VOTES FOR WOMEN
PART ONE
This particular story begins in the very early part of the twentieth century in London, England (Number 28, Grosvenor Street if you really need to know) where a fried sausage has just slapped against a large oil painting in the dining room, slithered downwards and plopped in the fireplace where it sat sizzling away.
“That’s not how I like my sausages!” bellowed the large voice that came from the large mouth of Colonel Sir Joshua Bentley-Cardigan-Smythe who has just hurled it across the room splattering the picture of his grandfather.
“Look what you made me do to poor Grandpapa. This’ll come out of your wages, young lady! Mark my words!’ Sir Joshua was loud, angry, short-tempered and very, very miffed every single day. He screamed at his servants, he bellowed at his parrot, he roared at his butler, he yelled at his piano and he sometimes shouted at his trousers, too. Sir Joshua had a mop of white hair (which he hated), a long white beard (which he loathed) and a pair of glasses perched on his nose (which he despised). He had one hobby which he loved - shouting. And the person he was practising his hobby on at the moment was cowering behind a chair, behind a table, behind a flower stand in the far corner of the room and her name was Mary. Mary was new to the job and was pretty sure she didn’t like it.
“S…s…s…s…” Mary was trying to say “sorry”, but she was so nervous it wouldn’t come out.
“You sound like that sausage, Emily!” Sir Joshua never bothered to learn his servant’s names and called them all Emily.
But Mary was not Emily, she was Mary and very proud to be a Mary. She was a small girl with blonde hair and a ready smile for those not throwing sausages about and was working for Sir Joshua to provide for her family since both her parents had died. So she needed to keep this job. It was vital.
“Sausages should be cooked til they are as brown as my Sunday hat and laid on the plate with the largest on the outside and the smallest on the inside,” bellowed Sir Joshua, “Look at the egg. Hard as a doornail and don’t get me started on the bacon!” And the eggs and bacon followed the sausage and splattered against Grandpapa’s painted face over the mantlepiece. Sir Joshua pulled out his spotted hanky and give his nose (which he despised) a huge blow, then said, “You’re fired! Leave at once!”
And Mary left at once.
In the kitchen Mary sat snuffling and sniffing by the sink as her friend, Maude, placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.
“Fret not, Mary! I’m sure Sir Joshua will change his mind and give you your job back!” she said.
Sir Joshua bellowed from upstairs, “Emily go and find me a new maid!”
“Oh, maybe not,” said Maude, fetching Mary’s coat.
It was a cold, cold day in Old London even the seagulls were wearing mittens and Mary had the thinnest coat you could imagine. She wandered and wondered what would become of her and how she could provide for her family. The cold, cold snow whipped her face as she wandered and wondered.
At which point an old newspaper hit her in the face. The wind had carried it away from somewhere and floated it down the street. She tugged it away and was about to throw it in the gutter when some words caught her eye. Reading was not something she did well, but she always tried.
“Come and Join Us! The Woman’s Suffragette Movement! Votes for Women! Direct Action, Civil Disobedience and Hot Tea! - St.Doreen’s Church Hall 4pm.”
“That’s what I need!” she said, folding up the newspaper, “Hot tea!” and she marched off to St.Doreen’s.
The door to the church hall squeaked open and standing there was a tall woman with a gentle face and a clipboard.
“Do you believe in votes for women?”
“Yes!”
The woman ticked the clipboard.
“Do you like hot tea?”
“Yes!”
The woman ticked the clipboard, smiled and said, “Right, I’m Dorothy. In you come!”
The hall bustled and bristled with woman chattering, nattering and exchanging ideas, thoughts and notions. Some had pens and paper and were writing down ideas. Others were looking at maps of London and pointing at various streets.
Dorothy banged her wooden hammer on the table and everyone turned to face her.
“Ladies, we have a new member who believes in votes for women!”
They all shouted, “Huzzah!”
“And she likes hot tea!”
“Huzzah!”
“Now then, perhaps you could tell us your story!” And she gave Mary a tiny shove and stepped aside leaving her alone in the gaze of all these new women who she’d only just met.
Whatever was she going to say? And before she knew what she was going to say she had started saying it.
“I was working for that Sir Joshua and he was a right rogue he was. He threw a sausage at me and bacon and eggs and I was a very frightened thing I was. Who is he to go throwing his breakfast at poor, unsuspecting young women like me? It’s just not right. If I had my way I’m sort him out so he’d never throw a sausage ever again!”
She could not believe she’d had the courage to speak out.
The women clapped loudly, some threw their hats in the air and some shouted, “Huzzah!”
Dorothy spoke up as Mary finished and said, “Then maybe we can help you!” and handed Mary a cup of hot tea.
What would happen next? How would the women help Mary seek revenge on Sir Joshua? Will she get her job back? Only you know the answer to “Votes for Women!”
