Read Online The Furies by Irving McCabe - Free Book Online

each wearing a letter on her chest that spelt out the word ‘suffragettes’. The parks’ office of works had expected this protest and had lashed the boats together in mid-water to prevent their use. But the women had flung off their wraps to reveal bathing costumes and then swum out to the craft to cut them free. Elspeth and Sylvia had gleefully watched all of this unfold from a distance – a sensible precaution, it turned out, because the police soon arrived to arrest the women and take them, dripping wet, to Paddington Green police station.
    On this Sunday afternoon, however, there were no suffragette activities taking place, and after a stroll round the Serpentine and an ice cream in the park café, Elspeth decided to return to her lodgings. Sylvia would have finished her shift by now, and Vera and Anya – who had spent the weekend at Vera’s parents’ farm in Oxfordshire – should be arriving back at Paddington station shortly.
    As she walked home, Elspeth thought about the past two weeks. The day after the Abbey bombing, she and Sylvia had gone back to St Mary’s Hospital and carried on with their work as if nothing had happened. Sylvia was euphoric over their success, but Elspeth had mixed feelings: a sense of pride she had struck a blow for women’s emancipation, but also unease about the violence of their method, the distress it had caused the older couple, and the consequences if they had been caught. Because it had been a close-run thing: if she had not been successful in diverting the cab driver’s attention from his rear-view mirror…Well it was just too awful to contemplate.
    The day following the event
The Times
and the
Morning Post
had articles about the ‘suffragette bombing outrage’ stating that a feather boa and guidebook had been found at the scene and that although the Coronation Chair had been badly damaged, it was repairable. Other newspapers specified that two women had been questioned leaving the Abbey, but no suspects had yet been identified. She knew she should feel pleased, but Elspeth could not shake off a nagging sense that they had been fortunate to get away with it.
    Then, two days ago, Sylvia had taken Elspeth into the ward sister’s office. ‘Vera wants to meet to discuss further attacks,’ she whispered. ‘And Anya has some interesting ideas as targets. Can we meet on Sunday afternoon? Vera is taking Anya up to her parents’ farm for the weekend, but they’ll be back by mid-afternoon. And guess what: Vera says that the Pankhursts have sent personal congratulations to us. Isn’t it fabulous, Ellie – we’re famous!’
    Although reluctant to discuss another attack, Elspeth had agreed to the meeting. But walking back from the park she found herself dreading it. She had always supported the suffrage cause, and it was her frustration with the lack of progress of the suffragists that had pushed her to join the arson campaign. But was it worth the risk to the most important thing in her life – something she had wanted as long as she could remember – her vocation as a doctor? She had worked hard at her career, harder than the men around her; for as a woman, it was not easy to get the best training and experience. And Elspeth had chosen surgery, one of the more demanding branches of medicine. However, the years of hard work had paid off and she was making good progress in her chosen profession, honing her surgical skills in a prestigious London teaching hospital. Now she was jeopardising all of it with the arson strategy. Surely there must be some other, less destructive way to advance the suffrage cause?
    As she turned into the quiet side street and walked towards her lodgings, Elspeth was surprised to see Mrs Evans on her knees, scrubbing the doorstep with a two-handled brush, a bucket next to her filled with milky-looking water. Elspeth’s landlady was a plump, kind-faced woman with small