Free Suffragette Girl by Margaret Dickinson

sobered. ‘Quite seriously, I think we should lie low for a day or
two.’
    As they were finishing breakfast, the telephone in the hall shrilled and they heard Meredith’s modulated tones answering. ‘The Richards’ residence.’ A silence and then,
‘One moment, if you please, sir.’ A pause and the door opened.
    ‘Mr Richards is on the telephone, Miss Isobel.’
    Isobel leapt up, casting aside the newspaper. ‘Oh dear, I hope nothing’s wrong.’
    As she hurried from the room, Florrie picked up the discarded paper to read the account of their misdeeds for herself. Vaguely, she heard Isobel’s side of the conversation.
    ‘Well, yes, it was, actually . . . No, we weren’t caught. We’re quite safe . . . Just a little scratch on her forehead, but—’ Then her voice became shriller and
Florrie listened more attentively. ‘She’s fine – it’s nothing and, no, there’s no need for you to come rushing down.’ There was another silence before she heard
Isobel replacing the handset and returning. As she came into the room, Florrie looked up and noted Isobel’s bright eyes and pink cheeks.
    ‘My dear brother is most seriously displeased with me for leading you into danger.’ She threw her hands into the air. ‘Not a word about
my
safety, mark you. And I was
foolish enough to say you had a little scratch and he wanted to come rushing down here at once.’
    ‘But how did he know about the other night?’
    ‘It’s reached our papers and he just
“felt”,
he said, that it was us. Oh, bother Gervase, he’s taken all the fun out of it now. He’s made me feel so
guilty about you.’
    ‘Well, don’t be,’ Florrie declared. ‘I know exactly what I’m getting myself into. And he’s no right to be so – so heavy-handed. It’s not as if
we’re engaged. Now the Hon. Tim, if it was
him
trying to stop you, that’d be different.’
    ‘He wouldn’t dare,’ Isobel chuckled, reaching for another piece of toast.
    Isobel and Florrie remained indoors for several days, but at last they could stand the inactivity no longer, so they walked round to Lady Lee’s house to take afternoon
tea with her. As they sat sipping tea and eating home-made biscuits, Lady Lee told them, ‘Sylvia Pankhurst’s in prison and threatening to go on hunger strike and there’s something
big being planned. I’m not sure what it is yet and we’re not involved, but – but it’s big.’
    ‘An act of violence, you mean?’
    ‘I – I’m not sure.’ Lady Lee seemed evasive and extremely agitated.
    Later, as they walked home again, Florrie remarked, ‘Do you think she’s involved with whatever’s going to happen, but didn’t want us to know?’
    ‘I’m not sure,’ Isobel was thoughtful. ‘I’ll have a word with the Hon. Tim tonight.’
    But Timothy knew no more than they did. ‘Mother can be very uncommunicative when she wants to be,’ he smiled, putting his arm around Isobel. ‘I do hope my
wife
is not
going to keep secrets from me.’
    Isobel laughed heartily. ‘Only when it’s for your own good.’
    Tim blinked. ‘I’m not sure I like the sound of that.’ Then his tone sobered. ‘I don’t suppose you’ll have heard yet – it’ll be in the news
tomorrow. Poor old Captain Scott and two of his fellow explorers have been found dead in a tent returning from the South Pole. They were only ten miles from safety.’
    ‘Oh, that’s terrible.’ Tears sprang to Isobel’s eyes. ‘He was such a courageous man.’
    For a while news of the tragedy drove all other thoughts out of their minds. But a week or so later another event occurred that was to have repercussions on all their lives. A bomb, allegedly
set by Emily Davison and others, severely damaged the unoccupied new house belonging to Lloyd George in Surrey. The following week Mrs Emmeline Pankhurst accepted responsibility and was arrested
and charged with the crime.
    ‘Go home, both of you,’ Lady Lee urged them. ‘They’ll be pouncing on