by Megan Rix
A moment later the floor of the carriage started rumbling. Rascal trembled with fear and then jumped into Alfie’s lap when the whistle blew.
‘It’s OK,’ Alfie said. ‘I won’t let anything hurt you.’
Rascal stayed on Alfie’s lap until they reached the end of the line at Fenchurch Street. They then caught an omnibus, which was a lot less frightening than the train.
It was almost six o’clock and twilight by the time they got off the bus at Oxford Street and headed past the colourful window displays of Selfridges department store. The street was busy with shoppers and people heading home from work, and Alfie didn’t know how he was going to find Lizzie. Suddenly there was the sound of smashing glass and chaos broke out as women from all directions started breaking shop windows.
Alfie was worried Rascal would cut her paws on the shattered glass. He picked her up and crossed the road, but windows started to be smashed on that side of the road too.
Alfie gasped when he saw Lizzie from the match factory standing next to a broken window.
‘Lizzie!’ he shouted.
She looked round, saw him and then ran off.
Alfie and Rascal ran after her but soon lost her in the crowds. People were shouting and pointing, and police whistles were blowing. Just ahead of them, Alfie spotted Miss Billinghurst in her tricycle wheelchair.
‘Here you go, girls!’ she called as she passed a group of women, pulling something small and shiny from under the blanket covering her legs. She tried to hand it to the women but it slipped from her fingers and fell to the ground. Without thinking, Alfie ran over to pick it up. It was a tiny silver toffee hammer. So that was what the suffragettes were using to break all those windows! Just as Alfie was handing the hammer back to Miss Billinghurst, he looked up to see a policeman pointing at him.
‘Vandal!’
The policeman blew his whistle and charged towards Alfie and Rascal as another policeman grabbed hold of Miss Billinghurst’s wrists and arrested her.
For a second Alfie froze. He hadn’t hit any windows, he hadn’t smashed anything. But would the policeman believe that when he was holding a hammer? Alfie didn’t think so.
From the darkness a hand grabbed his arm. Alfie gave a small yelp, but as the hand pulled him into an alleyway, a cold finger was pressed against his lips … Daisy!
‘What –’ Alfie started to say, but a door opened and Daisy quickly pushed him inside, with Rascal right behind them.
Chapter 9
MARCH 1912
‘Drop the hammer down there,’ Daisy told Alfie, moving a thick mat aside and pulling up a small trap door in the floor.
Alfie dropped it on top of a pile of other toffee hammers, bricks, stones, ornaments and Indian clubs. The room they had taken refuge in had no furniture, just the thick mats on the floor, and it smelt faintly of sweat. There were five women wearing exercise clothes: red crossover jackets and knee-length trousers over their black stockings. Alfie felt a bit embarrassed. Why were the ladies dressed like this? He tried not to stare at them.
‘Take your shoes off,’ Daisy said.
Alfie did so, only to look up in horror as Daisy started pulling off her own clothes.
‘What?’
Underneath her clothes Daisy was wearing the same wrap top and short trousers as the other women.
‘What’s that boy doing here?’ asked a tiny fierce-looking lady, who was obviously in charge.
‘Please, Mrs Garrud – he’s my brother and Mrs Pankhurst’s messenger boy. If the police catch him, he’ll be arrested …’ Daisy said.
But Mrs Garrud had now spotted an even more unusual visitor.
‘And is that Mrs Pankhurst’s messenger dog?’ she asked, as Rascal came out from behind Alfie’s legs wagging her tail.
‘Yes, ma’am,’ Alfie said.
‘Mrs Garrud, or Sensei – that means “teacher” – will do. And you are both welcome at my dojo – this space where I teach.’ The tiny woman laughed.
Just then there was a loud thumping at the door.
‘Places, ladies,’ Mrs Garrud said, and Daisy and the other women ran to the mats and started throwing each other to the floor. More thumps at the door, more insistent now.
‘Open up, in the name of the law!’ a man’s voice shouted.
‘Just coming,’ Mrs Garrud called out. She looked at Alfie and Rascal and pointed to a bamboo screen with an oriental painting on it in the corner of the room. Alfie nodded and ran to hide behind the screen with Rascal. Rascal sniffed at the bamboo and then gave it a lick.
‘We have reason to believe you’re hiding some of the vandals who broke shop windows along Oxford Street,’ Alfie heard a policeman tell Mrs Garrud when she opened the door. ‘May we come in?’
‘It wouldn’t be proper. I’ve got ladies here having a jiu-jitsu lesson. They’re not dressed for male company. I don’t expect gentlemen to come in …’
‘We’re not gentlemen, we’re the police, and we have reason to believe you’re harbouring criminals,’ the policeman replied.
‘Very well, come in if you must. You won’t find anything,’ Mrs Garrud said. ‘But take your shoes off. No one wears shoes in this dojo.’
Alfie gulped. He could feel his heart beating fast in his chest. He heard Mrs Garrud close the door as the policemen came in.
‘Look wherever you like, but I have to get back to my lesson,’ she said.
Alfie found a tiny gap between two of the bamboo panels of the screen. He positioned his eye against it and watched as the policemen started searching the room.
‘The most common bone that gets broken is the collarbone, and that’s because people fall wrongly,’ Mrs Garrud told the women. ‘So the first thing you need to learn is how to fall properly so that you don’t get injured. I want you to bend one knee, put your other leg up and roll back on to the mat on your shoulders. As you land, slap down on the mat with your hand slightly cupped.’
Slap, slap, slap went the women’s hands on the mats as they practised falling. Rascal looked up at Alfie and started panting.
Alfie stroked her furry head to comfort her.
Mrs Garrud continued to teach her lesson while the policemen searched the room and the women got in their way. ‘If an attacker had you in a bear hug, what would you do?’ Mrs Garrud asked as one of the officers checked inside a laundry basket.
‘Scream blue murder,’ said Daisy, and the other women laughed.
‘Or you could do this,’ Mrs Garrud said. ‘Would you mind, dear?’ she asked the young policeman, who put the lid back on the laundry basket.
‘Oh – not at all,’ he said, looking embarrassed.
‘What’s your name?’ Mrs Garrud asked him.
‘Police Constable Smith,’ the young officer said.
‘Grab me in a bear hug – from behind, if you don’t mind, PC Smith,’ Mrs Garrud told him. ‘Pin my arms tightly to my side so I can’t escape.’
Alfie watched as Constable Smith hesitantly put his arms round Mrs Garrud, with Daisy, the other women and the policemen watching.
Fast as lightning, before the officer even realized what was happening, Mrs Garrud dipped down low to the ground so her arms were no longer pinned to her sides. Then she turned, grabbed the policeman’s shoulder and arm, twisted round so her hip was against his, and the next moment he lost his balance and landed flat on his back on the mat. He sat up with a surprised look on his face.
How on earth had she done that? Alfie wondered.
Daisy ran forward to help the young officer up.
‘Thank you,’ he said, his face red with embarrassment. ‘I don’t know quite how that happened.’
Alfie recognized him as the police officer who had pushed him out of the way of the police horses the day he’d met Rascal.
Daisy smiled as Constable Smith scratched his head and looked round at the women, who were applauding Mrs Garrud.
Rascal had had enough of hiding. She poked her nose out from behind the screen to see what all
the fuss was about. Alfie leapt forward to pull her back into their hiding place, but his heart stopped as he locked eyes with the young policeman – they had been spotted!
‘I can’t find anything here,’ the young officer told the other policemen, turning away. ‘We should keep looking elsewhere.’
Alfie slipped back behind the screen and breathed a sigh of relief when he heard Mrs Garrud open the door and the police took their leave.
As the door closed behind them, Mrs Garrud let out a big laugh, and the other women laughed too.
‘That showed them!’
She beckoned to Alfie to come out from behind the screen so he and Rascal could watch the rest of the class.
‘It’s hard enough fighting other women who are of similar height and weight to you in the dojo. But soon you’ll have to use your new jiu-jitsu fighting skills out on the streets, against men who’ve been taught to fight, maybe with sticks and knives,’ Mrs Garrud said.
Alfie and Rascal watched as Daisy and the other women were taught to use parasols as weapons as well as Indian clubs that were similar to police batons.
‘Work in pairs now,’ Mrs Garrud told everyone. ‘Fighting skills. Remember, you have to get close to the attacker sometimes before you can unbalance them. Use that imbalance to defeat them, giving you or the person you’re protecting the chance to run away.’
‘But would it really work against a big strong man?’ a short, red-haired girl asked. ‘That policeman wasn’t trying to fight.’
‘Even better – if you do it properly and practise the technique until you’re lightning quick and he doesn’t know what’s coming, Maud,’ Mrs Garrud said.
‘Just like with that policeman,’ laughed Daisy.
‘I let him down easily,’ Mrs Garrud told her. ‘Most men won’t expect us to be able to defend ourselves or anyone else, and that’s where we’ll have the advantage.’
Maud didn’t have anyone to practise with, so Mrs Garrud asked Alfie to join in and make a pair.
‘You’re about the same height,’ she said. All of the partners bowed to each other before they began to fight.
Alfie didn’t know what he was supposed to do, but Maud did. She grabbed hold of Alfie, threw him to the floor and was just about to kick him when Rascal ran on to the mat and started barking at her.
‘Stop it, you silly dog,’ Maud said.
But Rascal didn’t stop until Alfie said: ‘It’s OK, Rascal, I’m all right. It’s OK.’
Mrs Garrud had seen what had happened and was cross with Maud.
‘You must learn not to use excessive force when you’re practising in the dojo. True martial artists do not strike hard just for the sake of it. They use their skill, and you should use yours and treat your opponent with respect.’
‘Sorry, Alfie,’ Maud said, as she helped him up. ‘I got carried away.’
‘See you next week,’ Mrs Garrud said, at the end of the lesson. ‘And if you get a chance to practise at home, please do so. It all helps.’
Alfie, Daisy and Rascal were the last to leave because they helped to put the mats against the wall ready for next time.
‘My bicycle!’ Alfie exclaimed when they went out. There it was, propped up against the wall, and it still had Rascal’s ball in the basket. With it was a note and an apple. The note said: ‘Sorry I had to borrow it. But here it is, as good as new.’ The note wasn’t signed. But Alfie didn’t care. He was overjoyed to have his bicycle back. Now he could carry on taking messages for Mrs Pankhurst and the WSPU – it was so much quicker to deliver them by bike.
‘Edith – I mean Mrs Garrud – is one of the very first professional martial-arts instructors in the Western world,’ Daisy told Alfie as they headed home. ‘Lots of suffragettes go there to learn self-defence. They’ve been putting cardboard under their clothes to protect them against being punched, but it isn’t enough – we need to be able to fight back. Edith’s going to give extra training to the thirty best jiu-jitsuists among us. Those thirty will become Mrs Pankhurst’s chosen bodyguards.’
From the way Daisy’s eyes sparkled, Alfie was pretty sure his sister wanted to be one of them.
Chapter 10
1912
The next morning, Saturday, Mr Goulden told Alfie and Daisy that Mrs Pankhurst had been arrested for throwing stones through the windows of 10 Downing Street.
Alfie looked at Daisy and bit his bottom lip. He’d almost been arrested too, but he didn’t tell Mr and Mrs Goulden that.
There’d been so many arrests after the window smashing in London that the court had to sit for the whole of Saturday, and even by the end of the day only thirteen of the 122 cases had been heard.
‘The damage is estimated at five thousand pounds,’ Mr Goulden told them.
Alfie was worried about Miss Billinghurst. Maybe if he hadn’t picked up the toffee hammer, the police wouldn’t have seen that she had lots of them hidden under her blanket and wouldn’t have arrested her. Many of the women were sentenced to at least four months in prison, some with hard labour. Alfie was relieved when he learnt that Miss Billinghurst had only been given one month, without any hard labour.
The suffragettes were some of the bravest women in Britain, Alfie thought, as he watched his sister trying to perfect her break-falls and parasol-swinging so that Mrs Garrud would choose her to be one of Mrs Pankhurst’s bodyguards. But they were also some of the most stubborn!
On the day of Mrs Pankhurst’s release, in June, Daisy, Rascal and Alfie went to meet her and helped her into the WSPU car.
Mrs Pankhurst was very weak and shaking with cold. She’d refused to eat or drink anything for the last five days. Although Alfie could remember being hungry in the workhouse a long, long time ago, he’d never been hungry since. It was hard to imagine how not eating for days and days would feel. He was pretty sure Rascal wouldn’t like it one bit – she was a dog who loved her food, plus any extra bits she could find or beg for. Alfie knew most days she’d happily eat his food as well as her own. She’d never last on a hunger strike, especially if people came into her cell with tempting dishes. But somehow Mrs Pankhurst, and many of the other suffragettes, had done it.
Mrs Pankhurst looked really ill, though: her skin had a yellow tinge and there was a sickly sweet smell coming from her. Alfie was very worried about her. He wished she didn’t have to go on hunger strike but he knew there was no point telling her not to. Mrs Pankhurst had very strong opinions, and one boy and his dog weren’t going to change them!
In the back of the car Rascal cuddled up to Mrs Pankhurst, who seemed only half-conscious, and gave her a lick to comfort her as they drove to 2 Campden Hill Square, the home of Mrs Brackenbury, a suffragette who was eighty years old. Mrs Brackenbury and her two daughters were passionate supporters of Mrs Pankhurst and the Votes for Women cause, and Mrs Brackenbury had also been sent to prison, for two weeks, for breaking two windows in Whitehall.
When the car finally pulled up outside the house, Nurse Pine and Mrs Brackenbury came out to help Mrs Pankhurst inside.
‘Oh, you poor dear,’ Mrs Brackenbury said. ‘You poor, poor dear.’
‘It’s not me you should worry about,’ Mrs Pankhurst whispered, resting on their arms for support. ‘It’s the other women who are still in prison, still going through this, some of them being force-fed. The individual will disappear, but the fight for the cause must go on.’
Alfie looked over at the policemen standing on the road outside the house. They always followed Mrs Pankhurst and the leading members of the WSPU to keep an eye on the suffragettes.
Constable Tom Smith didn’t see Alfie looking at him, but he knew that he and the other police weren’t wanted there.
‘Come on inside,’ Mrs Brackenbury said to Mrs Pankhurst. ‘And I’ll get you a nice cup of tea.’
It was important Mrs Pankhurst didn’t eat solid food too soon after her hunger strike or she’d be sick.
‘Camomile,’ Mrs Pankhurst whispered.
‘Yes, camomile,’
said her friend Ethel Smyth. ‘With a little peppermint.’
Mrs Pankhurst couldn’t even manage to walk without the help of other people. Was it really worth all this to get the vote? Alfie wasn’t sure, although he was sure that having the vote would be a very good thing. And Mrs Pankhurst would say it was certainly worth it. Anything was worth it for the cause.
Rascal sat down next to Mrs Pankhurst’s bed and Mrs Pankhurst’s hand rested softly on her fur.
‘You and your dog bring such comfort,’ Mrs Brackenbury said to Alfie. ‘Can you stay for a while?’
‘We could do with your nursing skills,’ Nurse Pine said to Daisy. ‘More and more sick women are going to be brought here from prison over the next few days and weeks.’
Daisy and Alfie wanted to help and said they could stay. Rascal was kept busy being stroked.
When she was well enough, Mrs Pankhurst packed to go to France to see Christabel, her eldest daughter, who’d escaped there before she could be arrested.
‘She has a dog too,’ Mrs Pankhurst told Rascal as she packed a few belongings. ‘I expect the two of you would get along very well. Her name’s Fay and she’s a Pomeranian, just like your friends, Princess Sophia’s dogs.’
Rascal sat on the doorstep with Alfie to watch as Mrs Pankhurst was driven away in the WSPU car.
‘Walkies?’ Alfie said. Rascal wagged her tail enthusiastically and raced back inside to fetch her ball.
The houses in Campden Hill Square were built round a communal garden, but there weren’t usually any other dogs there besides Rascal. Not that she minded too much – she had her ball and Alfie to play with, and squirrels and pigeons to chase.
Rascal was very interested in the young policeman on duty outside Mrs Brackenbury’s front garden when they got back. She wagged her tail at him.
‘Come on, Rascal,’ Alfie said, looking down at the ground. He didn’t want to talk to the police and he didn’t want them stroking Rascal. She’d got her purple, white and green collar on and she was a suffragette mascot, not a police dog.