They stuck together, working side by side, laughing at the men’s rudeness, exchanging comments on their figures and dress, airs and graces. None of them took a leaflet, of course; but the girls called out their slogans nonetheless, and managed to give the literature to a few female passers-by. Then Cat saw Barnie coming along the street towards them, tucking a new packet of cigarettes into his pocket. She froze for a second, saw him recognise them, saw his expression change. He did not stop to speak to them, of course; would not be seen doing so in public. But as he made his way past he could barely contain a grin of stifled joy at his discovery. Barnie was excitable, and liked to make trouble, which he called ‘joshing’. Both Tess and Cat had spurned his advances since he’d arrived at Broughton Street, so he dubbed them ‘the sapphos’, and his lust turned to spite.
News of what the parlourmaid and the second kitchen-maid were up to passed from Barnie to the housekeeper, then to the butler, then to The Gentleman. He called the pair of them to stand before him in his study. Tess shook from her curly hair to the worn-out soles of her shoes, but Cat squeezed her hand, and tipped her own chin up defiantly. She knew she could not easily be dismissed. Her mother had told her that, before she died.
‘Well, now, Catherine and Teresa,’ The Gentleman began. Upon hearing her name, Tess trembled even more; as if until that point she had been half hoping to go unnoticed. Cat met The Gentleman’s eye and refused to look away, even though it took all of her nerve to do so. The study was an imposing, book-lined room; all dark mahogany on the walls and dark red carpets on the floor. Weak autumn light filtered in through the high windows, making the room reminiscent of a church. The quiet, dusty air was cool and still. The Gentleman was in his sixties, tall, broad and barrel-shaped. His jawline was described by grey whiskers, the bones themselves long since lost in a fold of flesh; but his eyes, though small, were jovial and kindly. Unless he had been drinking, or gambling of course. He was notoriously bad at both. ‘I hear the pair of you have become rather hot politicos,’ he said, smiling as if the idea amused him.
‘I don’t know what you mean, sir,’ Cat demurred. Tess stared intently at the floor, as silent as the grave but for the snuffle of her anxious breathing.
‘Come now, Catherine, don’t play the ignorant serving wench with me – it just won’t wash,’ he reprimanded her. Cat blinked and let her iron gaze relax a little, seeing that they were not to be given a roasting.
‘We were doing no harm. Our Sunday afternoons are our own. It’s no crime to join a political union , or party; no crime to canvass on their behalf.’
‘I understand that your Sunday afternoons are intended to be used for the visiting of relatives, or for getting on with some sewing or reading, or other such useful activity,’ The Gentleman suggested mildly.
‘Our Sunday afternoons are our own,’ Cat replied, bullishly.
‘Catherine! Why, you are every bit as stubborn as your mother.’ He chuckled briefly.
‘Thank you, sir,’ Cat replied, with the ghost of a smile. The Gentleman took off his spectacles and laid them on the open ledger in front of him. He leant back in his chair, folded his arms and seemed to think for a while. The girls stood in place, like sentries.
‘Well, you are quite right that there is no crime in what you do, handing out leaflets and such. I assume that you take no payment for this work? Good. But I can’t pick up a newspaper these days without reading of some girl being arrested for some silliness or other in connection with these bluestocking rabble-rousers. They go too far. Unnatural creatures – quite unwomanly, what they get up to. But I am not the type to banish free thinking, not even amongst my servants. Carry on with it, then, if you must. But I will not hear of you out in the streets again, shouting slogans or harassing good citizens as they attend their own political meetings. No more of it, I say. I will not have you bringing ill fame on this house with any more extreme behaviour. Do I make myself understood?’
‘May we attend the meetings still?’ Cat asked.
‘You may retain your membership of the WSPU, and attend the meetings, yes. You may read their literature, if you must; but do not leave it lying around for the other servants to see. And I will not hear of you encouraging any of the other girls to join in this latest hobby.’
‘May we wear a small token of the colours about our persons?’
‘Whilst you are within the walls of this house, no, you may not,’ The Gentleman replied, his eyes sparkling. He always had enjoyed a negotiation.
‘Emma is allowed to wear a crucifix. Why may we not wear an emblem?’