Page 42 of An End of Poppies

Ambulances came and went; stretcher bearers snaking through the crowd and taking the injured away. I didn't see any arrests but I suppose there must have been a few made example of.

  I suppose they must have bundled the Prime Minister and that fool Watkinson out of some back entrance of the embassy, there was no sign of them again. Cowardly of them not to even dare to face their own people.

  Eventually late in the afternoon the crowd began to disperse. Ordinary women going back to their ordinary lives. I waited alone by one of the fountains as the numbers began to dwindle, hoping beyond hope that M had not been one of those injured. Thankfully she spotted me and we gave each other the biggest breathless hug, tears in our eyes; no words for the moment about the momentous events we had witnessed.

  Of course, the next day there was no mention of this in the press or on the wireless. And I suppose some may wonder what the point of it was. The government does not seem to be listening to us. But the point is this; thousands of women were there that day. And those thousands will tell countless other thousands of Marion Braithwaite and what happened. Her name will not be forgotten. Whispers passed on to whispers. And soon everyone will know. Everyone.

  Next time there will be so many more of us. And even more the time after that. Until we are hundreds of thousands strong. Until there are millions. They cannot possibly ignore us forever.

  Aunt M and I travelled arm in arm back on the tube, a glowing feeling between us. We knew without words that we had done something good. Been part of something good. And as we sat there with the carriage rattling along the tunnel, you could see it in the faces of those women who had been there. A knowing smile passed between strangers who were suddenly no longer strangers. A look of recognition that said 'we are all in this together'. And by that I don't mean the empty meaningless rhetoric of the Government. I mean that we are together now; a secret community bound together by a noble cause.

  Woman after woman on the tube seemed to recognise this feeling. On the platform as we changed at Baker Street I saw the blonde woman who had held my hand in the crowd and she smiled such a loving smile at me before scurrying off to the exit.

  We are changed women J, and it gives me such excitement to tell you of what happened. It is confirmation that there is hope and that this offensive war will actually end. I believe it.

  So, I implore you to have hope and to feel the love and hope that I send to you. There is a future for us J. We just have to be patient and strong and stay safe. Please try your utmost to stay safe for me. Write soon and tell me of your situation and your thoughts about what has happened.

  Much Love to you dear J,

  Esme

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