Free Crooked Pieces by Sarah Grazebrook Page A

song.
    I raced to the entrance hall. If I had not seen it…
    Outside the great glass doors, all across the road for as far as I could see and right round the corner, came women, red flags swirling, singing for all their hearts. Beside them on horses rode bobbies, some laughing, others looking quite brain-lashed with bewilderment. Up the stairs the women came, into the hall, like a great brown wave, for their clotheswere poor and shoddy and hardly a strip of colour in their hats. Some had babies squawling and blabbing, others were grimed and oily from work. Old, young, and every shade between. Up the steps and into the hall. I had to press myself against the wall for fear of being trampled, then ran as quick as I could, back the way I had come.
    I burst through the door. ‘Oh, Miss Annie,’ I cried, not daring to address Mrs Pankhurst. ‘They have come.’ Miss Annie came hurrying across to me.
    ‘Who, Maggie? Who has come? Is it the police?’
    ‘No, miss. Well, only a few on horses. But the women… Hundreds, miss. And babies and all. They are…like the lilies of the field.’ I was not sure that this was quite right, but Miss Sylvia seemed to understand, for she leapt up and ran to a little side door that gave on to the stage. Opening it a crack, she beckoned wildly with her hand. All rushed to look, even Mrs Pankhurst, though she is very little and could scarce see past Mrs Montefiore and her hat.
    Miss Sylvia shut the door. ‘Perhaps we shall need those buns after all, Mother.’
    Mrs Pankhurst nodded gaily. ‘I think we may, my dear. Well done. And well done, Annie and Mrs Drummond. Your efforts have borne fruit. Now it is up to us to ripen it on the bough.’ I thought this very beautiful and made a grand effort to put it to memory.
    ‘Maggie, what are you doing here? I thought you were to show latecomers in. You’ll not find many round here.’
    I blushed purple and back again. ‘I’m sorry, Miss Christabel, ma’am… I only came to…’
    Miss Sylvia stepped in. ‘It was Maggie brought us thenews.’ Miss Christabel gave me a lovely smile. ‘Thank you, Maggie. You are a clever, useful girl. Now hurry back to your post.’
    It was on my way back that I saw Ma. She was leaning against a wall, eyes closed, the baby riding so high in her she could scarce find space for breathing. Mrs Grant was with her and looking more than anxious. I fought my way across to them. ‘Ma.’
    She opened her eyes and tried to smile. ‘I thought I might see you, Maggie. Miss Annie said you would be here.’ She took a great gasp of air.
    ‘Ma, you must sit down. Have you been walking all the way from home?’ I did not see how she could.
    ‘Miss Annie arranged that we would come on the Underground,’ Mrs Grant told me. ‘But it is a perilous long way up from it and your ma so near her time.’
    Wrong though it was, I felt a stab of envy that Ma should have been on the Underground train when I had not.
    ‘There’s tea,’ I said. ‘And buns. Miss Sylvia bought five hundred.’
    ‘Enough to feed an army,’ Mrs Grant declared.
    ‘An army is what we are.’ It was Miss Sylvia. ‘But an army that needs a chair.’
    ‘Please, Miss Sylvia, this is my ma,’ I said, wishing Ma had not looked so done in.
    Miss Sylvia held out her hand. ‘I’m so pleased to meet you, Mrs Robins. Annie cannot sing your praises high enough for all the help you’ve given her.’
    Ma straightened up. ‘I thank you, ma’am, but I’ve done little enough.’
    ‘I’m sure that’s not so. And Maggie here has been quite excellent. You must be very proud of her.’
    Ma made a snitching sound as she does when praise is offered. ‘I hope she will always do her best.’
    ‘That and more. Now will you come and take a cup of tea and something to eat before the meeting begins? You must be weary from the journey.’
    Ma began to say that she required nothing, thank you, but I knew why. ‘Ma, you must. It’s free and if you don’t eat a bun, and