In a small post office situated in one of the many back alleys that wound like a spider’s web throughout Bath’s city centre, Esther Stanbury feigned interest in a rotary stand of greeting cards. Furrowing her brow as her impatience grew, she snuck another look at the customer talking to her friend and fellow member of the Women’s Suffrage Society, Louise Marlow. Would the grey-haired, bespectacled woman ever leave?
‘That’s right, Mrs Baldwin. The post office will be running a normal service regardless of the rumours to the contrary. The Coronation will not affect the postal service for more than a day, I assure you.’ Louise smiled, deftly steering Mrs Baldwin towards the shop door and pulling it open, causing the bell above it to tinkle. ‘There’s no need to worry. Your sister will receive her birthday present in ample time.’
Mrs Baldwin shook her head, her expression etched with anxiety. ‘But if Margery receives it even a day late, she will—’
‘You have my word.’ Louise gently gripped the older woman’s elbow and firmly, but comfortingly, deposited Mrs Baldwin onto the cobbled street outside. ‘All will be well.’
With a swift wave, Louise closed the door and returned to Esther’s side.
‘That woman will send me to an early grave, I swear.’
Esther laughed. ‘I thought she’d never leave.’
‘Now…’ Louise walked behind the counter and leaned her hands on the dark wood. ‘What can I get for you?’
‘Could I have some stamps and three small envelopes, please? I have so much correspondence to sort out for Aunt Mary. I really must get on with it this evening.’
‘And how is your aunt?’
Esther sighed. ‘The usual. Moody, miserable and moaning.’
Louise smiled. ‘And is she all that’s bothering you? You seemed so agitated at the last Society meeting.’
‘I was, but, unfortunately, I really don’t have time to talk about it now.’ She glanced at the clock on the wall behind Louise. ‘I must get to work.’
‘Two minutes, Esther. I don’t like to see you unhappy.’
Esther sighed and slumped her shoulders. ‘I’m just becoming more and more exasperated that our efforts to obtain the vote remain fruitless. Our peaceful campaigning doesn’t seem to be getting us anywhere. I can’t help but wonder whether the suffragettes’ militant action isn’t only the correct path but the right way forward, if women are ever to be heard.’
Louise frowned, concern shadowing her dark brown eyes. ‘We are getting somewhere. We have more and more women joining the Society and last week’s petition was attended by double the number of spectators than we’ve ever had before. You must keep faith that we’ll triumph.’
‘And I’m trying.’ Esther stepped away from the counter, sliding the rolled and bound poster designs she’d worked on the night before beneath her arm. ‘I’m just so frustrated.’
‘We all are, but we’ll see this through.’ Louise tilted her head towards Esther’s posters. ‘Make the final touches as we’ve discussed, and we’ll present them to the others at the next meeting. We’ll see victory, Esther. I know we will.’
Esther stared at her friend as doubt wound through her, but Louise was right. Losing faith would do no good at all. They had to stay positive and committed. Only time and dedication could change the status quo. ‘You’re right. Belief is key.’ With a firm nod, Esther turned to the door. ‘I’ll see you soon.’
Leaving the post office, she walked through the alleyway and along the street until she reached Milsom Street. As Esther walked, heedless to the rows of shops either side of her, a gust of the May wind jolted her from her preoccupation and Esther slapped her hand to her hat. ‘Ooh!’
A little boy beside her giggled, his hand grasped in his mother’s as they passed by. Esther laughed and tipped him a wink, the brief exchange dousing a little of her mental frustration. Quickening her pace, she strode towards Pennington’s, Bath’s premier department store and her treasured place of work.
At least she had the love of her occupation to hold close. She had to count her blessings. Had to believe that being banished by her father from her childhood home, because of her involvement in the Cause, no longer affected her. She had been, and would always remain, staunchly determined to continue the suffrage work her mother had involved Esther in since a young age.
When her mother had passed, Esther’s father had mistakenly believed his daughter would give up the fight.
How very wrong he had been.
Now, thanks to the poison Esther’s stepmother had slowly dripped into her father’s ear, Esther found herself living away from her familial home in the Cotswolds and, instead, in the centre of Bath with her aunt. Although Aunt Mary certainly sided with her brother and his new wife about Esther’s activities, at least she had somewhere to stay and was now more active than ever as a member of a bigger and more determined suffragist group.
She hurried along the street, passing stalls selling flowers, fruit and vegetables, as she made her way through the slowly increasing crowds. Inhaling the scents of horses and petrol as carriages and shiny, new motorcars swept by, Esther took little notice of the goings-on around her, her mind so full of thoughts and distraction.
There had to be more the Society could do. Anticipation her fellow campaigners might support her new poster designs, not to mention other strategies she’d put forward, gave Esther a much-needed injection of hope, but it still wasn’t enough. Again and again, they acknowledged her creative talent. Had even commented that her position as head window dresser at Pennington’s could serve them well in the fight. But there had to be more she could do.
Nerves leapt in Esther’s stomach as she battled her guilt over the growing temptation to leave the suffragist group and join the suffragettes. The differences between peaceful campaigning versus militant meant publicity for the Cause was becoming feverish. Her allegiance to the Society, and her fellow campaigners’ approval of her enrolment, meant she had finally found her true place in the world. That she was valued and needed. But she could not allow their lack of progress to assuage the fire that burned deep inside of her.
The familiar heat of possibility inched into her veins and Esther stood a little taller as the mammoth shadow of Pennington’s Department Store touched the tips of her booted toes. She neared the building, the mid-morning sun teasing her senses with the promise of summer.
Esther breathed deep and stared at Pennington’s façade. Painted entirely white, with two tall columns flanking the gilded double doors, Bath’s finest department store stretched to five storeys and encompassed everything a consumer could wish for.
From hats and gloves, to jewellery, toys and perfume, Pennington’s was a store that inspired and influenced. A promised land where people from every walk of life came to shop, take lunch and socialise.
Straightening the lapels of her uniform jacket, Esther hoped her appearance wasn’t below par. For over a year, Pennington’s had prided itself on its new staff uniforms and the unity of everyone who worked there. As head of a small team of four women and three men, Esther liked to think the pride Elizabeth Pennington had in the dressers’ department was justified.
Esther stepped forward… only to stop again.
A man stood in front of one of the store windows with a little girl and, judging by the scowl on the girl’s face and the exasperation on the man’s, father and daughter were in the throes of debate.
‘But, Daddy, I want the cricket set. Please!’
‘Why don’t I buy you the doll? And, if you don’t like it, we can change it for the cricket set another day.’
‘But—’
‘Dolls are for girls, Rose. Cricket sets for boys.’
Esther narrowed her eyes as she approached them and the young boy, standing a little to the side, who she assumed to be the man’s son. The little boy bounced a ball against a paddle, seemingly oblivious to the redness of his father’s and sister’s combative faces. The man held his daughter’s hand while pointing towards one of Pennington’s huge picture windows. The colourful and flamboyant toy display beyond had been erected by Esther and her team just a few days before. She stopped beside them, clutching her handbag in tightened fingers. Rightly or wrongly, she could not walk away from the gentleman’s clear fault in the argument. ‘Excuse me?’
The man straightened, and Esther resisted the urge to step back. He towered over her by at least six inches, his broad shoulders only accentuating his physical dominance over her petite five feet four inches and, some might say, too slender frame.
Forcing a smile, she pushed down her irritation, all too aware she represented Pennington’s and rudeness to a potential customer was always to be avoided. ‘I couldn’t help overhearing your words to your daughter.’
His bright blue gaze bored into hers. ‘And?’
‘And I don’t believe it’s anyone’s place to say what another person should prefer, whether adult or child, male or female.’
He arched an eyebrow, the exasperation in his eyes softening to amusement, which only hitched Esther’s temper higher. Her smile faltered as she struggled to maintain a semblance of pleasantness.
‘I see.’ He slid his hand onto his daughter’s shoulder, her hair shining in a sheet of glossy brown down her back. Esther noted it was the exact same colour as her father’s, which peeked from beneath the edges of his hat. ‘Rose is something of a conundrum. Yesterday, dolls were her favourite thing in the whole world, today it’s cricket. As for Nathanial here…’ He touched the little boy’s head. ‘Yesterday he was convinced the sky was always only blue. Whereas today, it’s blue and grey.’
Esther lifted her chin. ‘That is neither here nor there. If your children—’
‘Are you a mother, Mrs…?’
She almost corrected his presumption of her marital status but quickly snapped her mouth closed. He had no need to know her title or name. He had no need to know anything about her. ‘I’m not, but I know the importance of choice as well as anyone.’
‘Yet how would you understand a confrontation between parent and child when you have merely caught the briefest of moments in what has been an argument lasting…’ He pulled a gold pocket watch from his waistcoat. ‘Fifteen minutes.’
Esther held his frustratingly calm gaze and fought to muster her wavering confidence. His impertinent question regarding her maternal status had thrown her from the subject, but he was right to question her. What did she really know of children? Of parenting?
Heat crept into her cheeks, but she stood firm as she turned her attention to his daughter rather than her imperviously forthright father. ‘Do I find myself standing in front of a keen cricketer?’ Esther beamed at the little girl who grinned back. ‘Could you be the first young lady to join the men at the Oval?’
The little girl giggled as she sidled closer to her father, her head bobbing up and down.
Esther laughed before addressing the little boy. ‘And I agree, the sky is most definitely blue and grey.’
The boy flashed an impish grin and Esther straightened, glancing at their father. Her smile vanished at the intense way the gentleman studied her.
She cleared her throat. ‘Your children are delightful, sir. I would just like certain people to see that it’s important every human being, no matter how young, is allowed the liberty of choice.’
His gaze lingered on hers until he blinked and looked along the street as though bored by her conversation. ‘I see.’
Esther glared at his profile before remembering his children watched her. She forced a tight smile. ‘I can’t imagine your wife would approve of you encouraging such a division in your children.’
He stilled, before facing her, his blue eyes wholly darker than they’d been before. ‘My wife?’
‘Yes, sir. Your wife. Is it not enough that women are forced to fight for a position in the world without—’
‘We’re discussing a doll and cricket set. Hardly an argument for or against women’s suffrage.’ Two spots of angry colour now darkened his cheeks. ‘That’s what you’re referring to, correct?’
Esther swallowed and glanced at his children before tilting her chin at their father. ‘Not in this instance.’
He raised his eyebrows. ‘No?’
‘No.’
‘That’s just as well.’ He glanced along the street. ‘As an active suffragist supporter myself, I really wouldn’t appreciate you casting aspersions without knowing me.’
Surprised, she lowered her tense shoulders. ‘You support the Cause?’
He faced her. ‘I do and have for many months.’
Her heart quickened, and she turned away from his penetrating gaze. So, he was one of the men supporting the women in their fight, that did not mean he could hoodwink his daughter into convention.
‘Well, as pleased as I am to hear that, sir, we clearly have a long way to go with regards to gender equality. The Cause is just one aspect of women’s rights that needs to change. Wouldn’t you agree?’
‘Indeed, I would. I imagine the fight to close the avenue between the sexes will be an ongoing one for many years to come.’
‘Exactly.’ She looked at the young girl and smiled. ‘Do you think we’ve persuaded your father you should have the cricket set?’
His daughter shook her head, but her eyes shone with mischief. ‘Daddy is stubborn.’
Trying not to laugh, Esther nodded. ‘Yes, I believe he is.’
The gentleman coughed.
Esther faced him, disconcerted by the unexpected softness that had replaced the defiance in his eyes. ‘Well, it seems you have found a friend in Rose, if nothing else.’
‘Yes, I think you could be right.’ She smiled at his daughter, delighting in her happy gaze, before she turned to the little boy. ‘And I have in you, too, I hope?’
He nodded, his smile impossibly enchanting.
Their father cleared his throat. ‘But, new friends or not, that doesn’t mean I’ll weaken in my decision about what to buy them.’
Of all the obstinate… She pointed to the window. ‘This display was purposely designed to amalgamate children’s interests and tastes. Do you see nothing is segregated? Nothing clearly marked as boys’ toys versus girls?’
His gaze momentarily dropped to her mouth in such intense study further heat flared in her cheeks. The man had an unnerving way of examining a person. As though he could look at her and see something beyond what she presented to him. It was annoying. Supremely annoying.
He slowly turned to the window. ‘That is the dresser’s intention?’
‘Absolutely.’
‘And you can be quite certain of that because…’
‘Because, sir, I am her. My motivation behind this design was to show it’s neither here nor there which gender chooses to play with which toy. Why not allow children to be children regardless of whether they are male or female?’ Esther’s pride swelled. ‘And with that thought, I will bid you good day.’ She smiled at his children in turn. ‘It was lovely to meet you all. Goodbye.’
Esther marched past the family towards Pennington’s open double doors. That told him. The way he’d looked at her! Almost as if she entertained him. Well, maybe next time, he’d think twice before declaring what was, or wasn’t, a suitable toy or pastime for his children. It was attitudes like his that held back progress; that scuppered the Cause’s efforts time and time again.
Taking a deep breath to calm herself, Esther walked through Pennington’s doors and into the glittering, brightly lit atrium. The mammoth space burst with activity, customers strolling arm in arm around the glistening counters and dressed mannequins standing on platforms dotted throughout. Wide-brimmed hats and tailored suits provided a seemingly endless flow of colour. At Pennington’s, dancers and actors, gentry and businessmen shared the same space with middle-class housewives, labourers or nannies with prams. The sight of such equality never failed to brighten Esther’s most sombre mood.
When Elizabeth’s father, Edward Pennington, had finally seen sense and passed the store’s reins to his daughter, Elizabeth had quickly and decisively implemented changes that meant the demographic of Pennington’s shoppers instantly modernised from being shamefully elitist to encompassing people from every walk of life. The struggle Elizabeth had gone through to be valued and respected by her father had bordered on painful, but she’d succeeded in her endeavours, despite the odds stacked against her.
She’d utilised every ounce of her passion and drive to do all she could to help female workers labour towards an equal footing with men. To encourage and inspire belief in the department heads and their staff that the stark differences between men and women was a thing of the past at Pennington’s.
Working alongside her new husband, Joseph Carter, Elizabeth retained her maiden name for her professional life only. As her friend, Esther knew only too well how much Elizabeth relished being Mrs Carter. Not as a sign of inferiority or bondage to her husband but as a proud public acknowledgement to a man she loved and respected. Someone who had been far below her social standing when they’d met and fallen in love, but despite the obstacles, Elizabeth and Joseph had fought her father in order to spend their lives together. Her love for her husband was tangible whenever Esther was near them, whether in the workplace or socially. They were a formidable team, and one Esther felt honoured to work with.
Esther lifted her gaze to the sunlight that flowed through the glass dome, casting pink, blue and green in every direction, prismed by the huge chandeliers hung throughout the seemingly endless store. She smelt the soft scent of perfume mixed with the sweetness emanating from the numerous bouquets of flowers standing in vases on marble plinths and breathed deep, as love for her job and the people she worked with hastened her steps and demolished her temper.
Esther weaved through the throng towards the stairs leading to her department in the store’s basement. She was thankful Elizabeth had agreed she could start work a little later this morning. The ten-hour days she’d worked for the last month to get the toy window display finished as well as adding bits and pieces to the store’s plans for the upcoming Coronation had finally taken their toll and – added to the constant and growing demands of her aging aunt – Esther’s focus had woefully drifted. Something she’d never allowed to happen before and was determined to rectify. Her constant need to prove herself had become an obsession.
She inhaled. An obsession she feared she’d never satisfy.
Her father’s rejection of her and her ensuing need to feel worthy of her mother’s belief in her had meant Esther worked hard, often forgoing fun in a bid to succeed in her work for the Cause and here at Pennington’s.
Her desperate need to feel valued and wanted sometimes hung over her like a heavy cloud, and she had absolutely no idea what, or who, would make that change. All she knew, with the utmost certainty, was that she’d never give up until she’d succeeded.