Crooked Pieces (9 page)

Next I know, there are a bundle of women, all oily and fishy and I know not what, thrusting towards the gate, Miss Sylvia herding them like a sheep dog. As she passed me by she caught my arm. ‘Come on, Maggie. This will interest you.’

I struggled to say that it would not at all, and I really quite liked being wet, but such was the speed the group was moving that I was inside the palace before I knew it.

What a place is a palace! High, high ceilings, higher than a house or twenty houses. Stone and marble and all sorts. Voices clanging like bells off the rafters. Men dressed in the strangest garb like something from a panto, shuffling around and stamping their feet. It was all I could do not to laugh, for why would a man want to wear such frills and stuff and not be on the stage?

We were led along a great corridor into a hall and there we stood, steaming. After a few minutes a very sniffy gentleman with his hair smoothed flat like boot wax came to tell us that we might proceed to the Chamber. This we duly did and there stood, elbows on the mantelpiece, several gentlemen in black coats.

Miss Sylvia stepped forward. ‘I would like to direct a question to Sir Edward Grey.’

There was a slight stirring of elbows before the greyest man
you ever saw speaks out. ‘What is your question?’

‘Good afternoon, Sir Edward. I would be grateful if you could tell me why there was no mention of women’s suffrage in the King’s Speech today?’

The grey man barely moved. ‘I am not responsible for the content of the King’s Speech, madam.’

‘Are you not, sir? Then how is it composed?’

‘It is a combination of those bills deemed most beneficial for the nation as a whole.’

‘And the nation excludes women, who number the greater part?’

‘It is not for me to decide these things.’

‘No, indeed, Sir Edward, but may I ask if you are still willing to lend your support to the cause of women’s suffrage?’

A long pause.

‘Times change, madam. Priorities change. I am not aware of any great desire amongst the general community for such a bill.’

Miss Sylvia gazed at him. Had blood run through his body and not rainwater, he would have shrivelled. ‘Times do indeed change, Sir Edward. And those who fear to change with them may find themselves forgotten when history is written.’

The grey man at last looked provoked. ‘I think, Miss Pankhurst, when history is written there will be little doubt whether my name or yours will be the most remembered.’

Miss Sylvia gave him a quaint dark smile. ‘I agree with you entirely, sir.’

I asked Miss Annie later if she was sad at the Parliament’s refusal. She said, yes, but not surprised. ‘If I’d thought it could be done in a day, Maggie, I’d not have stirred from my warm bed. No, it’s a long road to freedom.’

Miss Sylvia, too, seemed undeterred by her treatment. In fact she looked happier than I’d seen her for a long time, though that may have been getting all those buns eaten, for it would be a sorry thing to have to throw them to the ducks.

Mrs Pankhurst spoke as of a great victory. I could not see it, for it seemed that nought had been gained except perhaps a few hundred head colds, mine being the very worst, I venture.

Cook was of like opinion as she mixed me a mustard footbath and boiled some sage leaves for my throat. ‘I knew no good could come of it. Giddy-gaddying. And now look at you. No good to man nor beast and lucky not to be in the infirmary.’

But she let me off working my Saturday and in fine sent me back to bed, not to get up till I had ceased sneezing and coughing.

Miss Sylvia, when she heard, was exceeding sorry and brought me a hot stone wrapped in a shawl to warm my bed, and some lemonade to cool my fever. I was by turns so boiled and frozen that I knew not what should become of me.

I lay four long days with wicked nights full of bad dreams – one when my ma came to me clasping a squealing baby, that when she unwrapped it, was a piglet and she said we would eat it for dinner if I didn’t finish its coat that I was knitting. I woke up screaming. Miss Sylvia came hurrying, for hers is the nearest room to mine. She wiped my head with a cool cloth
and told me never to fear a dream for they cannot come true whatsoever in this life. She stayed with me till I slept again and in the morning the fever had gone and I was much myself, although weak and a whole lot thinner which truly I did not mind, but Cook said, ‘What’s all this, Miss Skin and Bones?’ and made me eat a whole bowl of oxtail which truly I did not much fancy. Afterwards she gave me some syrup pudding and straightway my strength began improving.

Mrs Roe, too, came down to the kitchen to look at me and said I should not do anything strenuous till I was fully recovered. Cook turned all thundery and sniffy and when the mistress had gone she said she thought she knew not to overtax an invalid, she thought she knew
that
, and hadn’t she sat up brewing me beef tea
and
cast off all the stitches to Will’s coat and sewn it up while I was lying upstairs in bed?

I said I was sure Mrs Roe had not meant to be interfering and that I was very grateful indeed for all her care of me and truly believed I should not have got well without her. I told her, too, that I wished my ma had such a fine soul to nurse her and did not have to give birth in a hard cold house such as ours is.

Cook went quite quiet at this. When she spoke again it was as though nothing had passed between us. She asked me to gather some parsley for a sauce and when I came back she had laid out Will’s little coat, all beautifully finished, as from a quality shop, with red buttons all down it and a pocket added that I could never do if I knitted a thousand years.

Miss Annie came round tonight. After supper while Cook was drinking her porter in her room, she came down to the kitchen. Ma has had a girl. Mrs Grant attended her and, though the baby lay crooked and had to be pulled out with the tongs, it is not harmed much and Ma is gaining strength. She cannot feed it properly yet, so it must have cow’s milk boiled which is a great burden and expense for them. She sends her love to me and wishes I may go home soon to see my new sister.

I asked what they had called her, thinking it would be May, after my nan. Miss Annie looked down, quite awkward, which she rarely is. ‘I hope you will not mind, but your ma says she would like to call her Ann. I am to ask you first, she said, and send word soon.’

Well, I thought, there are no Anns in our family, but things change. So many things change. So I said, ‘If she will grow up as brave and kind as you, miss, it will prove the best name in all the world.’

Miss Annie smiled greatly, then she told me how since the rally hundreds of ladies have signed up to belong to the women’s movement, and how they are so overcome with letters she has persuaded Mrs Pethick Lawrence to take over the management of it all and the money.

‘What money, miss?’

‘Well, that’s the problem. There is no money just at present, and what there was I spent on buns and rail fares, and altogether made a fine mess, so it is a huge mercy that Mrs Pethick Lawrence will undertake the task. We shall move our headquarters to below her apartments by and by, for there are offices to let and it will be impossible to continue to gather in the Roes’ dining room.’

‘So there will be no more Wednesday meetings?’

‘Not here, at any rate.’

I don’t know why, this saddened me. Perhaps because I had enjoyed to see so many fine hats and clever ladies. And to be asked what I thought about things, stupid though my answers always were.

I realised that Miss Annie was looking at me very hard and was afraid I had put on a sour face. At length she spoke.

‘Maggie, I have something to ask you. You need not answer now. Indeed you must not. You must think very hard about it, because you are young and bright and I know that Cook thinks you have the makings of a lady’s maid if you set your mind to it. And Mrs Roe would be very sorry to lose you, although she understands the reasoning behind it.’

My heart stopped. ‘Am I to lose my position, miss?’ All I could think of was Ma and the new baby needing cow’s milk, and if I were to lose my wages what would become of us all? ‘Was it because I was ill? I will never be ill again, I promise.’

Miss Annie shook her head. ‘No, indeed, Maggie. It is not to do with that. You are highly valued here and, indeed, you would not have been ill at all if you had not walked so far in the rain with us that day. That is why…’ Again she stopped. Whether it was my light-headedness from the fever or what, I felt like someone falling off a cliff they never climbed. ‘Please tell me, miss. What is afoot? If I am to lose my place I must try to find another at all speed.’

‘Maggie, calm down. I should not have mentioned it to you before you are fully well. I beg you not to agitate yourself this way. See, I will tell you, but as I said, I want no answer from you till you have fully thought it through, and whatever you
say… Well, it will be as you wish.’ Then she told me.

It seemed that with so many women wanting to join the movement they had need of someone to work in the office, noting the names of those who applied, posting replies, sending out information of meetings and the like, and Miss Sylvia had suggested
me.
With my reading and writing, she said it was a waste that I should only sweep floors and make beds, for all the Roes were the kindest people in the world, and Mrs Roe herself had said it would be a grand step up for me though she knew not where to find such another. Thinking how I had polished her salmon, I thought she was likely right, but I could not think of leaving them without a great wobbling fear in my belly, for all it was the grandest hope of my life to make use of my learning one day.

That night I swear I slept worse than with the fever. I tossed and turned and every time sleep came near I would jolt awake again, thinking of an office, and writing and reading for my living, then jolt some more for fear there was no wages and so I must turn it down. But surely Miss Sylvia would not put me forward if there was to be no payment, knowing how I am placed? But then, she does not seem to care about money and indeed, some of her clothes are close to shabby.

Oh, how I rolled about that bed, half of me wishing I had never been asked, the other half singing with exaltation. Let God decide for He is mighty and a Great Warrior. I wished I believed in Him a bit stronger for that would have been a great help – ‘a very present help in time of trouble’.

Mrs Roe sent for me the next day and when I entered the parlour she told me to close the door and sit down. Then she said, much as Miss Annie had, that she would not like to lose
me, but she would feel forever guilty if she stood in the way of me bettering myself. She said how could she lift her head for the Cause if she had denied her own servant advancement? I said I did not know, and she had always been kind and a good mistress to me and I would do whatever she advised so long as there was some payment in it, for I could not afford to be without. She assured me that that had been thought of and said, if I was principally willing, she would ask Miss Sylvia to furnish those particulars, that I might know what was offered before I told my folk of it. I thanked her and said I was willing.

Twelve shillings a week! And my board with a lady off Oxford Street. Ma could not believe it when I told her. If I had not known better I would say she was close to crying.

The baby is quite rosy and sweet. She does not cry much and when she does it is a strange cold little piping sound – not like Will who could outpeal the Bow Bells with his bellowing.

Ma still looks weathered, but it is scarce a month and that is a bad time always, I recall. Her milk is not coming proper yet, and so there is still some to be bought. Still, with twelve shillings a week in my purse I shall have no trouble aiding her. Mrs Roe had sent word if Lucy would like to take my place, but Ma says she is too young and she has need of her at home still to mind Will and Evelyn. I am glad, for she would sulk and pout and be lazy and Cook would think ill of us all for sending her such a dullard.

I am to start as soon as Mrs Roe has engaged a suitable girl. Cook says nothing. I had thought she would be angry with me and call me stupid and ungrateful to leave such a household
for – what? I tried to ask her her feelings, but she just turned away and started skinning a rabbit. She knows it makes my stomach turn and how I have to go outside till it is over. That is all very well, but if I ask her every hour she cannot peel a dozen rabbits a day. I would be so glad to know her heart in this matter.

The girl is found. She is fourteen (looks ten. I saw her through the tradesman’s door). The child of some gardener’s groundsman and sister to the bakery boy, so at least she will not get her chest felt by
him
. Not that she has one, that I could see, and all the luckier for it.

I am to leave on Saturday when I have finished the dinner plates. Miss Sylvia says she will go with me to my new lodging and then to buy two white blouses and a black skirt which she will pay for, to come out of my first week’s wages. I am sick with exaltation. Today I bought a little book of recipes for Cook. It is plainly writ so I think she will manage. Mostly pies, which she knows how to make anyway, but it was the best I could afford and has a lovely picture of a salmon on the front, its head poking from the pastry and a sprig of dill weed between its jaws, so perhaps she will think of me when she sees it. Inside I have writ: ‘To Cook, who will always be in my thoughts. From Maggie Robins.’

Miss Sylvia gave me some paper and let me use her coloured pens to make a card for Mr and Mrs Roe. I drew a picture of a house and me with a big bag walking away up the path and inside I writ: ‘To My Kind Master and Mistress. Goodbye. From Maggie Robins.’

Today (Saturday) I had thought to be the best of my life, but when it came time to leave all I could do was blab. Mrs Roe was very kind and said it was not the end of the world and I would always be welcome to call, and Mr Roe kept humphing and in the end gave me a whole sovereign which was all clammy he’d been pressing it so hard in his palm. I didn’t know what to say for gratitude, so I just curtsied to him and cried some more. Then Mrs Roe said if I didn’t stop, they’d all be at it, including the new girl whose name is Jane and just stood there staring at me like I was a mad thing. Then Miss Sylvia came down and said, ‘If you’re ready, Maggie, we had better make a move.’ I asked if I might just say goodbye to Cook who had gone into her room after dinner and not come out. I tapped on her door and there was a sort of grunting noise, so I called, ‘Cook, it’s me. Maggie. I’m to go directly with Miss Sylvia.’