by Anna Carey
‘I suppose I won’t have cause to mention it,’ said Maggie with a smile. She glanced down at my skirt and her smile disappeared.
‘What on earth is that?’ she said. ‘That skirt only came back from the laundry last week.’
I glanced down and saw that there were white chalk marks where I’d been kneeling. I hadn’t brushed myself off when I chalked the second message.
‘It’s nothing,’ I said. ‘Just some chalk. We were, um, playing hopscotch.’
‘Aren’t you a little old for hopscotch?’ said Maggie.
And there was something about the way she said it that made me think she knew that I was lying. And that it was something to do with the movement. But she wasn’t going to ask too many questions.
‘It’s awfully good exercise,’ I said. Father’s clothes brush was sitting on the hall stand and I grabbed it. ‘I’ll just go out in the back garden and brush this off. I don’t want chalk dust flying everywhere.’
And before Maggie could say anything else, I trotted down to the kitchen and out the back door. The chalk brushed off my skirt easily enough, but I realised I had to be more careful in future. I know Maggie is on my side really – or at least the side of the cause – but I can’t forget what she said about how my parents would react if they knew that she knew about my activities. And I probably won’t go out chalking on my own again. I feel utterly exhausted from all the worrying about being caught. It is very hard being a secret suffragette sometimes. Still, I’m glad I did it. And I’m glad I met Frank. I can’t believe Harry has said nice things about us in school. Life really is full of surprises.
I will finish this letter now. Good luck with your play’s first night. I’m sure you’ll be marvellous. I hope someone takes photographs of you all in your costumes, then you can show them to me when you’re over here in the holidays. I can’t imagine what you’ll look like in your false beard. I wish we were doing some acting this year but the only middle-school girls who have been allowed put on a play are the boarders. Nora and I agree that this is extremely unfair. Some of the older day girls were in a production of Twelfth Night before Christmas, though, and Phyllis was surprisingly good as Juliet in her last year, so maybe we will get our chance to shine. Anyway, I hope you all shine this week - do write and tell me all. And the next time I write, I’ll have been to the big meeting. Let’s hope all our chalking has paid off and the hall is packed to the rafters!
Best love and VOTES FOR WOMEN!
Mollie
Sunday, 2nd June, 1912.
Dear Frances,
I don’t even feel like writing because I feel so annoyed and disappointed, but I might as well tell you all my woes when they’re still fresh. Last night was a disaster. Not the meeting itself – that went quite well. At least, I presume it did, because Phyllis says so. But Nora and I didn’t get to see any of it AND we had a fight, and it’s all stupid Mabel’s fault. Oh, all right, she’s not stupid – she’s been very nice to us in the past. And the fight with Nora wasn’t her fault. But I really am very annoyed with her at the moment.
Yesterday seems like years ago now. I was looking forward so much to going to a proper meeting and being a real part of the movement at last that I was counting the minutes until it was time to go. Unfortunately Aunt Josephine came over for tea in the afternoon, and there was a terrible moment when Mother mentioned that Phyllis was taking me to a concert that night.
‘I don’t think Phyllis is old enough to look after Mollie at a public concert,’ Aunt Josephine sniffed.
I held my breath, terrified that Mother would say, ‘Actually, Josephine, you’re right, I shan’t let her go after all,’ but she just said, ‘Oh, don’t worry, Josephine, I trust my girls.’ Which was a relief but did make me feel a bit guilty because, after all, we had told Mother a lot of lies. But the bad feeling had vanished by the time I got ready to go out. I wore my best frock and my new summer coat, and Mother said I looked very smart though she didn’t know what on earth I do to my hat ribbons because they looked as if someone had been chewing them.
‘You’ll do, though,’ she said, and she was smiling so I knew she didn’t mind that much about the hat ribbons. They weren’t so terribly bad really, just a little bit frayed at the ends. And so Phyllis and I stepped out into the sunny evening.
‘We’ve done it!’ I said, as soon as the door had closed behind us.
But Phyllis hissed at me to shut up and practically dragged me down the front steps.
‘The window was open,’ she said, when we had made our way a few yards down the road. ‘Mother might have heard every word. You’ve got to be more careful.’
‘Sorry, Phyllis,’ I said soberly, but I couldn’t stay sombre for long. I almost felt like skipping as we walked along, but of course I’m far too grown-up to do anything like that. I did find myself walking very fast though, to the extent that Phyllis had to tell me to slow down.
‘We haven’t even got to Nora’s house yet,’ she said. ‘If you keep racing along at this rate, we’ll all be bright red and absolutely sodden with sweat by the time we get to the meeting.’
‘Phyllis!’ I said, shocked.
‘Perspiration, then,’ said Phyllis. ‘Anyway, slow down.’
I suppose I really didn’t want to turn up scarlet and smelly, so I did slow down a bit. But it was hard to walk along in a decorous and civilised fashion, especially when we collected Nora and she was practically bouncing with excitement too. Phyllis was not pleased.
‘Calm down, you girls,’ she said. ‘I said I’d take you to this meeting because I thought you could behave in a civilised fashion. Please don’t make me regret it.’
So we had to stop bouncing along. But it was difficult, especially when Phyllis started talking about all the speakers who were going to be there.
‘Countess Markevicz will be there – she’s terribly impressive, everyone says so,’ she said. ‘I heard that she turned up at a suffrage protest in England driving a coach and four. With white horses.’
I couldn’t help hoping she would do something like that this evening, though Phyllis said it was unlikely.
‘Do you really think there’ll be protests?’ said Nora, after we’d got on the tram and were speeding up Dorset Street. ‘Against the meeting, I mean.’
Phyllis shrugged her shoulders.
‘I don’t know if they’d dare,’ she said. ‘They tend to be there when we protest other things – like the Irish Party in the Mansion House. But this time, they’ll definitely be outnumbered. And remember, if there’s a single sign of trouble you’re to leave straight away.’
We got off the tram in College Green and made our way along the high wall of Trinity College towards Great Brunswick Street. The clock at the front of the college had showed us we were actually a bit late, so we probably should have hurried earlier, though I didn’t dare say anything about that to Phyllis in case she refused to give us our tickets when we arrived (I wouldn’t have put it past her). She was already looking a little harassed.
As we went along, I noticed a couple of women wearing suffrage badges on their coats, also making their way to the meeting. One even had a rosette in green, orange and white, the I.W. F. L. colours, attached to her coat with the words VOTES FOR WOMEN emblazoned across the middle. I wished I had one myself, though I knew I’d never have the nerve to wear it anywhere any of my family could see it. Not for the first time, I wondered if I’m being awfully cowardly being a secret suffragette (at home, anyway). But I reminded myself that if Mother and Father knew, then I’d never be allowed leave the house at all, which would rather defeat the purpose of being open about my views. Nora was clearly thinking along similar lines because she said, ‘I wish we could wear those rosettes’ in a rather wistful voice.
‘Here we are,’ said Phyllis. She glanced at her very pretty watch that was a present for her eighteenth birthday. ‘And just in time, it’s practically eight o’clock.’
We had arrived at the Concert Rooms. And that was whe
n everything went wrong.
The green-coated woman I’d seen giving Phyllis the pamphlets (it seems like so long ago now) was waiting for us at the entrance, but she looked rather surprised to see us.
‘Hello, Phyllis,’ she said. ‘And … I don’t think we’ve met.’
‘This is my sister Mollie,’ said Phyllis. ‘And her friend Nora. Girls, this is Mrs. Duffy.’
‘They do know what’s on tonight, don’t they?’ said Mrs. Duffy. ‘It’s not a concert, girls.’
‘Of course we know,’ I said, indignantly. ‘We’re here to support the movement.’
Nora looked as if she were going to say something very rude, but luckily Mabel emerged from the vestibule of the Concert Rooms. Mrs. Duffy told her and Phyllis that she’d see them inside and headed into the building.
‘Have you got our tickets?’ Phyllis asked Mabel.
‘Do you mean tickets for the girls too?’ said Mabel.
‘Of course I do,’ said Phyllis. ‘I gave you the money.’
And that’s when everything started to go wrong. I realised Mabel was looking distinctly guilty.
‘I’m terribly sorry,’ she said. ‘But I didn’t realise the tickets were for them. I thought they were for Kathleen and Margaret.’
‘Well, I’m sure those two can get their own tickets,’ said Phyllis.
‘No, you don’t understand,’ said Mabel. ‘I’ve already given them the two tickets you asked me to get. And they’re already inside. I suppose I made them think that you’d told me to hold tickets for them.’
‘Really, Mabel, it’s not like you to be so scatty,’ said Phyllis crossly. ‘Your imaginary fiancé is clearly a bad influence. Well, I suppose we’d better get two more tickets, then.’
But when she went to get us some tickets, she was told that there were none left!
‘There’s not a spare seat to be had,’ she said when she returned. ‘And there are already people standing at the back.’ And I must admit that she looked genuinely sorry to be the bearer of bad tidings, especially when you consider that she hadn’t wanted to take us at all and that I had almost blackmailed her about it. Maybe she was wishing she’d followed my lead and walked faster.
‘So what can we do?’ asked Nora.
I think we were both expecting a seat to be produced from somewhere.
‘Well, you can’t go home on your own,’ said Phyllis. ‘I’m not having you roaming the streets at this time of the evening.’ A thought struck her. ‘I know, maybe you can wait in the vestibule. You might be able to hear the speeches there.’
We went into the vestibule, and through the open door that led into the hall I could see that the big concert space was decorated in wonderful banners and posters. Just then, there was an announcement that the meeting was about to begin and that everyone should take their seats.
‘I’m so sorry,’ said Phyllis, ‘but I’ll have to go in. Excuse me, sir!’ An attendant hurried over to her. ‘Is it all right if my sister and her friend sit here while the meeting is going on?’
The man didn’t look pleased.
‘We’re not a public waiting room,’ he said.
‘Oh please, sir,’ said Phyllis, gazing at him with wide eyes. ‘They’ll be as good as gold.’
‘They’d better be,’ grunted the man, and left us.
‘There you go,’ said Phyllis. ‘I really am sorry.’
And off she went, closing the door behind us. There was nothing for us to do but sit in the boring old vestibule while the attendants looked at us suspiciously. I suppose we should have grateful there were chairs and we didn’t have to sit on the floor. A moment later, we could hear the rumbling of applause and a muffled sound that meant someone was speaking to the crowd, but we couldn’t make out what they were saying.
‘This is even worse than the last time,’ I said. ‘At least we got to hear some of the meeting when we were crawling around on the ground.’
‘And the park is slightly more interesting than this place,’ said Nora.
We did, of course, consider opening the door and sneaking in, or just leaving and strolling around town.
‘But knowing our luck,’ said Nora gloomily, ‘we’d get thrown out if we sneaked in, or get run over by a tram if we went out. And no matter what, our mothers and fathers would find out.’
She was probably right, unfortunately.
‘And after all we did for this meeting too!’ I said. ‘Maybe we shouldn’t have bothered chalking. I bet some of the people who saw those chalkings are sitting in there right now instead of us.’
‘Maybe the man who lectured us is there,’ said Nora. ‘Maybe we converted him.’
It was a nice idea, but I was fairly sure we hadn’t. I felt terribly bitter.
‘I bet there are people in there who haven’t done half as much for the cause as we have,’ I said. ‘I bet there are people who haven’t done a thing.’
It was quite satisfying to grumble for a while, but the satisfaction didn’t last long. It felt like we were sitting in the vestibule for about five hours (even though it wasn’t nearly that long). Of course we couldn’t hear anything that the speakers were saying, but every so often we would hear an enormous cheer or a round of applause, which just served to taunt us. It was so unfair.
Normally Nora and I can talk to each other for hours and hours, but somehow the feeling of being shut out depressed both of us and after a while we didn’t really have much to say. And then eventually – I don’t know why – I said, ‘Do you like Frank?’
Nora stared at me in confusion. ‘Frank who?’ she said.
‘Frank Nugent,’ I said. ‘You know, Harry’s friend.’
‘Oh yes, him,’ said Nora. ‘I barely know him, though. I haven’t seen him for ages. I thought you barely knew him too.’
And I realised that even though I have been thinking about Frank quite a lot in recent weeks, I haven’t really said anything about him to Nora. Maybe it’s because I do rather – yes, I will admit it at last – like him, and I know that we’re not meant to think about boys like that yet. I know I’ve written to you about him, but it’s different telling someone face to face. It makes it all more real, somehow. And that’s why I hadn’t said anything to Nora. But I couldn’t go back now.
‘I’ve actually bumped into him a few times recently,’ I said cautiously. ‘And he really is awfully nice.’
‘You’re going bright red,’ said Nora. She stared at me. ‘Mollie! Are you in love with Frank Nugent?’
I could feel myself going even redder. It can’t be normal to blush like this, can it? Maybe I have a terrible disease. Like consumption. Does that make you blush or make you all pale? I can’t remember. I must ask Maggie tomorrow, I bet she’d know.
‘Of course not,’ I said. ‘I’m only fourteen.’
‘Juliet was only fourteen when she met Romeo,’ said Nora. ‘Why didn’t you tell me you were in love with him?’
‘I’m not!’ I said crossly. ‘I just like him, that’s all. He’s much nicer than you’d think any friend of Harry would be. AND he supports the cause.’
‘Really?’ said Nora, surprised.
‘Yes!’ I said. And I told her about meeting him when I was out with Barnaby, and about bumping into him on my second chalking outing. Nora looked rather hurt.
‘I can’t believe you didn’t tell me any of this,’ she said. ‘We’re meant to be friends and you’ve been having a … a secret love affair.’
‘Nora!’ I said, horrified. ‘Don’t be so vile. You sound like one of those awful cheap romance serials. And I have NOT been having a secret anything.’
I was so angry with her for implying such a thing that I couldn’t even look at her. We sat next to each other in silence for a few moments. But gradually my rage started to calm down and I couldn’t help thinking that if Nora had been having all these meetings and conversations with a boy and hadn’t told me about it, I would have been quite hurt too. So even though I was still annoyed about her saying that
nonsense about me being in love, I muttered, ‘Sorry for not telling you about meeting Frank.’
And Nora said, ‘Sorry I said you were in love with him.’
And then neither of us said anything for a bit.
‘I don’t know why I didn’t tell you,’ I said eventually. ‘I suppose I didn’t want you to think I was getting soppy over him. Or something. Because I don’t think I am.’
‘Are you sure?’ said Nora.
I sighed. ‘I do like him more than I’ve liked any other boy I met,’ I said. ‘But first of all, I’ve barely met any boys, and second of all, I know we’re far too young to think of boys at all. That’s what everyone says. And don’t go on about Juliet again because that was hundreds of years ago. You know things are different in the twentieth century.’ And I wondered what it would be like if everyone thought it was all right for a fourteen-year-old girl to be in love with someone, but I couldn’t really imagine what we’d do if they did.
There was another pause and Nora asked, ‘So, what was he like when he found you chalking?’
‘He kept watch for me,’ I said. ‘He really does support the cause.’
‘Hmm,’ said Nora. ‘Then I suppose I must approve of him.’ And she said it in such a funny, dramatic voice that I couldn’t help laughing.
Suddenly we could hear very loud cheering and applause coming from the hall, and what sounded like people stamping their feet. And then the doors opened and the crowd began to stream out of the hall. It was mostly women but there were quite a few men too, and most of them were talking enthusiastically to each other. They looked as if they’d enjoyed the meeting very much. Which was, of course, a good thing for the cause, though it did make me even more jealous. Finally, Phyllis appeared with Kathleen, Mabel and another girl who turned out to be Margaret. Their eyes were positively sparkling with excitement.
‘Oh, there you are!’ said Phyllis, who had clearly forgotten all about me while the meeting was going on. She pointed towards a bearded man who was talking earnestly to a woman in an excellent hat. ‘That’s Mr. Sheehy-Skeffington. You know, the editor of the Citizen.’
