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Martha woke early, but Ethel had already left for work. She had high hopes of the girl – one of the best they’d recruited in Dundee. It hadn’t taken Ethel long to understand all there was to know about the suffrage cause and she’d already proved her worth at meetings and in some of their more militant activities. Although the Women’s Freedom League wasn’t as violent as the Women’s Social and Political Union, they did their share of fighting for the cause. Ethel was ready and willing. It was just too bad she had to work – that cut the time she was available. As it was, she’d miss the meeting this afternoon at the Kinnaird Hall.
Martha’s house, like all the others in the Nethergate, formed the upper storeys of the buildings above the shops. The WFL office was situated in one of these shops. It formed part of the building where Martha lived, and it only took seconds for her to reach it after she’d breakfasted.
‘Hello, Lila.’ She breezed through the door. ‘Is that a new banner?’
Lila Clunas looked up.
‘Do you like it? I found a dressmaker who can make them in next to no time.’ She held out the flag for Martha’s inspection.
‘I like the motto underneath the rampant lion, “Now’s the Day and Now’s the Hour”. Yes, I like it.’ Martha fingered the banner. ‘Good, strong material. It might even survive people trying to tear it out of our hands.’
‘How’s Ethel settling in?’ Lila folded the banner and placed it on a shelf.
‘She’s at work today. Pity, she will miss the meeting this afternoon.’
‘She can join us tonight when we storm the men’s meeting.’ She took some leaflets from the shelf. ‘They have no right to make the meetings exclusively male or female. They think they’re pandering to women, keeping us quiet by giving us our own meeting. We’ll have to change their minds for them. After all, we have to consider our sisters who are working women and can’t attend afternoon meetings. Your Ethel is a good example of that.’
‘I thought, through time, Ethel might make an excellent organiser. She has a good grasp of what it’s all about, she’s keen and has the spirit for it. It would get her out of the mill, which would make her more available for the cause.’
‘It’s too early, Martha.’ Lila smiled. ‘I know she is your protégé, but you know what they say, before you can become a suffragette, there are three forms of baptism – be thrown out of a cabinet minister’s meeting, go to prison, and fight in a by-election. Ethel hasn’t even passed the first post.’
‘I suppose you are right, but don’t forget those are the WSPU forms of baptism, not ours. And some of them might be difficult to achieve in Scotland. Ethel is not in a position to travel to London or go to prison because she works.’ Martha paused. ‘I still think she would make a good organiser.’
A draught of wind fluttered the papers on the table and the two women made a grab for them.
‘I say, ladies. Didn’t mean to send your pamphlets flying.’ The tall, young man placed his silver-topped cane on the shop counter before bending to rescue the fluttering leaflets.
‘Oh, it’s you, Archie. I assume Constance is still in London?’ Lila stacked the leaflets into bundles on the table. ‘Have you come to help, or are you just here to amuse yourself?’
‘Now, now, ladies. You know I take an interest in everything you do. I can just see it now, women wielding the vote. It’d add a bit of spice to some of the dullards we’ve got in parliament. What ho?’
‘If you want to help, you could take some of the leaflets and pass them around your friends.’ Lila grinned as she challenged him.
‘And get myself lynched?’ Archie shuddered. ‘Tell you what, though. I don’t mind scattering them through Dundee as I pass on my merry way. Anything to help the cause, as you term it.’
Martha shoved a pile of leaflets into his hands.
‘Off you go, then.’ There was something about Archie that unnerved her. It was his eyes – blue and piercing, they always seemed to watch her. She shrugged the feeling away. ‘Will you be at Winston Churchill’s meeting this evening?’
‘I wouldn’t miss it for the world, even if only to see what you ladies are up to.’
‘It will be an exciting evening, I promise you.’ Lila grinned at him.
Martha busied herself stacking leaflets into piles for the volunteers to collect, only looking up again when she heard the door close behind him.
‘Why do you think Archie keeps coming here?’ Martha watched him as he sauntered along the street.
‘That’s obvious,’ Lila said. ‘He’s attracted to you. Hadn’t you noticed?’
‘I don’t have time for that kind of nonsense. Besides, he’s married to Constance,’ Martha snapped, feeling unsettled and annoyed. ‘I’m off to hand out leaflets.’
She gathered up a bundle and left the office as the first group of volunteers arrived. Lila would have her hands full preparing them for the demonstrations today but, despite a brief pang of guilt at leaving Lila to do it all, she walked to the city centre to distribute the leaflets.
She enjoyed her job as an organiser for the Women’s Freedom League and she liked Dundee. The women here were warm and friendly, though the men were more aggressive. However, that was nothing out of the ordinary because men, in general, resented the suffragettes who aroused violent emotions and reactions from them. Educated men were always the worst because of their own unrecognised fear that women might question the God-given right men had to wield authority over them and change the order of society.
Martha had been fortunate. Her family had never treated the female members any differently from the males. She had been brought up to regard male dominance of women as something to be detested. Unfortunately, many women accepted this dominance as normal having been subservient, first to a father, then to a husband. Martha’s mission in life was to educate as many women as possible into believing they didn’t have to accept this state of affairs; women had rights. Her involvement in the WFL allowed her a free rein to do this, and she took pride in recruiting as many women as possible to the cause.
She smiled as she handed out leaflets and it pleased her when a woman took time to read what she’d pressed into her hand, frowning ever so slightly when it was screwed up and thrown away. Sometimes, she thought leaflets did no good, although every little thing helped. She was good at the small things but, with something bigger, she was a failure.
Martha never forgot that she’d been tested and found wanting. Oh, she’d done all the things that suffragettes were supposed to do. She’d demonstrated in London, broken her share of shop windows, been thrown out of meetings. Once, she even tried to get into Buckingham Palace to present a petition to the King. She didn’t get anywhere near him, but it generated a fair bit of publicity.
Where she had failed was prison. She’d been proud when they arrested her. It had been the apogee of her career as a suffragette. She had held her head high in court and been offensive to the magistrate, who’d responded by sending her to Holloway Prison along with Mary Phillips and Annot Robinson.
Martha could have coped with prison if it hadn’t been for the hunger strike and forcible feeding. But she couldn’t tolerate the tubes and the savagery of the prison staff, so she’d given up. The Women’s Freedom League didn’t hold it against her, though she knew if she had been in the WSPU, the Pankhursts would have taken a different view. Still, she felt it was a failure and she had never stopped trying to make up for it.
‘Leaflet, madam.’ She thrust a leaflet into the hand of a stylishly dressed lady who looked at it in disgust and pushed it back at her. Martha sighed. It was time she went to the meeting. With luck, she’d be thrown out and spark more publicity for the cause.