AS SOON AS Anne said that, she looked at Ruby to assure herself that her daughter was far too interested in the pretty scarf to be listening.
Now that someone was speaking, the crowd had moved closer. When Anne mentioned Anthony, people murmured their sympathies. ‘God bless him,’ said one.
‘This country needs women workers,’ continued Anne. ‘All of us who you see today work for the war effort.’
I stopped scribbling in shorthand for a moment and looked at Mr Rice. He was going the same purple colour as when we had first met.
‘But we can’t and won’t tell you what we do, or where we do it.’
The soldiers nodded. More people clapped. One of them was Charles who had got rid of the newspaper and was now standing just by the side of the crowd. Guy had also moved closer and was now casually listening to Anne speak.
‘All we want you to know is that we want to work for our boys. We urge any girl or woman of working age to join in so that we can support them and get this war won.’
More applause.
‘But we have a problem, which is why we are here today. You may know we work shifts and weekends and all hours. We don’t mind that if it gets the job done. But our little’ns, our children who are with us today, need looking after. We know Mr Churchill’s Government is setting up special nurseries for war workers. But we don’t have them yet, even though we need them badly. The fact is, we need them NOW.’
All the women clapped and cheered, and there was a smattering of applause from the crowd.
‘I know some of you may think that mothers should be at home, looking after the children, and that we won’t be conscripted so we don’t have to work. But we are here to tell you that we want to work, and many of us need to work. Especially if we are on our own.’
As Anne continued to reiterate that all the women wanted was nurseries for the children, you could see the crowd’s interest grow. When she said that many war widows needed to work, there were nods from other women, including several in middle age. This was not their first war.
Not everyone was impressed. The two men with Mr Rice moved to the front of the crowd and I noticed that Mr Adams had arrived and was talking to an official-looking man who was listening and pointing at things. They looked ready to make some sort of a move.
It was time to put anonymity aside. I slipped through the crowd, excusing myself and inching to the front.
Anne had finished speaking and now Irene stepped up beside her. Anne gave her the megaphone and whispered something to her. Irene, ashen-faced, nodded and then swallowed hard. She was gripping a hankie in her hand. Anne put her arm around her.
Irene began to speak. She was hesitant and looked close to tears. The crowd waited.
‘I’m Mrs Irene Barker,’ she said, almost in a whisper. ‘I was a war worker, but I lost my job because I couldn’t find anyone to look after my girls when I was at work.’
Then she looked at Anne, shook her head and nearly in tears, handed her the megaphone and got down off the crate. Betty and one of the other women went to her immediately. I heard Betty say, ‘Well done, Rene. You did it. You did him proud.’
Anne started to speak again. A large crowd had now gathered.
‘All Mrs Barker wants is to be able to work,’ she said. ‘That’s all. It has taken great courage for her to be here today.’ She looked over at Irene. ‘Last week she was informed that her husband, Able Seaman Douglas Barker, had given his life for his country.’
Now a very audible murmur of sympathy went through the crowd.
The official-looking man with Mr Adams chose his timing badly.
‘I say,’ he said loudly. ‘I am here on behalf of the council. You ladies are blocking a public thoroughfare and must disperse.’
It was a crass interruption.
‘Shame,’ said someone behind me.
‘They’re not doing any harm,’ said a young man.
‘Demonstrations are not allowed,’ said the official.
‘Yes, they are,’ I said, stepping in front of him. ‘This isn’t Berlin. And anyway, this is a recruitment parade.’
‘Stuff Berlin,’ yelled one of the soldiers.
I took my notepad out of my pocket and flipped it open.
‘Press,’ I said, loudly. ‘Good morning. May I take your name? I want to make sure I spell it correctly. Are you an official representative? Our readers will want to know what you have against women who want to do war work. I’m not clear why you want to stand in their way?’
‘We just want nurseries so we can work and keep our children safe,’ shouted Maeve.
‘TO WIN THE WAR, WE’RE ASKING, PLEASE, HELP US GET OUR NURSERIES,’ some of the others began to chant.
Mr Rice leaned towards the official. He looked disappointed rather than angry. ‘We’ve seen this one before,’ he said, gesturing at me. ‘She’s from a magazine.’
‘YOU MUST DISPERSE,’ shouted the official.
‘NO,’ yelled Betty through the megaphone. ‘Not until someone helps us.’
The foreman, who I had recognised from Chandlers, began to move towards her. ‘You stupid woman,’ he said. ‘You won’t have any jobs after this.’
‘Shut up, Lesley,’ called a woman from the crowd. ‘Stop showing off.’
Lesley turned round, told her in no uncertain terms to go away, and took a step towards Betty.
Betty didn’t move, but Charles did. ‘Easy there,’ he said, calmly moving between her and the foreman. ‘There’s no need for that.’
Lesley told Charles where to stick it. Mr Rice told Lesley to calm down. The two soldiers and a very large young sailor walked over and stood by Charles.
Bunty took a photograph and then limped backwards, leaning heavily on her stick.
‘Come on, now,’ said Charles, ignoring the fact Lesley had just been unutterably rude. ‘Let the women finish what they have to say.’
Charles looked unruffled, whereas I’d have been tempted to give Lesley what for. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed that Guy had moved to just a couple of yards away, near Mr Adams. He was taking notes as he watched.
‘Can anyone account for this man?’ I said, pointing at Lesley and looking at Mr Rice. ‘He’s frightening the children.’
It wasn’t entirely true as Maeve and Violet and two of the other women had sensibly taken the smallest children off to the look at the Christmas tree. But that wasn’t the point.
‘May I have all your names?’ I added, brandishing my pencil. ‘I’m writing a piece for the national press.’
The official hesitated, but Mr Adams was less worried.
‘Really?’ he said sarcastically, now nothing like the chummy type I had first met at the lunchtime concert. ‘I thought you wrote about frocks.’
‘And I thought you were busy trying to suck up to Tommy Trinder,’ I replied. ‘But yes, actually, I am writing a piece. Of course, if you’d rather I didn’t, perhaps you might like to speak with Mrs Oliver instead.’
Mr Adams looked put out. ‘You seem to have forgotten the conversation at your last visit,’ he said. ‘Lots of people in various places will be very interested to hear about this little stunt.’
‘Do you mean how the Government’s women workers are treated?’ I asked.
Anne and Betty were now at my side. There was a loud click as Bunty took another picture.
Some of the crowd had moved away, but there was still a decent number left, and they started to join in.
‘GIVE THEM A NURSERY!’ someone shouted.
‘WHO ARE YOU, ANYWAY?’ called out someone else. Mr Adams didn’t like that at all.
‘STOP PICKING ON THEM,’ cried a woman with a young girl in a school uniform.
‘Ah, good, the police,’ said Mr Adams, as if he was the head of Scotland Yard and had an officer in tow at all times. ‘Now we’ll sort it.’
The local constable was a mild-looking man, but with an authoritative air.
‘Who’s in charge here?’ he asked.
The men all kept quiet.
‘I am, sir,’ said Anne. ‘Of the parade anyway. Mrs Oliver. Thirty-two Wilton Street.’
‘We’re here for war workers,’ said Betty.
‘Mr Simms,’ said the officer, recognising the official, without obvious pleasure. ‘Is this anything to do with your department?’
‘Certainly not,’ said Mr Simms.
‘If you’re from the council then it is,’ said Betty. ‘We’ve been writing to you for weeks.’
‘We’re only asking for a nursery,’ said Anne to the policeman. ‘But we’ve been told it has to be done jointly by local authorities and factory managers. They won’t even meet with us. No one seems to want to know.’
‘And the Ministries of Health and Labour have to say yes before anything happens,’ I added. ‘These women just want to be able to work.’
Mr Simms began to protest, launching into an unintelligible garble of reasons and sounding just like a politician.
Behind him, and very quickly joined by the others, two of the women began singing again.
‘So, off I went and signed up to be a worker . . .’
‘Can I suggest you all sit down and talk in a civilised manner?’ said the policeman. ‘I’ll give you until after Christmas. I’ll take some names and addresses, if you don’t mind. No, sir, please stay where you are,’ he said, raising his voice as Mr Adams tried to sneak away. To his credit, Mr Rice had stayed put, although admittedly he was slightly hiding behind Mr Simms.
‘I’m afraid they’ve already given me the sack,’ said Anne politely. ‘And probably will to all the others after this.’
‘Very festive,’ said the officer, drily. ‘Who’s the Scrooge?’
When no one admitted anything, he started taking down names.
At that moment, one of the younger members of the march, who had become bored with all the standing around, broke ranks from the others and strode over to the policeman.
‘Hello,’ she said, confidently, but not rudely. ‘What’s your name?’
The policeman stopped writing. ‘Constable Pickering,’ he said.
‘Picky Wing?’
‘Pickering.’
‘I can’t say that. What are you doing?’
‘I’m writing down names,’ said Constable Picky Wing, patiently.
‘Can you write mine? It’s Ruby. With a Ruh,’ said Ruby, trying to stand on her toes to see inside his notebook.
‘I’m so sorry, Constable,’ said Anne. ‘This is my daughter. I’m teaching her her letters.’
‘Aa, buh, cuh,’ said Ruby to the policeman.
‘That’ll do, Ruby,’ said Anne. ‘We can do that at home.’
‘Your mother’s right,’ said the constable. ‘That’s enough for now.’
Ruby looked at him with bewilderment. Giving up was not in her nature.
‘Come and stand quietly, please, Ruby,’ said Anne, holding out her hand. ‘The grown-ups are talking.’
Ruby dutifully took Anne’s hand and leant into her coat, looking around as Anne stroked her hair protectively. Now that Constable Pickering was here, the belligerent Lesley had calmed himself down, and the atmosphere was less fraught. Nevertheless, Betty quietly moved nearer Anne and so did I. If tempers flared, we could get Ruby away.
As I had already been identified by Mr Rice, there was no need for me to pretend that I didn’t have an interest in the marchers. I crouched down.
‘Hello, Monster,’ I whispered.
‘Aunty Emmy!’ cried Ruby, hurling her arms round my neck. ‘Spin me round?’
‘In a minute, I promise,’ I said, continuing to whisper. Although Constable Pickering had been very nice to her, I wasn’t sure how far his patience would stretch if I turned into a merry-go-round. ‘We have to be quiet while the grown-ups are talking.’
I stayed crouched down and put my finger to my lips as if it was the best secret plan ever.
Ruby nodded, her eyes wide, then she crouched down too and squashed her chubby finger to her face.
‘Now then,’ said the constable to Mr Adams. ‘Your name please, sir.’
‘Actually, Constable,’ said Adams, ‘I was the person who alerted your station to the possibility of trouble taking place here today.’
‘Then you’ll be very happy to give me your details, won’t you, sir?’ said Constable Pickering, who didn’t seem impressed at meeting a snitch.
He took down Mr Adams’ name and address, and then looked behind Mr Simms to speak to Mr Rice.
‘If you could step forward, sir, and give me your name, please,’ he said.
As Mr Rice did as he was asked and the constable licked the end of his pencil ready to write down his name, out of nowhere there was an ear-splitting scream.
It was Ruby.
Anne bent down to see what on earth was the matter, but Ruby, who was absolutely beside herself, jumped up and started pulling on the constable’s jacket, trying to get him away from Mr Rice.
‘NO!’ she screamed. ‘THAT MAN SCARED MY MUMMY.’
Mr Rice looked horrified and took a step back as Ruby burst into huge wails.
‘It’s all right, my lovely, it’s all right,’ said Anne, picking her up and holding her tightly. ‘It’s just Mr Rice from Mummy’s work. He didn’t scare me, I promise.’
But Ruby continued to cry.
Constable Pickering looked at her and then back to Mr Rice. His expression had changed to one of distinct disapproval.
‘Don’t you move,’ he said to Mr Rice.
Anne swayed from side to side, trying to calm Ruby down. In between enormous gulps and with her flowery crown all askew, Ruby buried her head into Anne’s shoulder. ‘He. Made. You. Cry. My Mummy,’ she sobbed.
‘Oh, Ruby,’ said Anne. ‘Come on, baby, let’s see if we can find Tony. I’m sorry. Constable,’ she said. ‘I shouldn’t have brought her. She’s only four.’
Constable Pickering, who already had all of Anne’s details, nodded, now looking more interested in Mr Rice.
‘Thank you,’ said Anne as Ruby continued to cry. ‘Don’t forget, you’re going to be a bridesmaid like a big girl today, aren’t you? And you’re wearing your crown so it’s a happy day isn’t it?’
Ruby hiccupped and managed to gasp a brave little, ‘Yes.’
Then, just as she began to walk away, Anne stopped and turned to Constable Pickering.
‘Constable, it’s not Mr Rice’s fault,’ she said as she hugged Ruby. ‘I was tearful when he told me I’d lost my job, and it upset her. She just got a bit of a shock seeing him, that’s all. She really will be fine.’
Then she carried Ruby away.
‘All right, everyone, time to go,’ said Constable Pickering as he shut his police notebook. He motioned to Mr Rice.
‘Just so you know, Mrs Oliver just did you a very great favour,’ he said. ‘Now, I suggest you try talking to these ladies rather than making their children cry. By the New Year. I’ll be checking.’
Then he turned to the crowd. ‘That’s it, you lot, go and do your shopping before everything runs out. Nice singing,’ he added to Irene and the others. ‘How about limiting it to carols for the rest of the day? Thank you, ladies, I think you’ve made your point and suggest you all go now. It is nearly Christmas after all.’
Then he gave a slight nod and with no intention of letting us try to carry on, slowly and very deliberately walked away.
‘Well done, girls,’ called one of the soldiers. ‘You keep it up. We’re right behind you.’
There was a small round of applause as the crowd started to disperse, and quite a few people went up to the women to speak with them.
Mr Rice and Mr Adams were in no mood to stay around. Constable Pickering was right. The women had made their point. It was time to go.
The rest of us followed Anne over to Tony’s pram, where Ruby was still clinging to her, but had stopped crying and was now sucking her thumb and rather enjoying being carried and not having to be a big girl at all.
‘Are you all right?’ I said to Anne.
She nodded, looking overwhelmed.
‘Are you sure? I’m so sorry Ruby got scared. Poor old sausage,’ I said, as Ruby looked up and did another hiccup.
‘I’m not a sausage,’ she managed, sounding a lot more like herself.
‘I see,’ I said. ‘Then what are you?’
‘I’m a bridesmaid,’ said Ruby, now beginning to perk up.
‘Hooray!’ I said. ‘I tell you what. Do you want to meet the boy I’m going to marry?’
Ruby nodded.
‘I do too,’ said Anne. ‘I must admit I did try to spot him before Constable Pickering arrived.’
Ruby was now well on her way back to her usual self, and Baby Tony and the other children were all accounted for and so full of ration-defying treats from various onlookers that the greatest threat to any of them was the possibility of being ill. Now, the women were able to take a step back and contemplate what they had done.
The Patriotic Parade had been a success. Finally, the women had started to be heard.
‘Congratulations,’ I said as Maeve and Violet joined us. ‘You did it. Chandlers are going to have to at least talk to some of you now.’
‘And give Anne and Irene back their jobs,’ said Betty, with feeling.
It was a very good point.
‘I don’t know if they’ll do that,’ said Anne. ‘But goodness me, hasn’t almost everyone been nice? People really listened, didn’t they?’
She looked more than relieved, and as everyone now began chatting, I introduced Charles, and then Bunty and I met the other women who had been marching. It gave me the perfect opportunity to ask them some questions. With Anne’s speech noted down in its entirety, I was soon happy I had enough information to write my article.
Spotting Guy now chatting to Bunty, I put away my pencil and went over.
‘Do you know, I thought you might join in at one point,’ I said to him.
‘You didn’t need me,’ he replied. ‘You were doing perfectly well. Those instincts of yours are really very good. You knew when to stand back and watch, and when to get involved on behalf of your friends. Well done.’
It was high praise indeed from him.
‘Thank you,’ I said.
‘Not at all. Now, this is all very nice, but what time did you say we had to leave?’
I looked at my wristwatch for the first time since the start of the march. It was ten past eleven. We had ten minutes to catch our train home.
‘Oh, my word,’ I cried. ‘We have to go! Bunts, you and Guy start walking. I’ll get Charles. Anne,’ I called to her over a small crowd of her friends. ‘We have to go. Are you sure you’re all right? You are going to come to the wedding, aren’t you?’
‘Of course we are,’ she said, rushing over. ‘I have to talk to all the girls, but I promise that Ruby and Tony and I will be on the very next train. I’ve stuffed all our things in Tony’s pram. He probably can’t feel his feet.’
‘And you know where to go?’ I said anxiously.
‘St Gabriel’s Church if I can, and I have the address of the house if we’re too late. Look, here’s your fiancé, now GO!’
Charles had extricated himself from the many introductions and now he grabbed my hand.
‘See you later!’ he said to Anne. ‘Terrifically well done today. I can’t tell you how impressive you all were.’
Anne smiled broadly. ‘Thank you, now can you just please leave?!’
The two of us started running. Bunty and Guy were already moving at a good speed. We now had eight minutes to get to the train.
‘Let’s hope it will be late,’ said Charles as we ran. Then he slammed on the brakes.
‘What is it?’ I said, stopping too and looking at him in alarm.
‘We’re going to get married,’ he said, his eyes absolutely shining.
Then he pulled me into his chest, gave me the most enormous kiss, and took hold of my hand again.
‘Ready?’ he said, as I was now laughing with delight. ‘No time for laughing – RUN!’