmly, holding the mug to Annie’s lips. ‘’Ere we go!’

Standing outside the door, Mabel listened wide-eyed as her mother was made to drink, choking and gagging on the potent liquid. ‘It’s gin, isn’t it?’ she gasped. ‘Ugh, I never touch it.’

‘Drink up, pet, it’ll ’elp yer more than anyfin’ else will. One more little drop an’ yer won’t care if it snows. Good gal!’

Mabel heard her mother moan and make a retching sound in her throat.

‘Hey, don’t go fetchin’ it up again – take some big, deep breaths in an’ out, that’ll ’elp keep it down – good gal!’

Annie hiccuped and moaned faintly as another contraction hardened her belly.

Mrs Bull came puffing up the stairs with a jug of hot water. ‘I told yer to go back to y’bed, Mabel – this ain’t no place for a little ’un.’

Mabel reluctantly returned to her roon and got in beside the sleeping Alice. Georgie snuffled and whimpered beside Albert, then cried out in sudden panic, ‘Ma-ma!’

Mabel got out of bed and went to kneel beside her frightened little brother, enfolding him in her arms. ‘All right, Georgie, it’s all right, I’m here,’ she whispered as he clung to her in bewilderment. ‘Yer Mabel’s here, an’ ye’ll see Mummy again in the mornin’.’ Kneeling on the uncarpeted floor in the icy room, she stroked his forehead and soothed him until his breathing took on the soft and regular rhythm of sleep. Slowly she released her arms and tucked the covers around him. Albert and Alice had
not woken. Stiff with cold, she got to her feet. A sound of women’s voices could be heard in the other room, urgent but indistinct. Mabel stepped out on to the landing again and listened.

Mrs Clements seemed to be giving orders to the neighbour. ‘’Ave that bowl ’andy, Liza, and spread the towel down there, see? That’s the way – and ’ere it comes, see, I told yer it’d push its own way out, di’n’t I? And afore midnight, too!’

There followed some confused exclamations, panting and the smack of a hand on flesh.

‘There we go – and it’s a boy.’

‘Is ’e all right? ’E ain’t ’alf blue.’

‘Fill that bowl wiv warm water to dip ’im in – quick, that gets ’em goin’ as a rule.’

‘Is ’e breathin’? ’E’s ever so limp, just as if ’e was—’

‘For Christ’s sake, Liza Bull, shut yer trap an’ do summat useful! Fill me a bowl o’ water!’ Mabel heard the note of panic beneath Mrs Clements’s irritation and shivered in fear. Why didn’t her mother say something? Was she – oh, please, our Father who art in heaven, let her not be dead . . .
Oh, Mummy, Mummy, don’t leave me, don’t leave us all on our own, Mummy, please! Please!

‘Look, ’e’s givin’ a few little grunts, an’ ’is chest’s goin’ up an’ down, thank Gawd,’ muttered the midwife in relief. ‘I’ll jus’ tie the cord off an’ cut it, an’ then ’e can go down in the cot.’

‘Shall I make a pot o’ tea?’ asked the other woman.

‘When I got the afterbirth out yer can. She won’t want any, she’s out for the count, but we can do wiv a cup – an’ a drop o’ summat in it, an’ all.’

The door opened and Mrs Bull nearly collided full tilt into the child cowering behind it. ‘Mabel! ‘Ow
many times ’ave I told yer to go back to bed? Ye’ll catch yer death o’ cold out here.’

Mrs Clements looked up. She was holding something like a big chunk of raw meat, which she let slide down into one of the buckets. Her florid features wore an expression of satisfaction. ‘Is that the little gal who came for Mrs Lowe? All right, pet, yer can come in just for a minute and see yer little baby bruvver. Come on in, don’t be frightened.’

Mabel stared into the room lit by an oil lamp on the chest of drawers. Her eyes went straight to the bed where her mother lay with flushed cheeks, her hair clinging to her forehead in damp wisps. Her mouth was open and she was snoring heavily. Mabel could have cried with thankfulness.

‘Fast asleep, quite worn out, poor thing,’ said Mrs Clements. ‘Look over ’ere, pet, see, in the cot, there ’e is, yer new baby brother.’

Mabel dragged her eyes away from her mother’s unconscious form and turned to the cot, which had seemed so small for Georgie but now appeared huge for the tiny scrap of humanity lying wrapped in a towel and blanket. A little bluish-white face peeped out: he was making weak, gasping sounds as if every breath was an effort.

‘’Ad yer ma got a name for ’im?’ asked the midwife.

‘She said he’d be called Walter if he was a boy and Daisy if he was a girl,’ faltered Mabel.