Authors: Sarah Grazebrook
We must have made a peculiar sight, him in the middle, one side my helper holding the address, and me on the other with a giant placard:
VOTES FOR WOMEN – DEPUTATION – HOUSE OF COMMONS – WEDNESDAY
.
We were stopped at Downing Street by three policemen but when the lad showed his papers they let him through. No sooner is he in Number Ten than he is out again, followed by a frost-faced butler. ‘You must be returned.’
‘But we have been paid for.’ He would have none of it. We told him it was the law he should accept us, but still he shook his head. In the end we gave up, but not before the reporters had clicked and flashed away with their cameras and sure enough, we were on the front of every paper next morning.
Fred came charging round to Mrs Garrud’s with his copy. He said every man at his station had bought a paper that day and that he had been much ribbed for walking out with a
piece of female mail. (I can see that would be funny the first time.)
‘But they all agreed you were the prettiest letter they’d seen in a long time.’
‘I don’t suppose that will stop them blacking both my eyes if they get the chance, will it?’
‘Maggie, we’re not like that at Marylebone. You know we’re not. Besides—’
‘Besides what?’
‘I told them you’d been stamped enough already so I’d deal with anyone who tried to do it again.’
Mrs Pethick Lawrence is to lead the deputation on Wednesday. We are to book no engagements for her after that date as it is reckoned she will surely be arrested. I think I must try for it, too, as I cannot bear to think of her in the van without anyone she knows nearby.
Wonders, indeed! Lady Constance is coming, too. She came into the office the other afternoon and asked to see Mrs Pethick Lawrence. Miss Sylvia took her upstairs and when the three of them came down they were all smiling, though Lady Constance looked a little nervous, it must be said. ‘Lady Constance has decided to join us on the 24
th
,’ said Mrs Pethick Lawrence. ‘We must make sure we take good care of her. Maggie, I shall ask you to stay by her on the night.’
I was so taken aback that I leapt out of my seat and did not know whether I should curtsey or what. Before I could decide Lady Constance stepped forward. ‘I shall try not to let you down, Maggie’, she said most gravely and held out her hand to me, just as if I was her equal. I saw that she expected me to shake it. This I did, but in a very wavery silly way, murmuring
about ‘me letting her down, more like and it being a very great honour’, as if being beaten with a truncheon was the finest thing that could happen to you. She must have thought me an enormous fool.
Not just a fool, but a failure, for surely I failed Lady Constance that night. ‘Stay by her’? ‘Take good care of her’? What could I do? Hold back the sea? Beat a path through the middle of a hundred butchering bobbies? Force them back with a single glare? Maybe Miss Christabel could do it. Or Mrs Pankhurst. But not me. Not Maggie Robins. There are no miracles in me.
Such a rough, cruel night. The weather was foul and foggy and we had scarce left the assembly hall before the police began to jostle us, crushing us together so that there was hardly room to move. I stuck close to Lady Constance and tried to pretend all was well and this was normal practice.
She said nothing but just pressed silently on, head down, as though she were struggling through a tunnel. I caught sight of her face beneath her hat. She looked very frightened. I urged her to move faster for if we could clear the main crowd she would be able to rest and recover herself a little, but even as I spoke a great thug of a policeman flung himself between us, thrusting us apart. I heard her cry out. When I looked round she was holding her head and staggering. She seemed close to fainting. I fought to get back to her but the crowd kept surging forward, dragging me away. I durst not shout her name for fear the bobbies would hear and seize her. Further and further she was sucked into the swirl, hands clutching the air like a drowning sailor. Then she was gone. The last I saw
was her black hat bobbing like a piece of driftwood, this way and that until it, too, disappeared.
Sick to my very soul, I struggled on as best I could, but it was a wild ugly business. The police acted worse than Liberal louts, picking us up and flinging us like rags back into the crowd. Some women fell directly in the road, others had their heads cracked against the walls. The people, horrified, helped us up and formed a shield around us, begging us to give in. On we went. On and on. And all the time me wondering what had happened to the Lady and cursing myself for not being able to save her.
I was never so glad to be arrested. I had begun to fear it would not happen and I must keep pressing forward till every bone in my body was shattered. I never thought to be glad to see a prison cell, but that night I was. And the gladder by a million miles, for when I got to the police station there was Lady Constance, slumped on a bench between Mrs Pethick Lawrence and Mrs Despard. I thought they would chide me for taking such poor care of her, for she looked truly wiped out – worse even than they did, but they nodded in a weary sort of way and whispered something to Lady Constance. Slowly she opened her eyes and, seeing me, smiled so kindly and tried to raise her hand in greeting before I was taken through to where they put the poor women.
So now I am back in Holloway. I should be used to it. More socks, more soup, more praying. Lady Constance and Mrs Despard are in the hospital wing. They have shorter sentences. I know it is the way of things and I should be glad, for poor Lady Constance suffered grievously that night, but it is hard not to wonder why ten women may be charged with the same
offence and the rich and famous go home after a few days, while poor, sorry creatures such as myself must grind away our time a full two months. I wonder, when Miss Christabel’s new world is on us, whether it will be any different.
I am always low in prison. I pass the hours dreaming about freedom – my cottage in Wood Green, with a swing and flowers, and Fred coming home of an evening, and us sitting together and being safe and happy. But then the shadows come and I think, how can I go on like this? How can I spend half my life in prison and the other half with the man who puts me there? I know it is not Fred, and he would never, ever do that, but how long can he keep himself free of it? It is his duty, just as this is mine.
Does he even think of me when I am away? Would it not be better for us to part, for I am sure if things continue thus, I shall be forced to betray either him or the Cause. And, God help me, I do not know which it will be.
Free at last! I am like a mole coming out of its tunnel, blinking in the sunlight, sniffing the clean air after long weeks in the damp stinking earth. And what things have taken place in our absence! The movement is a great snowball rolling downhill, gathering more and more snow as it travels till it is so huge and powerful that castles would fall before it. I did not think of that. I read it in a pamphlet.
Suffragettes have chained themselves to the grille in the Ladies’ Gallery in Parliament, so now it has had to be closed, then to statues in the House of Commons, and to railings. Miss Kerr said the Asquith man is hated everywhere for there has been a demonstration by men without work as well as all
of ours. I could not help thinking if they all took to being ironsmiths they should have occupation enough to keep them going a lifetime.
Some women from Lancashire came down for a deputation and this, too, ended in violence. One of those who took part was in the office on my first day back. Her name is Miss Davison. She is monstrous clever and knows it. She has a degree from Oxford and never tires of telling us or rather, showing us, for all her talk is full of Greek and Latin. We know this because she translates it for us after. I had it on my tongue to ask why she did not just give us the English and be done with it since she plainly thought us all fools.
She is full of ideas on how things should be done, and done better. One of the ways, it seems, is for each last one of us to go to prison and when there, make as much fuss and trouble as we can so that the King himself will be forced to take notice.
I asked her which prisons she had been in herself. She said, ‘None, at present, but
nihil ad rem
, what of that? I shall be there shortly and then I shall light a fire under them.’
I thought, yes, well, wait till you’ve spent a week on slops and stale water and see how many fires you light then.
Fred came to call for me on my first night home. He looked tired and anxious and though he took my hand and squeezed it very tight, I could tell there was something bad coming. He took me to a corner house and bought me a great big slab of chocolate cake as he always does when I have been in prison.
‘Maggie, I must talk to you.’
I could hardly bear to look at him for I knew what was coming. ‘Maggie, while you were away I did something you
may not like.’ Then I did look at him for I thought he was going to tell me he had found another sweetheart, and who could blame him? What use to a policeman is a girl who spends half her life urging people to break the law and the other half imprisoned for her troubles?
‘I went to see your ma and pa.’
The chocolate turned to vinegar. ‘What?’
‘I went to see them. When I knew you were gone for two whole months – I was afraid they would worry if you did not visit…’
‘They are used to it. And now you have told them the reason. Pa will never let me through the door again.’
‘I did not tell them where you were. I just said you were away. Now you are in training they did not think it odd, although I do believe your ma knows as much of your activities as I do.’
I was silent for a moment. ‘Yes, she will know from Miss Annie or Miss Sylvia, but Pa knows nothing. He would go wild if he did.’
Fred took my hand. ‘I promise you he learnt nothing from me.’
‘Were they not surprised to see you?’
‘Yes, a little. They made me most welcome. Evelyn offered to wash my hair and Alfie showed me a box he was carving.’
‘That house will look like a funeral parlour if he makes many more.’
Fred laughed. ‘There were rather a lot, but the baby sleeps in one and Will has another for a boat, and your pa keeps his boots in another.’
‘Was Ma well?’
‘She seemed a little tired. Her neck aches, she said.’
‘How was Lucy? Was she there?’
Fred hesitated. ‘She was there.’
‘As sullen as usual, I suppose?’
‘No, not sullen. Not at all.’ He looked away and I could see that he was flushed.
My heart turned over. ‘Oh, why did you have to go? Why could you not have let matters be?’
Fred sat staring at his hands like they were someone else’s. ‘I went because I care about you. That is all.’
‘And now you see how my family lives, you no longer care?’ A distant voice coming out of my head, not mine at all.
‘No. No. How can you say that? Lucy is Lucy. She is not you. They are none of them you, but they are a part of you, and if I cannot be with you, see you, they are all I have. Can you not understand? You, you have this Cause of yours, and all your comrades and fellow suffragettes, but when you are gone and locked away, I have nothing but my fears, my dreadful apprehensions. That is why I went.’
For the first time in my life I understood that love could hurt as well as heal. He looked so lonely, hunched up over his fists and I thought, yes, I have taken everything from you and given so little in return. I touched his hand. ‘Thank you.’
‘For what? All I have achieved is making you angry.’
‘Not angry. Anxious, I suppose, but not now. Now I see the reason. You are the best man who ever lived, Fred. Whatever happens, that is what I believe. Now and forever.’
We walked home neither of us speaking, each a million miles away in our own thoughts. When we came to my door he turned to go. I caught hold of his arm. ‘Will you not come in?’
‘Maggie, it’s very late. Mrs Garrud will not welcome a visitor at this time of night.’
‘Mrs Garrud is not in.’ It came out so fast. Like a bullet. And sure, Fred looked at me like I had fired one. ‘She’s away visiting her sister. Mr Garrud is home but he will be in bed at this hour.’
Fred cleared his throat. ‘Maggie, I don’t know.’
‘Why not?’ I could feel the courage dripping out of me.
‘Well, because it’s not entirely proper for…for… Maggie, I don’t know I can trust myself, that’s all. I really don’t, and that’s the truth.’
My head was swimming, half panic, half this great quivering urge to be truly his. To belong to him. To show him how much I loved him. To give him something back.
‘Please – just for a little while.’
He looked at me for a full minute, I swear, then oh, so slowly, he nodded his head. ‘I should like that, Maggie. Very much.’
We went into the parlour. I lit the lamps and poked around at the fire that was all but out. ‘Shall I make some tea? Would you like a cup of tea?’
Fred sat down on the settee, like he was waiting to be interviewed for Chief Constable. ‘That would be very nice.’
I scurried off and made some. As I came into the hall I bumped smack into Mr Garrud. ‘Oh, it’s you, Maggie. I heard voices. Thought we might be being burgled.’ He chuckled for we all know no one would dare to burgle the Garruds’ house unless they wanted to end up as mincemeat. I stood there with my tray with two cups and a plate of cinnamon biscuits on it, going redder by the second.
‘I’m just…I…some tea…biscuits…’
Mr Garrud nodded. ‘Yes, by all means. He works hard, your young man. And that landlady of his is no cook, from what I hear. Well, good night, Maggie, my dear, and don’t get cold, the pair of you, for that fire’s nearly out in the parlour.’ And off he went, up the stairs without a second glance. The whole world was pushing me in one direction. Did I want to go? I don’t know.
Fred had quit the settee and was standing by the window, peering out through a crack in the curtains. He turned as I came in and seemed terribly pleased to see the biscuits.
‘Mrs Garrud will not mind us having them, for I gave her the recipe from Cook and can easy make some more,’ I wittered.