by Megan Rix
The puppy looked up at Alfie and wagged its tail.
Chapter 2
NOVEMBER 1910
The suffragettes carried banners that read VOTES FOR WOMEN and WHERE THERE’S A BILL THERE’S A WAY. Mrs Pankhurst and her group made their way to the entrance to the Strangers’ Gallery but the gates were locked and they weren’t allowed to enter the Houses of Parliament.
Constable Tom Smith stood with the line of police officers that blocked Mrs Pankhurst and her group from going back.
He wasn’t enjoying his first day as a policeman. He was too worried that someone was going to get seriously hurt. And he couldn’t understand why so many police were needed. His ears were ringing with the shouting of the protesters and the shrill squeals of the policemen’s whistles as more small groups of suffragettes tried to reach the Houses of Parliament but were forced back with violence.
Mrs Pankhurst was shouting: ‘Just arrest them. Just arrest them!’
Tom remembered the words of the police commissioner: ‘Mr Churchill doesn’t want any arrests. We don’t want women clogging up the prisons. Just kettle them in so they’re tired out and go home.’ But Tom could see the passion for their cause in the suffragettes’ eyes. They weren’t listening to the police, and even old and disabled ladies were refusing to leave until they’d been allowed to enter Parliament and present a petition to the prime minister.
Across the busy street, Alfie saw Mrs Pankhurst outside the entrance to the Houses of Parliament with her group of suffragettes. There were lots of policemen standing in a line in front of them. He waved but she didn’t wave back and Alfie quickly put his hand down. Mrs Pankhurst had often told him it was best if as few people as possible knew that he worked for her. ‘Easy for an unknown boy to slip in and out of places undetected. But not so easy for a boy who is known,’ she always said.
Big Ben struck the half hour and the puppy shrank back and trembled with fear at the clanging of the great bell.
‘It’s OK,’ Alfie tried to reassure the little dog. ‘There’s nothing to be frightened of.’
‘Hey – there’s the sheep-trotter thief!’ one of the errand boys shouted. ‘Get it!’
‘Don’t let it get away!’ others yelled.
Alfie turned to see the gang of errand boys charging across the grass. The little Staffie took one look at the boys and ran off towards the busy road between Parliament Square Garden and the Houses of Parliament, with its tail between its legs.
‘No, wait – come back!’ Alfie shouted, but the puppy didn’t stop. It ran across the road and disappeared into the crowds of police and protesters.
Alfie lost sight of the puppy but he ran across the road after the errand boys who were chasing it, dodging a horse-drawn carriage and a motorized omnibus with an advertisement for Pears soap on the side of it. He did his best to weave in and out of the police, who were fighting with the suffragettes. The ladies were determined to get into the Houses of Parliament and the police were determined to keep them out.
‘All we want to do is deliver our petition,’ Alfie heard a lady say, as an elderly policeman blocked her way.
‘Why don’t you go home? Back where you belong!’ came the policeman’s reply.
The lady knocked off his helmet and he hurried to pick it up – policemen had to pay for their own helmets.
Mrs Haverfield chose this moment to ride Lightning into the police line that was blocking Mrs Pankhurst and her group, and one of them managed to escape.
Another policeman caught the lady who’d knocked off his colleague’s helmet and bent her arm behind her back.
‘Stop resisting and place your other arm behind your back,’ he told her as he put handcuffs on her.
Alfie saw Miss Billinghurst in her tricycle wheelchair just ahead. One minute she was in the wheelchair and the next moment she was on the ground.
Alfie ran to help her up. ‘Are you OK?’ he asked.
Miss Billinghurst was furious. ‘Did you see that?’ she shouted. ‘A policeman pushed me out of my machine!’
Alfie and another suffragette helped her back into the seat.
‘What kind of brute would push an invalid out of her chair?’ Miss Billinghurst wanted to know.
‘I’ll take you back to Caxton Hall, May,’ the suffragette said. ‘You’ll be safer there.’
But Miss Billinghurst wouldn’t hear of it. ‘Onwards!’ she commanded. ‘We’ll use my wheelchair as a battering ram to get through the police lines!’
The other suffragette pushed the tricycle wheelchair down the street while Miss Billinghurst pulled her crutches from the side of her wheelchair and held them out in front of her like lances.
Constable Tom didn’t know why they needed so many police for three hundred women, most of them well dressed, some quite elderly, and one or two very infirm. He didn’t like how some of the police were pushing and shoving the women. He ran to help an old lady who’d been knocked over, only to be roughly pushed out of the way by three other policemen, who grabbed her and forced her into a Black Maria police carriage.
Alfie was really worried about the little Staffie. ‘Have you seen a puppy?’ he went around asking, but no one listened. People were too busy rushing about, the police were holding on to ladies, while other ladies were trying to pull their friends away.
‘We just want to get to Parliament,’ they cried.
‘This is a peaceful protest.’
‘We announced it in the press.’
‘Votes for Women!’
‘Look out!’ Tom shouted, and he pushed Alfie out of the way as ten mounted police officers charged into the crowd.
Suffragettes tried to grab the horses’ reins to stop them from trampling on their friends but the police forced them away.
A small smartly dressed lady wearing a Votes for Women hat and holding a large WSPU flag almost knocked Alfie over. Alfie recognized her – she had been in the first group that had left Caxton Hall with Mrs Pankhurst.
‘I’m so sorry,’ the lady said, and then she looked worried. ‘It’s Alfie, isn’t it? You shouldn’t be here. It’s too dangerous.’
‘I’m looking for a puppy,’ Alfie told her. ‘He’s frightened. He was being chased by some boys and I don’t want him to get hurt.’
‘I’ll see if I can spot him. But be careful!’ the lady said.
‘He’s white, brown and black,’ Alfie called after her as she ran off to help a fellow suffragette who’d been thrown to the ground.
In the midst of all the mayhem was the terrified piebald Staffie, running here and there to avoid the kicking, stamping feet of all the people. Much worse was the sudden thundering of horses’ hooves. The puppy froze in terror, its eyes huge as it looked up at a police horse charging straight at it.
‘No!’ Alfie cried, spotting the little Staffie.
The policeman was looking straight ahead and didn’t see the puppy, but the horse did. She side-stepped it at the last minute, but her back hoof sent it flying into a large pile of soft droppings left by another police horse.
By the time the puppy scrambled up, and had a quick lick, its coat was more brown than piebald.
‘There, there, you’re all right now,’ a suffragette said, wrapping the puppy in her WSPU flag and holding it against her. The puppy was trembling. The lady was so slight that it looked big in her arms but it didn’t struggle to get down and she didn’t seem to want to put it down.
‘Constable V700,’ she told the puppy, ‘needs reporting for brutality against a fellow suffragette.’
The puppy looked up at her with its big brown eyes and sneezed.
Alfie couldn’t bear to look. He was sure the puppy had been killed. What chance did it have against a charging horse?
‘Alfie,’ a soft voice said, and he turned to find the lady who’d bumped into him earlier standing there, her coat torn, her hat askew and her long black hair trailing from its bun. But in her arms, wrapped in one of the big WSPU flags, was the puppy.
‘Oh, t
hank goodness,’ Alfie said, as he took the puppy from her and hugged it close.
‘I put the little rascal in a flag because of the … the …’
‘Road apple smell?’ Alfie said, recognizing the distinctive farmyard aroma of horse manure coming from the puppy.
The lady laughed. ‘I’ve never heard it called that before!’
‘Rascal’s a good name for him,’ Alfie said. ‘It suits him. Doesn’t it, Rascal?’
The puppy gave a yap.
‘Yes, it does,’ said the lady. ‘Only, Alfie …’
‘Yes?’
‘That puppy isn’t a little boy, you know. It’s a little girl.’
‘Oh.’ Alfie grinned. ‘Well, then, she’s a little Rascal.’ He gave the top of the puppy’s mucky head a kiss.
‘Run back to Caxton Hall now and tell The General what’s happening here,’ the lady told Alfie. ‘I escaped from the police when Lightning rode into their line, but Mrs Pankhurst and the rest of her group are still being held against the railings. You have to warn the other suffragettes about the violence they’ll face when they try to reach Parliament. Not that it will stop any of them from trying.’
Chapter 3
NOVEMBER 1910
Victoria Street was bustling with people as Alfie ran back to Caxton Hall carrying Rascal. He’d been so worried about the puppy he’d forgotten that The General had instructed him to find out what was happening outside Parliament and report back.
Rascal’s head turned from side to side as there was a shout from one direction and then another. She was surprisingly heavy, even though she’d seemed light when Alfie started running. He put her down on the ground but now there were feet to avoid everywhere: men in heavy stomping boots and ladies in long dresses with heeled shoes. Rascal gave a yelp as someone accidentally trod on her paw so Alfie picked her up again and tucked her inside his coat.
In Caxton Hall The General was organizing the next group of women to leave. Alfie ran up to her and told her what was happening.
‘Mounted police on horseback are stopping the suffragettes from reaching Parliament. They have Mrs Pankhurst trapped …’
The General nodded. ‘We’ve faced violence before and it won’t stop us now,’ she said. ‘Be prepared, ladies, and protect yourselves as best you can. Anyone who’d rather not be part of the protest may stay here.’
But none of the suffragettes wanted to give up. They all wanted to try to reach Parliament with their petition.
‘We can’t give up now,’ one said.
‘It’s too important,’ others agreed.
Alfie turned to go back out too. He wanted to help Mrs Pankhurst and the suffragettes.
‘No, Alfie, you stay here now,’ The General told him. ‘Mrs Pankhurst would never forgive me if you got arrested. You’re too important as a go-between and scout.’
Rascal poked her furry head out of Alfie’s coat.
‘What in the world’s that?’ The General exclaimed.
‘A puppy,’ Alfie told her. ‘I’m calling her Rascal. She landed in some horse manure, that’s why she’s all brown. Really she’s white, brown and black.’ He lifted the puppy from his coat.
‘Better give Rascal a wash straight away, Alfie,’ The General told him. ‘Use the gentlemen’s lavatory – it won’t be busy today.’
Luckily Rascal was small enough to fit in one of the white porcelain sinks in the gentlemen’s toilets. While Alfie was filling it with lukewarm water Rascal explored the strange room full of interesting new smells. When Alfie picked her up, she gave his face a lick. But she wasn’t too sure about going in the sink full of water. She gave a squeak of protest and tried to wriggle out of Alfie’s arms when he lowered her towards it.
‘It’s OK,’ Alfie said. ‘It’s all right.’
He tried to dip Rascal’s hind paws into the warm water but she immediately drew her legs up. She looked up at Alfie with her head tilted back, but all she could really see was his chin, so she gave that a lick. Then she let her paws touch the water and looked down at it.
‘That’s it, see, it’s nice,’ Alfie said, as he lowered her into the sink.
Rascal lapped at the water with her little pink tongue. She was very thirsty.
‘Don’t drink it all!’ Alfie laughed as he turned on the cold tap.
Rascal thought the water gushing from the tap was even better than what was already in the sink and she started to drink that instead.
Alfie picked up the bar of coal tar soap.
‘Mmm,’ he said, as he sniffed at it.
Rascal tried to give the soap a lick but Alfie moved it quickly out of her reach.
‘It’s for washing – not eating!’
Rascal wagged her tail in the water, then looked round in surprise when it splashed her. She sat down, looked at her swishing tail and back up at Alfie as if to say, am I making those splashes?
Alfie laughed and laughed as he lathered up the coal tar soap and rubbed the suds over Rascal’s fur.
‘Soon have you all nice and clean again, and smelling a lot better too!’ he said.
Alfie wished his friend Harry Pankhurst could have met Rascal.
‘Harry would have loved you,’ Alfie told Rascal. ‘And he wouldn’t have minded a bit what you rolled in! In fact he’d have probably just laughed.’
But Harry wasn’t around to meet Rascal any more. When Alfie and Daisy had gone to live with Mr and Mrs Goulden, Harry had gone to work on a farm in Essex. Only he’d got very sick in January and Mrs Pankhurst had only just made it home from America before Harry passed away at Nurse Pine’s nursing home in Notting Hill.
Alfie missed Harry very much, especially his laugh, which always made Alfie laugh too. He’d been his best friend and there’d never be anyone else like him.
While Alfie was distracted thinking about Harry, Rascal had a quick lick of the soap suds, but they didn’t taste nice.
Once she was all clean, Alfie rinsed off the soap with lots of cool water and then he dried her on one of the hand towels. She liked being dried very much, even more than being washed, especially under her chin.
When she was dry and Alfie had sprayed the air around her with the lemony-smelling cologne he found in a bottle next to the mirrors, they were ready for Rascal to be seen.
‘I’d say you’re pretty irresistible!’ Alfie told the puppy.
The hall was full of ladies and a few men who were back from their unsuccessful attempts to petition Parliament. The injured were now having their wounds seen to by Daisy and Nurse Pine.
‘Oh, isn’t she sweet!’ one lady exclaimed.
‘How utterly adorable.’
‘Bring her over here so I can pet her.’
Mrs Pankhurst’s younger sister, Mary Clarke, bent down to give Rascal a stroke and asked, ‘Who’s this little chap?’ Her long hair had escaped from her bun and was swinging round her face. Rascal put out a paw to bat at it.
‘She’s not a chap, she’s a chap-ess,’ said Alfie with a grin. ‘And her name’s Rascal.’
‘She should be our suffragette mascot.’ Mary smiled. ‘Would you like that?’
Rascal licked her face. She liked being stroked and made a fuss of by all the people.
‘How old is she?’ asked an elderly woman with a nasty cut on her head.
‘I don’t know,’ Alfie told her. ‘Not very old, I’d say.’
‘Yes – just a pup.’
The only person who didn’t seem entranced by Rascal was Daisy. In fact Alfie noticed her scowling at them from the other side of the room. Fortunately she was busy seeing to a lady called Ada Wright, who was loudly telling Daisy what had happened to her outside Parliament.
‘The police rode at us on their shire horses, so I caught hold of the reins of one of them and wouldn’t let go. A policeman grabbed my arm and twisted it until I sank to the ground. I tried to get up but was pushed over every time I did so.’
‘Warrior women – fall in and line up,’ The General bellowed.
&nb
sp; ‘Don’t go back out again, Ada,’ Daisy begged. ‘You’ve already been injured. It’s too dangerous.’
But Ada wouldn’t hear of it. ‘We have to try and persuade the prime minister that women must have the vote,’ she said as she stood up and staggered over to join the other ladies. A group of thirteen battered and bruised suffragettes had just come back from Parliament. One of them was Miss Billinghurst.
‘They threw me right out of my chair,’ she told The General. ‘And once I’m out of it, you know I can’t get back in without help. I’ve been paralysed from the waist down since I was a child.’
‘I bet they were sorry if you raced at them in your chair, waving your crutches, like you did at the last protest,’ The General said and Miss Billinghurst laughed at the memory while wincing at the pain from where she’d fallen.
Rascal was being petted by a lady who’d come back shaking with fear.
‘Such a lovely little dog,’ she said, tears running down her face.
‘Your puppy’s such a sweetie and is making everyone feel much better, Alfie. What’s her name?’ asked Nurse Pine, coming to attend to the shaking lady.
‘Rascal,’ Alfie said.
Rascal gave Nurse Pine’s hand a lick and she chuckled.
‘I probably taste of the arnica I’ve been putting on people’s bruises,’ she said. ‘Won’t do her any harm.’
‘Show the government that women must be heard!’ boomed The General as Ada and the others set off again for Parliament.
‘You must keep your leg raised,’ Daisy said to one of the women who’d just returned. Daisy lifted the woman’s leg so her ankle rested on a cushion on a chair and then put a cool damp cloth on the woman’s ankle.
‘Thank you, dear,’ the lady said.
‘Arnica will help with the bruising,’ Daisy added, as she gently rubbed some on to the woman’s face.