The clang of the station cell bolt being thrown back shook Esther from an exhausted, sleepy haze and she sat bolt upright on the thin mattress. A middle-aged and rather robust police officer entered the tiny room, accompanied by a younger male officer with bright orange hair who looked to be no older than nineteen, judging by the fluff about his chin.
Esther slowly rose, her stiff, cold bones screaming their indignation.
‘Miss Stanbury, good morning.’ The older constable languidly drew his gaze over her from head to toe. ‘I trust you slept well.’
Esther pulled her lips together and held his gaze.
He gave a wry smile. ‘Well, maybe not. I’m Sergeant Whitlock and this is Constable Godwin and we’ll be conducting your interview today.’ His jowls quivered as he tossed a notepad onto the bed and crossed his arms, his brown, silver-streaked hair sticking out in tufts above his ears. ‘I hope an uncomfortable night has made you a little more reasonable in your behaviour and you find yourself ready to talk with us this morning.’
Esther glared, summoning every ounce of her strength. She might not have agreed with yesterday’s plan, but she’d been a part of it nevertheless and had to think about the effects any adverse response could have on her associates. ‘As I told the constable yesterday, I’ve nothing else to say.’
‘Well, that is a shame, because, whether reasonably or not, you will come to talk to me.’ He turned to the younger officer. ‘Take her to the interview room, Godwin.’
Godwin stepped forward and clamped one hand to Esther’s elbow, the other to her shoulder. Although young, the officer was tall and broad, his iron grip surprising her as he manhandled her easily to the open doorway regardless of her attempts to resist.
As she was dragged unceremoniously along the grey bricked corridor, Esther’s ears filled with shouts coming from the station’s two additional holding cells.
‘Don’t give in to them, Esther!’
‘Keep strong. Never forget the Cause!’
Her associates’ encouragement gave Esther dual injections of courage and determination and she straightened, renewed energy to fight giving her strength to grapple her arm from the officer’s grasp. ‘Take your hands off me.’
Her triumph barely lasted a second or two before his fingers pinched into the flesh of her arm again and she was pushed into a room, made marginally lighter than her cell by two small windows high in the wall.
‘Take a seat, Miss Stanbury.’ Whitlock spoke with cold, calm authority.
After a moment’s hesitation, Esther slumped into the single chair on one side of the table. What good would it do the Cause to fight the police on everything? Each campaigner needed to choose their battles carefully if they were ever to win.
Whitlock and Godwin lowered into the two chairs on the opposite side of the table, Godwin sneering, his eyes steely.
She flicked her gaze to Whitlock.
He leaned back, his lips pressed tightly together as he stared at her with open curiosity, his brow lined. Exhaling, he crossed his arms. ‘As much as your evasive action helped to prevent a tragedy yesterday, I have to be honest with you, Miss Stanbury. I’m finding it difficult to understand how a woman who works for Pennington’s, a well-respected city department store, came to be involved with a group prepared to set fire to postboxes. I am completely baffled and bewildered that someone of your class and clear intelligence would be swayed by a group of women who have nothing better to do than cause trouble and considerable danger to the public.’
Esther said nothing, her heart beating fast despite her enforced and stoic expression.
Whitlock leaned forward. ‘You and I both know there are peaceful campaigners for the vote. Why choose the militant route?’
His disbelieving tone and the way his eyes widened as though he studied a prehistoric creature rather than a woman fuelled Esther to defend herself. ‘As much as I understand why militant action is frowned upon, many women feel they are beyond the freedom of choice, Sergeant. The peaceful route hasn’t proved fruitful, so some campaigners feel they’ve no alternative but to try other tactics.’
‘Some campaigners? Are you saying you weren’t a willing participant in yesterday’s events? That you were forced into Brock Street, forced to accompany a potential bomber and only inclined to intervene when innocent people were put at risk?’
‘I…’ Esther pressed her lips together. If she betrayed her colleagues, she’d be blacklisted, cast out and excluded. If she was to persuade Louise and the other women to execute only peaceful campaigns from now on, she had to remain part of the organisation for as long as possible. ‘Now you’ve arrested me, isn’t it my right to know what happens next? I am under no obligation to answer your questions.’
He smirked and glanced at Godwin who shook his head. Whitlock fixed his gaze on Esther once more and she shifted in her seat, her heart thumping and her shame burning like a white-hot ember in her stomach.
She swallowed. ‘All we want is the vote, Sergeant. As members of society, of humanity, women deserve to have their wants, wishes and desires added to those of men whenever government are making decisions that affect us all. We are half of the human race, are we not? How can fifty per cent of people in this country be ignored as though they do not matter? Can’t you see how ridiculous that is? Does the reality not sound as ludicrous to you as it does to me? By having no vote, we have no voice. We are merely standing up for what should be our legal right. Our daughters’ legal right.’
‘Daughters? You’re an unmarried woman. Are you telling me you have a child born out of wedlock?’
Esther glared. ‘Just because I’m not yet a mother does not mean I don’t care for the frustrations of the women who are. The fight isn’t solely about me, Sergeant, it’s about every woman in the country.’
‘So, everything you’re doing is about women and their roles in society, correct? About a contribution they can make that men have yet to understand?’
Esther narrowed her eyes, his irony curling her hands into fists beneath the table. ‘Yes.’
‘Then answer me this.’ He leaned his elbows on the table, his brown eyes darkening. ‘How is acting with violence, endangering the lives of other women and their children, helping us to see you as calm, law-abiding and decent people who can make informed, intelligent, level-headed decisions? Behaving as you are makes you little more than a threat to others. If you’d succeeded in your attempt yesterday, you would’ve killed at least one innocent bystander, making you a participant in murder. Your methods are merely strengthening the logic preventing you from the vote.’
Esther stared, her resolve wavering. He was right. Yesterday would’ve painted them as little more than selfish. Even deranged. What could she say or do without risking herself and her fellow associates, languishing in cells along the corridor, having to face steeper charges? She didn’t doubt her saving the road sweeper had helped her case, but what of Louise and the others?
She pulled back her shoulders. ‘What will happen to my associates?’
‘They will be interviewed and dealt with accordingly. They are not your concern, right now. You should be grateful we received a tip-off to yesterday’s events and were there to prevent what could have been a catastrophe. Don’t you agree?’
Esther stared, her heart beating fast as every one of her suspicions about Cecilia Reed rose. ‘You received a tip-off? May I hazard a guess as to who that was?’
The sergeant narrowed his eyes. ‘No, Miss Stanbury, you may not.’
‘I’ll say her name anyway. Cecilia Reed was behind your presence. I am willing to wager my liberty on it.’ She lifted her chin. ‘Well, am I right?’
He returned her stare, his cheeks flushing with tell-tale guilt. ‘Miss Stanbury—’
‘Say no more.’ Esther shook her head and huffed a laugh. ‘I am glad to have my beliefs confirmed. You no doubt pay a fine reward for any information that might lead to the imprisonment of militant campaigners. Cecilia is not one to shy away from monetary gain, I’m sure. Yes, our actions yesterday ran the risk of endangering innocent people and I did all I could to save that young boy. No doubt my associates will be angry I put a stop to the wanted outcome, but, at the same time, I understand why women have been pushed to act by whatever means necessary. To stand their ground and find a way to be heard. Regardless of how that might be achieved.
‘If government would only listen and take us seriously, campaigners wouldn’t resort to violence and the destruction of property. I fear the campaigners’ actions will only grow in fervour and aggression the longer we are ignored. The more desperate women are to be heard, the more they’ll increase their efforts, and every time they fail, more blood will be on yours and the government’s hands…’ She raised her eyes to the black and white picture of the King hung on the wall opposite her before meeting Whitlock’s eyes once more. ‘On the King’s hands. If peaceful action continues to be ignored and only acts of supreme violence lead to a breakthrough, it will prove that is all men understand. I have absolutely no idea when or how we’ll secure the vote, Sergeant, but mark my words, we will secure it.’
He studied her, colour mottling his cheeks as a vein rhythmically throbbed at his temple. ‘You’re making a grave mistake by remaining resolute in this, Miss Stanbury. I can easily keep you and your associates here for a second night. How would that be?’
Thoughts of Lawrence and the children seeped into her mind and a prickling burned behind her eyes. She had to stay strong. For herself. For her associates. For all women. She lifted her chin. ‘I’ll stay here for a second and a third, if that’s what I must do. The fight has only just begun.’
‘Then that is a shame.’ He picked up his notebook and stood. ‘A young, lovely-looking woman like yourself could have a bright future ahead of her. If you continue with this nonsense, you’ll find yourself without friends, a job, no chance of marriage or the children you state you think of in your campaigning. Each time you’re caught doing something you shouldn’t, you’ll be arrested, and your sentence lengthened. But if that’s the life you choose, so be it.’ He rose and turned to Godwin. ‘Take her back to the cell, Constable. It seems Miss Stanbury is more than happy to stay another night with us.’
Esther trembled with suppressed frustration as she glared at his turned back before Whitlock opened the door and disappeared into the corridor. Tears pricked her eyes once more and she swallowed, grappling for a hold on her fragile emotions.
Godwin’s huge hands clasped her arm and shoulder and she was marched from the room and along the corridor towards the cells.
Whitlock’s words of warning reverberated in Esther’s mind, muting the shouts of encouragement from Louise and the others as she walked past their cells. She entered her own cell and sat on the bed, defiantly glaring at Godwin until he’d shut and bolted the door.
The noise and shouting filtered through the walls, speeding her pulse as Esther leaned her back against the cold stone wall and closed her eyes.
Lawrence’s handsome face blurred with Rose’s and Nathanial’s as tears slipped from beneath her closed lids.
How could she stop campaigning now? How could she turn away from the women she had stood side by side with for so long? Her belief in the Cause and the rights of women consumed her as much as her love for Lawrence. She felt the same exhilaration, power and commitment whenever she fought against the authorities as she had when she’d lain in Lawrence’s arms. She could not be with him and stand with women who turned militant. She had to think of her family, Lawrence, Rose and Nathanial.
Her hand wandered to her stomach. An unborn child. One she prayed Lawrence would embrace rather than reject. And what of her job at Pennington’s, Elizabeth, Joseph and Amelia?
Swiping at her damp cheeks, Esther stood and pulled back her shoulders. Whatever happened next, the fight for the vote had to go on. She had to go on.