She was suddenly alert. Have they come to release me? she wondered. Have they decided the sentence was unjust? The key sounded in the lock and a shaft of light was visible.
There were angry protests as another woman was pushed inside. Goodness, Amy had scarcely ever heard such language, especially from a woman. As the door was locked again the hatch opened and there was light again momentarily.
‘Try to get into your bed without disturbing the other prisoner,’ came the voice of the warder.
Obscenities rang round the cell and Amy saw the vague shape of her new companion, lurching on to the other bed. She had the impression the woman was not much older than herself. The hatch was closed and the room was dark again.
‘For Chrissakes!’ her cellmate ranted. ‘Do they think I ain’t tried to get an honest job? Once they know you ain’t respectable no-one will take you on and you’re back on the streets again.’
Amy noticed the smell of alcohol now. ‘It’s the men what cause all the bother,’ her companion went on. ‘It’s all Stan’s fault – he put me on the street in the first place when we couldn’t pay the rent, and he makes me stay there. He gets all the money and I get roughed up by the men and belted by Stan if I ain’t earned enough.’
Amy tried to close her ears as the woman mentioned Stan again and another man and said what she would like to do to them.
If only she’d stop I might get some sleep again, she thought.
After a while the woman fell silent. She’s one of those lost women who walks the streets, Amy thought. She had heard stories about their lives of degradation, and occasionally she and her close friends had speculated on what life must be like for such a person. Usually they had moved on swiftly to a more wholesome topic of conversation, for it was barely respectable even to contemplate such subjects.
Now the woman was starting up again, rambling incoherently about the evil men she knew. Amy pulled the thin pillow over her ears, reducing the volume and making the words less distinct. At last she made out snores from the other bed. It was not how she had imagined spending her wedding night.
* * *
The remaining hours of darkness were soon over and there were noises outside. Amy’s cellmate was still snoring. Amy felt stiff and her mind would not stop reviewing the events of the previous day. She clenched her fists, still furious with herself for causing her own downfall.
Bread and tea arrived and her companion woke up and grabbed her breakfast. She sat at the small table while Amy perched on her bed, scared to approach her cellmate.
‘Here, you,’ the woman said, ‘was I loud when I came in last night? I’d had a skinful, but trust me, I needed it.’ She was plump, with lank light brown hair, and smelled as though she had not washed recently. ‘What are you in here for?’ she went on curiously.
‘I’m a Suffragette,’ Amy said.
‘Oh, my gawd. Do you and your mates think you can do any good? Mind you, we could do with someone standing up for women. Don’t suppose you’ll ever make things right for people like me, though.’
Something with a lot of legs scuttled across the stone floor.
‘I know there’s lots of injustice in the world,’ Amy said, thinking of the unreasonable power wielded by Colonel Fairlawn. ‘What’s your name?’
‘Polly.’
‘I’m Amy.’ She was appalled by her cellmate’s way of life but curious just the same. She listened compulsively as Polly gave a rambling account of her daily life.
‘It was that first fellow what got me into trouble that began it all,’ she said. ‘I had me little boy and the man scarpered. Me and me kid and me mum, we can’t afford to live if I don’t do the job.’
A jug of cold water was delivered and Amy washed as best she could. Polly splashed her face absentmindedly.
Amy’s day stretched ahead mercilessly – and not just one day, but a whole week.
Before long, there were footsteps outside and another warder unlocked the door. ‘Polly Carter, we’ve got a different cell for you.’
‘Oh, for Chrissakes.’ Polly lurched to her feet and shuffled to the door.
‘Sorry you were made to share with this coarse woman,’ the warder said to Amy.
‘Goodbye, Polly,’ she said, not wanting to appear unkind, though relieved she would not have to spend more time with her. Would she have another companion, with a similar background? If only she could be placed with another Suffragette, but they had given up civil disobedience now, so it would only happen if another unfortunate was belatedly caught for a crime from a year or so earlier.
The cell was quiet now, but her thoughts were oppressive. Then the warder came back and moved her to a cell where she could be in solitary confinement. ‘You won’t have to share with a street woman,’ she said, apparently having taken pity on Amy.
The new cell was darker and even smaller than the first, with only one bed.
‘Is it possible to have something to read?’ she asked, desperate for diversion.
‘What do you think this is, a public library? Tell you what, I’ll see if there’s an old newspaper one of the staff has finished with.’
When the warder brought a plate of thin stew for her lunch there was also a two-day old newspaper. The stew was fatty and unappetising. When she had eaten what she could, Amy turned her attention to the war news with more than usual interest.
* * *
The weekend seemed interminable. Amy found herself compulsively counting the bricks on the wall.
Edmond will be preparing to leave, she thought desperately. If only he’d write to me. Do people get mail in here?
What about visitors? I feel sure he’ll have tried to get to see me – perhaps it’s hard to visit at short notice?
Sometimes her thoughts turned to Polly. She was forced now to think of the hideous lives some other women lived. The woman had made mistakes, but the abuse she had suffered upset Amy. Her lack of means to extricate herself from her problems made it all the worse.
She had read almost every page of the newspaper, except the casualty list. On the entertainment page she had found a favourable review of the play being performed at the London theatre she and Edmond had planned to visit, compounding her frustration.
* * *
By Monday morning she heard the sound of rain dripping outside and the air was fresher. Edmond will be setting off with his comrades, she thought, off to Flanders. Her tears flowed freely. I’ve only got three more days here now, she realised, but when they let me out it’ll be too late.
She had stared at the wall ahead for so long that she could visualise the rows of bricks with her eyes closed.
A warder she had not seen before arrived next morning with some letters for her. ‘One of these arrived on Friday,’ she admitted. ‘We lost track of which cell you were in.’
She was angry as she snatched the envelopes, though it was true she had been moved. She recognised Edmond’s handwriting on two of them and ripped open the one with the earlier postmark.
My darling Amy, she read.
It’s terrible the way they treated you. I hate Colonel Fairlawn for making an example of you. As you know, I understand what you did. I admire you for refusing to give them the names of other women who were there.
I am worried about how they are treating you in jail.
I can’t describe how wretched I am that our wedding was prevented and we will not see each other before I leave for Flanders.
As soon as possible I’ll get leave so we can be married.
Yours forever, Edmond
She clutched his letter, feeling brighter just from reading his tender words. She turned to the other letter. It was a brief note of farewell.
I’m off to Flanders tomorrow, darling. If only they’d let me wait for your release. I must make the best of the situation and try to serve my country bravely.
I promise to write regularly. Please write to tell me all your news.
Please God it isn’t long till we’re together again.
Now her spirits were failing anew. She remembered how long the list of casualties had been in the newspaper she had been reading.
The other letter was from her father. He wished her sentence had not been so harsh. He had been anxious about how she would get home when she was released, for he could not take a day off work. However, Uncle Arthur had now offered to come to London and escort her home.
Father doesn’t actually condemn what I did, she thought, but I can tell he was hurt at discovering my guilt. Edmond doesn’t say what his family think either. They’re bound to be horrified.
I must write to the Derwents, and say how sorry I am for all the trouble I’ve caused. I’m not sure they’ll ever forgive me but they deserve an apology. Will they give me pen and paper to write a letter here in jail? Even if they do, I don’t trust the warders to post it. I’d better leave it till I’m released.
* * *
There was nothing for it but to leave jail in her wedding dress, to the hilarity of those of the staff she passed on the way out. As they opened the gate for her what a relief it was to see Uncle Arthur’s solid figure waiting nearby.
He rushed to embrace her. ‘My poor Amy! Are you all right?’
‘Yes, Uncle. I suppose Edmond left as planned?’
‘Yes, there was nothing he could do to delay his departure. Your parents went to see him off at Larchbury station. They said he looked very smart.’
She wiped away the tears which insisted on falling. Somehow she had hoped for a miracle, some way they could still be wed before he left.
‘Your mother’s sent you some clothes to change into,’ he told her, passing her a Gladstone bag as they headed for the nearest underground station.
‘Thank goodness! Do you think there’ll be a convenience at the underground station where I can change?’
‘I don’t know, dear. There’ll be one when we get to the mainline station.’
The Ladies’ at important mainline stations were well maintained, she had found in her limited visits to London. In any case, who was she to worry, now she had experienced the squalor of a prison cell? How she longed to take a bath and wash her hair. She contented herself with taking a jacket from the bag and putting it on over her dress.
‘Thank you for speaking up for me in court, Uncle.’
‘You didn’t deserve to be treated so severely.’ His voice was gentle. ‘I so wish I could have persuaded them not to send you to jail.’
‘Is everyone very angry with me?’ she asked him as their underground train clattered through the tunnel.
‘Your parents were shocked and disappointed at first. Edmond and Bertie were quite effective at talking them round, though, and James understands how you feel.’
‘The Derwents – I dread facing them.’ She fiddled with her engagement ring, newly restored to her.
‘They’ve taken it badly, I’m afraid, though Edmond is determined they will still accept you. Your father told me that while they were seeing him off they could sense something of an atmosphere. Mr Derwent said “Good day” to them but his wife and daughter shunned them.’
Poor, dear Edmond. The effect on him was what upset her most.
Chapter Nine
Larchbury, Summer 1915
When Uncle accompanied her back from the station, Amy attracted curious glances from some of the neighbours. What a disgrace I’ve become, she thought.
She walked into her home, where Mother greeted her, neat as ever in a blue cotton dress. She was anxious to hear that Amy was well, though her manner seemed distant. Her uncle soon went on his way.
‘There’s a letter for you.’ Mother passed the envelope, which had come from France. Amy ripped it open to read Edmond’s news. He and his comrades were settling into their camp, a few miles from the Front. He’s so far away now, she thought.
Mother was unusually tongue-tied as she served Amy a large portion of steak and kidney pudding, which she fell on gratefully.
After her first greedy mouthfuls, she felt awkward. ‘I don’t smell, do I?’ she asked.
‘No. But you’ve only yourself to blame for getting in such a predicament,’ Mother said sharply.
Bleakly, Amy continued eating. If only her parents would at least try to understand. As for Bertie, he was away, training.
Mother brought her a cup of tea. ‘We did consider visiting you,’ she said, milder now. ‘It seemed difficult to arrange in the short time.’
She was thankful Mother had not witnessed her degradation in the prison. ‘I didn’t expect you to come,’ she said. ‘I was only there for a week… May I have some hot water for a bath?’
‘Yes, I’ll see to it.’
As soon as she could, Amy washed her hair and enjoyed scrubbing herself clean.
Later in the afternoon a knock came at the door and there was Florence. The two girls hugged. ‘What you’ve been through!’ her friend said, her soft hazel eyes fixing on Amy.
Mother offered them some tea, and the girls went into the garden, which allowed them to talk privately. They settled in deckchairs, though a wind had sprung up and the sky was darkening, threatening a storm.
‘I felt so guilty,’ Florence said. ‘I was at the demonstration too – I ought to have owned up.’
‘You didn’t come inside the pavilion or write any slogans,’ Amy said.
‘You were meant to be Mrs Derwent by now,’ Florence said as Mother came out and poured them some tea. ‘You should be living at The Beeches.’
Mother went back indoors.
‘There’s no question of going there now. What must they think of me? I’ve caused them so much embarrassment and trouble, however unintentionally, with the way the wedding had to be cancelled.’
‘At least Edmond will stick by you, and Bertie, of course.’
‘On Monday week I’m to report at Wealdham hospital to begin my VAD training. I’m impatient to start now.’
‘Was it very horrid in jail?’
‘I wouldn’t recommend it.’ She was trying to decide whether to tell Florence about Polly when it started to rain and they went back indoors and Mother joined them in the parlour. Amy sank into an easy chair: never before had she so appreciated her comfortable home.
Florence asked them for the latest news of Edmond.
Amy passed on what he had said in his letter; they could hear the great guns now. They were becoming accustomed to life in their camp, but as yet had not been involved in any action.
‘Bertie said he might be sent to Flanders soon,’ Florence said. ‘Have you heard any more, Mrs Fletcher?’
‘No – he’s impatient to go, of course.’ Amy’s mother looked more careworn than she could remember.
When Florence had left, Amy wrote to Edmond. Besides the limited news of his movements he had assured her how much he was missing her. Now she thanked him for the letter and the ones she had received in jail. She told him how much she longed to see him again, but words seemed inadequate.
If only I hadn’t missed the chance to be fully yours before you left, she wrote.
Soon Father was home and it was time for their evening meal. ‘Can you forgive me for the trouble I’ve caused you?’ she asked her parents.
‘I never expected to have a daughter who went to jail,’ Mother said reproachfully.
Shame swept over her. ‘If only I hadn’t taken part in that stupid prank!’ she said. ‘Did anyone say anything about it at the school, Father?’
‘Some of the other teachers were shocked,’ he told her. Mainly the older ones, she guessed. ‘A few support the movement for universal suffrage, but there’s little sympathy for women who take direct action.’
‘So long as I haven’t made life difficult for you,’ she said. She supposed his years of respected teaching would save him from any harsh reaction.
She put down her knife and fork. ‘I still support the cause,’ she told them, hoping that one day they would recognise its importance.
‘Bertie stood up for you,’ Father told
her, though he still sounded unconvinced.
If only she had stayed outside the pavilion and simply written a slogan or two in chalk, she thought. She could have expressed her views but there would have been far less chance of arrest.
‘Mrs Derwent was very put out,’ Mother told her. ‘Imagine how she felt, calling off the wedding because the bride was in custody! She remained dignified as she told the guests the ceremony could not take place, but I could tell she was seething.’
Tears filled her eyes. Edmond’s family had disliked her from the start: how must they feel now? She got up and left the room.
Once in her bedroom she gave way to sobs. How could she have compromised her future like that? But of course the incident had taken place just before she got to know Edmond.
How can I ever face the Derwents again? she thought. I should simply accept that I’m not worthy of them, or of Edmond, give him back his ring and try to make some kind of life without him.
For a moment it seemed the only way ahead, but remembering their tender moments, the prospect of losing him made her feel as though a shaft was piercing her heart.
Gradually she became calmer. He doesn’t want me to give him up, she reassured herself. He’s been supportive. All his letters say he’s determined to still marry me as soon as he can obtain leave.
She wiped her eyes, reached for her writing paper and wrote a simple letter to Mr and Mrs Derwent. In it, she expressed her heartfelt regret at what had taken place on what should have been her wedding day. She hoped they and Beatrice would in time be prepared to forgive her for all the trouble she had caused.
She wondered whether to deliver the letter by hand to The Beeches, but fearing a hostile reception, she dropped it into the pillar box, along with the letter to Edmond.
On Sunday she went to church with her family, noticing stares from Miss Miller and other acquaintances. Just before the service began, the Derwents walked past to their pew near the front, without glancing in her direction. Had they received her letter, she wondered, as beams of light streamed through the narrow windows, tinted red and gold from the stained glass. Just over a week ago I should have been here getting married, she thought. It ought to have been the happiest day of my life. How different my situation is now!
Until We Meet Again Page 8