The shadows lengthened and we had, by unspoken agreement, begun walking towards the train station, but I wasn’t ready to end the day yet. ‘Why don’t we see what’s showing at the theatre?’
‘We’re too late,’ he said, though reluctantly. ‘Whatever it is will have started by now.’
‘Well, there are a lot of people over there,’ I observed, pointing. A large group, mainly women, I noted, had gathered at the entrance to a small theatre across the street. ‘Perhaps there’s a late play. Come on, we can always get the last train.’
It wasn’t until we had crossed the road and were outside the theatre that we saw what had drawn the crowds, and Will frowned. ‘It’s anti-suffrage,’ he said. ‘Come on, let’s leave it.’
‘No, we’re here now. I’d like to hear what they have to say.’
‘Evie –’
‘I’m open-minded, it’s only fair,’ I pointed out. I was interested in seeing how this movement could possibly dispute the need for women’s votes; it was preposterous to think they might have a valid argument, and I knew I’d go away fully convinced of the rightness of my beliefs, but there was a sense of fair play that niggled. I wanted to hear both sides.
‘We’ll just stay for a short while,’ I promised.
‘All right. But no lecturing me on the way home,’ he warned. ‘You have a habit of preaching to the choir.’
‘No preaching,’ I said solemnly. ‘You have my word. Let’s go in.’
We were jostled on our way through, quite roughly, and seeing the purple, green and white badges and sashes I belatedly realised the majority of people were not here to listen to the speeches, but to protest them. It was tempting to tell them that I was on their side, that there was no need to shove, but Will pulled me through quickly and I made do with nodding understandingly at their colours instead.
Inside, I was surprised to see a generous crowd, with standing room only at the back, and as my eyes adjusted to the gloom I began to feel uneasy; there was an air of menace about some of these women, their expressions were not open and interested, as I believed mine was, but hard and determined. I hoped any heckling would not work against the cause, but acknowledged the movement had grown more and more militant over the past few years. Emily Davison’s death at the Derby back in June had fuelled things no end, and I’d heard awful stories about what went on at rallies.
I faced the front again as the first of the speeches began, and before five minutes had passed I knew I’d been right to come in. The anti-suffragists might well have supported women’s votes in local elections, but what was the use in that, if we were to have no say in Parliament? Nothing had changed, after all. I turned to Will to tell him we could go now, and as I did so, out of the corner of my eye I saw a small, tight band of women in WSPU colours move into the aisle and towards the stage with firm, purposeful strides.
One was holding a bucket of water which I assumed would soon be flung at the speaker, but two more waved an anti-suffrage banner, which surprised me until a flare of light made it all horrifically clear; a fourth Suffragette had touched a lighted match to the edge of the banner, and the flame took hold quickly. More quickly, it seemed, than the two ladies holding the banner had foreseen, and one of them dropped it with a shout. She stumbled backwards into the woman holding the bucket ready, just for this purpose I now realised, and the bucket thudded to the floor, spilling its contents.
‘Drop it in the water!’ someone cried, and the woman threw the burning banner towards where the carpet was wettest, but the water had soaked away and the fire burned greedily across the carpet and licked at the legs of the chairs closest to the stage. Panic was rippling through the people close enough to see what had happened, and although the fire was not a big one, it was spreading fast. Those who’d been seated closest to the aisle scrambled over their neighbours’ knees, while those who hadn’t fully grasped what was happening merely stared about them, bemused and in the way.
Will had seized my hand and started pulling the moment the banner had landed, or we wouldn’t have stood a chance. Someone shoved into me from behind and I nearly fell, but managed to keep my feet, and from behind me I could hear shouts and screams, and someone yelled that they had the fire extinguisher, and to stand back. But it was too late; panic had swept the room, mostly through those who couldn’t see what was happening, and although the fire was quickly brought under control, hysteria propelled people towards exits that were soon jammed.
The next time someone hit me from behind I knew I wouldn’t fall; there was nowhere to fall into. I, in turn, barrelled into the person in front, a woman who turned and shrieked into my face. Luckily I couldn’t hear her words or I might have let my own anger loose. Will’s arm came around my shoulder and I took comfort from his presence, while fighting the urge to shove with all my strength, to get through, to find a clear space and fresh air.
The noise level had risen by now to a deafening, shrill cacophony of voices, some begging for calm, others, like the woman in front of me, simply screaming in fearful frustration. Will’s strength held firm beside me, and he lowered his mouth to my ear so I could hear him without straining.
‘Steady, and keep moving. Don’t let go of me.’ He wrapped my arms around his waist, and whenever I stumbled he tightened his grip on my shoulder and kept talking to me in a low, steady voice to calm my shredded nerves. A crash sounded from up near the stage, and we turned to see the front row of people had tried to exit through the back of the stage, but brought down one of the scenery pillars which had been supporting the proscenium arch. The whole thing collapsed, and now the screams were terrible, and people were lying beneath the fallen scenery.
We were at the door now, bruised and shaken, but as I stumbled out into the blessed freedom of the lobby I felt Will’s hand drop away from my shoulder and he eased me away from him, holding my arms.
‘Go out onto the street,’ he said, urgent now. ‘I’ll meet you there.’
Before I could question him, he’d fought his way back into the auditorium, thrusting his way through the people still spilling out, who nevertheless parted instinctively to let him past. I was about to follow when a weeping voice stopped me, and I looked around to see a young girl in WSPU colours, sobbing and holding her arm across her chest. I felt a flash of anger towards her at first, then remembered my own recent, passionate beliefs in the movement, and drew her carefully out of the crowd where I could help her better.
For the most part my mind was with Will as he went back inside to help where he could, but I was able to lend half an ear to the girl, who was Scottish, very pretty, and about my own age. Her sobs, it turned out, were not for her injured arm, but for her little sister.
‘Please help me find her!’
‘How old is she?’
‘Twelve.’
My anger flooded back. ‘What on earth were you thinking, bringing such a young girl along to a rally?’
‘I wanted her to understand how important it all is,’ the girl said earnestly. ‘She needs to learn how the –’
‘Stop!’ I held up my hand. ‘I don’t need a lecture, you little idiot! Wait here, and don’t go anywhere. What’s her name?’ I looked around, but couldn’t see any children.
‘Helen. She has black hair and is wearing a green dress.’
I placed the young Suffragette firmly in a corner, where I could be reasonably sure of finding her again, then I followed Will’s example and pushed back into the auditorium.
Inside all was still chaos in the aisles, although most of the rows