Suffragette by Carol Drinkwater Page B

if you had been offered an opportunity to study. If you could have earned your own living and not been forced to rely on
Father. I know what he put you through,” I said. “If you had been independent you could have chosen to leave.” It is the first time I have ever dared to broach the subject and she
pounced on me like a reptile after a fly.
    “You watch your mouth, my girl! I won’t hear a word said against your father in this house.”
    It was plain how she still misses him, though he has been dead for over six years now. Whenever I visit, she talks of him. “The life of a docker, the stresses and the booze sent him to an
early grave. Just past 40-years old, he was, when he died. He was a good man,” she says, more to herself than to me.
    And so to change the subject and because it was almost time for me to leave, I stroked her cheek and said, “Next time I visit I would like to invite Flora, if you will welcome her. She has
expressed a desire to see you again. May I?”
    “You’ll do as you will, whatever I say. You have high-class attitudes and think you know better than your own family, but if she wants to come then I’ll not stop
her.”
    “And perhaps you might consider coming to the West End and visiting us.”
    “Not bleedin’ likely! And have all them posh Bonnington folk saying, ‘She’s not one of us.’ No, I know my place, thanks all the same, Dollie. But yer a good girl.
You’re bright and I’m proud of yer.”
    I nearly fell over. She has never complimented me like that before.

14th June 1910
    Great good news! At last the Bill is to be debated in the Commons. It will make Sunday’s march an upbeat affair. I have persuaded Mother to accompany us.
    “It’s only to see,” she said. “And to stop yer nagging me about not knowin’ what’s what.”
    I am so looking forward to sharing such an important part of my life with her. Celia has agreed to come along too.
    “What about your grandmama?” I asked her, but she assured me that her grandmother sees it as a harmless “bit of fun” and a celebration of the new king.
    18th June 1910
    We marched from the Embankment to the Albert Hall. It was a glorious day. The sun shone warmly. Everyone was in good spirits. More than 10,000 people had come from all over the
world and there were dozens of bands playing. It was incredible. Even Mother looked happy, she who has been so opposed to my involvement with the WSPU. I think the fact she agreed to march with us
pleased me more than anything else. Her face was full of wonder. I had to take good care of her, though, so that the press of people did not harm her. She is still so frail.
    I introduced her to Miss Baker and to Mary Richardson, and all of them to Celia. They were all lovely to Mother. We read some of the slogans aloud because she couldn’t read them for
herself.
    We waved banners, carried flowers, sang along with the tunes. Hundreds who have been imprisoned for our cause marched together in a powerful band. It was all very rousing to the spirit. I felt
proud to be a woman, proud to be alive, proud to be a part of a movement that is fighting to make a difference.
    When we arrived at the Albert Hall, Mrs Pankhurst rose to speak first. Cheers rang out from all around us. She opened with the statement: “One word: Victory!” And then she read an
address calling upon the government to grant facilities for the Women’s Suffrage Bill before the end of the summer session.
    The crowds cheered her once again and laughed and shouted.
    “Gosh, I can see why you’re so enthusiastic,” Celia shouted to me through the din. “Your friend, Miss Baker, has offered to tell me all about what’s going on, and I
think I should be involved.”
    I was so glad she wasn’t disappointed.
    Then a collection was taken for the Cause.
    “Is that her then?” my mother asked. “Is that yer famous leader?”
    I nodded. “What do you think?”
    “Well, she’s distinguished and she’s got a way