Crooked Pieces (23 page)

‘By our actions we have exposed this government not only to the contempt of our own people but to the contempt of the whole civilised world. We suffragettes pity, indeed almost despise the women who can stand aside, who take no part in the battle. It is we militants whom men respect. If you cannot be recognised as a citizen, it is best to be in the front, fighting for a citizen’s rights.’

Over the whole park people were clustered, listening, cheering, picnicking. Full of sunshine and goodwill and hope. Policemen sat with suffragettes, nobs with shop assistants, coalmen with
cooks
.

I saw her first. Sitting with a cloth spread out on the grass, all by herself and tucking into a veritable feast of cold meats, brawn and pastries. I flew across the grass.

‘Cook…’

She looked up and for a full half-minute seemed not to recognise me, then her hand went to her mouth. ‘Maggie? Maggie Robins?’

‘Yes, of course. Who did you think it was?’

Cook stared at me. ‘A lady.’

I did not know whether to be glad or not. ‘I am surely not so much changed?’

‘You are indeed, young Maggie. I should not have known you, had you not spoke.’

I felt I could hardly say the same to her as she had not changed one bit, unless to be even stouter.

‘Are Mr and Mrs Roe here, too?’ I asked.

‘They are. Somewhere. Off listening to that pushy girl with all the curls, I think.’

I had not heard Miss Christabel described thus before.

I sat down on the grass. ‘It is so good to see you. I had not expected you would like this sort of thing.’

Cook handed me a pork pie. ‘I’m not sure I do, but the Master and Mistress were set on it, and that Miss Sylvia kept on at me, and in the end I thought it simpler to come than not to. And it’s a fine warm day for a picnic. You look half starved. Have some of this brawn. I made it fresh yesterday.’

We talked of the old times. Cook said Jane, who had taken my place, was as dim as a dormouse and much given to the sulks, which made me think Lucy would not have done so ill there, after all.

She said Mr Roe had had an attack of the gout but I was not to mention it for he disliked to be reminded. Mrs Roe she hardly ever saw, always out gadding (for this, I took her to mean, promoting the Cause). She asked how I was getting on in an office and I told her about learning to type. This amused her greatly. Lord knows why.

‘That is a very fine hat you’re wearing, Maggie. And if I’m
not mistaken that scarf around it is silk.’

‘It is, Fred…a friend gave it to me.’

‘A friend, eh? And what does this friend do by manner of employment?’

‘He’s a policeman.’

Cook looked truly stupefied. ‘How did you meet him? Stealing the Crown Jewels?’

I did not think it wise to go into detail. ‘Not exactly. I was lost. He showed me the way home.’

‘A policeman’s respectable enough,’ Cook declared. ‘You could do worse than that. Does he want to marry you?’

I felt quite shocked. ‘We have never spoken of it. I have not known him very long. He is a friend, that’s all.’

Cook made her mealy face. ‘A friend with more money than sense if he’s buying you silk scarves and means nothing by it.’

Mercifully I was saved further questioning by a loud cry which was Mr Roe spotting me. He came hobbling through the crowd with Mrs Roe all but skipping to keep up with him. ‘If it ain’t Miss Fish Polisher herself. How are you, my dear?’ He grasped hold of my hands and practically wrung the blood out of them. ‘Quite the young lady now. And what’s this?’ He tugged at my Steward’s Sash. ‘Are we to hear a speech from you, too? That Christabel Pankhurst can surely draw a crowd, can she not? Voice like velvet, mind like a razor. And our Sylvia’s no slouch, is she? Stirs the people’s hearts – half the women were crying. Well, well, well. What a day. And here’s our Maggie, looking fit to lead the lot of them. Eh, my dear?’

Mrs Roe gave me the kindest smile. ‘Indeed she does, and from what Sylvia tells me, it won’t be long before she is doing just that.’ She patted my arm. ‘Oh yes, Maggie, Miss Sylvia
keeps us in touch with everything, and she is particularly warm in her praise for you. I think she feels you are her star pupil.’

There was a snorting sound from Cook, signalling the start of her black look. ‘I was Cook’s pupil first,’ I gabbled. ‘Without her guidance I would be as dumb as when I first came to your house.’ The look softened a little. ‘And my ma still speaks with longing of her currant bread.’

‘In that case,’ said Cook firmly, ‘she shall have this one.’ And she wrapped a whole loaf in a piece of muslin and thrust it at me. Poor Mr Roe looked quite crestfallen for it has always been a favourite with him, too.

Somewhere a clock struck. Mr Roe examined his pocket watch. ‘Not long now. I hope you’re in good voice, Maggie. We are depending on you to show everyone how to shout.’

‘I think, sir, you would be better at it than I.’ This sent Mrs Roe into fits of laughter for it is well-known that Mr Roe bellows mightily when he is annoyed.

It had been decreed that at five o’clock exactly there would be a Great Shout. It was to be so loud that even if the Asquith man was in Africa, he would surely know whether or not the women of Britain wanted the vote.

I had been instructed to make my way to Miss Annie’s platform, to help lead the cry. The nearer I got, the more I quaked for I had no good idea of how I should persuade people to join in if they were not so minded.

I need not have worried! If ever folk were of a mind to holler their heads off, they were that afternoon. Pressed around the platform like they were watching a boxing match, hundreds of them, cheering, stamping their feet, throwing
their hats and their children, some of them, high in the air.

Miss Annie spotted me. ‘Quick, Maggie. Get up here with me,’ she called and hauled me up on to the platform beside her. ‘What about this, Maggie? What do you reckon old Asquith will make of this?’

‘If it was me I’d leave the country and never come back, or else give in tomorrow.’

‘Tomorrow may be a bit soon for him, but he surely cannot hold out much longer.’

Just then, from what sounded like the gates of heaven itself, a mighty trumpeting of bugles burst into the air. This is how it will be on Judgement Day, I thought. Miss Annie seized my arm, her excitement shooting through me like a million
red-hot
needles. ‘Ready?’

‘Ready.’ I had never felt less ready in my life.

‘You take that side, I’ll take this.’

‘What shall I do? What shall I do?’

‘Just lift your arms up high over your head and yell, “On a count of three. One. Two. Three”.’ I must have looked as sick as I felt. She squeezed my shoulder hard as she could. ‘Pretend you’re Miss Christabel.’

The bugles fell silent. There was a moment when it seemed to me that all the world had stopped and nobody moved or breathed. I looked out across this ocean of upturned faces and there, not ten rows away from me, stood Ma. Staring up at me like I was some kind of holy vision. So proud. So full of wonder.

I lifted my arms, slowly, like a great bird preparing to fly. ‘On a count of three,’ I hollered. ‘One. Two. Three.’ And all through the park the sound rang out, echoing round and
round like the cry of a million Israelites entering the Promised Land.
‘VOTES FOR WOMEN. VOTES FOR WOMEN. VOTES FOR WOMEN’
caught on the summer breeze for ever and ever.

And I thought, look, God. See what we can do.

Then everyone cheered and clapped each other on the back and started to gather up their things and make for home. And I got down.

Ma was sitting on the grass with the baby, Will piling daisies on to her feet. Alfie was giving Evelyn a piggyback round and round a tree. Pa gave me a funny look, but I could tell he’d been at the beer.

‘Hullo, Ma.’

‘Maggie.’

‘You came then?’

‘Yes. We’re all here.’

‘Even Lucy?’

‘Oh yes, Lucy couldn’t wait. They should be back in a minute. They went to look at the banners.’

‘They?’

‘Yes. Oh, here they are now.’

I looked. Lucy was strolling across the grass, her arm linked to a tall young man’s in seaman’s dress. She was gazing up at him like there was no one else in the world.

It was only when they got nearer that I saw who it was.

When Frank caught sight of me he let go of Lucy’s arm and started to run towards me. He swept me up in his arms and twirled me round and round till I had to beg him to stop for fear I would be sick.

He told me he had seen me leading the crowd and nearly
burst for pride of being my brother. ‘Wasn’t that so, Lucy?’ But her face had gone back to mouldy and her lip stuck out like a ledge. Frank laughed. ‘Lucy, what’s that for? You know I’ve not seen Maggie for nigh on three years.’

She softened a bit and said she did not care at all but that her head ached and wasn’t it time to go home?

‘What? When we’ve only just met up. You go home if you want to. Maggie and I are going on a bend.’

My heart jerked. ‘No. I cannot. I’m sorry. Truly. It is impossible. I… I must help clear up. There is a deal to do.’

Frank smiled. ‘That’s all right. I’ll help you. Then we can go to the fair and I shall buy you… What shall I buy you? What shall I buy my darling Maggie, Lucy?’

Lucy scowled like she’d lost a diamond down a drain. ‘Why must you buy her anything? She has money of her own, and to spare.’

‘Ah. Jealous. Naughty little cat.’ He pinched her cheek. I heard her gasp. Frank gazed at her, all innocent. ‘Did that hurt? Shall I kiss it better?’ Velvet lips across the bright red blotch. ‘Now run along home. Ma needs you to help with the tiddlers.’

‘I want to go to the fair.’

‘You have a headache.’

‘Not any more.’ Her face puckered up like a squeezed lemon. ‘Please let me go with you. Please, Frank. I never go to fairs. Maggie goes all the time.’

I knew I must prevent it. ‘Lucy, Frank is right. Go home with Ma. I cannot go to the fair either so you’ve no cause to fret. Frank can go on his own and buy you all a present.’

He turned to me and I could feel his eyes melting me down
like candle wax. ‘But I need you to help me choose, Maggie. I cannot choose on my own.’

‘I…’ My voice, weak as a sparrow’s. ‘You always did before, Frank.’

His eyes burnt deeper into me. ‘Even so. I need you to help me, Maggie. Or are you too good for me now, with all your fine friends and fine clothes and all?’ He reached out to touch my scarf. My precious scarf. I pulled away.

‘Frank, I can’t. I have arranged something else. If I had known you would be here…’

‘I didn’t know myself. Well, never mind. I’m sure whatever it is can wait. After all, I am your long lost brother. Don’t I come first?’

I looked at him, so handsome with his dark, dark eyes and gleaming teeth, laughing, teasing, expecting – always expecting. I thought, is that the right of handsome people? To always have their way?

But Fred is handsome, yet he expects nothing. Perhaps he is not handsome. Perhaps he is beautiful. That poem he read me. ‘Beauty is truth, truth, beauty. That is all we know on earth and all we need to know.’ Do handsome people like poetry? Or does it ask too many questions?

I shook my head. ‘I made a promise.’

Eyes like a wounded deer. ‘Well then, so be it. I must not stand in your way, Maggie. I am sorry you have no time for me now.’

Guilt. More guilt. Never ending. ‘That is not true, Frank. If you had sent me word…’

‘What is so vital it will not wait?’

‘I am meeting…a friend.’

‘Well, good. Let her come too. We shall make a merry party, the three of us.’

‘It’s not…’

Silence. I could feel his eyes on me, as I had so many times before. Pleading, persuading, promising. “Just this once.” “Just this once, Maggie.” “The last time. Just this once.”

‘I’m sorry.’

He gave a little shrug. ‘As you wish, dear Maggie. I shall just have to make do with poor little Lucy, shan’t I, my sweet?’ His finger coiled around a strand of her hair. I saw her wince as he caught a tangle.

‘Lucy must go home with Ma. She can go with you another day perhaps?’

‘There are no other days. We sail tomorrow on the evening tide. Gibraltar, then there’s talk of the West Indies. After that, who knows? America, maybe. I shall not be back this year.’

‘Why is that bobby staring at us like that?’ It was Lucy spoke. She pointed across the park to the bandstand. ‘Now he’s coming over.’ Everybody turned.

I felt the blood draining out of me. Lucy smiled like she had won a hundred pounds. ‘Perhaps he’s going to lock our Maggie up again.’ Fortunately Pa was too drunk to take her meaning, but Frank took a step back suddenly, like someone had struck him in the face.

‘Fred,’ I said, and I could hear my voice shaking, ‘I’d like you to meet my family.’

Fred held out his hand, smiling. Pa shook it without the faintest idea why he was doing so. ‘I’m very pleased to meet you, sir. Maggie has often spoken of you and Mrs Robins to me.’ Ma made a sort of hiccupping noise and glanced at me in
horror. I shook my head so she knew it was just manners made him say so. He would have shaken her hand, but the baby got in the way, so he shook Will’s instead, then Alfie’s and Evelyn’s who did him a beautiful curtsey and said, ‘Maggie’s going to be King when she grows up. And I’m going to be Queen.’

‘In that case…’ Fred took off his hat and bowed right down to the ground. ‘Your Majesty.’

‘Only if she learns her letters,’ I said, which set her off reciting them like a little parrot.

Lucy practically jumped on him. ‘And I’m Maggie’s sister,’ as though it was the most important thing in the world.

Fred smiled. ‘And your name is Lucy. Am I right?’

‘Yes,’ said Lucy, real surprised. ‘How do you know?’

‘Maggie’s told me about you.’

‘What? What did she say?’

‘Oh, that you are thirteen and good at singing, like your ma.’

Lucy went all pink. So did I, for I never said such a thing, only that her voice was better than mine which is not saying much.

Lastly he turned to Frank. Frank stared at him long and hard, hands stuffed in his pockets. Pa thumped him on the shoulder. ‘Take the gentleman’s hand, Frank, when he offers it to you.’