Paul, who had been smoking furiously and pacing back and forth at the edge of the road, stopped to throw the butt of his cigarette into the gutter.
‘I don’t suppose you expected this kind of excitement when you chose to become a suffragette.’
‘I wouldn’t call it excitement,’ she said, shrugging, her voice stiff with displeasure. She had no wish to make small talk with any man, and certainly not one who treated her with familiarity.
An amused look crossed the reporter’s face but before he could answer her, Inspector Hammond appeared in the doorway. The police constable, who’d been lounging against the wall further along the street, sprang to attention and scurried to his side. Hammond glared at the assembled women.
‘I won’t be needing you to wait any longer. You may go.’
‘When can we expect to gain entry?’ Lila Clunas stepped forward. ‘We have work to do.’ Her annoyance sounded in her clipped tones.
‘Not until we finish here and the body is removed.’
‘How long will that take?’
‘It could be an hour or two or it could be all day. There’s no knowing at this stage.’
‘I trust that when you depart, you will leave a guard on the door to prevent any ruffian from the streets from entering.’
‘That won’t be possible, madam.’
‘In that case, I insist you lock the premises and deliver the key back to me.’
Hammond grasped the iron key, but Kirsty could see the displeasure on his face.
‘You may collect the key from the Central Police Station.’
‘That’s not acceptable, particularly when you cannot give me a time-frame for your departure. I insist you deliver the key to me.’ Lila’s voice brooked no argument, and she stared at Hammond until he looked away.
‘And where, may I ask, should I deliver the key?’
Martha’s soft voice intervened.
‘You can bring it to me at my house. It’s the one in the courtyard behind the shop.’ She gestured to the close between the WFL shop and Peter Anderson’s bakery.
‘My constable can bring it.’ A faint smile twitched at the corner of his lips. Kirsty hadn’t seen him smile before and thought it made him seem less fierce.
‘Come,’ Martha said, ‘shall we convene to my humble abode until the key arrives?’ She looked at Hammond and smiled at him. ‘I trust it won’t be too long.’
Hammond didn’t answer her. Instead, he turned to the constable.
‘Run along, laddie, and get Davvy to bring the barrow to take the body to the mortuary.’
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Sweat trickled down Ethel’s back as she dashed backwards and forwards along the length of the spinning frame. Her hands were damp and slippery, and she feared she might lose her grip on the silvery flyers which stopped the spindles long enough for her to mend the broken ends of jute.
The heat in the spinning shed had reached an intolerable level; if it was like this midmorning, what would it be like later in the day? In the summer, she often wished she worked in one of the other departments, where it wouldn’t matter if cool air from an open door blew through the room. The smallest breeze wafting between the frames here, though, meant far more broken ends as the jute flowed from the roves, between the rollers, to the bobbins below.
Time dragged. The hands of the clock above the door seemed motionless. But, at long last, the whistle which indicated the lunch-break shrieked and echoed through the room. Ethel wiped the sweat from her brow and, with a sigh of relief, switched the machine off and watched it power down.
A box at the end of her spinning frame held her shawl and packet of sandwiches. This was where she sat to eat during the colder weather but on fine, sunny days, like today, everyone headed to stand in groups in the courtyard.
Eager to find a shady spot outside, she grabbed her sandwiches and bottle of water and hurried for the door. She selected a place near to the room where the winders worked and waited for her ma to come out. She didn’t have long to wait, and she stood to give her a hug.
‘I’ve missed you, Ma.’ The surge of emotion caught Ethel by surprise.
‘Me, too.’ Ma grasped her hands and looked at her with tears in her eyes. ‘But I’ve come to tell ye that ye need to go. Get out of here and don’t come back.’
‘Why?’
‘It’s Hughie. He’s found out ye’re a suffragette, and he’s threatening to kill you. Says he won’t stand for a suffragette in the family.’
‘That’s all talk and bluster. I can handle Da.’ Ethel would have crossed her fingers if her mother hadn’t had such a tight grip on her hands; she was holding so tightly Ethel’s fingers ached.
‘Not this time,’ Margery said. ‘He’ll be waiting for ye when ye finish work tonight and he’s got himself knuckle dusters. Says he won’t stop until ye’re dead.’
‘But what about you?’ Ethel’s worries over leaving her mother increased. ‘He’ll take it out on you.’
‘You can’t protect me. Ye never could. I’m used to Hughie and I’m used to his fists. He might give me a hammering, but he won’t kill me. He needs my wages.’
Ethel knew her mother spoke the truth, but that didn’t dissipate her unease.
‘I don’t know how you’ve put up with it all these years.’
‘Not much I can do about it. He’s the man of the house and men do what they want. When was it ever any different?’
Ethel freed her hands from her mother’s grasp and hugged her again.
‘If women get the vote, we can make it different.’
‘Ah, you and your vote. It’ll never happen.’
‘We’ll make it happen.’
‘Maybe. But if ye don’t get out of here, ye won’t live to see the day. Go, and don’t come back, Ethel.’
‘I can’t leave you.’ Despair clutched her. It was selfish to concentrate on pursuing her dreams when her mother would suffer.
‘You have to. Ye’ve no choice. I’d rather have a daughter I never see than a dead one.’ A tear slipped down Margery’s cheek. ‘Go. Go now. And watch out for your father!’
Ethel gathered her belongings together and left, making the excuse to the gatekeeper that she didn’t feel well. She ran along the road without looking back, even though this would be the last time she saw the mill.
* * *
Ethel hesitated in the hallway. The murmur of voices from the drawing-room suggested Martha had visitors, and she wasn’t keen for them to see her in her mill clothes. She crept past the door which hung ajar but had only reached the bottom step of the staircase before Martha came out of the room.
‘I thought I heard you come in,’ she said. ‘Will you join us?’
‘I can’t, dressed like this.’ Ethel gestured to her grubby skirt and blouse. ‘I’ll change first and have a quick wash. Will that be all right?’
‘Of course. But be quick about it. There have been developments.’
Martha returned to the drawing-room, leaving Ethel wondering what could have happened.
By the time she finished her ablutions and changed from her grubby mill clothes into something cleaner, she felt more able to join the women congregated in the lounge, though she hadn’t yet cast off the feeling they were her superiors. She turned back for a final look in the mirror before leaving her bedroom, adjusting the collar of her blouse with nervous fingers and pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. With a deep breath, she tried to calm her nerves, wondering why meeting other suffragettes, who were of a higher social standing, was scarier than facing a hectoring crowd as she dished out leaflets at rallies.
The sound of the doorbell echoed through the house as she closed her bedroom door. By the time she descended the stairs, Aggie was ushering a bobby along the hall.
Ethel’s breath caught in her throat. It was the same one who had rescued her from her father and whom she’d seen yesterday at the police station. As she reached the bottom step, he turned.
‘It’s Miss Stewart, i
sn’t it,’ he said. ‘I trust you’ve had no further trouble from your father?’
Heat crept from Ethel’s neck to her cheeks.
‘Thank you for your help yesterday. I’m hoping to stay out of my father’s way, but I’ve heard he’s making threats against me.’ Ethel avoided the bobby’s eyes, feeling that, perhaps, she shouldn’t have told him that.
‘If I can be of any help . . .’
‘This way, sir,’ Aggie interrupted. ‘I believe the ladies have been waiting for your arrival.’
Constable Buchan raised his eyebrows, offering Ethel an embarrassed grin before following the maid into the drawing-room.
Ethel entered behind him and surveyed the women congregated there. Constance Drysdale sat, alone, on the velvet chaise longue to the left of the window. Two other suffragettes perched on chairs nearby, while Kirsty sat in an armchair at the opposite side of the room. Martha and Lila were engrossed in papers strewn on an occasional table, obscuring its walnut inset top. Apart from Kirsty, who looked up when the door opened, none of the others appeared to notice the policeman’s entry.
He waited a moment before shuffling his feet and clearing his throat to draw their attention.
Constance removed her gaze from the window and raised her eyebrows. Martha and Lila looked up from the papers and Lila laid her pencil down. Ethel frowned. Why were they gathered here? And why did they show no surprise when the bobby entered the room? It was as though they were expecting him.
‘Ladies,’ he said. ‘I’ve come to inform you that you are now free to return to your premises.’ He produced a key from his pocket.
‘Thank you.’ Martha rose from her chair. ‘I trust the inspector will keep us informed of developments.’
The policeman hesitated before replying.
‘I’ll inform him of your interest.’
As soon as he was out of earshot, Lila spoke.
‘It is obvious the police won’t keep us informed.’
‘I’m sure you are right,’ Martha agreed. ‘But I intend to press for information at every opportunity.’
Lila dropped the key into her handbag.
‘Florence and Helen are on this afternoon’s rota for the shop, though we will remain closed today. It will give us time to set everything straight after what has happened.’
Martha nodded.
‘Do you need me to help?’ she asked.
‘That won’t be necessary, but we can discuss how best to handle this situation when you arrive tomorrow. Come, ladies, we have work to do.’ Lila beckoned to the two women seated in the corner.
Ethel slipped further into the room and perched on the arm of Kirsty’s chair.
‘What’s happened?’ she whispered. ‘What have I missed?’
Kirsty leaned closer to Ethel.
‘There’s been another murder, and they found her in the WFL office.’
‘Who?’ Ethel’s breath caught in her throat.
‘The woman who saw Victoria at the Howff. I think her name’s Amelia.’
‘How awful. Were you there when the body was found?’
‘No, it was Martha and that reporter, Paul. I came along later.’
‘They were together?’
Kirsty nodded.
‘Where’s Paul now?’
‘He left us after the policeman said we could go. Something about needing to get back to the newspaper to lodge his copy, whatever that means.’
Ethel stared across the room at Martha, who was whispering to Constance and helping her adjust her feathered hat. Things were happening that she didn’t fully understand, and she wondered if they were being manipulated by Paul in his quest for headlines.
* * *
Constance was the last one to leave and Martha accompanied her to the door.
‘I am sure Archie will recover soon,’ she said, reassuring her friend.
She had been introduced to Constance on her arrival in Dundee, and they became firm friends because of their shared interest in the suffrage movement. Martha’s commitment to it was unwavering, but no match for the level of Constance’s involvement, especially in the more militant activities. Constance’s only weakness was her husband, Archie, to whom she was devoted.
‘The physician has prescribed complete bed-rest and a bland diet.’ Constance caught her breath. ‘He’s convinced it must have been bad oysters he ate last night. I told him they were out of season, but he insisted on having them.’
‘He’s young, he’ll soon recover.’
A wry smile tugged at the corner of Constance’s lips.
‘I am sure you’re right.’ She descended the stone steps to the courtyard and hurried through the narrow close leading to the main street.
Martha pondered the couple’s relationship as she returned upstairs. Constance was older than Archie, but they appeared to be happy, even though Archie had a roving eye at times.
Ethel and Kirsty were whispering together when Martha entered the drawing-room. Despite the differences in their backgrounds the two girls had become friends.
Kirsty rose from her chair.
‘I must take my leave. I fear I may have overstayed . . .’
‘Nonsense. You’re welcome to stay.’ Martha gestured to the chair Kirsty had vacated and crossed the room to sit beside her. ‘I worry that Ethel doesn’t have anyone nearer her age to talk to about the things that interest young girls.’
‘You mean things like fashion and boyfriends? I’m not interested in any of that.’ Ethel frowned.
‘Nor am I.’ Kirsty’s voice was quieter but no less firm.
‘That may be the case, but I am ten years older than you and it’s beneficial to have a friend your own age.’ Martha watched the two girls exchange glances. She wasn’t wrong. Her two protégés: Ethel, a mill worker, and the more refined Kirsty, had grown close in the short time they’d known each other.
‘I take it you are aware of why we were gathered here today?’ she asked.
‘Kirsty told me about Amelia’s death.’ Ethel shuddered. ‘That makes three now. Do you think someone is targeting suffragettes?’
‘It’s possible. You missed the meeting, so won’t know that the outcome is we intend to restrict our activities on the streets for the time being and to alert as many of our members as we can. WSPU and NUWSS members will need to be made aware, so Lila is arranging for this to happen. We will also issue a warning during our meeting next week in the Kinnaird Hall. In the meantime, I want you both to be careful when you are out and about. Try not to be alone on the streets in the evenings.’
‘I’m not sure the bobbies are treating this seriously.’ Ethel drummed her fingers on the arm of the chair. ‘Shouldn’t we be doing more than just alerting folks to be on guard?’
‘I must admit I find the inspector rude and dismissive, but surely his job is to find the killer.’
‘You haven’t had much experience dealing with bobbies.’ Ethel laughed mirthlessly.
‘And you have?’ Martha’s eyebrows rose. Ethel’s outlook on life continued to astonish her.
‘Not personally.’ Ethel shrugged. ‘But we used to see a lot of them where I lived before. They didn’t need an excuse to arrest the young lads, even if they hadn’t done anything, and they liked to wallop heads with their batons. When the posh boys came and caused trouble, though, that was a different matter.’
Martha leaned back in her chair with a smile on her face.
‘I believe you are cynical, Ethel.’
‘With good reason. But don’t you see? It’s because the murdered women were suffragettes. The bobbies look on them as nuisances and are glad to be rid of a few, so they won’t do anything.’
‘You might have a point. What do you think, Kirsty?’
‘I have little experience with the police. But I think Ethel’s right. I saw the way the inspector looked at us. We were like the dirt under his fingernails. I didn’t like his attitude.’
‘Where I come from, we deal with things ourselves,’ Ethel stat
ed. ‘Leave it to the bobbies and they’ve got you over a barrel. They’ll fiddle with the evidence and make it fit so they can say they’ve done their job. Doesn’t matter to them whether they get the right person or not.’
‘Are you saying they falsify evidence?’ Martha couldn’t keep the shock from her voice.
‘I’ve seen it happen. There’s more than one lad locked up for something he didn’t do, just because it suits the bobbies.’ Ethel clenched her fists. ‘My da should be in prison for beating on my ma. He broke her jaw once, and she’s had broken arms and more bruises than you can count. But do they come for him? No, because they know he’s tough and gives as good as he gets. Besides, he’s a man, and a man’s allowed to beat his wife.’
‘Oh, Ethel, I am so sorry.’ Martha wanted to throw her arms around the younger woman, but she didn’t think the girl would welcome the embrace.
‘And now, he’s threatened to kill me because I’m a suffragette. I’ve had to leave my job so he can’t find me.’ Ethel’s voice was muffled, indicating the shame she felt with this admission.
Kirsty leaned over and took hold of Ethel’s hands.
‘That’s terrible, but you’ll always have friends willing to help.’ She looked at Martha, a question in her eyes.
‘Of course,’ Martha responded. ‘Your home is here now, and we will make sure you stay safe.’
‘That’s easier said than done. And now, because of him, I’ve no job and no way of supporting myself.’
‘That is not something you need to worry about.’ Martha’s voice brooked no argument. ‘The women who belong to our cause have always looked after each other. If your father finds you and becomes more of a problem, I can arrange for you to help the cause elsewhere.’
‘You mean leave Dundee?’
Dangerous Destiny Page 14
