Читать книгу Letters from Alice: Part 3 of 3: A tale of hardship and hope. A search for the truth. - Petrina Banfield - Страница 5

Statistics show that every year the birth rate from the worst end of our community is increasing in proportion to the birth rate at the better end, and it was in order to try to right that grave social danger that I embarked upon this work to counteract the steady evil which has been growing for a good many years of the reduction of the birth rate on the part of the thrifty, wise, well-contented, and the generally sound members of our community, and the reckless breeding from the semi-feeble minded, the careless, who are proportionately increasing in our community because of the slowing of the birth rate at the other end of the scale.

(Marie Stopes, quoted in The Trial of Marie Stopes, edited by M. Box, 1967)

The weekend conference organised by the almoners took place at High Leigh on Friday, 10 February 1922.

The sprawling Victorian manor house was once owned by Robert Barclay, a member of the famous banking dynasty, and had been transformed into a conference centre after his death in 1921. Surrounded by forty acres of Hertfordshire countryside, it was an idyllic setting, one regularly hired out to missionaries and those involved in charitable relief. Its close proximity to the metropolis made it a convenient choice for the almoners from the London hospitals.

Alice had embarked on the twenty-mile journey up to Hoddesdon by rail earlier that morning, accompanied by colleagues Frank, Alexander and Bess Campbell. After depositing their trunks in their respective rooms, the small party filed into one of the large oak-panelled function rooms, arriving in their seats at just before a quarter to nine.

After an introduction from a representative from the Charity Organisation Society, Bess Campbell glided onto the stage in a crimson gown and a lace stole. She spoke about the importance of sharing good practices with colleagues and, unlike the St Thomas’s almoner, Miss Cummins, whose shyness caused her to mumble and falter when making public speeches, Bess used her hands animatedly as she spoke, capturing everyone’s attention with no hint of nerves.

Among the audience were delegates from a number of charitable organisations as well as representatives from the clergy and government departments concerned with housing and education. The futility of working in isolation was becoming clear to all involved in social work, and Bess added her voice to those stressing that improved communication was the way forward if reformers were to stand any hope of improving outcomes for the destitute.

As her speech came to an end, Alice rolled her shoulders and took several long, slow breaths. Her eyes locked with Alexander’s when she took her place at the podium, and the fundraiser gave her a small nod of encouragement. Perhaps to put herself at ease, she opened by joking with the audience that when trying to decide on a career at the end of the Great War, she had drawn up an alphabetical list of the possibilities open to her and settled on the first one she came to after ‘actress’.

Miss Campbell smiled and nodded as Alice spoke about some of the cases she had dealt with during her first year in post: the young child she had taken under her wing whose parents had delivered her to the hospital for treatment and then failed to return; the patient who had fallen into a deep depression after a leg amputation, who was now working cheerfully in the hospital kitchens.

The almoner told delegates about her efforts to encourage prostitutes into more respectable lines of work and the lengths she and her colleagues went to in helping those addicted to drugs and alcohol. ‘The joy of my own work comes, not from meeting people when they are at their lowest ebb,’ she said, beginning to get into her stride, ‘but from offering a sanctuary away from what, for so many of our patients, is a hostile, frightening world. Witnessing their transformation as they begin the long climb towards self-respect and independence is such a privilege,’ she added, lifting her gaze from the podium for the first time, ‘and it chills me to think of what would become of them if the safety net of our department were to be removed.’

She went on to describe how she had grown wise in recent months to the games people play, citing Jimmy’s case as an example in point. There was widespread mirth among the audience as she recounted her final visit to Jimmy on the ward, and when the almoner descended the stairs to the right of the stage, at just after half past ten, she looked like a woman who’d just received a pardon at the foot of the gallows.

Sporadic, whispered conversations broke out across the floor as Alice took her seat, falling into a revering silence as Alexander Hargreaves, smartly dressed in a white shirt, colourful cravat and dark, waist-coated suit complete with a flower in the buttonhole, took to the stage. The philanthropist cleared his throat and surveyed his audience, then linked his hands behind his back. ‘I wonder how many of us,’ he enquired with melodious confidence, rolling back and forth on his heels, ‘can claim to be true social reformers, rather than mere thoughtful observers.’

His eyes roved over those gathered in the manner of a priest delivering a sermon, and then he paused to allow his enquiry to sink in. After a few moments he began a slow walk across the stage, his hands still linked behind his back. He spoke about the stark inequalities on view in London day after day, the traders who blindly rode the trains into work while homeless children froze to death in the railway arches beneath them. ‘The time has come,’ he said stirringly, ‘for each and every one of us to transform ourselves into people of action, and to stop wasting our time espousing useless, empty words.’ He stopped pacing and turned to face his audience, whose zeal was beginning to mirror his own in intensity. ‘Let us reject those who dismiss the poverty of the masses as inevitable,’ he intoned, his arm outstretched towards them, his palm turned upwards to the ceiling. He made a claw with his hand and then clamped his long fingers into a fist. ‘Let us work together to bring an end to the misery of destitution. The success of our joint efforts, my friends, need know no bounds.’

He dipped his head modestly as the audience erupted into spontaneous applause.

The fundraiser was stopped by a number of delegates as the audience spilled from the foyer into the grounds later that afternoon, each of them keen to make the acquaintance of the most impressive speaker of the day. Skilled in steering any interaction towards furthering his cause, he managed to convert three vague enquiries into his work into hard donations before he and Alice had finished their stroll through the formal gardens.

‘Impressive,’ Alice said as they sat side by side on a stone bench. She tilted her head towards the sun and closed her eyes momentarily. The skies over England on the tenth day of the month were bright and clear, with seven to eight hours of sunshine being reported in the south.

Alexander cradled his hands in his lap and looked at her. ‘What is?’

She opened her eyes and turned to him. ‘The way you get people to bend to your will. It is quite something.’

Alexander pursed his lips and smiled. ‘I suppose I can be rather inspired, when I’m passionate about something. And I do usually end up getting what I want.’ His eyes lingered on her and then he said: ‘But I’m nowhere near where I need to be yet.’ As they explored the woodlands, he told Alice about his drive to raise enough funds to build a new convalescence home in Eastbourne as well as increasing provision for inpatient care at the Royal Free.

By dusk the temperatures had cooled significantly, the wind gaining in strength and driving all but the heartiest delegates back into the house. After a formal dinner, Alice retired to the drawing room, where a log fire was raging. Alexander joined her half an hour later, at almost 9 p.m., after extracting himself from a heated conversation about the recently established Free State in Ireland. ‘You appear to have carved yourself a rather decent hideout over here, Miss Hudson.’

The almoner lowered the novel she was reading to her lap and grinned up at him. ‘Haven’t I just? But please, feel free to join me.’

Alexander sat himself in one of the high-backed armchairs opposite her. ‘I shan’t mind if you object to my inflicting my company on you again. I’m afraid I have rather dominated you this weekend.’

The almoner shook her head. ‘Not at all. Some men are not equipped to share a conversation with a woman unless it involves either a threat or an innuendo. It’s nice to be taken seriously for a change.’

Alexander interlinked his fingers and cradled his knee within the arch, lifting it into the air without taking his eyes from hers. ‘Can I be so bold as to ask how a woman as handsome as yourself has managed to escape matrimony for so long?’

The almoner’s cheeks coloured. ‘I am married to my work,’ she said quickly, and then added: ‘And I suppose I have never met a man who interests me enough to sacrifice it. I think that is good enough reason to remain single. After all, a woman should be able to function quite sufficiently without a man propping her up, should she not?’

‘Quite. Ab-so-lute-ly. Well, it pays to be discerning. But you must have had plenty that have expressed an interest?’

‘I generally have little time to ponder on it.’ She dropped her eyes to her lap, where her gloved hands were resting on her book.

Alexander cleared his throat. ‘Listen, I’m not one to take an interest in rumours, but there has been talk’ – Alice looked up sharply – ‘of associations and the like …’

‘I prefer to mind my own affairs than to pay attention to idle gossip,’ Alice interrupted, picking at a grey woollen bobble on her skirt.

Alexander tilted his head. ‘So a certain medical man has expressed no formal interest in you?’

She looked up, eyes wide, the two bright red spots colouring her cheeks darkening. ‘If you’re talking about Dr Harland, I think I mentioned before that he has done nothing but obstruct my every effort since I arrived in the post. I have no idea why, though I suspect it may have something to do with the fact that I am on to him.’

‘You’re referring to his practising privately?’

Alice nodded. ‘He has every right to run a private practice, but not on the Royal Free’s time. Anyway, that is not the half of it, believe me. He –’ She stopped abruptly and then clapped her hands down on her book. ‘Never mind.’

Alexander stroked the sleeve of his shirt and kept his eyes on her. ‘Perhaps you should consider alerting the British Medical Association, if you’re serious about your concerns.’

The almoner pursed her lips. ‘It may come to that,’ she said, without quite meeting his gaze. She shook her head.

‘What is it?’

Her eyes fell to the book on her lap. ‘I don’t know what else I can say except … It is complicated.’

Alexander gave her a considering look. ‘I’d be careful, Alice. Maintain a healthy distance from the man, if at all possible.’

The almoner looked up sharply. ‘I have several patients under his care. A certain degree of interaction is unavoidable.’

‘Well, if that’s the case, what is it that they say? If you’re supping with the devil, use a long spoon.’

The almoner stared at him for a long moment and then said: ‘Why do you say that? I thought you knew little of him?’

Alexander raised a brow and rubbed his thumb slowly over his fingers. ‘Let’s just say that I don’t much care for the man. I’ve come to realise that he lacks the social etiquette you might expect from someone in his position.’

‘What do you mean?’

There was a small pause and then Alexander said: ‘Well, when I spoke to him a few days ago he was extremely abrupt. Of course, that could be something to do with the fact that I was demonstrating outside that new clinic in north London at the time, just as he was leaving.’

Alice frowned. ‘Marie Stopes’ clinic? The family-planning centre?’

Alexander nodded. ‘I have grave concerns about the abominable processes going on in that place as it is,’ he said, his mouth twisted in distaste. ‘But what piques me most is Stopes’ insistence on inflicting her evil onto the poor. It is an idea that I find particularly objectionable.’

‘The clinic’s advice is proving extremely popular for some of our patients. We’ve had some of them in tears because they haven’t managed to be seen. The queues have been known to reach a mile long on occasion.’

Alexander snorted. ‘They are pawns, with absolutely no idea that they are complicit in engineering their own downfall.’ The fundraiser leaned forward in his chair. ‘Stopes actually believes that the perfection of the human race can be achieved by the use of those vile contraptions she doles out. She thinks that if only mankind could rid itself of those lacking in moral or intellectual fibre, we could move onwards to a golden age. But who are any of us to judge who should be sterilised and who should not? It is outrageous.’

Alice tilted her head. ‘There are plenty of intellectuals who subscribe to the idea of eugenics. They see it as the only way to reverse mankind’s regression to the savagery of distant ancestors. Even one of the Royal Free’s own gynaecologists holds the view that better specimens could be produced, though she fears those most in need of contraception would be too stupid to use it.’

Alexander sagged back in his chair and stared at her. ‘Don’t tell me you share an enthusiasm for some of these views?’

‘Of course not. I absolutely resent the promotion of the idea that somehow the world would be a better place if only the poor were wiped from it. I’m simply saying that I believe there is some good in what they are trying to achieve. Some of our patients are so overburdened. I saw a mother recently who had given birth to ten children, and only two had survived. The poor woman had lost all of her teeth and was half-starved, and yet she was pregnant again, expecting her eleventh. Were it not for the Samaritan Fund covering the cost of dentures, I do believe she would have withered away with the infant inside her. I can see the sense in relieving someone like that from the relentless cycle they’re stuck in.’

Alexander pulled a face. ‘Nature has a way of resolving these things without having to resort to un-Godly methods.’

There was a pause, and then the almoner said: ‘What was the doctor doing there? At the clinic? Was he working?’

After making it clear that he was disinclined to stoop so low as to gossip, Alexander told Alice that he had heard rumours that Dr Harland was a keen believer in eugenics himself. ‘I felt morally bound to share my objections with him. I told him in no uncertain terms that I found his engagement with the clinic thoroughly distasteful, only to receive a steam of vitriol for my pains.’

‘Well, a man with such radical views does not belong at the Royal Free!’ Alice cried.

Alexander nodded. ‘I told him he would do well to hold his tongue, and that was it – he went off like a rocket. Such a disagreeable fellow. It was quite the spectacle.’

The almoner huffed out some air. ‘The poor are blamed for everything that is wrong with this country as it is. Well, the poor and the refugees! The very least they deserve is someone sympathetic to look after them when they are ill. I mean, if the doctor believes in eliminating people just because they’re destitute, what other dreadful practices might he be involved in?’

Alexander raised an immaculately groomed eyebrow. ‘Well, quite.’