Crooked Pieces

by Sarah Grazebrook

  Perhaps it is as well that we cannot. God knows, I am near enough to the devil already. I need no further shoving.

  Sadly the Liberals won the election again, but only just, and it had one good result – they were so frightened by the people turning against them in such numbers that they finally allowed a bill to let some women have the vote be put before them. Mr Pethick Lawrence explained it to me. It is called the Conciliation Bill, and will give women the right to vote if they have property and are not married. I could not see how any woman could own property without a husband, but it seems it can be so. Though hardly ever.

  There was such jubilation in the office when the news came through. ‘Of course, it is only a start,’ Miss Christabel insisted. ‘We must not raise our hopes too high yet.’ We nodded soberly and tried to look as though we would never have dreamt of doing such a thing. Suddenly her face broke out in a great glittering smile. ‘But it takes only a chink in a dam for the torrent to break through. And we have made that chink at last. At last victory is in sight. A whole new world will soon be ours for the taking.’

  How we cheered and danced and hugged each other. Even Miss Lake who doesn’t like people too close to her in the main. She went quite strawberry-coloured when Miss Christabel flung her arm around her shoulders and gave her a squeeze. You would have thought it was a handsome man had done it, the way she blushed. Still, maybe I would have, too, had Miss Christabel put her arm round me.

  Fred was nearly as excited as I when I told him. ‘But this is wonderful news. The most wonderful news. This requires at least…three ices and two pieces of cake.’

  ‘Two ices and three pieces of cake. I do not want to get fat.’

  He laughed till I thought he would fall over.

  Afterwards we walked by the river and he held my hand like when it used to be worth holding. As we came to Westminster Bridge he stopped. Across the water we could see the Palace of Westminster, the Houses of Parliament.

  ‘Maggie.’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Do you remember that night you took me back to your lodgings?’

  I stared at my scrawny knuckles poking out from my scrawny hands at the end of my scrawny arms. It seemed so long ago.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Do you remember what I said to you that night?’

  ‘You said so many things.’

  ‘I said I would not give you a baby unless we were married.’

  My whole body stiffened like a rod.

  ‘Now that your cause is won…’

  I raised my hand to stop him. ‘I cannot have a baby any more, Fred.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘It is a side effect, Miss Annie says.’

  ‘A side effect of what? What are you talking about?’

  I looked at him. ‘Of the starving. And the torture. I have… I…there is no more bleeding.’

  It was like a light going out in his eyes. ‘You are barren?’

  ‘Yes.’ I could not bear to see him so unhappy. ‘So it will do no harm if I lie with you, if that is what you are asking. I will not be disgraced.’

  This time he slapped me. ‘Don’t you ever speak like that again, Maggie Robins. Children or no children, I want you for my wife. And I will not lay one finger on you till that day comes. So let it not be long.’

  We both cried. And then we held each other close and pretended we didn’t mind about the babies, for though I did not greatly want them, it made me sad to see how much he did.

  That night I lay in bed and thought how I should soon be married and all this life would be behind me. No more pug-faced judges, prison cells, starving, torture, suffering. It would fade away into my memory like some cruel nightmare. And with it, too, would go the laughter, the hope, the striving, the comradeship, the longing for a new tomorrow. Now victory was in sight.

  But it was not. The chink in the dam was soon sealed up again. Mrs Pankhurst said we should bide our time and see what came of the Conciliation Bill. Demonstrations ceased. We put on weight, regained our health. I started to bleed again. Life seemed so nearly good. For a little while.

  Yet what came of it was what always comes of anything we are promised. Nothing.

  The Government delayed and delayed, then fell out with the House of Lords until it looked as though Parliament would have to be dissolved and another election called. Fortunately we were saved from this, thanks to the King, who managed to fall ill and die before they got round to it.

  Everywhere was gloomy, the shops all draped in black and many of the people, too. I could not see that it was such a sad thing for he was old and caught his fever on a holiday, so at least he had had a nice time first.

  Fred and I watched the funeral procession and then had a picnic by the river. Some of the people passing tut-tutted at us and said we should show more respect, but I do not see that dead people can mind what you eat particularly, and besides, if we are to believe the churchmen, the King was probably up with all the angels having heavenly manna by then.

  Mrs Grant wrote to say that Pa would like me to visit. At first I thought I would not for we should be bound to quarrel, but in the end I did and was glad of it. They were all so happy to see me and mighty happy to see a mutton pie and strawberries!

  Little Evelyn is grown quite tall and very pretty. She reminds me so of Ma with her grey eyes and wavy brown hair. Like Ma once was. Baby Ann is walking though she does not talk yet. Will shouts at her all the time but she does not mind him. Just smiles. Mrs Grant fair dotes on her.

  Alfie is to marry Edith just as soon as he has saved enough for a proper bed, he says. I am surprised he does not build one, but he is still not good with numbers and it would be a sorry thing if it turned out the size of the coal box.

  Evelyn cried bitterly when it was time for me to go. I promised I would come again soon if Pa agreed it. He came with me to the door.

  ‘Maggie…’

  ‘Yes, Pa?’

  ‘I am glad to have seen you.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I would have…wanted…wished to… I never meant for you to stay away so long. I just wanted…’

  ‘What, Pa?’

  ‘I wanted you to be free. For your ma’s sake. For her. Because she never was.’ He stared past me like he was looking for the words in the street lamps. ‘And she should have been, Maggie. She was clever like you, bright as a star. I felt like I’d seen an angel the first time she walked by me coming out of church. It seemed like a miracle she could feel the same about me, but we married so young, and we had so little, and then you children came and the spirit just drained out of her. I watched it going, drop by drop, and did nothing. I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t give her back her life, her freedom. I wanted to. I just couldn’t.’

  I nodded. ‘I know Pa,’ though I had not known, for I had not believed him capable of such feeling. Had not known him. Had not loved him enough.

  Is that how it would be if Fred and I were wed? Not a house in the country with a swing. Just a stinking hovel in some back street with babies sliding out of me like shelled peas. No, never. I would rather die. But surely Pa never thought that was how it would end for him and Ma? If she had hopes, he must have had them too. If she loved him, he must have been loveable, not the great lumpen drudge he has become. So when did it go wrong? Why? How can I stop it happening to me? Fight on and God will give the victory. But will he give it to us?

  In June we held a giant procession for we had a new king and queen and with them, new hope. The Conciliation Bill had been read on June 14th and passed without a murmur! No one doubted that by autumn the struggle would be over.

  Everyone came from all over the country, and it was so grand and beautiful and peaceful. Like when we first started. Like Women’s Sunday.

  How good it will be if we can keep on like this. Mrs Pankhurst says she is sure we are almost there. Two more readings and then the bill will go to the Lords who, she promised us, are far too dim and cowardly to gainsay the House of Commons.


  The Asquith is doing all in his power to delay it but there are too many against him now, I truly believe. Although the rat, Churchill, and that pasty Lloyd George, with his whiney sing-song voice, have gone to great lengths to destroy the bill by saying it was not fair to all women which, of course, it is not. But, as Miss Christabel says, ‘It is better than nothing’. And once some women have the vote, it cannot be long before the rest of us do. I am convinced of it.

  Fred has written to his father to see if he may take me to meet him. Although he says we will be married no matter what, I know he would cherish his father’s blessing, and so should I. I feel for the first time in so many years that things are truly going to work out right. And I can do a double flip. Mrs Garrud says it is amazing after all I have been through. I tell her it is that that has made me strong.

  Hope is a strange thing. It lifts you up, high, higher…and then it drops you down. So quickly. But always there is a little drop left. Like a seed, ready to grow again when the time is right.

  Fred has had a letter from his father saying he will be glad to meet me. He is so cheerful. We are to go on November 20th. It is his sister’s fifteenth birthday though, of course, we may not take presents. I asked Fred if I could bake some biscuits and he said it was worth a try! If not we will eat them on the way home.

  It was not to be. I was a fool to think otherwise. I remember Reverend Beckett preaching one Easter about the thieves who were crucified beside Our Lord. He said one of them repented but the other could not – scorned Lord Jesus and said if he were truly the Son of God he would save himself and them. Reverend Beckett said that man was born of darkness. ‘Some people are born of darkness and can never be saved. They are the children of the devil. Fear them, for they will destroy your soul. They are destined for eternal darkness.’ I never thought then he was talking about me.

  A Special Meeting. There is talk of a fresh election. If so, the Conciliation Bill will fall. We are to march upon the House. Only those chosen are to go. No one old or ill or still at school. There will be no more talking. We have been denied too long. We have had enough.

  Mrs Pankhurst came to speak to us. She walked among us like a ministering angel, joking, encouraging, inspiring. Is this how the disciples felt when Jesus came amongst them? Is it a mortal sin to even wonder? What if Jesus had been a woman? How would the world be then?

  She said we must keep on, no matter what. ‘In quietness and assurance shall be your strength. All your other kind of efforts have failed, you will now press forward in quietness and peaceableness, offending none and blaming none, ready to sacrifice yourselves even unto death if need be, in the cause of freedom.’

  ‘Even unto death’. I thought, what good will freedom do me if I am dead?

  November 18th 1910. Black Friday, they are calling it. Why? Why do they do this to us?

  Escorted by bobbies all the way to Parliament Square, suddenly they are nowhere. And who takes their place? Savages. Great brutish louts who seize us by the hair, the neck, the arms, flinging us at walls, pavements, cobble-stones; slapping, kicking and, if it is to be believed, dragging some of our women into alley-ways and forcing themselves upon them. And these were policemen. These are the men who serve beside the man I love. And he is one of them. Ordered by Mr Churchill to turn us back. This creature, this politician who has smiled and nodded and pretended to be our friend. I do not understand why Jesus would choose to come on earth as a man for they are less than cockroaches.

  All of them.

  This morning I went to Marylebone. To the police station. I asked to speak to Fred. His friend, Sergeant Neal, came out of his office and asked could he help me? I said, no, my business was personal. He sent someone to fetch him. Fred came down. His face was pinched with fatigue. ‘Is it about last night?’

  ‘It is.’

  ‘Maggie, we did not know. No one from here was involved. Not one of us. You must believe that.’

  I said, ‘Yes, I do. But you are all policemen and so were they.’

  ‘We condemn it. Condemn it with all our hearts. It should never have happened. Been allowed. Those men are a disgrace to their calling.’

  Something inside me burst. ‘You condemn it so much that you close your eyes and hide yourselves away, Fred. Is that “protecting the people from villains?” I would call it “protecting villains from the people”. How long can you go on like that? A dog cannot serve two masters. You ask me to give over the Cause. When have I ever asked you to give over being in the police?’

  ‘Never.’

  ‘No, and I never will, because if you cannot see how wrong it is, I am not the one to show you.’ I turned and came away. So now my choice is made.

  PART FOUR

  1910–1913

  I am working harder than ever. It is the only way. Every time I hear a man’s foot on the stair I pray it will be Fred, come to take me back, to forgive me for treating him so wickedly, to tell me he understands what makes me say the things I say, act as I do. And he does. He is the only person on this earth who has stood by me always. When I was beaten, starved, tortured, hideous, he picked me up and loved me anyway. He showed me what life could be like. How there could be music and painting and poetry and laughter in amidst all this cruelty and poison. And I have thrown it all away.

  Perhaps if I went to him, explained… What? That I made him choose because I had not the strength to do it myself? And he had.

  Miss Christabel has just returned an article I passed for the printers.

  ‘Really, Maggie, are you sleeping on the job? Where are the quotation marks, the commas? You’ve even let “Asquith” by with a small “a”. Whatever we think of the man, we must at least spell his name right.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Miss Christabel.’

  ‘Yes, well, I can see you’re tired. What about if I ask Mrs PL if you can pop down to The Mascot for a day or two? Put some colour back in your cheeks.’

  I said I would rather not just at present.

  ‘Fair enough, but we must have more attention to the job. This election may be the turning point. Even the men are starting to rally round us now. Poor Alfred Hawkins had his leg broken being chucked out of one of Churchill’s rallies. Still, do them no harm to find out what it feels like for a change. I’ll leave this with you, shall I?

  ‘Oh, by the way, are you still seeing that bobby friend of yours? Because if so, perhaps you can wheedle the names of some of his thuggee colleagues out of him. Lord Lytton plans to raise last Friday’s abomination in the House. Not that he got anywhere after the Jane Warton business.’

  ‘Which business was that, miss?’ I asked, to change the subject.

  Miss Christabel flapped her hand in front of my eyes. ‘Wake up, Maggie. Surely you heard? Oh, no. I think you were in prison. Lady Con got it into her head that she was receiving special treatment on account of her social position, so she cut off all her hair, dressed herself in rags and got herself arrested as a seamstress called Jane Warton.’

  ‘What happened?’ I asked, feeling quite sick.

  ‘Oh, dreadful. They fed her without any medical checks. Same as the rest of us. What they didn’t realise is she has a chronic heart condition. She’ll never recover. Our first real martyr, you might say. We’re all so proud of her. Anyway, back to what I was saying. See what you can glean. There has to be some use in consorting with the enemy.’

  The words burst out of me. ‘He’s not the enemy. He’s the truest friend I ever had.’ But she was gone. And I thought, what need of an enemy, with me to fight for you?

  Tonight I went back to Marylebone police station. It has been a fortnight and I cannot think, cannot eat, cannot sleep. I cannot live this way. I asked if I might speak to Constable Thorpe. I did not know what I would say. Sergeant Neal came out of his office.

  ‘I’m sorry to disturb you yet again, Sergeant Neal.’

  ‘It’s not a problem. What can I do for you, Miss Robins?’

  ‘I wanted… Is it possible?…I know I
shouldn’t… Can I just please speak to Fred, just for one moment? I promise I won’t be long.’

  He was looking at me in a funny way – surprised – shocked, even. Embarrassed. ‘Did you not know?’

  ‘Know what?’

  ‘I felt sure he would have… He isn’t here, Maggie.’

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry. I thought he was on duty Wednesday evenings.’

  ‘He is… He was.’

  I stared at him.

  ‘He’s gone, Maggie. Left. Resigned from the force.’

  ‘But where… Where has he gone? What did he say? Surely…’

  Sergeant Neal shook his head regretfully. ‘He didn’t say anything. Only he had had enough. It wasn’t for him. He was tired of being a policeman.’

  I went round to his lodgings. He had left the week before. The landlady’s daughter, Miss Blackett, answered the door. I could see what Fred meant. She scowled at me when I asked if she knew where he had gone. ‘He didn’t say. I expect he’ll be writing to me with his address as soon as he’s sorted, though. Not that I shall be able to pass it on.’

  ‘No, of course not. But perhaps if you could just…’

  I saw her looking at me, looking the way the wardresses do before they come marching in with their straps and manacles and funnels scaly with rotting mucus. Triumphant. The Chosen Ones. Come to visit judgement on the sinners.

  Inside and out, these Chosen Ones are everywhere, it seems to me. And what sort of a God is it that chooses them? Am I not a thousand times better to be one of the Rejected when my fellows are Miss Christabel and Miss Annie and Miss Sylvia? Better to be next to them in hell than with Miss Blackett and the brutes in heaven.

  I turned and walked away.

  So this shall be my life now. The Cause. It is so much easier, better, to be dedicated to one thing and one thing only. Before I was always torn between my love for Fred and my duty to my work. As Miss Christabel said, ‘A dog cannot serve two masters.’ Well, I am no better than a dog but I shall serve this cause harder than anyone ever did. I will make Miss Christabel proud of me, and Mrs Pankhurst, too. I will make up for all my weakness and cowardly behaviour in the past. Nothing shall ever frighten me again, for to be frightened you have to be afraid of losing something and I have nothing left to lose.