‘I know,’ I said. ‘But I suppose they would be jolly useful sometimes. If you wanted to run around or climb things.’
‘Well, in comparison with long frocks, they would,’ said Nora.
‘If we had bicycles, trousers would definitely be easier,’ I said. We were discussing the other advantages of trousers when there was a knock on the front door. And a moment later Maggie’s voice called, ‘Mollie! Your friend’s here. And she’s brought Mrs. Sheffield’s little dog.’
Nora and I stared at each other.
‘What’s she doing here so early?’ I whispered.
‘I don’t know!’ Nora whispered back. ‘Quick, you go down and distract her while I take all these pins out.’
‘All right.’ I pulled out the pins that held back my plaits. ‘But be quick!’
I ran out to the landing and down the stairs to where Grace and Barnaby were standing with discontented looks on both their faces.
‘Hello!’ I said, in my most friendly voice. ‘I thought you were going to be at the club all morning.’
‘They’d made a mistake with the court booking,’ said Grace. ‘A ladies doubles match was playing in our court. So Miss Casey had to change it to tomorrow.’
‘Oh dear,’ I said. ‘What a shame. But at least you got to take out the Men– I mean, Barnaby.’
I must have been over-egging the friendliness because Grace’s expression became suspicious.
‘Where’s Nora?’ she said.
‘Upstairs,’ I said. ‘But you can’t take Barnaby up there. Let’s take him out to the garden.’
‘What’s Nora doing?’ said Grace. My mind whirled. And I’m afraid I said the only thing I could think of.
‘Um, she’s in the lavatory,’ I said. ‘She’s been there for a while. She’s not feeling terribly well.’ As soon as I said it I realised I could have just said she wasn’t feeling well without bringing the lav into it, but it was too late now. And Grace looked so horrified I thought she was going to drop Barnaby’s lead.
‘Mollie, you are disgusting,’ she said. ‘Why on earth did you tell me that?’
‘Well, you did ask,’ I said. ‘Come on, let’s take Barnaby out to the back garden. Nora said you’ve been teaching him tricks.’
‘I wouldn’t call them tricks,’ said Grace, following me down the hall and into the kitchen. Maggie raised her eyebrows as we passed through with the Menace, whom she knows to be my sworn enemy. ‘That’s beneath his dignity.’
I wouldn’t have thought a dog who seemed to attract dust and dirt like a feather duster every time he left the house had much dignity, but Grace clearly disagreed. And I had to admit that the Menace did seem much better behaved when he was in her company. We walked across the lawn, the Menace trotting serenely by Grace’s side.
‘Go on, then,’ I said.
‘Barnaby!’ said Grace. ‘Die for Parnell!’
And the Menace lay down on the ground and rolled over.
‘Gosh, Grace, that’s awfully good,’ I said, and this time my warm tone was not feigned. ‘What else can he do?’
‘Barnaby, heel!’ said Grace, and Barnaby leapt to his woolly feet and trotted over to her ankles. ‘Sit!’ said Grace, and down he sat. Then she said, ‘Paw, please!’ And Barnaby offered her a front paw, which looked cleaner than usual. It was miraculous. I’ve never seen him behave like this, even when he’s in Mrs. Sheffield’s company.
‘Goodness, I think you’ve tamed him,’ I said. ‘Do you think he’d obey if I gave him the same commands?’
‘You could try,’ said Grace with surprising enthusiasm, and then she seemed to remember that she didn’t like me. ‘But he’ll probably refuse. He only obeys me.’
Sadly this turned out to be true. First of all I tried standing at the other side of the garden and saying ‘Barnaby, heel!’ The Menace just looked at me with disdain. I tried it again but there was clearly no point, so I went back to see if he was more likely to obey commands at close range. But of course he wasn’t. He did lie down after a while, but it was when I was asking him to give me his paw. And I think he only did it because he was getting bored and wanted a nap. Grace was clearly bored too.
‘It’s not going to work,’ she said. ‘Where’s Nora? She can’t still be in the …’ Grace blushed, unable to finish such a shocking sentence. I wished, again, that I had thought of a different excuse.
‘She really wasn’t feeling very well,’ I began, but before I was forced to go into more detail, Nora appeared at the back door, looking slightly out of breath and with her hair looking very peculiar indeed. She hadn’t had time to untangle it properly and so it was sticking up at some very odd angles.
‘How’s your tummy?’ I said loudly. Luckily Nora is always quick on the uptake.
‘Oh, it’s much better now,’ she said. ‘But Grace, I really was awfully sick.’
‘I don’t want to know any more,’ said Grace. ‘But you should tell Aunt Catherine about it when we go home. You might need a castor oil dose.’
‘Oh, there’s no need for that,’ said Nora quickly. ‘Anyway, what have you and your dumb chum been up to?’
Barnaby clearly didn’t like being referred to in such a familiar manner. He looked up at Nora and gave a little sharp bark.
‘I’ve been showing Mollie how well I’ve trained him,’ said Grace. She looked closely at her cousin. ‘What on earth have you done to your hair?’
‘It’s the weather,’ said Nora, who really has become an awfully good liar. ‘It always makes my hair go a bit funny. How was the club?’
Of course, Grace can’t resist the opportunity to talk about her beloved club.
‘I beat Catherine O’Reilly,’ she said.
‘Well,’ said Nora, ‘I hope you didn’t gloat too much.’
‘I didn’t gloat!’ Grace really did look outraged at the thought. ‘Gloating simply isn’t fair play.’
I sent a silent prayer to Our Lord that Grace’s precious Miss Casey is so fond of fair play. Grace certainly didn’t have any qualms about gloating at school whenever she triumphed over another classmate. I could tell that Nora was thinking the very same thing and was on the verge of saying it out loud, so I quickly said, ‘You do seem to be a merry band of brothers – I mean sisters – at the tennis club.’
‘That’s exactly what Miss Casey says.’ Grace’s tone was serious. ‘She says we should celebrate each other’s victories.’
‘Heavens.’ This was so far from Grace’s usual attitude to other people’s victories I could scarcely believe my ears.
‘She’s taking us to play against the club in Rathmines on Friday,’ Grace went on. ‘And then for a meal afterwards.’
Rathmines, of course, is Grace’s home turf. ‘Do you think you’ll join that club after you go home?’ I asked. It struck me that this was the longest, most civilised conversation I’ve ever had with Grace.
‘Of course not!’ Grace looked shocked at the very thought. She said she couldn’t possibly ‘desert’ the Drumcondra club now. ‘I told you, we’re a band of sisters.’
Of course, all this politeness was too much for the Menace, who interrupted our surprisingly pleasant chat with a volley of barks.
‘Barnaby!’ said Grace. The Menace was straining on his harness. ‘I’d better get him home. Are you coming, Nora? You know your mother’s expecting us for tea.’
I knew Nora didn’t particularly want to walk home with Grace – especially as the Menace would be accompanying them as far as his house – but she didn’t want to make a fuss.
‘All right.’ She threw me an expressive look. ‘I’ll call over tomorrow afternoon. You’ll be at the club, won’t you, Grace?’
Grace nodded. ‘I’m going over to Catherine’s for lunch first.’
‘Catherine O’Reilly?’ I said. ‘Your rival?’
‘Don’t look so surprised,’ said Grace, as I walked her, Nora and Barnaby out to the front door. ‘We’re friends.’
I realised I wasn’t used to G
race having actual friends. Gertie at school was more of an acolyte or henchman. Maybe having friends – people who didn’t just trail after her or make her look good to grown-ups – would be good for Grace.
Of course, having friends hasn’t done much for Harry, who spent dinner going on about how some other chap from school’s family have a boat out in Clontarf and how good he’d be at sailing himself if only he had a chance. Father told him we couldn’t afford to keep a boat, and the entire meal was dominated by their debate on the subject. The only good thing about this was that I didn’t have to try and make conversation with Frank, who silently chewed his dinner and looked away in embarrassment every time he caught my eye. As soon as I could get away, I went up here to my room and wrote this letter to you. I never thought I’d say this, but right now I can’t wait for Frank to leave. Maybe after he does, he’ll forget all about our dreadful nighttime encounter.
Best love and votes for women,
Mollie
Wednesday, 17th July, 1912.
Dear Frances,
I don’t think I would ever tell her to her face, but Phyllis really is awfully clever. This morning as we were finishing breakfast, she said, in her lightest tone, ‘I say, Mollie, I found an old blouse that would do very well for you. Do you remember the one with the embroidered bodice?’
I did remember the blouse – I’d always longed for one like it.
‘Do you really think it’ll fit her now?’ said Mother. ‘I’d have thought it would still be too big.’
‘Well, she can try it on and see,’ said Phyllis. ‘Come on, Moll.’
‘You know, I do think it’s nice that you girls are getting on so well these days,’ said Father.
‘What’s seldom is wonderful,’ said Mother with a smile, which was jolly unfair because both Phyllis and I have been very civil to each other for ages now. Or at least a few days. ‘Oh, don’t look so outraged, Mollie, I was only teasing.’
I followed Phyllis up to her room.
‘Did you really find that blouse?’ I said, once we were safe from prying ears.
‘Don’t be silly, it’d be yards too big for you,’ said Phyllis. ‘I just needed to get you here to tell you that I’ve thought of a perfect way for you and Nora to change into your disguises – I mean grown-up clothes.’
‘I knew you thought they were disguises too!’ I said, triumphantly.
‘Shut up, Moll, smugness doesn’t suit you,’ said Phyllis. ‘Anyway, don’t you want to know my plan?’
‘Sorry, Phyl,’ I said, as humbly as I could. ‘Go on.’
‘I thought, how can we find a safe place for two girls to change their clothes in the centre of town?’ said Phyllis. ‘And then I thought of the lav list.’
The lav list, as you probably remember, is what Mabel and Phyllis call their list of all the shops and cafes in town that allow suffragettes to use their loos when they’re out on suffrage business. I couldn’t believe none of us had thought of it before.
‘So where would be suitable?’ I asked, very impressed by Phyllis’s ingenuity.
‘There’s a hat shop off Grafton Street that I’m sure will let us use their back room,’ said Phyllis. ‘There’s a decent looking glass and enough room for us to change and put up your hair. And the people who run the shop are sympathetic but not terribly close to the movement, so we don’t have to worry about them casually telling anyone that Mabel and I were helping two girls disguise themselves.’
‘Goodness, you really have thought of everything.’ I was very impressed.
‘I told Mabel to meet us there tomorrow,’ Phyllis continued. ‘And to be on the safe side, it’d help if you both shoved your hair under your hats after we leave here, so the difference won’t be so obvious after we put your hair up properly. It might look odd if two girls with giant plaits went into a shop and two similarly sized ladies in big hats came out. We don’t want to attract too much attention, do we?’
‘It’s all so complicated, being a secret agent,’ I said.
Phyllis gave me a sharp look.
‘Don’t make me regret arranging all this,’ she said. ‘If you pair start getting notions about playing spies in disguise …’
‘We’re not playing,’ I said. ‘Honestly, Phyl, we won’t let you down.’
‘You’d better not,’ said Phyllis. ‘Now go on, let’s go downstairs before Mother comes up to check how well that blouse fits.’
‘You know, you could always give it to me and I could have it taken in,’ I said hopefully.
‘That’d wreck the embroidery,’ said Phyllis. ‘You can have it in a year or two. You might have grown by then. You’re still pretty scrawny for your age right now.’
Scrawny! But I let the insult go. I can’t wait until I’m older and don’t have to rely on Phyllis’s whims when I want to go to a suffrage meeting or protest. Though of course hopefully by the time I’m her age we’ll actually have the vote.
I wanted to tell Nora about the plan straight away, but I had to wait until she called around late this afternoon. And when she did Grace was with her.
‘Oh, hello Grace.’ I tried to hide my disappointment when Maggie showed them both into the garden, where I had been lying on a rug eating apples. ‘I didn’t think you were calling today.’
‘We just bumped into each other on the doorstep,’ said Nora.
‘Weren’t you going for lunch with Catherine?’ I asked Grace. ‘And then the club?’
‘I did,’ said Grace. ‘But the court was double booked so we had to cut our match short.’
I couldn’t think of a polite why of asking her why on earth she had come to my house, but luckily I didn’t have to, because Grace then announced that Mrs. Sheffield had given her a note for my mother. ‘I left it on the hall table. I think it’s about the tennis club fête.’
‘The club fête?’ This was the first I’d heard of such an event.
‘It’s next week I think,’ said Grace. ‘All rather last minute, to raise money for new nets, so it’s all hands on deck.’ She looked her old smug self for a minute. ‘I’m going to be helping, of course.’
‘Of course.’ There was a hint of sarcasm in Nora’s voice, but Grace didn’t seem to notice it.
‘You two should help out too,’ she said. ‘They need all the assistance they can get.’
I had no desire to help out at a tennis club fête, and I knew Nora didn’t either, but I didn’t want to antagonise Grace when we seemed to be getting on reasonably well. Luckily, that was when Mabel arrived with the clothes and shoes belonging to her mother. She bounced into the garden swinging a large basket with a covered bundle inside it.
‘Hello girls!’ she said. ‘Julia told me you were here. I’ve brought your …’ She stopped mid-sentence when she saw Grace. ‘Oh hello there. Grace, isn’t it?’
‘Hello, Miss Purcell,’ said Grace. ‘Have you been to the shops?’
‘Sorry?’ said Mabel.
‘The basket,’ said Grace.
‘Oh, that!’ said Mabel. ‘No, it’s just some old clothes belonging to my mother. I thought Maggie might like them.’
‘Maggie?’ said Grace.
‘Our maid, you know,’ I explained, impressed by Mabel’s quick thinking.
‘Yes,’ said Mabel. ‘Our Bridget is practically ten feet tall so none of our old clothes fit her, the poor thing.’
‘I’ll take you to Maggie,’ I said, scrambling to my feet.
‘Didn’t you pass her on your way out here?’ said Grace.
‘Oh no, she must have been doing the grates or something,’ said Mabel. ‘Julia let me in. Come on, Moll.’
I threw Nora an apologetic glance and hurried into the house with Mabel.
‘You do think quickly, Mabel,’ I said. ‘That was a very good excuse.’
‘I’ve had lots of practice making up things to tell Mother,’ said Mabel. ‘And telling your mother all about my imaginary engagement. Now come on, let’s hurry upstairs and you can try these on.’
/> We scurried through the kitchen – Maggie rolled her eyes as we passed – and up to my room. Luckily the drawing-room door was closed so Mother didn’t see us. Once in my room I forgot all modesty and scrambled out of my skirt and petticoat.
‘Here you go,’ said Mabel, who looked unfazed by the sight of me in my undergarments and handed me the skirt. I put it on, hoping it would fit. It was a bit too big at the waist and a tiny bit too long but it looked jolly good.
‘Perfect!’ said Mabel, clapping her hands.
‘I wish Nora could try hers while you’re here,’ I said.
‘Well, she’s about the same size as you, isn’t she?’ Mabel said.
‘More or less,’ I replied.
‘Then it’ll be fine,’ said Mabel. ‘What about her feet?’
‘They’re smaller than mine,’ I said. ‘She borrowed a pair of my shoes once and they were a bit too big,’
‘Well, see how these fit,’ said Mabel. ‘Sorry they’re in a bit of a state.’
The toes of the neat leather shoes were badly scuffed and water stained.
‘Mother wore them on a country walk last year and the road turned out to be rockier and wetter than expected,’ explained Mabel. ‘She’s never really worn them since then. But if you polish them dark brown they won’t stand out too much.’
I put them on. They were a decent fit on me, which meant they wouldn’t really fit Nora. But there was nothing to be done, because Phyllis’s shoes would be too big as well. And it wasn’t as if my feet were so much larger than Nora’s. If we padded the toes with cotton wool they should be all right.
‘This is wonderful,’ I said. ‘Thanks, Mabel.’
‘Don’t mention it,’ she said, and grinned. ‘I’d better go. I told your mother I was just popping in to lend you another book. Did you enjoy Anne of Avonlea, by the way?’
‘I loved it,’ I said, although just mentioning the book reminded me of my midnight embarrassment. ‘But it made me cry.’
‘Don’t tell anyone,’ said Mabel, ‘but I cried too.’
And with that, she was gone. I changed back into my ordinary clothes and hid my skirts and shoes at the bottom of the chest of drawers, under the bag where I keep the clean cotton for my monthlies. Julia never looks in there so I knew they’d be safe from prying eyes. I bundled Nora’s clothes in brown paper, planning to slip them to her after Grace had gone. Then I ran back down to the garden, hoping we could get rid of Grace for a minute so I could tell Nora all. I half expected to find the two of them at each other’s throats – I knew how irritated Nora was by Grace, even if the latter had become more mellow in recent weeks, but they were actually sitting on the rug in what looked like a remarkably companionable silence, eating the rest of the apples.