A Child's Voice Calling by Maggie Bennett Page B

told about the Hallam Road Babies Mission. ‘Cor, I bet that suits yer dahn to the grahnd, Mabel – yer was always good wiv kids. Don’t pay yer much, do they? I get ten bob a week an’ all found, which means we live like lords, don’t we, Charlie? Summat diff’rent to the ol’ days, eh? Cor!’
    ‘Did yer parents ever come an’ see yer in the, er, home, Maudie?’ ventured Mabel in a low voice, not wanting to revive painful memories.
    ‘Nah. Gawd only knows what ’appened to ’em. ’E never was no good, an’ gave ’er a rotten time, poor fing. It was ’im as drove ’er to drink, ’e did. Reckon they’ll bofe be gorn.’
    Maudie’s face briefly clouded, then cleared as quickly. She had put the past firmly behind her and Mabel could not help but be struck by the change in their fortunes. For a half-starved child of the streets, burdened with a baby brother and reduced to stealing food to stay alive, Maud was now ahandsome, confident girl of eighteen living in comfortable servants’ quarters, with the advantage of an indulgent mistress and a young man to take her out and treat her. Beside her Mabel felt shabbily dressed and ashamed that she had to rely on a friend to pay for her tea.
    As was her constant habit, she glanced at the clock, and Ada noticed. ‘Trouble with you, Mabel, yer can’t ever let yerself go an’ enjoy yerself,’ she scolded. ‘It’s Saturday, an’ we’re out on the town with friends, so just forget about Sorrel Street for a couple o’ hours!’
    She was right, thought Mabel, there was no need to rush home, just as she’d met up with her old friend again.
    ‘’Ave yer got a young man, Mabel?’ asked Maud with a wink. ‘Ye’re pretty enough for ’alf a dozen!’
    Mabel shook her head, though Harry Drover came to her mind as he often did these days. He was probably out with his parents who were full-time Salvationists. She had caught sight of him once, playing in the band at an open-air meeting, and he had returned her smile but could not leave his place, and she had not liked to linger until the meeting ended. He was clearly dedicated to the Salvation Army and she could not imagine him joining them on a tour of the West End’s theatreland, which they then undertook with Maudie as guide.
    ‘That’s the Gaiety where Mr Edwardes puts on ’is musical shows wiv lots o’ pretty girls – all the young toffs are after ’em, mus’n’t it be a lark? And over there’s ‘Is Majesty’s, where they crowd in every night to see Mr Tree doin’ ’is stuff, all doom an’ agony – an’ at the Savoy there’s them comic operas, Charlie likes ’em, all about pirates singin’ their ’eads off. Gi’ me the Palace o’ Varieties any time!’
    The teeming life of London surged around them, a far cry from Sorrel Street and the Babies Mission where she worked so hard for so little. Yet Maudie Ling had known a much harder life as a child and look at her now, parading on her young man’s arm, not giving a thought to past suffering and social injustice.
    ‘Right, it’s ’alf past six, an’ we better be gettin’ back to Bryanston Square, Charlie-boy,’ said Maud, just as if she were Lady Stanley herself instead of a housemaid. ‘It’s bin good to see yer, Mabel, we’ll ’ave to do it agin – what abaht ‘Ampstead ’Eaf one Sunday afternoon?’
    But Mabel’s attention had been caught by the sight of a laughing couple who were meeting outside the Empire and her heart raced as she watched them. They had clearly arranged the place and the time, for they rushed towards each other and exchanged a very public kiss in the middle of the pavement. The woman was about twenty-five, dressed in blue with a wide feathered hat, and her pretty face looked up into his, laughing and welcoming. He was smart, with dark good looks, a typical man about town, older than the girl; in fact, his age was exactly forty. Mabel knew that, because he was her father, Jack Court. She instinctively turned