Crooked Pieces (24 page)

Slowly he obeyed. ‘So you are a friend of Maggie’s?’

‘Yes, that’s right.’

‘How long have you known her?’

‘Two years about. Is that right, Maggie?’

‘Oh, about that,’ I said, although I could have told him to the hour when we first met.

Frank smiled all warm and friendly. ‘Well, I’m pleased to meet you, Constable. It’s good to know my sister is in safe hands while I’m away. I’d never forgive myself if anything happened to her. We’re very close, the two of us. I expect she told you?’

‘I know she is very fond of all her family.’

‘Yes she is. Very fond. And very close. Specially to me.’ He clicked his fingers at Lucy. Next they are off across the park without a backward glance. I felt sick.

Pa gave a mighty belch. ‘Time we was gone. I’ve ate nothing but pickled onions and a lump of cheese since dinner time and it’s a mighty long walk back to Stepney.’ This was enough to set Will howling. I gave Ma a florin and told her to be sure they took the bus, but quick as ninepence Pa had hold of it and was off to buy himself a tub of winkles. Fred was all for giving her another but Ma would have none of it so they all set off, trudging across the grass, Will wailing, Evelyn skipping and Alfie kicking everything in sight. I knew I should run after Ma with another florin, but I had set my heart on buying a new book of poems I had heard of, and I thought, they are used to walking, it is nothing new, and maybe Pa will give them some of his winkles. Then I thought, what will Fred think of me if I let them go, so I did run after them and Ma looked so relieved I swore to myself I would never be so
mean-spirited
again.

After they had gone, we walked back across the park and along under the trees. The ground was covered with tattered paper and shreds of torn ribbon, burst balloons, muddy from trampling. Neither of us spoke.

By the Round Pond we sat down. Fred took my hand and
held it between his. ‘Thank you,’ he said, so quietly.

‘For what?’

‘For letting me meet your family.’

I nearly choked. ‘Did you
want
to meet them?’

He laughed. ‘Of course I did. I was afraid you were ashamed of me, the way you never let me go home with you.’

‘Ashamed of
you
…!’ I stopped, for it was plain what I was thinking. Fred put his arm round me. ‘I always wanted a big family. Brothers, sisters, aunts, cousins…people to care about. And to care about me.’

‘You have your sister. You care about her, surely?’

‘Yes, I do, very much. But there’s only one of her. You’ve got so much choice.’

I laughed. ‘It’s just as well, for I get very tired of some of them.’

‘Well, they certainly adore you, Maggie. Little Evelyn wants you to be King.’

‘Only so she can be Queen.’

‘You’d make a fine ruler.’

‘Why would I?’

He sighed. ‘Oh, because you are strong, and fair, and good, and generous, and people love you.’

Sometimes you say things that you never thought you would. ‘Who loves me?’

Fred smiled. His eyes were so golden green I could have melted into them and drowned quite happily. ‘Your ma and pa, and Alfie and Evelyn and Waily Will’ (You would think Will would hold off just for an hour!) ‘Lucy, I am not sure.’

‘Oh, Lucy! She is just a mean little cat. She always has been. But did you like my family, Fred, apart from Lucy, I mean?’

‘Lucy is a fine girl – will be.’

‘Maybe. A hundred years from now. But what did you think of…?’ My courage failed.

‘Frank?’

‘Is he not handsome?’

‘Very.’

‘He is kind, too, and generous. Everything you could hope for in a brother. Everything and more…’ I heard the lies come tumbling out. If I could make Fred believe them perhaps that would make them true. Madness on madness. But I loved Frank. I loved him. Nearly as much as I loved Fred. You cannot stop loving someone because you love someone else more. You have to grow your love. And I wanted Fred to love him, too. Because if Fred loved him, that meant I could too. ‘Would you not like him for a brother?’

He was silent.

‘Don’t even answer for there is no need.’

I looked up at him and for a moment his eyes seemed darker than before and, indeed, he did not answer, though he took my hand and held it very tight.

You think sometimes that your life is so perfect that it cannot get any better, and that day in June, I thought that. I knew that Fred loved me, though he had not said it. I could sense it in every hair on my head, bone in my body. He did not need to tell me and, indeed, it would have lessened it if he had, for we understood each other so completely that we were like one person. He was me and I was him. And at last I was free of Frank.

That summer was a busy time for us, but a jolly one.
Victory was in the air. The public was on our side and the Asquith man was becoming more and more a figure of fun.

Mrs Pankhurst and Miss Christabel had sensed that what the people liked was a show and they made sure we always gave them one. So it was, when two ladies who had broken the Prime Minister’s windows were freed from Holloway, it was decided that women, rather than horses, should draw their carriage through the streets. This was a big mistake and very silly, in my opinion, for whoever thought six women could replace six horses? Still we learnt a lesson from it. The next time there were fifty women and it was great fun for we all took a turn.

One of the papers asked how many men it would take to achieve the same and offered a ten shillings prize for whoever came up with the answer. A writer called George Bernard Shaw hazarded that it would take five hundred, because men would have to talk about it to all their friends and then go to the horse sales to study the form, and so forth and altogether, by the time they had hired a man to train them for the task and hired someone else to look after their business while they were away pulling the carriage… He is quite a funny man and writes plays, Miss Kerr told me. If he is lucky enough to get one performed I shall certainly go and see it.

Miss Annie has been put in charge of the West Country. I miss her so much, although she sends regular news with often a note for me, for I think she thinks of me a little as a sister. We are all sisters, of course, but some more than others.

Still the Asquith ignores us. Another great rally. A thousand handbills:
HELP THE SUFFRAGETTES TO RUSH THE HOUSE OF COMMONS
.

It seems the word ‘rush’ was worse than treason and immediately officers came to arrest Mrs Pankhurst, Miss Christabel and poor Mrs Drummond, who is with child and can hardly give over being sick long enough to do treason on anyone. All day long bobbies, reporters, visitors tramped all over Lincoln’s Inn, getting in each other’s way and under each other’s feet, but Mrs Pethick Lawrence had hidden them on the roof where no one thought to look and at least Mrs Drummond could be sick in peace for a few hours.

At six o’clock they appeared like magic and when they had had their photographs taken (poor Mrs Drummond looking quite green) they were marched off to Bow Street by Inspector Jarvis who is sweet on Mrs Drummond, although he may not be now she is such a funny colour.

That same afternoon a lady came to the office, offering to help. She said she would not demonstrate, but would be happy to speak to Mr Gladstone on behalf of the prisoners. Miss Lake muttered to Miss Kerr that she thought it a great cheek for the lady to suppose that she could achieve what Mrs Pankhurst could not, but Miss Kerr hushed her down and said the lady was a real Lady and had a brother who was a Lord.

The Lady smiled at me on her way out and I thought she had a very gentle pretty face although her ears stuck out more than I should wish. She did not look at all like the Ladies in the gallery pictures, so I think Miss Kerr must be mistaken. Also, I cannot truly believe a real Lady would care about others who were only women.

News arrived that Mrs Pankhurst and the others must spend the night in the cells because no judge could be found to let them out. This was a wicked thing, for they had no
blankets or food or warm clothes with them and there are no beds in the cells, only hard wooden benches.

Mrs Pethick Lawrence said it must not be, and she rushed upstairs and collected a whole pile of bedding so that at least they need not die of cold. She asked if I would go with her to Bow Street for she does not like to be there alone since being put in the Black Maria van. We were just about to leave when a cab drew up and out stepped the Lady, looking mighty low for it seemed no one had listened to her.

Hearing we were on our way to the police station, she asked if she might accompany us. On the way she told Mrs Pethick Lawrence that till that day she had been merely interested in the Cause. ‘But what I have witnessed today convinces me that I must do more than stand and watch. Real injustices are being done to women, and if I have any influence, any power, any compassion for my fellow human beings, I must put my shoulder to the wheel and cease to be a spectator to the suffering of others.’

I thought that very beautiful. If I ever am called on to make a speech that is what I shall say.

What a lark! When we got to Bow Street, what do we find? Mrs Pankhurst, Miss Christabel, Miss Sylvia and Mrs Drummond (looking much cheerier) sat round a great long table, white linen cloth, candles in silver holders, the sparkliest glasses you ever set eyes on, dining off partridges and oysters and a whole fruited jelly!

They had sent telegrams to such politicians as had befriended them before, and one had arranged with The Savoy to send over a dinner. Not only a dinner, but three starchy waiters to serve it! The poor young bobby left on
watch did not know whether to salute them or arrest them.

The benches in the cells were draped in the finest silk sheets and coverlets so that, if it had not been for the bars on the window, they might have been staying in a palace. The Lady looked so confused as we entered with our great pile of blankets and bread and cheese that I think she was wondering if she was back home again.

They were charged with ‘circulating a handbill likely to cause a breach of the peace’.

Miss Christabel called upon Mr Gladstone and Mr Lloyd George to be witnesses. They were very stuffy and dull and seemed not to understand a word that was said to them, which was hardly surprising for the judge spent the whole time interrupting and telling them they need not answer the question. Since, being Parliament men, they must have spent a lifetime not answering the questions that were put to them, they seemed quite content to obey him.

When it was her turn Mrs Pankhurst spoke most movingly of her work with the poor and homeless and told of all she had seen of their suffering. I was stood near the back by the door and I swear the sergeant guarding it had tears in his eyes. Not the judge, of course, who sentenced them to three months in the second division. I hope there is a heaven and hell and I am stood behind the judges when we all line up at The Reckoning.

While Mrs Pankhurst and Miss Christabel were in prison the Pethick Lawrences and Miss Sylvia took charge of the office. I must say that it was somewhat better organised than when Miss Christabel is there! I suppose it is because she is too
clever and her head too full of wonderful speeches to be altogether bothered about paying bills and ordering stationery and the like.

The Lady has called in on several occasions. She is called Lady Constance Lytton and truly does have a brother called Lord Lytton. Imagine! A real Lord. I wonder what he looks like for I still think Lady Constance looks just like a normal person.

It seems she is working hard to bring her nob friends round. I can see it is a very good thing to have someone so highly placed on our side and, indeed, she is so genteel and gracious in her manner that it would be a very silly nob ignored her, but then most of them are, it seems to me.

She attends the weekly meetings and though she rarely speaks, what she says makes more sense than a whole half hour of some of them, ranting on about what colour pocket to keep their stones in and whether an umbrella is ‘an instrument of violence’!

She never offers herself for the protests, I have noticed. Miss Kerr said it was because it would bring disgrace on her family if she were charged, but I have seen how her face pales when others talk of prison life and I think she fears it dreadfully. I warm to her so much for this, for it means I am not the only coward in the WSPU.

Mrs Drummond was released early, for her expecting was making her very ill. She said Mrs Pankhurst, too, had been moved to the prison hospital and she feared very much for her spirits in that dreadful place. She decided that the best tonic would be a demonstration.

One of the helpers made us prison dresses – green serge
with thick black arrows up them. Truth is, I hated mine. It scratched and tickled like fury, but the reporters were out with their cameras so I tried to look like I felt like the Queen of Sheba.

Mrs Drummond led the way, riding with Miss Sylvia, and we followed on, handing out leaflets and singing our hearts out with a brass band to keep us in tune (mainly). Hundreds of bystanders tagged along. Round and round the prison walls we tramped, singing and shouting encouragement to those within.

When at last we came to the hospital Mrs Drummond signalled everyone to stop. ‘Three cheers for Mrs Emmeline Pankhurst, the noblest, bravest soul in all this land.’

What a cry went up! The people of London like to shout, for sure.

No one could be certain, but we thought we saw her shadow at a window. I pray it was her, and she slept the better for it. It is a terrible thing to be so alone and feel yourself forgotten.

At the beginning of December a strange thing happened. The Lloyd George man said he would address some Liberal ladies concerning women’s votes. We do not get on very well with these ladies for they are against demonstrations and would rather just write letters and sit round tables talking, but it was decided that some of us should certainly attend to see what, if anything, he had to say.

We sat at the front in our prison dresses and made no sound, merely staring at him till he turned all sweaty and started dragging at his collar like it was stitched to his neck.
He had not got two minutes into his speech when one of our number sprang up with a speech of her own. The stewards tried to get at her but she had hold of a horse whip and kept flipping them away like they were so many bluebottles. After that every time the Lloyd George started, someone else interrupted, till the whole gathering seemed more like a music hall than a political meeting.