The Secret Letter Page 18

  I nodded. This was great stuff.

  ‘This is a time of change,’ Esther had written. ‘I think preparing our children for the world they will one day be running is the most rewarding job there is.’

  I wiped my eyes, taken aback at how much the words of a long-ago teacher had affected me. I could see how Esther had won over the bean counters at the council. If I could channel a fraction of that passion, I’d be laughing.

  I tapped my chin, thoughtfully. Nate was determined to get me to speak at the rally, though I’d not been sure what to say. Until now. Seeing Esther’s plan spelled out so clearly, I wondered if I could simply read what she’d written.

  ‘Perfect,’ I muttered.

  Somewhere under the piles of papers on my desk, my phone rang. I jumped, not just because I wasn’t expecting a call, but because the ringtone was Uptown Funk. It was the ringtone I’d assigned to Grant’s number because it reminded me of our wedding.

  ‘Shit,’ I said. I found my phone tucked inside one of the accounts books and paused with my finger hovering over the cancel button. I didn’t want to speak to him; that was why I’d emailed. Typical bloody Grant, always going one better.

  But then I glanced out of my window at the school railings, where earlier I’d heard Danny smooth-talking Vanessa, and I changed my mind. I jabbed the answer button violently and put the phone to my ear.

  ‘Hi, Grant,’ I said, like we’d only seen each other that morning.

  ‘Queenie,’ he said. No one else called me that silly nickname. I was Lizzie to everyone – even my mother – and Elizabeth on official documents. But like I said, he always went one better.

  ‘I’ve missed you.’

  Chapter 31

  Esther

  Autumn 1910

  It had been a strange summer. The weather was terrible, which meant it didn’t really feel like summer, given we had to wrap up in raincoats and hats every time we went outside. And there was a general feeling of expectation in the air. Things were just – slow. It was as though we were all waiting for something to happen. Which, I supposed, we were.

  Agnes was blooming. Finally. Her stomach had swelled and her sickness had lessened and she had some colour back in her cheeks. She’d been so quiet and sad after she’d first found out she was expecting that Minnie and I had been really worried. John, too. She’d not even told him for ages, thinking he’d not be pleased at the prospect of another child under foot. But John was delighted and eventually, some of his enthusiasm rubbed off on Agnes.

  ‘You’ve got me,’ I told her over and over. ‘I’ll take care of the big ones and you can concentrate on the baby. It’ll be so lovely having a little one in the house.’

  We found all the pieces of Pearl’s old crib, and all her baby clothes and I washed them all and hung them out in the garden when there was a gap between rain showers. The children were thrilled at the idea of having another sibling and argued endlessly over what the baby should be named.

  ‘George,’ John declared at the dinner table. ‘After the new king. Or Edward after the old king.’

  Agnes rolled her eyes. ‘It might be a girl,’ she said, smoothing her dress over her stomach. ‘I think it’s a girl. I felt worse with Pearl and Meg than I felt with you, John, just like I was with this one.’

  John threw his head back dramatically. ‘I can’t bear it,’ he wailed. ‘I can’t possibly be expected to put up with another sister.’

  His father smiled at him indulgently. ‘You’ll be away at school soon and then you shall be complaining that you’re missing out on all the cuddles with the new baby.’

  ‘What do you think we should call the baby, Esther?’ Meg said. ‘It’s so hard to decide, don’t you think?’

  ‘Maybe we should call her Esther?’ Agnes said.

  ‘That could get confusing.’

  ‘Or Agnes,’ Pearl suggested.

  ‘Even worse,’ her mother said, laughing. ‘If I had my chance again I’d call John something different. It’s so silly having two people with the same name in one family.’

  John almost fell off his chair in outrage. ‘Don’t you dare think about changing my name now,’ he said. ‘I’m far too old to get used to something new.’

  Everyone laughed and I joined in, relieved that Agnes was happy about being pregnant.

  ‘You could call her Emmeline,’ I suggested.

  Agnes nodded. ‘I might.’

  It wasn’t just the baby we were waiting for. The WSPU had all but stopped its activities because we had been promised that things were changing. We held one glorious rally in Hyde Park and marched occasionally, but generally things were quiet. We were hoping that the Conciliation Bill would pass when Parliament reassembled, which would give some women the right to vote. It would be a victory – of sorts. But as the autumn arrived, the weather cooled, and Agnes’s baby’s arrival drew closer, it began to feel we were waiting for something that would never come.

  ‘I don’t trust that bloody Mr Asquith,’ Minnie said one evening as we waited for Mrs Pankhurst to speak at a meeting. ‘I don’t trust him one bit. He doesn’t care about us and he’s never been a supporter of the cause. He’s got other priorities.’

  ‘We have to give him a chance to see this bill through,’ I said. ‘There’s no point worrying it’s not going to happen until the MPs come back.’

  Minnie looked at me through narrowed eyes. ‘You like this waiting around,’ she said. ‘You’re enjoying this.’

  ‘I’m not.’

  She snorted. ‘Bloody well are. Makes your life much easier, don’t it? Makes your romance with Joseph much easier.’

  I flushed. ‘Well, yes,’ I admitted.

  Joseph and I had had the most wonderful summer. John and Agnes had taken the children to Pevensey Bay for two weeks in August. They’d asked if I’d wanted to go along, but I’d said that I would rather stay in London and enjoy the peace and quiet. Not that I’d had much peace and quiet, because I’d actually spent every spare minute with Joseph. We’d been to the theatre, for tea, walked along the river, been dancing – it was all so perfect.

  We even had some stolen evenings in his lodgings because his landlady had gone to Southend for the summer. I was certain he was the one for me so I felt no shame when we took our romance further than the kisses we’d shared until then. We loved each other, I told myself. We were going to be together for our whole lives. It just felt right.

  And with there being no WSPU activities happening I wasn’t worried about being forced to choose between my love for Joseph and my political convictions. In fact, I thought if the Conciliation Bill passed, then I wouldn’t ever have to choose. Things would calm down, and Joseph and I could be together. We’d already talked about getting married, though I did manage to change the subject whenever he brought up meeting my family. I knew if he met my mother she would undoubtedly – and gleefully – spill the beans about what exactly I’d been doing with my life up until now. But still, I daydreamed about waking up each morning with Joseph at my side, and us making a home together.

  Now I glanced over to where Agnes sat, uncomfortable on the hard, wooden chair, legs slightly spread to accommodate her growing bump, but still looking peaceful and content as she rested her hand on her belly tenderly. Maybe Joseph and I would have a baby as soon as we were married. A little boy who looked like his dad. Or a baby girl who would grow up not knowing that women were once seen as second-class citizens.

  Mrs Pankhurst got up to speak and I tried to snap out of my daydreams and concentrate on what she was saying.

  ‘Mr Asquith is no fan of the fight for women’s suffrage,’ she said.

  Beside me, Minnie hissed: ‘What did I say?’

  I ignored her. I couldn’t stand to think that this would fail.

  ‘Parliament returns in one week and I propose we act then to remind the men at Westminster just how important this is,’ Mrs Pankhurst said.

  I drifted off again, dreaming of white lace and veils, and tiny baby g
irls, and only half-listening as Mrs Pankhurst told us what would happen.

  ‘I propose a Women’s Parliament to meet at Caxton Hall at the same time as the men arrive in Westminster,’ she said. ‘If for any reason, Mr Asquith lets us down on that first day, we can march to the House of Commons and demand an audience.’

  The women around me cheered. I felt a flicker of unease.

  ‘Will we be allowed in?’ someone asked.

  Mrs Pankhurst raised her chin. ‘Perhaps not all of us, but when they see they strength of feeling, I imagine it would be a very foolish PM who keeps me shut out.’

  Everyone cheered again. Minnie and I exchanged a glance.

  ‘He’d never let her in,’ she hissed at me under her breath. ‘Not in a million years. This is going to be chaos.’

  I was still determined to look on the bright side. ‘It might be fine. The Conciliation Bill could pass and then everything will be all right.’

  Minnie glared at me. ‘You can’t trust any of them,’ she said. ‘They’ll just let you down again and again.’

  ‘I trust Joseph.’

  She tutted. ‘Then you’re more stupid than I thought.’

  I bristled at the suggestion my feelings for Joseph were stupid. ‘You trust Gil.’

  Minnie’s face softened, just a bit, at the mention of Gloomy Gilbert. ‘Well, he’s one of us, isn’t he? Like John is. But Joseph isn’t. He’s one of them.’

  I’d heard enough. Around us, the excited chatter was growing louder as people planned for next week’s Women’s Parliament and my head was beginning to ache. I stood up.

  ‘I’m not stupid, I’m hopeful,’ I said. ‘And you, Minnie, are as gloomy as your bloody Gilbert. This is it, don’t you see? This is where all our hard work pays off. Remember in Holloway, how you’d lie in bed, planning revenge on them all – the men who made the laws and who put us behind bars?’

  Minnie looked up at me, sulky but listening. She nodded.

  ‘This is the best revenge we’ve got. We’re going to win this fight, Minnie. And once we’ve won this bit, we’ll keep fighting until every woman has the vote.’

  ‘I hope you’re right,’ Minnie said. ‘Because from where I’m sitting it still looks like it could all be snatched away from us at the last minute.’

  ‘It’s always darkest before the dawn.’

  Impulsively, I reached down and gave her a hug.

  ‘We’ve done it, Minnie. We’ve won. Things are going to be so much better from now on. You’ll see.’

  Chapter 32

  Esther

  There was a strange atmosphere as we gathered back at Caxton Hall on the Friday. Feverish. Excitable. And with a good smattering of nerves, too.

  We crowded into the room. The chairs were all taken but Minnie glared at a woman sitting near us until she stood to let Agnes sit down, and then we waited for news.

  Minnie and I bickered gently with each other. She was still convinced Mr Asquith would do something – anything – that would mean the bill didn’t happen. I was – foolishly, perhaps – desperate to believe that it would.

  ‘It passed its second reading,’ I said.

  Minnie rolled her eyes. ‘Means nothing.’

  I bent down and addressed Agnes. ‘What do you think? Do you think we’ve won?’

  She shrugged. ‘I hope so, but I’m not holding my breath,’ she said. ‘We’ve been here before. Close enough to taste it and then it all falls apart.’

  I sighed and Agnes took my hand.

  ‘We’re strong enough to keep fighting,’ she said.

  She didn’t know, of course, why I was so keen to see an end to this battle. Couldn’t for one minute imagine that I wanted to put my militant days behind me and settle down with a policeman.

  I gave her a thin-lipped smile as Mrs Pankhurst and the other leaders climbed on to the stage and the crowd cheered. But Mrs Pankhurst was grim-faced and the others looked similarly stern.

  Minnie felt for my hand and I squeezed her fingers. I was still holding Agnes’s hand, so we made a chain of three, all hoping for good news.

  The hall fell silent as Mrs Pankhurst stood at the front of the stage.

  ‘My friends,’ she said. ‘It is with heavy heart that I give you the news that Mr Asquith has let us down. The Conciliation Bill is to be shelved.’

  I had been holding my breath. Now I let it out in a gasp. Minnie squeezed my hand harder. Beside us on her chair, Agnes sat up straighter as Mrs Pankhurst began to outline her plan.

  ‘Mr Asquith has called a general election. This means Parliament will be dissolved and there will be no time for the Bill to be approved.’

  There were shouts and jeers as we all realised our hopes had been dashed.

  ‘What will we do?’ someone in the front of the crowd shouted.

  Mrs Pankhurst raised her chin in defiance. ‘I propose we send a deputation to Mr Asquith, straight away,’ she said. ‘We have some banners and placards here ready.’

  A murmur of agreement spread around the hall.

  ‘Will we all go?’ one woman called.

  Mrs Pankhurst and Mrs Garrett Anderson, who was on the stage next to her, spoke to each other for a moment. Then they both consulted the other women sharing their platform who all nodded as they spoke. Then Mrs Pankhurst raised her hand for silence.

  ‘Our aim is to reach the House of Commons,’ she said. ‘So we propose we split into smaller groups of ten or twelve women. If we leave here at intervals of a few minutes, it will give us a better chance of getting to the entrance.’

  We all nodded. I was impressed at the leaders’ strategy. They were right, I thought. There would be police at the Houses of Parliament; that wasn’t in doubt. They would be expecting us. And a large group of women would surely be easier to stop than smaller deputations.

  ‘She’s right,’ Minnie whispered to me. ‘She’s so clever.’

  ‘We will go first,’ Mrs Pankhurst announced. Minnie and I stared at the group of leaders, gathering their banners and placards.

  ‘Some of them are old,’ Minnie breathed into my ear. ‘Will it be dangerous? I don’t think they should go first.’

  She had a point. One of the women on stage was in her seventies, and Mrs Garrett Anderson and Mrs Pankhurst were hardly youngsters.

  I shook my head. ‘It won’t be dangerous,’ I assured her, though I was really trying to convince myself. ‘I don’t think so anyway.’

  We both looked at Agnes, who was heaving herself to her feet.

  I turned to the side slightly and whispered in Minnie’s ear. ‘Should Agnes stay behind?’

  She gave the tiniest nod. ‘I reckon so. She shouldn’t be marching anywhere, in her condition.’

  ‘Rubbish,’ Agnes said behind us. We both started, guilty at being caught out talking about her. ‘I can walk.’

  ‘Agnes,’ I began. ‘What if it’s dangerous?’

  She glared at me. ‘Why would it be dangerous?’

  ‘Well, there’s bound to be a crowd.’

  She shrugged. ‘I’m not an invalid, Esther. I’ve been pregnant before and I know what I’m doing. I admit, I might be a bit slow, and I accept I might get jostled if it’s busy. But you girls can stand either side of me and protect this one.’ She hugged her stomach and smiled at us.

  I chewed my lip. ‘If you’re sure?’

  Agnes glanced round at the groups of women sorting themselves out, holding placards, and readying to leave. ‘Perhaps we’ll go in one of the last groups,’ she said. ‘That way, the women ahead of us will have cleared the way, and we can walk straight up to St Stephen’s Gate.’

  I was pleased she was being sensible.

  ‘We’ll look after you,’ Minnie said. ‘Right, shall we find ourselves some people to tag along with?’

  We found a few other women milling around and within minutes, Agnes had taken charge and sorted us into a group.

  Mrs Pankhurst and the others in the first band of protesters were ready to go. We cheered th
em off and they headed towards Westminster, banners and placards held aloft.

  ‘I hope Mr Asquith is amenable,’ Agnes said, watching them go. ‘He’s so stubborn.’

  My stomach was churning with nerves. ‘I can’t imagine what we’ll do if he doesn’t agree to speak to Mrs Pankhurst.’

  Agnes patted me on the shoulder. ‘I told you, we’ll carry on fighting,’ she said.

  Exhausted at the mere thought of juggling my two lives for longer, I felt tears well up in my eyes. Agnes put her arm around me, as though she was my mother. For a moment I rested my head on her shoulder and took comfort from her warmth.

  ‘Darling Esther, I know it’s not been easy for you,’ she said, stroking my hair. ‘Your time in Holloway was awful, and you stayed firm despite it all. But you’re a soldier, my girl. A brave warrior. And we will win this war. Remember why we’re doing this. Remember why we fight.’

  I buried my head in her shoulder, taking strength from her words and then with a deep breath I straightened up. I believed so passionately in what we were doing that it equalled my feelings for Joseph. Seeing my mother suffer because of my father’s actions, and having no way to right those wrongs had just been the beginning of my fervent belief in women being equal to men. Once my eyes had been opened, I saw inequality and closed doors everywhere and I was determined to fight. However tiring it was to be involved in the WSPU, and spending time with Joseph, I couldn’t give up now.

  ‘You’re right,’ I said. ‘Let’s find some placards.’

  Minnie had found some paint and some blank boards and was crouched on the floor, merrily painting slogans alongside some other women doing the same.

  ‘Where there’s a Bill there’s a way,’ she wrote in her neat hand.

  I grinned. ‘That’s nice.’

  ‘I copied it off that one over there.’ She pointed with her paintbrush to where a group of young suffragettes were standing ready to leave. ‘Come on, we need to get ready. We don’t want to be left behind.’

  Altogether there were about twenty-five groups of women, I estimated, so it took well over an hour from when Mrs Pankhurst’s band of protesters had left Caxton Hall before it was our turn to go. We were one of the last groups to march, and the febrile atmosphere at the hall had calmed down a lot by the time we got going. I felt my heart rate slow and began to almost look forward to whatever was going to happen. I enjoyed taking action; it felt like I was doing something – being mistress of my own destiny – rather than sitting around waiting for a man to tell me how to act.