be among such distinguished people.
‘I’m not sure where I shall be,’ Connie said somewhat glumly. ‘I don’t have a trade and I don’t work. I feel a little left out. I shan’t be wanted.’
Eveline looked at her in surprised sympathy. Only a few weeks ago it had been she who’d felt like that, a stranger glad to be taken under someone’s wing, that someone being Connie, for which she had felt eternally grateful. Now here was Connie admitting to feeling left out.
‘Of course you’ll be wanted. There must be something you do. Maybe you help with some charity work or other?’
Connie shook her head. ‘My mother does. She has lots of charities.’
‘Couldn’t you choose one of them and say you do those things too?’
Again Connie shook her head. ‘I don’t think this includes charity work.’
‘Well, what do you do for a pastime?’ Eveline urged helpfully.
Connie pursed her lips. ‘I like to paint. I paint landscapes and …’
‘Well there you are then!’ Eveline felt suddenly in control. ‘You could be in Block Two with the painters and sculptors and fashion designers and all those sort.’
Block Two would also have house decorators, florists, dressmakers, milliners, pottery painters, especially when Connie divulged that she had also turned her hand at a little pottery at a class she went to.
‘There you are then,’ Eveline said again. ‘The other two blocks don’t concern us – industrial workers and the nursing professions. I’d like to have an emblem of some sort like what’s been described but not the secretary bird they suggested because I’m not really a secretary. I suppose I could draw a calculator machine but I’m not very good at drawing.’
‘I’ll design one for you,’ Connie said, suddenly full of enthusiasm. ‘I could paint a tape of calculations in red coming out of it. I’ll make something for myself too – an artist’s pallet and brush.’
As the meeting began to break up with everyone chattering at once, Eveline regarded her with envy. ‘I wish I was as clever as you,’ she said as they moved over to the refreshment table with the rest for more tea and cake to send them on their way. ‘And I wish I had your freedom too.’
‘Freedom!’ The word burst from Connie’s lips. ‘If only you knew. What freedom I have is won at high cost.’
In short bursts she related the way she had defied her father over the man he had set his mind on her marrying.
‘Why should I marry someone I don’t really love, just to please him?’ she went on vehemently. ‘Simon and I got on to a certain extent but he was too much like my father, too full of his own importance for me to want to settle down as his wife.’
Words tumbled out, how she had spoken her mind before both sets of parents, Simon shocked, stunned rather than devastated, everyone shocked; the week of remonstration that followed. Connie lifted her chin defiantly.
‘I’ve rather burned my bridges in that direction. It’s only a matter of time before I burn a few more by telling my father that I’m a suffragette. He utterly disagrees with women having independence. I’m sure it stems from a fear of us becoming too independent, able to do without them, especially men such as he of high standing. He’s a doctor, you know. But I don’t care if he does throw me out of the house; I am determined nothing is going to stop me continuing to be a suffragette.’
Eveline felt of the same mind but in a different way. Her father might not go picking a husband for her but he’d air his opinions all right regarding what he called them shrieking suffragettes. Finding his daughter was one of them would really make him see red but though she couldn’t imagine him throwing her out, how could he stop her? Lock her in her room for ever?
She grinned at the notion but seconds later she was distracted by the sight of the young man she’d been eyeing throughout the meeting sauntering towards them at the refreshment
‘I’m not sure where I shall be,’ Connie said somewhat glumly. ‘I don’t have a trade and I don’t work. I feel a little left out. I shan’t be wanted.’
Eveline looked at her in surprised sympathy. Only a few weeks ago it had been she who’d felt like that, a stranger glad to be taken under someone’s wing, that someone being Connie, for which she had felt eternally grateful. Now here was Connie admitting to feeling left out.
‘Of course you’ll be wanted. There must be something you do. Maybe you help with some charity work or other?’
Connie shook her head. ‘My mother does. She has lots of charities.’
‘Couldn’t you choose one of them and say you do those things too?’
Again Connie shook her head. ‘I don’t think this includes charity work.’
‘Well, what do you do for a pastime?’ Eveline urged helpfully.
Connie pursed her lips. ‘I like to paint. I paint landscapes and …’
‘Well there you are then!’ Eveline felt suddenly in control. ‘You could be in Block Two with the painters and sculptors and fashion designers and all those sort.’
Block Two would also have house decorators, florists, dressmakers, milliners, pottery painters, especially when Connie divulged that she had also turned her hand at a little pottery at a class she went to.
‘There you are then,’ Eveline said again. ‘The other two blocks don’t concern us – industrial workers and the nursing professions. I’d like to have an emblem of some sort like what’s been described but not the secretary bird they suggested because I’m not really a secretary. I suppose I could draw a calculator machine but I’m not very good at drawing.’
‘I’ll design one for you,’ Connie said, suddenly full of enthusiasm. ‘I could paint a tape of calculations in red coming out of it. I’ll make something for myself too – an artist’s pallet and brush.’
As the meeting began to break up with everyone chattering at once, Eveline regarded her with envy. ‘I wish I was as clever as you,’ she said as they moved over to the refreshment table with the rest for more tea and cake to send them on their way. ‘And I wish I had your freedom too.’
‘Freedom!’ The word burst from Connie’s lips. ‘If only you knew. What freedom I have is won at high cost.’
In short bursts she related the way she had defied her father over the man he had set his mind on her marrying.
‘Why should I marry someone I don’t really love, just to please him?’ she went on vehemently. ‘Simon and I got on to a certain extent but he was too much like my father, too full of his own importance for me to want to settle down as his wife.’
Words tumbled out, how she had spoken her mind before both sets of parents, Simon shocked, stunned rather than devastated, everyone shocked; the week of remonstration that followed. Connie lifted her chin defiantly.
‘I’ve rather burned my bridges in that direction. It’s only a matter of time before I burn a few more by telling my father that I’m a suffragette. He utterly disagrees with women having independence. I’m sure it stems from a fear of us becoming too independent, able to do without them, especially men such as he of high standing. He’s a doctor, you know. But I don’t care if he does throw me out of the house; I am determined nothing is going to stop me continuing to be a suffragette.’
Eveline felt of the same mind but in a different way. Her father might not go picking a husband for her but he’d air his opinions all right regarding what he called them shrieking suffragettes. Finding his daughter was one of them would really make him see red but though she couldn’t imagine him throwing her out, how could he stop her? Lock her in her room for ever?
She grinned at the notion but seconds later she was distracted by the sight of the young man she’d been eyeing throughout the meeting sauntering towards them at the refreshment
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