A Woman's Place (26 page)

Verity’s wedding on the third of June came and went. Connie tried to think of that Saturday as just another day but it was hard not to feel it. In an effort to put it behind her, she turned to her suffragette work as far as a husband and baby allowed. She and Eveline made up a plan to take turns looking after each other’s daughters so that one or other could attend a meeting or a rally without getting too involved or being apprehended by the police.

In early June, they along with thousands of others were informed that in support of the campaign every suffragette society in the country would combine in one great and hopefully final demonstration on the seventeenth, an estimated forty thousand women marching five abreast in a gala of music and floats.

As well as being a national procession, with many in historical costume, it would be international with suffragettes from every country with their own banners and flags and traditional dress as well as women from every part of the British Empire. ‘Can you imagine the colour and the spectacle?’ Connie said, trying to feel excited.

She desperately needed to put her sister’s wedding the previous week behind her but the snub continued to hurt. Hopefully, marching in this huge procession would help take her mind off it.

‘With so much support we’ll win in the end,’ she said to Eveline, determined to concentrate on that.

It was to be called the Women’s Coronation Procession, arranged to take place six days prior to the coronation of King George V and Queen Mary. With the entire week already earmarked as one of celebration and festivity by the whole country, this procession would have the largest number of onlookers they could ever wish for.

‘It could even become a victory march,’ Connie said, following Eveline into her kitchen. ‘The way things are going, the Conciliation Bill has to go through. We’ve had so many setbacks in the past, it just has to.’

‘Let’s hope so,’ Eveline said solemnly. ‘What I’d like to know is how we are both going to be there?’

‘We’ve got to be there, both of us.’

Eveline remained glum. ‘If we both go, who’ll look after Helena and Rebecca?’ She so wanted to attend, but how could she expect Connie to do the honours on such a special day? ‘We can’t ask Albert or George,’ she pointed out. ‘Both of them are at work on Saturday mornings.’

Connie frowned. ‘You mean one of us stay behind?’ As Eveline gave a phlegmatic shrug, her frown deepened. ‘You don’t expect me to stay behind, not on an occasion like this.’

‘I never said you,’ Eveline said waspishly. ‘I suppose it’ll have to be me.’

‘You can’t.’

‘What other choice is there?’ Her tone was still sharp and Connie fell silent; as the silence grew, Eveline made a great business of wiping around her butler sink for a second time since washing up plates from her midday meal.

It was Connie who finally spoke, miserably and ineffectually. ‘We’ll have to work something out.’

‘What? How?’

Connie reflected for a moment. ‘Do you think we could ask your gran to oblige?’

‘I don’t think it comes into it,’ Eveline said, putting aside the damp dishcloth as she surveyed the sink that never really looked any cleaner for all the wiping, the stained digs and cracks in the porcelain indelible from years of wear. ‘I don’t think my Albert would care for me toddling off the second he’s home from work on a Saturday.’

She turned abruptly to Connie. ‘Though I expect your George doesn’t mind too much even if he had been working all morning and wanting his dinner? But everyone has to be at the starting point before midday to find out where they’ll be in the procession and everything. It takes time with forty or more thousand before they march off.’

She began to regret the sharpness of her tongue as she saw a blank look creep across Connie’s face. ‘What I mean is, our lives have changed. It’s impossible to do what we once did.’

Connie’s lips became a tight line. ‘Nothing is impossible. I’m going to tell George exactly what the situation is. He’ll understand. He’ll have to.’

‘What’re you going to say?’

‘That I’m a suffragette and I believe in what we are doing and that he will have to make allowances and June the seventeenth will be one of them.’

‘What about Rebecca?’

For a moment came a prick of suspicion that Connie might have already taken it that she’d look after her baby for her. But Connie had gone quiet, her small show of defiance seeping away. ‘I couldn’t ask George to take an hour or two off from work so I can go out. His job’s important.’

So it’s down to me, came the thought, but she held her tongue. The last thing she wanted was to quarrel with Connie though she felt dangerously close to it, beginning to seethe.

Connie was looking contemplative. ‘If we could find someone to look after the two of them. If you could persuade your mother to have Helena, perhaps your gran might be willing to have Rebecca. She has said how she likes having them around her.’

‘While we’re there with them,’ Eveline reminded her.

‘But she once said she would be happy to keep an eye on them if we had to be somewhere special. And this is special.’

‘No. I know what my mum’ll say,’ Eveline put in. ‘There’s going to be forty thousand there – they won’t miss one. I can just hear her saying it.’

‘If we all believed that, there’d be no procession, no one ready to fight, no chance for enfranchisement for us ever.’

Connie was right. Anger began to dissipate and, full of determination, she went to see her mother.

Dora Fenton’s answer was instant. ‘Yer think I’ve got nothing better to do than give eye to a baby so you can go gallivanting off just as you please? I’ve got a shop ter run, a liveli’ood ter keep going. Do I ever ask someone ter look after that shop so I can go gallivanting off?’

‘But Dad is in the shop.’

‘And I ’elp ’im. He can’t do it all on ’is own. Yer know he ain’t getting no younger. Whyn’t you go an’ ask your mother-in-law?’

Eveline bit at her lip. As nice as the woman was, how could she ask Albert’s mother to look after a child that wasn’t her son’s?

‘You’ve got May,’ she said desperately. ‘She helps in the shop.’

For a moment or two Dora was stumped. She knew she was being uncooperative, but Eveline had made her bed so to speak and it wasn’t her fault that she could find no affection for this baby conceived out of wedlock. Eveline had imagined she could share a bed with some upper-class toff then expect him to marry her when things went wrong. She didn’t realise how lucky she was finding Bert Adams to bale her out. Maybe he was a fool to have done so but a nice fool. She liked Bert Adams – in her estimation the finest man there ever was, stepping in like he had, whether he’d been in love with her or not. As for the baby, she’d feel different if Bert was the legitimate father, but he wasn’t and she couldn’t bring herself to love it. Almost as if it wasn’t her flesh and blood at all.

‘All this because you want ter go off enjoying yerself,’ she snapped. ‘Going off and leaving an ’usband what was good enough to ’elp you out of a sticky situation just when yer needed it.’

She turned away to busy herself flicking imaginary specks of dust off the sideboard with a duster she’d been holding the whole time Eveline had been here. The effort was a totally unnecessary chore; the living room gleamed like a new pin, May having cleaned and tidied this morning.

‘You ’ad the baby, not me. And only saved from disgrace because a decent man came along and got you out of a scrape, more fool ’im! Now yer want ter ’ave ’im come ’ome and see to ’is own dinner while you go off out. Not only that, yer looking ter foist yer baby off on someone else. If yer so set on going ter this rally lark, then take ’er with yer. I’m sorry, Ev, I’m busy.’

She waited, her back to Eveline, but no more entreaties came. Eveline wasn’t a fool – she knew when she was defeated. Proud too. Dora heard her go carefully down the stairs with the baby in her arms. Only then did she turn round, duster in hand, and go to the window to watch her daughter’s departure.

Eveline didn’t appear immediately, no doubt settling the child into her pram. When she did appear, wheeling the pram off, her pace was sharp, her head high and defiant. But that wasn’t her lookout. Eveline asked for all she got.

No doubt she’d pester her gran and get her way. Dora felt anger surge through her. Mum had always been a thorn in her side ever since Dad had generously handed the shop over to Len Junior, even though he was only a son-in-law, knowing he couldn’t manage it any more.

When Dad died, Mum began to see fit to poke her nose in concerning the shop, keeping tabs on how was it doing and all that, as if it was still hers. But it wasn’t hers. It was Len’s. She’d been left everything else and she wasn’t hard up. Dad had made a good living in his time even if he had got the gambling bug worse as he got older.

She, Dora, had let Mum know that truth in no uncertain terms, fend or please. They’d not spoken for years after that, and had only recently come round to a grudging reunion, usually at Christmastime. Now Mum was interfering again, taking Eveline’s side over the baby.

She turned away as her daughter turned the corner, and putting the duster aside went downstairs into the shop to lend a hand. The place was busy. On Saturday it was half-day closing, and everyone wanted to get a last few items in before lunchtime. There was only Len there, May having gone out on one of her rare afternoons with a friend who was out of work at the moment. May worked hard; she deserved time to herself.

Len looked up as Dora entered. ‘What did she want?’ he asked.

‘Nothing much,’ Dora answered as she prepared to serve the next customer, one in a line of several waiting. He was worked off his feet.

Connie’s request was proving more successful with Eveline’s gran. Victoria Ansell held the sweet child in sheer joy at having a baby on her lap.

‘I’ve never known such a pretty baby,’ she cooed, then let out a contrite little laugh. ‘I shouldn’t really be saying that, should I? Eveline might feel jealous. In actual fact you’ve both got lovely-looking little babies.’

She glanced down at Rebecca and began uttering senseless prattle that seemed to delight the child, who responded with little gurgling sounds of her own.

‘She enjoys good conversation,’ Victoria said, looking up. ‘So when d’you want me to ’ave her?’

‘On Saturday,’ Connie said diffidently. ‘I know it’s short notice.’

‘How much notice does an old lady need when it comes to having a little one all to ’erself for a few hours?’

‘I just thought … I only thought you might be able to …’

‘Be able?’ Victoria smiled understandingly. ‘I know I’m seventy – or thereabouts,’ she granted with a laugh, ‘but not yet in me dotage. I’ve got all me faculties and can look after a titchy one like this. When a baby starts getting on its feet, that’s when it takes young people with energy enough to run after them. But like this she’ll be no trouble to me.’

‘I’m so glad,’ Connie breathed. ‘I didn’t want to impose on you.’

Victoria grew serious as a sudden thought struck her. ‘What does your ’usband say about you going off? ’Ave you arranged with ’im about ’aving to look after ’imself, you ’aving to leave before he gets ’ome from work?’

‘I thought I’d ask you about the baby before I told him.’

‘And break the news to ’im?’

‘Yes, I suppose so.’

‘Hmm …’ Victoria handed the baby back to its mother. ‘Then I think you should ask ’im today. And I mean
ask
him, not tell him. He’s the one what goes to work to keep you all.’

As Connie stiffened she hurried on. ‘I’m not against women trying to obtain the vote. I’m all for that. But a man’s still responsible for his family’s welfare, and always will be. Unless, if and when you do get the vote, you think you can start wearing the trousers too, which of course won’t ever ’appen, no matter what. Two bosses in the family would end up ruining it.’

Seeing Connie’s face begin to fall, she gave her a placatory smile. ‘Don’t mind me. You go along, settle it with your ’usband. If he says yes, I’ll be ’appy enough to give eye to this sweet little one for a few hours.’

With a grateful young mother bent on her cause, Victoria found herself eagerly looking forward to Saturday with just a tinge of anxiety that she was still up to the task. But of course she was. She’d brought up seven children
and
helped out in that busy little shop; she’d been glad to see the back of it in the end, but she hadn’t forgotten how to care for a mere baby.

That was until not ten minutes after Connie had left and Eveline came knocking on her door. What could she say? What would her granddaughter think if she refused to look after her own great-grandchild after promising to look after the child of a comparative outsider?

Yes, she sighed, she’d be glad to and it was shabby of Dora to refuse to do one little favour. ‘Why couldn’t she?’ she asked.

Eveline’s neck went thin and stretched. ‘I took it she feels she doesn’t owe a duty to a kiddy she still sees as illegitimate,’ came the stiff reply.

Victoria frowned. ‘I can see I’m going to ’ave a word with that woman eventually,’ she said angrily. Immediately Eveline began invoking excuses for her mother.

‘She’s not against the baby. It’s me. She’ll never forgive me.’

‘Then it’s about time she learned to, and stopped taking it out on an innocent infant.’

After Eveline left, gratefully relieved, Victoria was left wondering just what she had let herself in for. Having told her that she too must
ask
not tell her husband what she’d planned to do, she found herself almost wishing both men would refuse to be put out, saving her the worry about coping with not one but two babies on Saturday. But she knew they wouldn’t refuse. Men these days were becoming far too soft.

‘He said yes!’ Connie was as excited as if she’d been given the moon. ‘He even said he’d try to be there to see me pass. He’s always been for women’s suffrage.’

Sitting in Connie’s top-floor flat with the summer sunshine streaming in, Eveline felt a wave of jealousy, not only because of this lovely flat but also because her own husband had not been half so forthcoming.