‘That’s exactly what I’m saying.’ I was frustrated.
‘And you’re saying Constable Fairbanks saw what happened?’
‘Yes.’
Ford looked at Joseph. ‘Did you see Sergeant Simpson lash out?’
Joseph shrugged. ‘It was chaos,’ he said. ‘I was there, that’s true enough, but I didn’t see him do anything.’
Devastated, I slumped in my seat. That was it, then.
But Ford was shaking his head again. ‘Simpson says he can’t identify the woman who hit him,’ he told Joseph. ‘He says they all look the same. With Churchill on the warpath, we’re going to need a proper witness to identify the attacker or we’ll have to let her go with the rest of them.’
Joseph opened his mouth and closed it again without speaking. I could see his dilemma written all over his face. He wanted me punished for everything I’d done – attacking Alf certainly, but also betraying Joseph, lying, and pretending to be someone I wasn’t. But if he admitted to being there and seeing me hit Alf, he’d have to confess that he saw Alf attack Agnes first. Although, I thought, this new Joseph could lie. This cold, vengeful Joseph might not hesitate to tell Ford that he’d arrived on the scene to see me brandishing the truncheon and hadn’t seen what went before.
Ford wrote something on the paper he was holding and then waved it at Joseph. ‘You’ve got until lunchtime to find a witness or we’ll have to let her go with the rest of them.’
Without even glancing in my direction, Ford backed out of the room and slammed the door shut.
As soon as I heard his heavy footsteps recede, I looked at Joseph. ‘Please, Joseph,’ I said. ‘Please don’t tell him it was me.’
To my surprise, Joseph crumpled. He sank down in his wooden chair, looking a shadow of the man he’d been moments before.
‘I loved you,’ he said. ‘I was going to ask you to marry me. I thought we could have a Christmas wedding with candles in the church.’
I pinched my lips together to stop the sobs that were threatening to burst out.
‘When I go home to my lodgings after my shift, I imagine going home to you. I imagine coming home to our house, and seeing you in the kitchen getting my dinner ready. The kids running out in the street to welcome me in, and you there, all warm, kissing me and asking about my day.’
I stared at him. I’d certainly dreamed of spending my life with him but my imaginings hadn’t involved him being out all day while I cooked and looked after the children. In that instant, I realised how naïve I’d been. What choice would I have if I married Joseph? I couldn’t have a job, and a family. I couldn’t be a copper’s wife and a suffragette. What had I been thinking? But seeing the sadness etched on Joseph’s face made me feel terrible.
‘You have betrayed me and you have broken my heart,’ he said.
‘I’m sorry,’ I whispered. ‘I’m so sorry.’
He took a breath. ‘I wrote that crime report, you know. On Ford’s form? I was the one who reported that you’d attacked Alf.’
He sighed. ‘But he doesn’t know it was me. And I’m not going to tell him that I saw you hit Alf,’ he said.
‘You’re not?’
‘No.’
I felt weak with relief.
‘But you need to leave.’
‘Leave?’
‘I want you to go, leave London.’
‘Where will I go?’
‘I don’t care. Go to Glasgow. Manchester. Plymouth. I don’t care. I just want to get on with my life knowing I won’t see you around every corner. And I want to know that you won’t be causing more trouble because I will inform the police stations in every city that you are dangerous and if you are seen to be involved in suffragette activity you are to be arrested.’
I stared at him. ‘I can’t just leave.’
‘You can and you will. And if you don’t, I will tell Ford that I saw you attack Alf, for no reason. That I didn’t see Agnes there, I just saw you screeching like a thing possessed and violently lashing out.’
I felt sick.
‘He’ll believe me, you know he will,’ Joseph said. ‘You leave London, or you’ll spend the next ten years in Holloway.’
I raised my weary head and nodded slowly. ‘Fine,’ I said. ‘I’ll go. Can you give me a few days to make arrangements?’
‘I’ll give you until Monday evening. I want you gone by then. I will check.’
My mind was racing. It was Saturday morning. I didn’t have much time. But how could I say no?
‘Monday evening.’ I looked directly at him. ‘I’m sorry I broke your heart,’ I said. ‘But I want you to know that you have broken mine too.’
Chapter 41
Esther
I was released that afternoon. Joseph left me in the airless room with the bare desk while he went to find out if Mr Churchill had decided to free everyone arrested the day before. He never came back. Instead a young constable arrived and stood nervously at the door as though I were a circus lion about to pounce.
‘You’re to go,’ he said, twisting his hat in his long fingers. ‘Constable Fairbanks said to tell you to remember the deal.’
I stood up on legs that shook beneath me. ‘Where is Constable Fairbanks?’
The lad shrugged. ‘He’s gone.’
I didn’t know it then but I would never see Joseph again; never again see the man I once dreamed of marrying. But now I simply straightened my dusty skirt and thanked the young constable. He showed me out of the police station most politely and I emerged into the dull grey November afternoon with a raging thirst, a ravenous hunger, no coat and absolutely no money.
It was a long walk to Camberwell, so I decided to take a chance and hope someone would be home if I hailed a taxi.
It took me three attempts to get a cabbie to take me and I realised I must look dreadful. My blouse was splattered with blood – Alf’s blood I assumed – and I couldn’t cover myself because my coat was still in the cell where I’d slept. My boots, stockings and skirt were filthy, my hair was dishevelled and hanging down at the back, and my face was mucky. I must have been such a sight that I couldn’t blame the cabbies for slowing down as I stuck my hand out, then yanking the reins of their horse to speed up past me.
Eventually, though, I reached Agnes’s house where the curtains were all drawn – whether against the gloom of the day outside or the gloom of the occupants I wasn’t sure. I asked the cabbie to wait and ran up the steps to the front door.
John answered, his face drawn and pale.
‘Oh, Esther, thank the Lord,’ he said, gathering me into his arms. ‘We didn’t know what was happening.’
‘I am so sorry to ask but could you possibly pay for my cab?’ I said, hating myself for being so useless. ‘I had no money and no coat and I couldn’t walk from the West End.’
‘Of course,’ John said. He patted his pockets and then plodded down the front stairs – looking ten or even twenty years older than he had done when I last saw him. ‘Go on inside,’ he called over his shoulder. ‘Agnes is in bed. She’ll be glad to see you.’
‘I will wash first,’ I told him as he approached the driver, patting his pockets again.
Slowly I went up to my little room. It felt like hundreds of years since I’d last been here. Was it really only one night I’d been away? There was a jug of water on my dresser so I stripped off my clothes and washed myself all over, put on clean undergarments and a dress, then I brushed my hair out and pinned it up again neatly. And then, feeling much better, I went down one floor to Agnes and John’s bedroom.
Taking a deep breath I knocked gently on the door and heard Agnes calling for me to come in. As I went inside, she was struggling to sit up and I rushed over to aid her.
‘Careful there,’ I said, putting my arm round her to help. ‘Don’t hurt yourself.’
She rested her head on my shoulder for a second. ‘Oh, Esther,’ she said. ‘Esther.’
I gripped her tightly and stroked her hair. ‘I know. I’m so sorry
, Agnes. So sorry about your baby.’
She sat there together for a while and I felt her tears and mine mingle and trickle down on to my neck.
‘We named her Emmeline,’ she said eventually, wiping her face and sitting back against her pillow. ‘She was so small, but she was perfect.’
I was glad Agnes had got to see her baby. I’d heard other women talk of their babies being taken away before they’d even got to know if they were a boy or a girl.
‘She is to be buried at St Mark’s,’ she said, speaking slowly and deliberately as though it were hard for her to say the words. ‘John gave the sexton some money and asked him to arrange it. She will be buried close to the wall and the sexton is to tell us where.’
I nodded. It seemed so cruel that little Emmeline would be laid to rest without her parents in attendance but I was glad she would at least be in the churchyard.
‘How do you feel?’ I said. ‘Are you in pain?’
Agnes shook her head. ‘I am numb. I feel nothing but guilt.’
‘Oh, no,’ I said. ‘This wasn’t your fault.
‘I didn’t want to be pregnant,’ she said, folding the bedclothes into pleats in between her fingers. ‘I was horrified when I realised I was expecting and I didn’t want another baby. I told you that, didn’t I? I said those very words to you and Minnie?’
‘Well, yes,’ I admitted, reluctantly. ‘But that didn’t mean …’
‘I wished her away,’ she said. ‘I lay in bed night after night and wished I wasn’t pregnant. And now all I can do is wish that I was.’
A tear snaked its way down her cheek. ‘I want my baby,’ she said.
I reached out and took her hand. It was cold. ‘Agnes, my love,’ I began, not sure what I could say that would make her feel better. ‘This wasn’t your doing.’
She looked at me with hollow eyes, but she didn’t argue so I carried on.
‘I know it was a shock to discover you were expecting. Heaven knows, there’s barely a woman in London who’s not been caught unawares at some time. You weren’t the first and you’re definitely not the last.’
As I spoke, I was counting days in my head, wondering if I was one of them and hoping against hope that I was not. No, I was safe, thank goodness.
I sighed. Agnes was watching me expectantly and I wanted so much to ease her pain, that I cast around for the right words.
‘You may not have been enthusiastic at first, but I was here and I saw how you grew to love that baby,’ I said. ‘How you felt her little kicks, and debated names with the family, and planned her nursery. I know how much you loved her already.’
Agnes nodded, tears streaming now. ‘But I went along to Parliament Square, even though you tried to stop me,’ she whispered. ‘I put her in danger.’
‘No,’ I said. ‘No. We went to Caxton Hall for a meeting, and we walked to Parliament. We had no way of knowing what would happen when we got there. It was impossible to predict that the police would react as they did.’
‘But …’
‘No,’ I said again. ‘You were attacked, Agnes. You were attacked and the only person to blame for your baby’s death is the policeman who kicked you to the ground on to your stomach.’
She blinked, as though remembering, and then grasped my hand tightly. ‘What did they do to you?’ she said. ‘You were arrested. I thought you would go to jail.’
I tried to smile reassuringly, but found I couldn’t quite muster the strength necessary. ‘Mr Churchill set us all free,’ I said. ‘All the suffragettes.’
She frowned. ‘Minnie told me about your sweetheart,’ she said. ‘That he was a copper and he was there.’
So much for my brave face.
‘He was,’ I said. ‘And he saw me lashing out at the policeman who hurt you.’
‘You were bold and daring and I was so proud,’ Agnes said.
‘I was foolish and angry.’
‘But you’re free now. No harm done. Except to that copper’s nose.’
Again I tried to laugh at her weak joke but my laughter turned into a sob. ‘I have to leave,’ I said. ‘I have to leave London.’
‘What?’
Falteringly, I explained the deal I’d made with Joseph, telling her how serious my crime was and spelling out just how hurt Joseph was, and how vengeful.
‘I broke his heart,’ I said. ‘I can’t blame him for being angry. I just don’t know where to go or what to do now.’
Agnes looked devastated and I felt awful for piling my problems on to hers when she was in no state to cope with more upheaval.
‘What will I do without you?’ she said. Helpless, I shrugged. I was at a total loss. I had some savings but the little money I’d put aside from my salary wouldn’t last long. I had no friends elsewhere – I’d lived in London my whole life.
‘I wondered perhaps if the WSPU might help? I know there are branches everywhere. But Joseph made it clear that if I stay involved with any sort of suffragette activity then he will find out about it.’
I felt bone-tired. Weary to my very soul. I put my head on to Agnes’s counterpane, unable to think or plan for a moment longer.
I felt her hand on my head, stroking my hair as I’d stroked hers, and then she paused.
‘I have an idea,’ she said.
I forced myself upright and looked at her.
‘I lost quite a lot of blood when I had the baby,’ she said. No wonder she was so pale. ‘I am weak and I am heartsick. So John is downstairs, trying to find a convalescent home where I can go for a few weeks. Months, even. Somewhere quiet in the countryside where John and the children can visit, but where I can get my strength back.’
‘That sounds like a very good idea,’ I said, pleased John was so sensible. Agnes was such a restless, busy woman that I feared left to her own devices she would try to get back to normal too soon and make herself ill in body and mind.
‘Come with me.’
‘What?’
‘There are a few different places John is trying. Two down in Kent – one is by the sea in Margate, and another in a small town called Blyton, and there is another further away in the Derbyshire hills. But wherever he finds me a spot, why don’t you come with me?’
‘I can’t go to a convalescent home,’ I said. ‘I’m not poorly.’
Agnes waved her hand. ‘I don’t mean that you should stay in the home. Just find a room nearby and a job, perhaps? There is bound to be a local school, wherever we go.’
I sat up a bit straighter. ‘I can travel with you and look after you, make sure you’re settled in the convalescent home.’
‘Indeed.’
‘And if there is no school, there are all sorts of jobs I can do. I’m not frightened of hard work.’
‘I can give you a reference.’
Flooded with relief, I squeezed Agnes’s hand.
‘Will it be soon enough? Joseph made it clear he wanted me gone as soon as possible.’
‘I was planning to travel on Monday.’
I smiled at her, the first genuine smile I’d smiled in days.
‘Thank you,’ I said.
Chapter 42
Lizzie
2020
The meeting was awful. Awful. I couldn’t look at Danny, couldn’t bear to think about what he’d done to me – and to Elm Heath. How could he have said all the things he’d said at New Year, knowing he was part of the team plotting to redevelop the school site? How could he sleep easily at night and then sit opposite little Cara every day at breakfast when all along he was responsible for closing the school she loved and sending her elsewhere?
I knew I was being dramatic, but that was just how I felt. I was furious, upset, betrayed, humiliated all at once. And worst of all, I’d been here before. The emotions I was feeling were horribly familiar because they were just how I’d felt when I’d discovered what Grant had been doing.
I sat numbly, barely listening as Maurice went through his presentation, full of dull and gloomy facts about why keeping
Elm Heath open was financial lunacy.
‘Miss Armstrong, would you like to speak now?’ the man in charge asked. I did not want to speak. I wanted to go home and hide under my duvet, or run back to Mum’s, or go anywhere apart from this stuffy room, with everyone looking at me, and the expectations of the Elm Heath kids weighing heavily on my shoulders, and the stench of Danny’s betrayal in the air.
But obviously I didn’t say that. Instead I nodded, and stood up.
‘My name is Lizzie Armstrong and I’m the head teacher of Elm Heath Primary. I’ve only been a part of Elm Heath’s story for a few months,’ I said in a shaky voice. ‘But I’d like to tell you about that story and why I think it’s so important to keep the school open.’
My presentation went like clockwork. I had some history about Esther and how she’d seen the need for a community school, I had some anecdotes about why the need was still there more than one hundred years later, and I had the clip from The One Show. It was impressive and I knew it well and didn’t so much as stumble over a word. But I felt like I was just going through the motions. I focused on Denise, and the man in charge, and carefully avoided looking in Danny’s direction.
When I sat down again, it was Vanessa’s turn. She gave the room a sweet smile and turned to Danny. ‘You know me,’ she said, beaming at the men who were making the decision like they were old friends. Which it seemed they were. ‘So it won’t surprise you all to hear that I’ve delegated the hard work on this. Danny’s my money man, so he’s going to take you through the figures.’
I couldn’t help looking up as Danny stood to deliver his presentation. I was slightly heartened to see he looked completely wretched. Like a broken man. I looked away again as his eyes met mine.
I’d expected Danny’s figures to be as boring as Maurice’s but actually they were mind-blowing – and not in a good way. He explained the council owned the land and the building that the school was on. He said they could sell it as it was, and earn an amount that made me blink in surprise at how large it was. Or, they could sell it with planning permission for development and make an even larger amount. Or – and this was where it all started to get slightly complicated and, to my mind, a bit murky – they could let Vanir secure investment, hire Texo to develop the site – for a large cut of the profits, natch – then sell it, and make even more wonga.
The Secret Letter Page 24