London - Edward Rutherfurd [574]
“I understand that you have been smashing windows,” he replied steadily.
The Suffragette campaign of smashing windows had begun, together with attacks on the grass of golfing greens, and even some arson – though carefully chosen so that no one would be hurt – the previous November after the Liberal government, backed by the worthy but conservative-minded King George, had ignored all their suggested reforms and then added insult to injury by giving more votes to working men, and none to women at all. “It’s an outrage, so women are replying with outrages in return,” she had explained at the time.
Violet herself had not been involved until now, nor, as it happened, had she intended to be that day. But when, walking back from a meeting, she had seen some women who had just rather carefully broken a window being roughly handled by a policeman, she had taken her umbrella and banged it against the broken window herself in a fit of rage. It had been enough, in the heated moments that followed, to secure her arrest.
“I’m sure you could persuade them to let me go for the night,” she suggested.
“Yes,” Bull agreed gravely. “I dare say I could.” Then he shook his head. “But I’m afraid, Violet, that I am not going to.”
“But, father! Helen . . . .”
“I shall go to pick up Helen now, Violet. I’m sorry, but we can’t have this sort of thing. She shall come with me to Bocton.”
“I shall come straight away and take her back!” she cried.
“I doubt it. I think it is far more likely, Violet, that you are going to prison.”
He proved to be right. She got three months.
The marriage of Percy Fleming and Jenny Ducket – though the marriage certificate, to Percy’s surprise, gave her name as Dogget – took place that summer. It was attended by Herbert, and by Maisie, who was not at all pleased, and by old Mrs Silversleeves. Because of the old lady – at least, that was the reason she gave herself – Jenny had not invited her father or brother. Mr Silversleeves, the lawyer, at his mother’s particular request, came and gave her away.
The surprise came just after the old lady had left, when Mr Silversleeves took the couple to one side. “My mother has entrusted me with your wedding present,” he explained, “and I am to hand it over to you in person. It is a cheque.”
It was for six hundred pounds.
“But . . . I can’t!” Jenny cried. “I mean, just for doing my job and looking after her . . . .”
“She is most insistent that you accept it,” he said. “Those are my instructions.” And he gave her a particular smile which she could only have understood had she known what, when he, too, had protested at the amount, the old lady had told him.
So Jenny and Percy were married and bought a little house up in Crystal Palace. It pleased Jenny that she could look right across London to the place where the old lady had been so good to her.
A still greater surprise to them both, however, occurred the following spring. At first Jenny said nothing. After another month, a little alarmed that something was wrong with her, she went to see a doctor. When she told him it was impossible, he assured her that it was not. And when, that night, she consulted Percy, he first stared, then burst out laughing.
For his own part, he knew that he had lied to her about his ability to have children, but the other part he had not foreseen and their son was born that summer.
The eminent Mr Tyrrell-Ford of Harley Street had been talking through his hat.
THE BLITZ
1940
MORNING
“I was born lucky, I suppose.” By rights Charlie Dogget should have been dead some hours ago.
The sun was already up. Overhead there was a pale blue sky. Charlie looked up as they drove across Tower Bridge and saw dozens of seagulls wheeling about over the river and filling the air with their cries. He and the other firemen had taken their helmets off, glad after their long, hot vigil to feel the cool