The Making of Mollie

by Anna Carey

  ‘Really?’ said Phyllis.

  ‘Honestly, Phyl, I really wouldn’t,’ I said. ‘I just said it because we really, really want to go to the meeting. But I’d rather not get there under false pretences. Or,’ I added, ‘blackmailing pretences.’

  Phyllis looked unmoved.

  ‘So why should I help you then?’ she asked. ‘You’re certainly not behaving in a way worthy of the cause.’

  I knew she was right.

  ‘I can’t think of a reason,’ I said honestly. ‘Only that we really do believe in the cause, and we really would like to go. And in fifty years I want to be able to tell my descendants that I was at the most important suffrage meeting Ireland had ever seen.’

  ‘Your descendants,’ said Phyllis. ‘What a horrible thought.’

  ‘I do understand why you wouldn’t want to take me,’ I said. ‘But surely it’s important to encourage the new generation of fighters for the cause! That’s me and Nora,’ I added, lest Phyllis be confused. ‘And we’ve both got money for the tickets.’

  ‘You’re not going to give me any rest about this, are you?’ said Phyllis.

  I shook my head.

  Phyllis sighed. ‘Fine,’ she said. ‘I can’t believe I’m giving in to your nonsense, but I’ll tell Mabel to keep tickets for both of you. But only because I believe hearing all the speakers will be good for you. It might build your character, which is clearly sorely in need of building. And you’ll have to pay me for the tickets in advance, because you’ve proven that you can’t be trusted.’

  ‘Thank you,’ I said humbly. ‘I really am sorry about, you know, the blackmailing.’

  ‘You’d make a terrible criminal,’ said Phyllis. ‘You confess all far too easily. And right now, you’d better go to school.’

  And so that was how Phyllis agreed to take me and Nora to the meeting. I knew she’d give in eventually – she always does. That afternoon, after I’d handed over money for my ticket (she said Nora could pay on the day), she got Mabel to reserve tickets for all four of us. Afterwards, she told Mother and Father she was taking us to a recital on Westland Row. Luckily, she’d made sure that Mother was otherwise engaged – she and Father were going to visit Father’s old school friend Mr. Campion in Clontarf – so there was no chance of Mother inviting herself along to the show. I still feel guilty about even mentioning blackmail, though. Sometimes I wonder if politics is good for one’s soul. It does seem to have made me terribly ruthless. Though I comfort myself with the knowledge that I would never have told on Phyllis, really. I hope you know that, Frances, because I can’t imagine you’d approve of blackmail, even for a good cause.

  To make up for my wickedness, I decided to do some more chalking. After all, there are still a few days until the meeting, and Mother wasn’t going to be at home that afternoon. But when I suggested doing it to Nora and Stella they both thought we might be pushing our luck.

  ‘I know that man on College Green was quite amusing,’ said Nora, ‘but imagine if he’d dragged us off to the police or written to our parents or something. Maybe we should wait a while before we try it again.’

  ‘Are you a girl or a mouse?’ I said. ‘Besides, the meeting’s on Saturday. We won’t get another chance to chalk about it.’

  ‘I am most definitely not a mouse,’ said Nora. ‘As I think you know. But I can’t tell my mother I’ve gone to your house for two days in a row.’

  She had a point. I would only have to make excuses to Julia and Harry. And while both of them would probably tell Mother and Father if they actually knew I was out doing suffragette things, they wouldn’t bother telling Mother and Father if I was a little bit late home. Mostly because they knew I could tell on them for doing the same thing. Even Julia dawdles with Christina some days.

  ‘Well, I’ll do it by myself,’ I said. I felt I owed it to the cause. ‘And I don’t need to go as far across town this time. I can just do it in Rutland Square.’

  So that’s where I went. I still had some chalk in my coat pocket from the day before. I did feel a bit nervous walking into town on my own. I tried not to think about the dreadful old lady stealing all Florence Dombey’s expensive clothes, and comforted myself with the thought that none of my clothes looked particularly expensive. Not expensive enough to tempt a mad thief, anyway.

  It didn’t take long to reach Rutland Square, which was fairly quiet, to my great relief.

  I got out my chalk and found a nice prominent spot outside Charlemont House. I was kneeling on the ground writing VOTES FOR WOMEN! COME TO THE MEETING IN ANTIENT CONCERT ROOMS 1ST JUNE, 8PM. ADMISSION 1/6 in nice large letters when a voice somewhere behind me called, ‘Mollie?’

  I scrambled to my feet and whirled around to see a boy walking towards me.

  It was Frank. He was carrying a paper parcel and staring at me in a baffled sort of way.

  ‘What are you doing on the ground? Did you fall?’

  ‘I’m fine,’ I said, as Frank’s glance fell on the chalked letters. His greeny-blue eyes widened. They are rather a nice colour. I mean, you notice it, unlike the colour of my own eyes, which are a sort of nondescript grey (as you have probably forgotten – that’s how unexciting they are).

  ‘Did you write this?’ he said.

  ‘Of course,’ I said. I tried to sound defiant, but all I could think of was what would happen if Frank told Harry about this. Harry would definitely not keep it to himself. And I could only imagine what Mother and Father would say if they knew I was crawling around on the ground chalking suffragette messages for all the world to see. I felt sick at the thought.

  ‘What are you doing in town?’ I said, in a rather accusatory fashion. I hoped my haughty tone would distract him from thinking about what I’d just written.

  ‘My school’s around the corner, you know,’ said Frank. He held up his parcel. ‘And my rugger boots were being repaired in a place down the road. I just collected them.’

  ‘Oh,’ I said.

  ‘Look here,’ said Frank. ‘If you think I’m going to tell, well, anyone about all this, then you needn’t worry. I promise I won’t say a word.’

  I felt a flood of gratitude as I gazed up at him (he really is a lot taller than I am), but then I had to remind myself that no matter how nice he may seem, Frank is a friend of Harry. So I tried to sound very stern as I said, ‘Good. Because this is terribly important and if anyone found out about it, I’d get into awful trouble.’

  ‘I know it’s important,’ said Frank. ‘I do think women should have a say, remember?’

  I thought of that conversation when he helped me catch Barnaby The Menace. He had been awfully nice that day. And I know he hadn’t told Harry about me losing The Menace, because if Harry knew about that he would have had plenty of rude things to say about me being a feeble girl who couldn’t even hold onto a small fluffy dog (even though Harry knows perfectly well that the dreadful Menace has the strength of a dog three times his size).

  ‘I remember,’ I said.

  Frank looked down at the chalk.

  ‘I didn’t realise you were really, you know, an active suffragette,’ he said. ‘Aren’t you awfully young?’

  ‘I’m only a year younger than you,’ I said indignantly.

  ‘I didn’t mean it like that,’ said Frank. ‘I just meant, well, I knew you agreed with their ideas. But I thought all the women who went to meetings and wore posters and all that were grown-ups.’

  ‘Well, they are,’ I said. ‘Nora and I have just been doing this chalking on our own. I mean, we haven’t got any official connections with any of the suffrage societies and leagues.’

  I didn’t tell him that Phyllis did. I might not mind Frank knowing about my activities (such as they are), but I knew Phyllis wouldn’t want me to tell anybody about her own involvement without her permission.

  To my surprise, Frank looked impressed by my revelation. It was rather nice to see him look at me with something a bit like admiration. He’s the only boy who ever does, after all. Not th
at I really see any boys besides Harry. I might as well be in a boarding school like you for all the contact I have with the opposite sex.

  ‘Have you done lots of this chalk business?’ he asked then.

  For a wild moment, I considered telling him that yes, we went out five times a week and gave speeches on Saturdays too. I bet he’d have been impressed by that. But I couldn’t bring myself to lie.

  ‘Well, this is only the second time,’ I admitted. ‘We were out yesterday.’ And I told him about the man that thought we were praying.

  He laughed. He has an awfully nice laugh, the sort that makes you want to laugh too.

  ‘I wish I’d seen that,’ he said, smiling.

  ‘His face was a picture,’ I said, smiling back at him.

  ‘What do they think about all this at your school?’ asked Frank.

  ‘Well, our teachers don’t know about it,’ I said. ‘As far as I know. But I don’t think all of them would be against it. I mean,’ I added, ‘I don’t think they’d be against women getting the vote, but they probably wouldn’t want any of us girls going around, well, doing things like this.’

  ‘Especially in that hat,’ said Frank.

  We don’t have a uniform in our school (though there is talk of bringing one in next year) but I did have a brooch with the school crest pinned to my hat ribbon. It’s been rather a craze in the Middle Grade this year.

  ‘I hadn’t thought of that,’ I said. ‘Oh dear, do you think someone might tell them? The school, I mean?’ I had a horrible thought of that man turning up at the school and telling Mother Antoninas all.

  ‘Oh, I doubt it,’ said Frank. ‘It sounds like he was too shocked by your daring deeds to notice things like hats.’

  ‘Oh, good,’ I said. ‘I mean, it’s not like I don’t want to, you know, stand up for my beliefs. But I’m not keen on getting into trouble if I don’t have to.’

  ‘That sounds like a very sensible attitude to me,’ said Frank. He looked down at the chalked slogan again. ‘Are you going to do any more chalking? I can keep sketch for you if you like.’

  I stared at him.

  ‘Would you really?’ I said. A rather low suspicion came into my head that Frank was somehow being put up to all this niceness by Harry as some sort of trick. They are friends, after all. And Harry is definitely the sort of boy who would pretend to keep sketch and then run away just when a policeman walked by – at least if he was meant to be keeping watch for me. He probably wouldn’t do it to his actual friends.

  But Frank seemed to be genuinely sincere.

  ‘Well, yes,’ said Frank. ‘I think what you’re doing is marvellous. None of the boys at school are brave enough to do something like this.’

  Well, I hadn’t intended to chalk any more, but really, Frances, how could I just go home after he’d said something like that?

  ‘All right,’ I said. ‘Let’s go round the corner, the Frederick Street side. It’s on the way home.’

  We walked around the corner in companionable silence. He is very easy to be around, for some reason. When we were at the side of the church, I said, ‘All right, I’ll do it here. Watch out for policemen.’ Of course, I still had no idea whether policemen would mind chalking or not, but it made it all sound much more dangerous and exciting. I got down and used the last of my chalk to write VOTES FOR WOMEN MEETING! ANTIENT CONCERT ROOMS SATURDAY 8PM. TICKETS 1/6 as quickly as I could.

  ‘Right,’ I said. ‘That’ll do.’ I sounded very brisk and businesslike, even though I felt all wobbly and excited inside. I know I keep saying this, but I really think I must be a good actor. I should try taking part in the next school production if they ever actually let us day girls do something again.

  ‘We’d better go before we get arrested, for defacing public property’ said Frank, but not in a serious way. He looked as if he was enjoying himself tremendously as we walked quickly towards Dorset Street.

  ‘To be honest,’ I said,’ as we crossed the road, ‘I’m not entirely sure you really need to watch out for policemen. I think chalking is all right. It’s just paint that they object to. Legally, I mean.’

  But this didn’t seem to bother Frank.

  ‘Oh well,’ he said cheerfully, ‘it still felt like we were breaking the law. Quite thrilling, really. I only wish I could tell the boys at school about it.’

  I looked at him anxiously.

  ‘You won’t, though, will you?’ I said. ‘You promised.’

  Frank looked affronted.

  ‘Of course I won’t,’ he said. ‘My word is my bond. Or something like that. You needn’t worry.’

  I was glad to hear it.

  ‘You know what Harry’s like,’ I said. ‘If he found about this he’d go straight to my parents. And then I wouldn’t be allowed out of the house for months.’

  ‘You know, Harry’s not that bad really,’ said Frank. ‘I bet he wouldn’t tell on you.’

  ‘You don’t know what he’s like at home,’ I said. ‘No, actually, you do. You’ve seen him throw socks at me.’

  ‘I’ll admit he can be a bit … boorish,’ said Frank.

  ‘A bit?’ I said.

  ‘All right, then, very,’ said Frank. ‘But well, he’s a lot nicer about all of you when you’re not there.’

  ‘I find that very hard to believe,’ I said.

  ‘The other day Murphy – he’s a chap in our class – said something about it being hard lines on Carberry having a house full of girls,’ said Frank. ‘He knows Harry has three sisters.’

  ‘Well, I can only imagine that Harry agreed with him,’ I said. ‘He tells us how awful it is for him often enough.’

  ‘To tell you the truth,’ said Frank, ‘he defended you. And your sisters. He said that you were all “decent sorts”.’

  I couldn’t believe my ears.

  ‘You’re making that up,’ I said.

  ‘I’m honestly not,’ said Frank. ‘He really did. He said he’d rather have sisters than a brother who was always going to be better at rugby than you. Murphy’s brother,’ he added, ‘is on the first XV and Murphy isn’t even in the junior team with me and Harry.’

  I honestly couldn’t think of anything to say. I was so surprised.

  ‘I know he can be very annoying,’ said Frank. ‘And I won’t pretend he isn’t a rude beast to you. But you know, he might grow out of it.’

  And for the first time, I actually wondered if that could be true.

  After that, we didn’t talk about Harry. We mostly talked about books (we both love Three Men in a Boat and the Sherlock Holmes stories. I told him that my favourite book when I was younger was Five Children and It, and he said his was The Story of the Treasure Seekers).

  ‘I do like that one,’ I said. ‘But I rather like books where magic things happen. They make you feel as though everything could change all of a sudden, and be more interesting than it used to be.’

  ‘But I suppose things can change,’ said Frank. ‘I mean, a few months ago I bet you never thought you’d be chalking political slogans on pavements.’

  ‘I suppose you’re right,’ I said. It was rather a nice thought. Although not as magical as actually finding an ancient Psammead creature that granted wishes, like in Five Children and It.

  We had turned onto Dorset Street now, which is not a very magical place (though I remembered the bit in The Story of the Amulet when the children find the magical Psammead in a dingy pet shop on a street rather like it).

  ‘Do the boys at school ever say anything about suffragettes?’ I said. I was curious to know what boys around my age thought of it, and I couldn’t ask Harry without rousing his suspicions. Frank looked a little awkward.

  ‘I don’t think I should really tell you,’ he said.

  ‘It’ll be nothing I haven’t heard from Aunt Josephine and Grace Molyneaux,’ I said. ‘She’s an awful girl in my class.’

  ‘I’m pretty sure they say worse things than even Grace Molyneaux,’ said Frank. ‘However bad she might be.’<
br />
  ‘Oh, go on,’ I said. ‘I might as well know.’

  ‘If you insist,’ said Frank with a sigh. ‘All right. They say that suffragettes are just frustrated spinsters who want a vote because they can’t get husbands.’

  ‘Well, that’s not true,’ I said. ‘Lots of the leaders are married. And by the way, that’s exactly the sort of thing Grace would say. ’

  ‘And,’ Frank went on, ‘they say that London will never give us Home Rule if suffragettes keep demanding the vote. That they’ll use it as an excuse not to pass a Home Rule bill in parliament.’

  ‘I don’t see what the point of Home Rule would be if only men had a say in it,’ I said crossly as we crossed Dorset Street.

  ‘I see what you mean,’ said Frank. ‘But I don’t think the fellows at school would agree. Hey, watch out.’

  I was so cross I hadn’t noticed a large coal van coming towards us. Frank grabbed my arm and pulled me out of its path.

  ‘You can’t fight the good fight if you’re run over by a coal van,’ he said, smiling. He does have an awfully nice smile. Did I tell you that already? I realised he was still holding my arm. It was rather a nice feeling, but then he let go and we scampered across to the opposite pavement.

  After that, we went back to talking about books. It was so much fun that when we reached the corner where we had to go our separate ways I felt quite disappointed.

  ‘Thanks for keeping watch for me,’ I said.

  ‘Don’t mention it,’ said Frank. ‘I hope the meeting goes well. You are going, I presume?’

  ‘Of course,’ I said proudly.

  ‘Well, I hope it goes marvellously,’ said Frank. ‘And don’t worry, I won’t tell a soul.’

  I watched him head down the road and then sighed and walked the rest of the way home. Maggie let me in when I got there.

  ‘Where have you been?’ she said. ‘Your mother didn’t tell me you were going out.’

  ‘Oh, I just called in to Nora’s house,’ I said. This was yet another of my worryingly easy lies. ‘You don’t have to mention that to Mother, do you? I didn’t tell her I was going there.’