by Ian Porter
She had believed at the time that she had gotten away with her little subterfuge at the football ground. Clearly not.
******
Nash was having a well-earned rest in his armchair, after a long day of running around cajoling, trading and making deals about, and if all else failed, pilfering timber.
His peace was interrupted by his wife walking through the door. She had opened said door to enter, but her expression reminded Nash of a joke that he had once seen in Punch. A man wearing a football scarf and carrying a rattle had returned home. He had obviously just been to watch his team play, and they must have lost. He was so distraught that he had walked straight through his front door without opening it. The door had a man’s silhouette-sized hole in it. His wife asked him, ‘5-0, 6-0, 7?’ Ruby now had a face on her that suggested her team had just lost 10-0, and they had been lucky to get nil.
Nash was fairly confident that he had not done anything wrong since using poor Maud’s dead body to make a point to the landlord. His wife had read the riot act to him about that. But after he had taken a severe verbal beating she had eventually forgiven him. And even if she had somehow found out that he had just half-inched a coffin from outside a rival funeral directors, he was sure she wouldn’t be too worried about it. Nevertheless, her expression suggested he tread very lightly.
“Rubes?” was all he said. It was enough.
His wife proceeded to tell him about the march, her sergeant and PC Pemberton.
“Fuck ‘em,” said Nash. “Just take the day off ill. What they gonna do, sack you? Not with half the Met down with the flu they ain’t. And even if they do, so what? They got nothing on you. In fact, don’t take the day off. Just tell ‘em to stick their job where the sun don’t shine.”
“No,” sighed Ruby, before continuing with a surprising air of contentment in her voice. “I am going on that march as a police officer. Remember I joined the police to help women. Miss Webb and the Lester sisters are arranging it, and Sylvia’s also involved, and you know what she’s like for getting people together. There’s bound to be a lot more people on the march than the police think. And I suspect most of them will be women. I’m going to protect them the way us Suffragettes never got protected by the police.”
“But it’s obviously a snare,” complained Nash. “Darling, they must have a plan to get you to do something that as a copper you shouldn’t. They must finally have something on me and plan for Pemberton to try and arrest me, at which time you’ll come to my rescue.”
Ruby gave her husband an old fashioned look before answering.
“And since when did you need rescuing from the likes of Pemberton, you villainous old sod. If he’s stupid enough to try to arrest you on his own, he’ll be kissing the cobbles quick enough won’t he?”
“And then, when you don’t arrest me for thumping a copper, they’ll have you darling,” said Nash with the confidence of someone who has just won the argument. “Pemberton will tell his bosses he shouted out for help and you ignored him. They’ll come mob-handed to arrest me later and you’ll be for it an’ all.”
“So Pemberton’s going to get himself thumped just to get me is he darling?” scolded Ruby. “They’re not going to go to all that trouble just to throw me out the force. And besides, why would they think you would be at a women’s protest about giving food to children abroad anyhow? No, whatever they have planned for me, I won’t rise to the bait. I will do my duty as a police officer, straight down the line, and then there’s nothing they can do about it. And afterwards I will very much enjoy walking up to Sergeant Granger and telling him exactly where to stick his job. I’ve had enough of being a copper.”
Nash did not understand his wife’s logic at all. Why go to the trouble of going on the march as a policewoman if you were going to tell them where to stick their job straight afterwards anyway? But experience had told him that any further argument with his wife on this matter would only lead to him being verbally outgunned. So he bit his tongue.
“All right darling, have it your way,” said Nash with an air of resignation. “And don’t worry, I’ll be there but I’ll keep well out of it.”
Chapter 42
“I realise that patriotism is not enough. I must have no hatred towards any one.”
Edith Cavell, British nurse
executed by Germany for spying
They wondered if they might be the only Germans travelling on the ship, so fearful of an adverse reaction to their accents, had made a pact to keep conversation between themselves to a minimum while on board. But they were surprised to find several of their compatriots, sounding as if they were businessmen, accompanying them. Apparently German toys, clocks, china, glassware, jewellery and haberdashery would be on sale in Britain soon enough if these men had their way. Peter muttered sarcastically to Dorothea that the war was, after all, merely a capitalist one so of course it was business as usual now. She nodded grimly in knowing agreement.
On disembarkation, Peter donned an anti-flu germ mask while he bought their rail tickets, hoping this would blur his voice to make the origin of his accent less detectable. It seemed to do the trick. The ticket clerk at Harwich Docks railway station, who was also wearing an anti-flu mask, was used to hearing foreign accents and didn’t bat an eyelid.
Enjoying the anonymity that a port affords, the couple strolled up the platform alongside the waiting train, and hand-picked an empty six-seat carriage for themselves.
Their London hotel, a grand Victorian affair adjoining Liverpool Street station, was impersonal at check-in, which was just how they liked it. They freshened up in their room before returning to the reception area to ask the concierge to call them a taxi. The first hint of informality was when the man couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow, not at their accents, but when their destination was given as Bow. After recovering his well-trained deadpan countenance, he recommended they ask their taxi driver to remain at their destination until they were ready to be brought back to the hotel, as he doubted they would be able to secure the services of a passing cab in such an area.
Wishing to keep his utterances to a minimum, Peter simply nodded, but he had no intention of doing as advised. He and Dorothea planned to visit Mr & Mrs Nash for a few hours. Showing them the photographs alone would take some time, and their hosts could no doubt give advice on how to return to the hotel by public transport.
Ruby would have liked to have met them off the train from Harwich, but she and Nash were both too busy. She had consequently sent them a map to help them find their address, which the taxi driver was only too pleased to have at his disposal.
On knocking at their destination a huge scary man answered the door with his usually abruptness. But once they had introduced themselves, the two Germans were told to come in, take the weight off their feet and make themselves at home. They were amazed by the warm welcome they received from their English hosts.
Before their guests had arrived, Ruby had told her husband that when the time came, to speak slowly and avoid as many cockneyisms as possible. So when the new arrivals mentioned the fear of their accents being unwelcome in London, Nash was quick to reassure them in his best slow, loud, condescending, speaking-to-foreigners voice.
“Don’t worry about all that,” he said. “We have so many Jews, Irish and God knows what round here, nobody knows where anyone’s from. We had a German fellow working in a local toy factory for a while during the war, on the quiet like. He were called Niederhofer. We managed to pass him off as Swiss. The girls in the factory liked him. Nobody ever said nothing about where he was from. It got a bit difficult in the end mind you, so we got him away on a boat to Holland.”
Dorothea got the gist but had missed a few meanings so asked Peter for a translation. Apart from the confusing double negative in one sentence, Peter had understood well enough and made a quick aside to her in German.
Peter was too wary of his surroundin
gs at this point to tell them he was also a toy-maker. He preferred to let his hosts hold court.
Ruby told them an anecdote about how the English viewed foreigners. She and her husband had met on board the Titanic. She had worked in the a la carte restaurant, where the very few Italians on board were employed. But when she had attended the British inquiry into the disaster, some survivors gave evidence to the effect that the British had been stoic; it was all the Italians who had panicked. It would seem that anyone with a foreign accent on board the ship was an Italian as far as the British were concerned!
The punchline had been delivered with such scorn in her voice, it was clear to her audience what Ruby thought of such ignorant xenophobia. This had her guests relaxing a little.
When the conversation got around to employment, the Nashes were told they had a toy-maker and a nurse in their house. To which Nash was quick to tell them that his friend Sylvia would be very pleased to employ the both of them. The quality of the toys had gone downhill since Niederhofer had left her factory, and there was always a need for another good nurse at Sylvia’s nursery. At this point Ruby piped in that better still, as she was worried about being a German in England, Dorothea could work in the Montessori section of the Mother’s Arms. Working there with a Christian name that ended in an ‘a’, she was bound to be assumed to be Italian! This had her audience smiling politely.
And from this acorn of a conversation, which had been just small talk to make the new arrivals feel at ease, came a potential great oak. By the time the Nashes had walked their guests to Old Ford station, from where a train would drop them at Broad Street, a terminus a short walk from their hotel, Peter had agreed to do a little work at Sylvia’s toy factory. And Dorothea had promised that when she returned from America she might indeed work at the nursery. Perhaps she and Peter could try their hand at living together in the East End, not of Berlin, but of London. She had come to realise that people of the eastern end of cities were pretty much the same the world over. It was the politicians of the West Ends who started wars.
Peter had taken this all with a large pinch of salt. It was a typically fanciful slice of Dorothea pie in the sky. He would certainly work at the toy factory, but only to pay his way in England while he waited for Dorothea to return. And only then if he was treated well. Otherwise he would return to Germany. If he was still in Bow when and if Dorothea returned, he would then see where the wind blew the two of them.
******
Ruby got a day off in lieu of her having to work the day of the march. It was her first day off for weeks. She would spend part of it at a travel agent’s office.
She thought that she and her husband should, if possible, accompany Peter to see Dorothea off at Southampton. Ruby was originally from Southampton and her family still lived close to the docks. She needed to visit her much loved mother soon in any case, so perhaps she could combine such a trip with seeing off her new German friend. And with so many troops returning from the war via Southampton Docks, she wondered whether the train service from London to her home city might be better than usual. They would surely be running lots of trains there to pick up the soldiers. But she wondered whether they might be charters. And if they were, would the trains down to Southampton be available to the public? Or would they run there empty? Of course the trains back to London would be packed to capacity, but that was not a concern.
Ruby decided to ask Thomas Cook & Co for advice. They would know. And they would certainly be able to book her the tickets she needed. She would journey to Cook’s head office at Ludgate Circus, in the City.
She could have got there by just one change of tram, but her husband suspected she might be under surveillance, so he had his wife join him on part of a trip he was taking round some of his old haunts. If she were being followed this would give Nash time to spot the spies and deal with them. Ruby thought he was being rather overly dramatic, but she wanted to make the most of her day off by accompanying him in any case.
They both particularly wanted to see the Lester sisters, so made them the first port of call. The sisters felt that it was time for a confession. After all, the war had ended, and it was clearly the end of an era. They told Nashey about the joke they had both been playing on him for years. Ever since Ruby had tipped them off. Muriel was Dorothy and Dorothy was Muriel. Nash’s face was a picture. There wasn’t a dry eye in the house thereafter, among the women at least.
They then popped along to see Freddie’s mother to let her know the latest news of her boy. Nash was then going to oversee the departure from Shoreditch of his few remaining objectors. They were about to go home to face whatever music the authorities had in store for them. Each had a fictional cover story as to where they had been since disappearing off the government’s radar. Ruby didn’t know any of the objectors, so after leaving Freddie’s place she made her way to Ludgate Circus, promising her husband she would keep her wits about her.
Ruby was in the Thomas Cook building quite some time. It became clear that there was much more to being a travel agent than she realised. Perhaps it would be a job she might be interested in doing in the future. She had travel experience of sorts after all.
On arrival back in Bow, she had some time to kill before she was to attend a meeting to discuss what was to become of Rose. So given that since becoming a police officer she hadn’t had time to visit her old employment colleagues, she popped in to see them all at the nursery and toy factory. And she even sheepishly stuck her head inside the Cost Price restaurant and came away with some food. Vegetarian of course.
With Nashey still out seeing people, Ruby also had time to simply relax at home, but six years of firstly Suffragette and then war work had left her hyperactive. Nothing needed doing around the house, so she popped some things she no longer needed, including the vegetarian dish, round to the vicar’s wife. Jenny would see to it everything found a good home.
She then spent the rest of the day with Sylvia, Norah, Alice and a few other friends and neighbours including Maud’s closest relatives. It was decided that Rose would be put up for adoption. Sylvia promised she would keep a watchful eye on the process and make sure the little one was sent to a good home. She confided that she herself now had new, adopted siblings. Her mother, Mrs Pankhurst, at the ripe old age of sixty no less, had started a second family of adopted orphans. There were so many war orphans that people of all persuasions were doing their bit by taking them on.
Chapter 43
“The people…are depressed and horrified at the terms of the armistice especially that the blockade is not to be raised which means for so many a gradual death. One woman said to me the idea of continuing to exist and work on the minimum of food…was so dreadful, that she thought it would be the most sensible thing to go with her child and try to get shot in one of the numerous street fights.”
Countess Evelyn Blucher:
English Wife in Berlin,
a private memoir…1918
Nash had spoken to Freddie and the conscientious objector John Jameson, whom he suspected would be keen, and both had agreed to stand together at the head of the Save the Children procession. Freddie would be wearing his full army uniform except he would not be donning any headgear, so people could see how young he looked. And fortunately he had not thought to clean said uniform, so he would be marching with the mud of France still on it, albeit with a bit of Bow gutter filth added to increase the dramatic effect.
And just to make his message clear to everyone, the objector would also be wearing his army uniform. This, with a white shroud wrapped around it, to represent both purity and death, with the words ‘I am a Conscience Objector’ written all over the ensemble.
But Nash was still concerned about the problems inherent in getting his two soldiers away to safety at the end of the proceedings. No doubt they would be safe enough during the march, other than perhaps the odd piece of rotten fruit or a paper bag full of urine thrown at the ‘basta
rd conchie’. But by the time the procession arrived at Westminster, the authorities would have been informed of their presence. And they may have calculated that the soldiers were probably deserters. Whether or not they knew the identities of the runaways, they would surely take them away. Whoever they were, such soldiers needed to be taken out of the public gaze and dealt with.
With this in mind, Nash went to see his old friend Sylvia. From her days leading the East London Federation of Suffragettes in Bow, much of which was spent avoiding arrest by a police force keen to return her to prison, she would know what to do for the best. She understood how the government’s mind worked.
He laid out his concerns and awaited her advice.
“I am flattered that you charge me with this Nashey,” she said. “Muriel tells me that Miss Eglantyne Webb, a wealthy woman far better situated than she to take the Save the Children cause further, has hired the Royal Albert Hall to acquire publicity and raise funds. When I first arrived in London as a little art student down from Manchester all those long years ago, I took the very same venue for my mother’s new cause. Mother was much vexed and told me so, as only she could, by heated telegram. As you can imagine the great hall costs a goodly sum to take. Mother was fearful I had wasted the funds. She believed the place would echo! Instead of which the place was filled of course. And Mrs Pethick-Lawrence, our great fund-raiser, earned her nickname ‘the greatest beggar in London’ by gaining pledges from all there that day. Mother’s fledgling women’s suffrage society had become a great movement almost overnight.”
No one was a bigger fan of Sylvia Pankhurst than Nash, and despite his years working for her, he had never heard this tale before. But he was not sure what point she was trying to make.
“The history lesson’s all well and good Sylve but what’s all that got to do with my boys?” he said bluntly.