The Children of Silence (17 page)

Frances thought that it was hard that a school for the education of the deaf should have treated its deaf teachers in such a way, but decided not to comment. ‘Dr Goodwin is currently suing the school – is this because of his son?’

‘Yes, but it goes far deeper than that. He still adheres to the old methods and believes that by airing the matter in court he will achieve publicity for his point of view.’

Frances could see that she was in danger of being made an instrument of an acrimonious professional dispute, something for which she had little inclination. ‘This is all very interesting but I cannot see how you wish to employ my services.’

‘It has come to my notice,’ announced Eckley, ‘although I do not have the proof I need, that Mr Isaac Goodwin has been meeting privately with some of the pupils of the school and giving them instruction in signs. This may even include recently arrived pupils who have only ever been taught by the German method. Moreover I believe he is encouraged in this by Dr Goodwin. Very recently I saw one of the younger boys actually conversing with the older ones using signs when they thought I was not looking! This undermines all my teaching.’ He looked very hurt, and Frances almost felt sorry for him.

‘I have ordered them to stop. I said it makes them look like monkeys, but they just seemed to find that amusing and continued to defy me. Ultimately I was obliged to make them stop by tying their hands together. Sometimes one must be cruel to be kind.’

Frances felt less sympathetic. ‘What would you like me to do?’

‘I need proof – proof that these damaging classes are taking place, proof that it is Mr Isaac Goodwin conducting them, the place he is using and that Dr Goodwin is complicit. The children are not going to Dr Goodwin’s house for classes; that I have been able to establish. Neither are they taking place at the homes of any of the children. Their parents are naturally anxious that their children should learn to speak and would never permit such a thing. It is a secretive hole in the corner affair, and my pupils refuse to admit that it is even happening.’

‘Do you intend to take any legal action?’ asked Frances, ‘because I do not believe that there is a crime being committed.’

Eckley sighed. ‘I have no wish to punish anyone; I am only thinking of the good of the children. All I want is to put a stop to a no doubt well-meaning activity that is harming their education. Once I have the information I require I will take out an injunction requiring Mr Isaac Goodwin to desist from teaching. I believe I have every right to do so. He is quite unqualified to teach the deaf whereas I’ – he tapped the card again – ‘have undertaken years of study. I am sure my point of view will prevail.’

‘Do you believe that the injunction, if granted, would strengthen your defence against Dr Goodwin’s action?’

‘Indubitably.’ The speed of his response confirmed what Frances had suspected, that this effect had been uppermost in his thoughts.

Frances was in two minds about how to proceed. She had no expertise with which to judge the argument either for or against the two methods of teaching, and it was not in any case her business to do so but to carry out the wishes of her client. Eckley was probably unaware that she had already had an amicable meeting with Dr Goodwin, and she wondered if there was a less confrontational way of proceeding.

‘Supposing,’ she ventured, ‘I was able to obtain for you written confirmation that these classes have been taking place together with a promise that they will be discontinued. Would that serve your purpose?’

Eckley considered the proposition. ‘I suppose it would,’ he said reluctantly. ‘I have not approached Dr Goodwin myself as I have been advised I must not do so in view of the pending action.’

‘It is possible that an injunction might be seen by Dr Goodwin’s representatives as unwarranted interference, even harassment, and actually harm your case.’ She had no idea if this was so, but it was an argument that might succeed.

He gave the question some thought. ‘Perhaps, if you were to act as intermediary, a gentle appeal from a female might prove more persuasive than a demand from a man of law.’

Frances was not sure whether this was a compliment; however, her concerns were allayed and she agreed to act for Mr Eckley. She was able without difficulty to secure an appointment to see Dr Goodwin later the same day.

D
r Goodwin seemed less happy than at their first meeting and Frances could not tell whether some circumstance unknown to her had caused this or whether it was simply the fact that she had called on him for a second interview. Her visits did sometimes have that effect. He welcomed her wearily but politely and spent a few moments standing at his desk ordering his papers as if that would also order his mind.

Frances waited for a brief while, then decided to interrupt his concentration. ‘Dr Goodwin, I am here not on behalf of Mrs Antrobus but Mr Eckley.’

‘Dear me, what can he want?’ exclaimed Goodwin, his head jerking up in surprise. ‘I can well understand his not calling here himself. He does not have the stomach to face me with his arguments.’

‘He has informed me that your son was dismissed from his employment at the school because he was instructed not to communicate with the pupils using signs and disobeyed the instruction. Is that the case?’

Goodwin sank back into his chair. ‘That is a harsh way to put it, but I suppose so, yes. And it is a terrible state of things, a thoroughly misguided proceeding. Eckley denigrates the signs as nothing more than pantomime; well, little does he know it but he is presiding at a charade. The school, supposedly an exponent of the pernicious “pure oral” system, is actually a hotbed of sign language, since that is the best and most convenient way for the children to converse. I have witnessed these German system classes and,’ an expression of great satisfaction lit up his face, ‘when the teacher’s back is turned the children sign to ask each other what was said and those who are best at lip-reading pass it on.’ He chuckled at the thought. ‘Now don’t mistake me, I have nothing against the practice of lip-reading and encourage the children to acquire it, but signs,’ he beat a hand upon the desk for emphasis, ‘should be their principal means of learning.’

‘I understand that your son’s dismissal is the subject of your action against the school.’

‘It is. I suppose Eckley has told you that I have taken the proceedings mainly in order to voice my opinions of his methods in court. In that, at least, I do admit that he is correct. Isaac has no need to return to work for the school. He is now employed as my assistant and does very well. Has Eckley engaged you to plead with me to abandon my action? If so, you must disappoint him.’

‘It is another matter. Mr Eckley believes that your son is conducting private classes in signs for the pupils of his school.’

Dr Goodwin laughed. ‘Does he now? Well if Isaac is doing so, and I don’t know that he is, I can only applaud his endeavour.’

‘As you may imagine,’ Frances went on, ‘Mr Eckley is very displeased and would like the classes to stop. In fact he was intending to obtain an injunction to require that they stop. I have managed to persuade him that he might do just as well with a written assurance.’

‘Which would of course be ammunition in his defence against my case,’ observed Goodwin with a frown. ‘Well, if the man wants a fight he shall have one, but I will not allow him to attack me through my son. Really, he can have no shame.’

‘I think it would be best for everyone if this particular dispute could be settled as quickly and amicably as possible,’ said Frances in her best soothing tone. ‘Would you be so kind as to ask your son if he is indeed holding these classes. If he can assure me that he is not, then I will so inform Mr Eckley and hopefully the matter will end there.’

Goodwin gave this suggestion some thought then rose and rang for the maid. ‘I will ask him, as you request, but I will neither encourage nor discourage him from making any statement. It is for him to decide.’

The maid was sent to fetch Isaac Goodwin, who appeared in a few minutes and stood in the doorway looking apprehensive. Eckley had suggested to Frances that Isaac was deficient in intelligence, although he had not elaborated on his grounds for that opinion. Frances, aware that Eckley might have had some prejudice in the matter and knowing that a physical defect could sometimes be mistaken for one of the mind, would have liked to be able to judge for herself. Isaac was eighteen, and she remembered, with a sudden catch of emotion, her own dear late brother at that age; while remaining always the dutiful and respectful son, he had thought very much as a man and not a child and stood tall with the confident expectation of the duties and privileges that his majority would bring. Isaac had none of that confidence, and there was something child-like in the way he looked at his father, searching anxiously for support and guidance.

Goodwin beckoned Isaac to come forward and gestured to a seat. Isaac looked warily at Frances and sat clutching his hands tightly together in his lap. As signs were his preferred means of communication it was as though he was deliberately rendering himself mute. Frances wondered if he had already surmised that she knew about his secret classes.

When Dr Goodwin made a series of signs, however, Isaac’s demeanour brightened and he quickly signed back. A lively dialogue ensued. Frances had hoped that her recent study would enable her to follow the conversation but the rapidity defeated her. She was able to identify a sign which she thought referred to children, and a flashing sequence of fingerspelling that ended with the distinctive ‘y’ and was probably the name ‘Eckley’, but little more.

At length Goodwin nodded. ‘Isaac says that he has been meeting and conversing with some of the boys at the school. He says they are his friends. Naturally he uses signs, as that is the only way he may speak to them. He denies that he has been teaching them in any formal sense. He wants to continue seeing them and does not wish to sign a document agreeing not to, as it is a promise he would not keep.’

‘Well that is very clear,’ said Frances, ‘and I will see Mr Eckley and let him know that he has no grounds for any legal action.’

‘Please do.’ Dr Goodwin had a bitter edge to his voice. He looked fondly down at his son and placed an encouraging hand on the boy’s shoulder. ‘I have nothing at all to say to him.’

Dr Goodwin’s home was not far from the school, and had Frances been a more trusting person, she might have gone there directly to report to Mr Eckley and so end her enquiries, but she did not. In the past year she had learned to trust no one and realised that there was a sense in which everyone told lies or concealed the truth, although not necessarily for any sinister reason. Since the conversation between Dr Goodwin and his son had taken place in a language she was largely unable to understand, and there were unresolved issues between the doctor and the headmaster which might have coloured the situation, she decided to take the precaution of checking the facts for herself. This would involve having Isaac followed to see what he was actually doing, which was, she knew, a somewhat unsavoury proceeding. She comforted herself with the thought that in the absence of a signed statement Mr Eckley was unlikely to believe Dr Goodwin’s verbal assurance, and if she was able to provide him with ocular evidence she might yet be able to prevent any unwarranted legal action.

Frances took herself to Westbourne Grove, where Sarah’s young relative Tom Smith had been operating his messenger and delivery business from a small attic room high above the watchmaker’s shop of old Mr Beccles. Before reaching Tom’s eyrie, the narrow stairs brought visitors to the office and accommodation of The Bayswater Display and Advertising Co. Ltd, which was run by two gentlemen who were generally known as Chas and Barstie. When Frances had first met them they were at a low ebb in their fortunes, deeply in debt and doing their best to avoid a multitude of angry creditors. Their most dangerous enemy was a young man known only as the Filleter, an unscrupulous individual employed by moneylenders to terrify debtors into meeting their obligations.

Chas and Barstie’s exhaustive knowledge of the business world had, however, enabled them to get a foothold back into commerce, and after a few faltering attempts, they had been resoundingly rescued by the great flurry of opportunity that had resulted from the calling of a surprise general election in the spring of 1880. They had been growing in affluence ever since and even made steps towards respectability by providing services to the Paddington police in investigating cases of company fraud, a subject in which they had considerable expertise. Barstie, who had been ardently pursuing the hand in marriage of a lady of good family, was especially anxious to appear respectable, and the pair had recently made another important step in that direction.

Mr Beccles had decided to retire from business and join his son and his family in Australia, and Chas and Barstie had taken the lease of the ground floor shop, which was being handsomely refitted and a new sign painted. The rear of the premises was being converted into a neat bachelor apartment for the two proprietors. Business was still actively carried on in their old room, but once the new office opened, the upper floors would be let, and Tom had been promised part of the space for his sole use.