The Making of Mollie Page 9

  Nora was being a bit too literal. It was most unlike her.

  ‘I mean brothers in general,’ I said. ‘And fathers. I mean, clearly lots of people’s brothers and fathers don’t think we should have the vote or we’d have it by now.’

  ‘Fair enough,’ said Nora. ‘What rhymes with vote?’

  A few minutes later we had come up with this: one verse and a chorus.

  Irish girls and Irish women,

  Hear the cry of the suffragettes!

  We will make a joyful noise

  With drums and bells and clarinets

  Though our fathers and our brothers

  Don’t think we should have the vote

  We will fight and we will win it

  And then we will gladly gloat

  ‘Heavens,’ said Nora. ‘That’s actually rather good.’

  ‘Maybe it really will catch on,’ I said. ‘And become the suffrage anthem.’

  We sang it through again.

  ‘I’m not sure about the gloating bit,’ said Nora. ‘It’s a bit ungracious.’

  ‘Well, if women get the vote I will gloat,’ I said firmly. ‘We’ve got to be honest.’

  Nora wasn’t convinced, but she agreed that it would do until we came up with a better phrase that ended in a word rhyming with vote.

  ‘We can try it out on Saturday,’ said Nora. ‘If all goes well. I hope nothing happens to stop us getting to that meeting.’

  I hoped so too. We had both asked our parents if Phyllis could take us to the park and they had given us permission to go but that didn’t mean they couldn’t suddenly change their minds. So what with my nervousness and I my excitement I felt quite giddy the next morning. In fact, after breakfast Phyllis dragged me out into the hall and told me to calm down.

  ‘As far as Mother and Father are concerned, this is just a walk in the park,’ she said. ‘And if you’re giving me all those meaningful looks and dreadful winks they’ll know something’s up.’

  ‘I am not giving you dreadful winks!’ I said. ‘I was giving you encouraging smiles.’

  ‘Well, it looked awful and very suspicious,’ said Phyllis. ‘Calm down or I won’t take you anywhere.’

  So I did. I read an improving annual called Aunt Judy’s Yearly Book, though I’m not sure who Aunt Judy is. Anyway, her book isn’t very interesting – you would have been very bored by it – but it is also not the sort of thing a daring suffragette would read so I hoped it would throw Mother and Father off the scent and stop them suspecting my true plans for the day. And I suppose it did help me to calm down as I waited for Phyllis’s summons. Which finally arrived at about three o’clock.

  ‘Come on then,’ she said. ‘And don’t look too excited. We’re only going for a walk. And we’re getting the tram there, so I hope you have some money.’

  I wish Phyllis wouldn’t always act as if I was trying to cadge things off her. Anyway, I wasn’t. I am quite good at saving (mostly because I don’t have anything exciting to buy with whatever money I ever get) so I had more than enough for my tram fare. Mother and Father came into the hall as we were putting on our coats, and for a moment I thought they were going to suggest we take Harry or Julia with us, but they didn’t and soon we were out of the house and trotting down the road. Well, Phyllis was striding down the road and I was trotting after her, trying to keep up.

  ‘Come on’ she said. ‘I’ve got to be there to sell Votes for Women.’

  ‘But you don’t have any magazines,’ I said.

  Phyllis shook her head, as if she couldn’t believe what an idiotic sister she had.

  ‘I’ll collect them there,’ she said. ‘Ah, there’s Nora.’

  To save time, we’d agreed to meet Nora at the corner rather than calling to her house. ‘Thanks awfully for taking us, Phyllis,’ she said when we approached.

  ‘I hope you don’t make me regret it,’ said Phyllis. ‘Look, there’s a tram coming.’

  We had to run to catch the tram, but when we were finally on it I asked, ‘What exactly will the meeting be like? Will it be like the one I saw?’

  ‘A bit, I suppose,’ said Phyllis. ‘There’s usually three or four speakers. Sometimes there’s a lorry and the speakers stand on the back.’

  I thought it sounded very dramatic, and I told Phyllis so.

  ‘Well, it can be,’ said Phyllis. ‘And not always in a good way. So if there’s the slightest hint of trouble, you’re to go straight to the park tearooms and I’ll find you there afterwards. If I haven’t been arrested, that is.’

  I hadn’t bargained for this.

  ‘Are you likely to be arrested?’ I asked, nervously.

  ‘Well, probably not, but anything could happen,’ said Phyllis. ‘And there’s another thing.’ She looked at me sternly. ‘You have to promise that if we see anyone you know – anyone who might tell Mother and Father – you’re to run to the tearooms immediately.’

  ‘But what about you?’ I said.

  ‘I’m prepared to take the risk of being caught,’ said Phyllis. ‘But whatever trouble I might get into for doing this, I’d be in much, much more if they thought I was encouraging you pair to get involved.’

  She had a point.

  ‘All right,’ I said. ‘I promise.’

  ‘So do I,’ said Nora.

  And that was when we’d reached our tram stop. We had to get out and then get another tram. While we were waiting for it I said, ‘You know, Phyl, me and Nora have written a suffrage song.’

  ‘Have you really?’ said Phyllis. ‘Good heavens.’

  ‘Well, we wrote the words,’ said Nora. ‘The tune is “The Kerry Dance”.’

  ‘This I must hear,’ said Phyllis. ‘Go on, then. Before the tram arrives.’

  ‘All right,’ I said. ‘But quietly. We don’t want everyone to hear until it’s been perfected.’

  And so we sang the song, as quietly as we could. Phyllis had a very peculiar expression on her face by the time we’d finished. She made a sort of coughing sound and said, ‘Sorry, there’s something in my throat. That is … well, I’m not sure about the line about gloating.’

  ‘I told her that was too much!’ said Nora, triumphantly.

  ‘It doesn’t seem to be in the right spirit,’ said Phyllis. ‘But, well, it’s a good effort.’

  ‘I suppose we can change those gloating lines,’ I said, as the tram turned up. I would just have to think about something else that rhymed with vote (I haven’t found anything suitable yet, so, Frances, all suggestions would be gratefully received).

  Eventually we were at the park. There seemed to be hundreds of people milling about the place as we walked through the gates. I could hear lions roaring in the zoo.

  ‘Where do they have the meetings?’ I asked.

  ‘It’s quite a walk,’ said Phyllis, leading the way through the throng. And it was. But eventually I saw a lorry with a few men and lot of women, some of whom were carrying poster boards, standing around it. I recognised Mabel from the Custom House, who was now helping to unfurl a large banner that read IRISH WOMEN’S FRANCHISE LEAGUE. There was a pole attached to each end of it so it could be held up to the crowd.

  ‘Right,’ said Phyllis. ‘You two, stay here. And remember what I said.’ She went to join her comrades.

  ‘This is very exciting,’ said Nora. ‘Look, Phyllis is holding the banner.’

  I must admit that Phyllis looked very impressive as she held up one of the poles. Her hair was starting to come out of its pins but now it only added to the dramatic effect. She looked a bit like Joan of Arc. Only without the armour. And without the short hair. So not all that much like Joan of Arc, really. Anyway, she looked very good and some passersby were starting to stop and look at the suffragist group with interest.

  A moment later, a bespectacled woman got on the platform and cried, ‘Ladies and gentlemen!’ She had a loud and ringing voice and it certainly got the attention of people walking past. ‘I am going to talk to you today about why women should and will get
the vote.’

  Some of the gathering crowd booed, some groaned, but others cheered. Some women paused in their walking and drew closer to the makeshift stage.

  ‘As you know,’ the woman continued, ‘since last winter Irish women have been allowed vote for local and county councils. But that is not enough!’

  The audience were listening attentively.

  ‘We know that Ireland will soon have Home Rule,’ said the woman. Several people in the audience cheered. ‘But what use is an Irish parliament to Irish women if we can’t vote for its members?’ the woman went on, her voice becoming more passionate. ‘How can Ireland gain its freedom if half of the population are not free? If we are treated like children and lunatics? If we aren’t given a chance?’

  Nora squeezed my hand. ‘She’s marvellous,’ she said.

  I turned to her and was about to tell her I agreed when, over my shoulder, I saw a terrible sight in the distance. I’d know those fluffy ears anywhere, especially when they were accompanied by the imposing height of Mrs. Sheffield, out on a Sunday stroll with her terrible dog.

  ‘Oh no,’ I said. ‘The Menace!’

  ‘The what?’ said Nora.

  ‘He’s a dog who lives near me,’ I said. ‘And he’s coming this way.’

  ‘Is that all?’ said Nora, annoyed. ‘Who cares about a stupid dog? I want to listen to the speeches.’ She turned back towards the platform.

  ‘You don’t understand,’ I said, grabbing her shoulder. ‘He’s with his owner. She’s a friend of Mother.’

  ‘Why didn’t you say so?’ said Nora. She looked around. ‘Is it that very fluffy one? I don’t think his owner has seen us. They’re still quite far away.’

  ‘Well, she’d better not see me,’ I said. Another thought struck me. ‘Or Phyllis.’

  ‘Phyllis said to go to the tearooms if we saw someone you knew,’ said Nora.

  ‘But we can’t let her get into trouble on her own,’ I said. I knew Mrs. Sheffield would run straight to Mother if she saw Phyllis holding a suffrage banner in public. ‘It wouldn’t be fair.’

  But how, I wondered, could we save Phyllis? She couldn’t just run away – she was holding the banner, after all. I pulled my hat down over my face and glanced at Mrs. Sheffield and The Menace. Luckily she walks slowly (I could see The Menace straining against his sturdy harness, eager as ever to race ahead) so they were still a good few yards away.

  ‘Come on,’ I said, and pulled Nora around the side of the crowd.

  ‘Where are you going?’ said Nora. ‘The tearooms are that way.’

  ‘But Phyllis isn’t,’ I said. We were quickly circling the edge of the crowd, making our way towards the back of the lorry. Mrs. Sheffield wouldn’t be able to see us now, but Phyllis and her banner were still in a very prominent position. If Mrs. Sheffield glanced at the speakers as she passed them, she couldn’t miss Phyllis. ‘If we go round this way, we can approach her from behind.’

  ‘But your mother’s friend will see us then,’ said Nora. We were near the front of the crowd now. The woman’s speech was over and now a man with a moustache had taken to the stage.

  ‘Not if we crawl,’ I said. ‘Come on.’ I got down on my hands and knees and started to creep behind the platform as fast as I could. Luckily the man with the moustache was a very good speaker, and I don’t think many of the crowd noticed us as we made our way behind the lorry, which blocked us from the audience’s view, as did the skirts, bags and posterboards of the other suffragettes. Now we were just a few feet from Phyllis.

  ‘Phyllis!’ I hissed, in as loud a whisper as I dared. She didn’t look down. I tried again, slightly louder this time. ‘Phyllis!’

  This time she heard. She glanced towards us, and the confused look on her face turned to horror as she saw us practically lying on the grass.

  ‘What on earth …?’ she began, in a ferocious whisper, but I interrupted her.

  ‘It’s Mrs. Sheffield,’ I hissed. ‘She’s here. In the park. Hide your face!’

  Phyllis looked out at the audience and she must have seen something because she immediately moved her end of the banner in front of her face, shielding it from the crowd.

  ‘Go to the tearooms,’ she said. ‘Now!’

  ‘But we’ve barely heard any of the meeting,’ I whispered back. Phyllis turned towards me, still hiding her features from the audience.

  ‘Do you want me to hit you with this pole?’ she snarled. She didn’t look much like Joan of Arc now. She just looked like an angry big sister.

  ‘No,’ I said. ‘But I think you’re being extremely unfair. Come on, Nora.’

  And we crawled off. We kept crawling until Nora said, ‘Why aren’t we walking? Your mother’s friend will have gone past now.’ And when we stood up we saw that the front of our skirts were covered in grass stains. Our mothers would be very annoyed when they saw that.

  ‘We could actually run back to the far side of the crowd and hear some more speechifying,’ I said. ‘We need to do something to make these grass stains worth it.’ So we did. The moustachioed man had finished his speech to great applause, but another woman was talking now. She was saying that without women having a say, the concerns of women and of children were ignored.

  ‘There are children starving and uneducated in this city,’ she said. ‘And with the vote, we women could change all that.’

  I thought of the ragged children I’d seen when I followed Phyllis just a few weeks ago. Quite a lot of people clapped, though there were a few laughing jeers. But there was something about the conviction in her voice, and in the voices of the other speakers, that made you feel sort of hopeful, that made you believe that though things were unfair, they had to change and get better for everyone. We clapped very hard when she finished, but when it was announced that the next woman, a Mrs. Cousins, would be the last speaker, we knew we had to leave now to make sure Phyllis didn’t see us hanging about.

  So we finally went to the tearooms. It was quite a walk, but Nora had a shilling besides her tram fare so we bought tea and a reviving bun each.

  ‘I’m very glad we went,’ said Nora, through a mouthful of bun. ‘Even though we didn’t get to hear everything.’

  ‘They were awfully good,’ I agreed. ‘And quite a lot of the crowd seemed to agree with them.’

  ‘We’re proper suffragists now,’ said Nora. ‘Or is it suffragette? What’s the difference?’

  ‘Phyllis doesn’t like suffragette,’ I said. ‘Though I rather like it. As a word. Anyway, the suffragists are the ones who believe in just, I don’t know, writing letters to M.P.s and all that. The suffragettes are the ones who believe in militant action. You know, breaking windows and chaining and that sort of thing. ’

  ‘Maybe the next time we go to a meeting we should wear a disguise,’ said Nora, pouring out the tea. ‘Just in case someone we know comes along again. Though I’m not sure what sort of disguise.’

  ‘We could ask Kathleen to trim some hats for us,’ I said. ‘No one would recognise us if we had giant pineapples or cabbages or what-have-you on our heads. They’d be too busy looking at the felt vegetables.’

  ‘Sssh!’ said Nora, gesturing towards the door. I turned and saw Kathleen herself come in, closely followed by Phyllis.

  ‘Oh, you’re here,’ said Phyllis.

  ‘You told us to come here!’ I said indignantly.

  ‘I wasn’t sure you could be trusted to do it,’ said Phyllis.

  ‘Well, I must say that’s a fine way to talk to someone who just saved your life,’ I said.

  ‘Saved your life?’ said Kathleen, and laughed in a very annoying fashion. I don’t think she ever takes me seriously.

  I explained to her about Mrs. Sheffield and Barnaby. Phyllis had the good grace to look a bit sheepish.

  ‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘You’re right. Thank you, both of you, for warning me. I’d rather not have to row with Mother and Father unless it’s absolutely necessary.’

  She handed over a copy of Votes f
or Women.

  ‘Read this,’ she said. ‘While we go to the lavatory.’ Nora and I flicked through the pages as they made their way to the small wash room. It was very interesting, with lots of stories about dramatic events in London.

  ‘It’s like No Surrender,’ said Nora. ‘Only real.’

  Phyllis and Kathleen returned and Phyllis put the Votes for Women back in her bag.

  ‘Right, girls,’ said Phyllis. ‘We’re going home.’

  ‘Aren’t you going to have tea?’ I asked.

  ‘We don’t have time,’ said Phyllis. ‘Mother and Father will start asking questions if we get back too late.’

  I actually didn’t mind going home because I was quite exhausted. Being an active suffragette – well, we did crawl around on the ground to save Phyllis, which is pretty active if you ask me – is very tiring. In fact, I was so tired by the time we got home that I could barely defend myself when Mother noticed the grass stains on my knees. Luckily Phyllis did the decent thing and stood up for me.

  ‘It’s my fault, Mother,’ she said. ‘We were walking over the grass and I distracted her by pointing out the Lord Lieutenant and she tripped over a root. And it wasn’t even the Lord Lieutenant at all,’ she added. ‘Just a man in a top hat.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Mother. ‘Well, I hope you’ll both be more careful in future. Now, go and get changed and you can have some tea.’

  As Phyllis and I made our way upstairs I said, ‘Thanks for that, Phyl.’

  ‘Well, you deserved it,’ she said. ‘But,’ she added, her voice, stern, ‘I’m not taking you to any more meetings.’

  ‘Oh, Phyllis!’ I said.

  ‘I think it’s wonderful that you’ve embraced the cause,’ said Phyllis. ‘But I can’t be responsible for you doing anything else Mother and Father wouldn’t approve of. You’ll just have to support the cause from a distance until you’re my age. Though of course I hope we’ll have the vote by then.’

  ‘Just one more meeting,’ I said.

  But Phyllis ignored me and went into her room. Still, I bet I can change her mind. Nora did say I was persuasive.