A Dream to Share

  He nodded and put his arms round her. ‘Perhaps you’ll let me walk you to wherever you’re going?’

  She stayed still in his arms a moment, enjoying being held in his embrace. She breathed in the scent of him, shaving soap, smoke and damp tweed and, impulsively, kissed him on the chin before freeing her­self. ‘I was going to Mam’s to give her some money but I don’t think I’ll bother now. You can walk me across the river and I’ll show you the house where I’m working.’

  He gazed down at her with an expression in his eyes that made her feel quite breathless. ‘I’d like that. And in future any letters I write I’ll address them there.’ He took her hand and they began to walk back the way Emma had come. ‘Why did you change your job? I thought you liked it at Mrs Black’s.’

  ‘Mrs Black’s gone on an extended holiday and Alice Moran married her old flame and left with him for India. I’ve taken over her job.’ Emma could not resist, watching his expression intently when she men­tioned Alice marrying.

  Meeting her gaze, he said mildly, ‘I don’t know why you can’t accept that it’s you I have a fancy for, Emma. I thought I’d made it plain. In fact I insist on you walking out with me. What do you say to us meet­ing the Sunday after next? I’ve got the day off and I thought we could take the ferry to Eccleston and have a picnic.’

  Her eyes glowed. ‘I’ll see what I can do but I’ll pay for my own ticket.’

  ‘That you won’t,’ he said firmly.

  ‘You’ve had a drop in your wages, so I’ll have to say no if you don’t agree,’ she said, determinedly.

  He frowned down at her. ‘You’ve had a drop in your wages, too. I can afford two ferry tickets, believe me, lovey. You bring the picnic. Agreed?’

  ‘OK! You’ve twisted my arm. Give me your address, so I can let you know if I can’t make it.’

  He told her where he lived and then they sauntered across town, catching up on the rest of each other’s news, unaware that they were being followed as they crossed the bridge and walked up to Victoria Crescent.

  * * *

  Victoria gazed out of the window, watching Emma saying goodbye to the blond giant at the gate. He looked familiar but she could not place him and continued to watch as Emma dawdled up the path before van­ishing from her sight round the side of the house.

  She was about to move away from the window when she noticed another man leaning on the gate. He, too, was fair-haired and, although not as tall as the man who had escorted Emma home, he was definite­ly more handsome. Suddenly she realised his identity. He smiled, raised his right hand and saluted her, before walking away. She drew back from the window, her heartbeat rapid, and had to sit down in order to calm herself. After a few moments she went in search of Emma.

  Victoria found her in the kitchen talking to cook and immediately­ interrupted them. ‘You’re back earlier than I thought you’d be, Emma. I noticed you didn’t come alone, either.’

  ‘That’s David Davies,’ said Emma, smiling. ‘You’ve actually met him, Miss. He helped you put up the hood of your motorcar that time it rained.’

  Victoria remembered. ‘So you didn’t go home?’

  ‘No, Miss. I visited Hannah Moran, though.’

  ‘And how is she?’

  ‘You can see for yourself on Monday. She’s hoping to get to the meeting.’

  Victoria smiled. ‘Good! The more the merrier.’ She hesitated. ‘Have they heard anything from Alice and Sebastian?’

  Surprised, Emma replied, ‘They’ve had a card but it must have been sent before they received Hannah’s husband’s letter. Could be that they’ve received it now, though. Maybe we… you… might like Mary and I to sort out a bedroom for them?’

  Victoria bit on her lip. ‘No. It could still be a while before they come home. Let’s wait until I hear from them. Now if you could go upstairs and see if Grandmamma needs anything.’

  ‘Yes, Miss. Anything else you’d like me to do, Miss?’ said Emma politely, but not quite managing to conceal her irritation at being given that order.

  ’Miss doesn’t like your tone. You’ll be out on your ear if you don’t watch yourself,’ said Victoria, colouring.

  Emma swept out of the kitchen with her head held high and a rebel­lious look in her eyes but when she reached the stairs, she climbed them as if there was all the time in the world, thinking that perhaps she should not have shown her annoyance. After all, if she wanted the fol­lowing Sunday afternoon off to meet David she had better be good. But before then there was the women’s suffrage meeting to attend.

  * * *

  The assembly room was decorated with garlands and banners of green, purple and white; the buzz of conversation was akin to a swarm of excited bees. Seated on the stage were members of the committee and their special guests, Miss Muriel Matters and Miss Margaret Milne Farquharson, MA.

  Suddenly the chairman, Alderman Chunton, got to his feet and raised his hands, waving them slightly as if by doing this he would ensure silence. But it took a couple of good bangs with the gavel on the table to quieten the audience. ‘Welcome, ladies… and the gentleman I can also see out there… to this meeting,’ he said, smiling. ‘A few days ago I was taken to task for attending this meeting. Others considered me courageous for my willingness to debate and be educated in the franchise of women.’ There was a flurry of clapping and when it stopped, he continued, ‘I believe that women should marry but I also accept they have a right to be involved in this country’s public affairs. Some people worry because they believe women might overrule men simply by force of numbers, but I say we need women because of their marvellous perseverance… and as long as they are properly qualified for the tasks they take on, then they should have their say and be entitled to vote.’

  A roar of approval swept through the hall and Miss Milne Farquharson MA, stood up and moved a motion that women should have the vote under the same conditions as men. ‘We pay our taxes and so should have a voice in parliament,’ she said loudly. ‘It has been said that some women don’t want the vote… that’s because some don’t see its value.’ She shook her head and looked sad. ‘They are foolish and ignorant and, in their place, some of the best men in the country want the vote for them. Had men never been under women? Look at Adam, Caesar, Solomon!’ Laughter echoed around the room and she smiled. ‘Every outstanding man in history has been under a woman. Austen Chamberlain says men are different from women, observant of him. But at least that’s why he says his party wants women’s votes.’ She sat down and there was a thunderous clapping.

  ‘She’s so right. She’s so right,’ said Victoria in a breathless voice, her face ruddy. ‘What – what a – a marvellous woman!’

  Emma did not argue with her, but found herself wondering if there was a hidden meaning to the remarks about men being under women, but dared not say so to her employer, who might consider her vulgar.

  Miss Muriel Matters stood up. ‘It is not a proper democracy where only half the population have a say in running the country and where women are classed alongside paupers, lunatics, criminals and children,’ she said in a slow deliberate voice. ‘A plank in the opposite platform is that women cannot fight. Yet a man who has a wooden leg or one eye can still vote. Women bring life… men take it.’ There was a roar of agreement.

  Miss Muriel Matters held up her hand for silence. In the hush that followed a voice spoke up demanding an explanation for the recent vio­lent tactics… stone throwing and window breaking… that the suffragettes had used in London.

  ‘I expected someone to mention that,’ she said with a sweet smile. ‘We have tried all ways and means at our disposal to bring about change peacefully but we are tired of trusting the pledges of politicians which fail us. We have faith in the Cause and it is that which makes us go on fighting.’

  There was a storm of clapping. The chairman and speakers were thanked. Victoria stood up and moved away.

  Emma turned to Hannah and Joy. ‘It’s terrible us being classed with paupers, lunatics, crimi
nals and children, isn’t it? I never knew that.’

  ‘It’s like saying we’re beyond the pale,’ said Hannah indignantly.

  ‘I never knew there were more women than men in the country,’ said Joy, her brown eyes lively.’You can see why they want to keep us down, alright.’

  ‘There’ll be even less if we don’t get our way.’ The three of them turned and, to her surprise, Emma recognised Mrs Stone.

  ‘What do you mean?’ Hannah was the first to speak.

  ‘More women in the movement are choosing not to marry rather than live under a man’s thumb, so there’ll be less men being born.’

  ‘That’s all very well if you’ve plenty of money to support yourself,’ said Joy. ‘But working class women can’t be so choosy. If they don’t marry then more often than not they’re either dependant on a father or brother or they end up on the parish or in the workhouse.’

  ‘There’s nothing stopping several girls or women living together,’ said Mrs Stone.

  ‘And whose name goes on the rent book?’ shot back Joy.

  ‘The eldest I should think,’ said Mrs Stone, smiling, before turning to Emma. ‘I read about the attack on you. Are you alright now?’

  Emma nodded. ‘I’m working for Miss Waters. You might have read about her father’s death in the Chester Chronicle.’

  ‘I did indeed. I would have called on her if I hadn’t been away myself. She must be terribly upset.’

  ‘She’s around here somewhere,’ said Emma, gazing about the room and spotting Victoria talking to Miss Matters. ‘There she is!’

  Mrs Stone excused herself and walked away.

  But before she could reach Victoria, her path was blocked by the shifting movement of women and by the time she reached the spot where last she had been seen, she had vanished.

  * * *

  Victoria was feeling drained by the heat, noise and excitement and would be glad when she reached home. Fortunately, the assembly room was only a short distance from the river and, as it was a fine evening, she and Emma had walked to the meeting. She supposed that she should have told her that she was leaving but the need to get out of the building and home had been overwhelming. She hurried across the footbridge and began the short ascent to Victoria Crescent. She was gasping for breath by the time she reached the house.

  Taking her key from her handbag, she opened the door and was just about to step inside when a pleasant male voice said, ‘Miss Waters, was­n’t that a marvellous meeting? I’d really enjoy discussing it with you. May I come in?’

  Chapter Thirteen

  April, 1909

  Victoria turned and instantly recognised the man. He was wearing a striped blazer, white shirt and bow tie with cream trousers. He removed his straw boater to reveal a head of slicked down fair hair. She could smell bay rum hair lotion and peppermint. Close up she could see that his eyes were blue and he had a cleft chin. He was still probably the handsomest man she had ever seen. ‘Mr Temple, isn’t it?’ she gasped.

  He smiled. ‘You remembered. I’m flattered.’

  The flush in her cheeks deepened. ‘I saw you at the gate a short while ago.’

  ‘I was visiting a house in the neighbourhood and caught sight of you at the window. I wondered then if you would be at the meeting. Miss Matters, what a marvellous woman!’

  Victoria nodded. ‘I do… so agree.’ She put a hand to her breast. ‘You… must excuse me. I need to… sit down.’

  He brought his face so close to hers that she could feel his breath on her cheek. ‘Are you unwell?’

  ‘I just… need to rest.’

  He replaced his hat. ‘Please, let me help you.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  He moved her hand from the door and closed it behind him. ‘Lean on me.’ He slid an arm round her waist. ‘Just tell me which room? The first door on the left or the one on the right?’

  ‘Left.’ She was feeling quite faint but was shocked and thrilled when he swept her off her feet and carried her into the drawing room. He placed her on the sofa, deftly took the pins from her hat and, removing it, fanned her face. ‘Is there anything I can fetch you? A glass of water perhaps.’

  ‘If you… press the bell… over by the fireplace… Mary will come,’ she said unevenly.

  Bert did what she said and then returned to the sofa. He gazed down at her; she was definitely not as pretty as Alice but his mother had told him that she had married and was out of the country. The news had infuriated him but then he had seen the Griffiths girl enter this house and realised that she must work for Miss Waters. He heard a discreet knock and turned his head to smile at the young maid as she entered. ‘You must be Mary. Miss Waters is unwell. Could you bring a glass of water?’

  She stared at him in astonishment before glancing at her mistress. ‘Has she had one of her turns?’

  ‘It seems so. The glass of water if you please?’ said Bert firmly.

  Mary’s cheeks pinked. ‘Yes, sir! But she’ll probably need to take one of her heart tablets. She must have forgotten them when she went to the meeting.’ She glanced about her. ‘Where’s Emma?’

  ‘I do not know, Miss Waters was alone when I met her. Please be so good as to fetch Miss Waters’ tablets while I stay with her.’ Mary hesi­tated. Bert’s blond eyebrows drew together in a frown. ‘What are you waiting for, girl? I’m not going to make off with the family silver.’

  Mary’s colour deepened and she hurried out of the room.

  Bert thrust his hands into his trouser pockets and hummed as he gazed about him, trying to put a value on the furniture, ornaments and pictures. Then he looked at Victoria and thought that bitch Emma’s absence could serve him a good turn; although he still meant to have his revenge on her for hurting him where she had. He roamed the room, picking up ornaments and inspecting them, only to jump when Victoria spoke. ‘You don’t have to stay. Mary will see to me now,’ she murmured. He replaced the Wedgwood vase gently and turning, smiled at her.

  ‘I don’t mind staying. This is a nice room. Quiet and peaceful.’

  She stared at him from beneath drooping eyelids. ‘That’s why I needed to get away from the meeting. It was dreadfully noisy.’

  Mary entered the room carrying a glass of water and a pill box. ‘Your tablets, Miss Victoria. And perhaps I should prepare your bed so you can rest properly.’

  ‘If you would, Mary.’ Victoria stretched out a hand for the pill box and glass.

  ‘And I’ll see the… gentleman out, shall I?’ asked the maid.

  Victoria nodded. ‘Yes, please.’ She turned her attention to Bert. ‘It was kind of you to help me, Mr Temple. I’m sorry I haven’t sent you any copies of Votes For Women for a while, but Papa died suddenly and I had so much to do.’

  ‘There’s no need to apologise. I’m sorry to hear about your father. I hope you’ll feel better soon,’ he said, taking one of her hands and rais­ing it to his lips. ‘Perhaps I could call again?’

  She blushed as he kissed her fingers. ‘Perhaps. And thank you again.’

  ‘My pleasure. Good evening to you.’ He raised his boater and left, satisfied he had made another good impression.

  Once outside, he sauntered down the path and paused in the gate­way to look back at the house. He imagined living in such a place with Miss Waters as his wife. The only serpent in his Eden was the Griffiths girl, Emma, but as she had no idea what he looked like, he could worm his way into her mistress’s good graces without her being any the wiser. He frowned, considering he’d been fortunate in not being seen by his sisters at the meeting. Then he grinned, imagining their astonishment if they had spotted him. Still, best that they knew nothing of his interest in the Women’s Suffrage Movement and the reason behind it. He let his imagination take flight, picturing himself married to Miss Waters and lording it over Emma. She’d regret the day she had ever dared cross him.

  * * *

  ‘I shouldn’t have let you go home on your own,’ said Emma, placing a cup of tea on the bedside
table. She was concerned for Victoria and extremely curious about the man Mary had mentioned being in the drawing room.

  ‘It was my own decision and I’m feeling much better now,’ said Victoria, nestling into the lace trimmed pillows before stretching out a hand for the tea. ‘Tell me if anything interesting happened after I left the meeting.’

  ‘I spoke to Mrs Stone. She was sorry to her about Mr Waters’ death and spoke of coming to visit you.’

  ‘That would be nice.’

  Emma hesitated before saying, ‘Mary said there was a man here.’

  The colour rose in Victoria’s cheeks. ‘Yes. I felt faint and Mr Temple helped me into the house. You won’t know about Mr Temple. We met in the Grosvenor Hotel and he’s interested in the Cause. So there is no need for you to worry, Emma.’

  ‘Yes, Miss. Is there anything else you need before I go and check on Mrs Waters?’

  ‘No, that’ll be all. I’ll see you in the morning.’

  Emma left the bedroom, feeling slightly uneasy, despite her employ­er’s reassurance about the man. She wouldn’t be the first woman to voice anti-male sentiments and then to fall hook, line and sinker for one. Despite her book learning and education, Emma was pretty certain she was completely inexperienced when it came to handling the oppo­site sex and, without her father, uncle, or Seb, around to watch out for her, she just might be heading for a fall. Hopefully she was worrying unnecessarily and no more would be heard from him.

  But a couple of days later, Emma was crossing the lobby when the knocker sounded. Immediately she veered in that direction and opened the door. On the step stood a woman holding a small basket with an arrangement of gypsy grass and pink and white carnations. ‘Miss Victoria Waters’ residence?’

  ‘Yes.’

  The woman held out the basket. ‘These are for her.’

  Emma thanked her and closed the door before swiftly searching for a card. When she found it she read To Miss Waters. I hope you are feeling better and that these flowers will cheer you up. From Arthur Temple.