Sadie stared at her askance when she announced her intentions at the breakfast-table, the day of the rally. She had risen early and been downstairs at nine o’clock. Already the morning was hot, the sky blue and high. The perfect day for a rally, she told Sadie cheerfully.
When Sadie had realised she couldn’t dissuade Sophy from attending, she declared she was accompanying her and nothing Sophy said could convince her otherwise. So it was, at just after ten o’clock, the two women set off.
Huge crowds were jamming Hyde Park when they got there. Bugles blew and banners waved, and although most of the crowd seemed sympathetic to the cause, there was a minority of individuals who had clearly come to heckle the speakers. The leading speakers were positioned round the park on twenty different platforms wearing sashes in the campaign colours of purple, green and white, and each platform had a policeman or two beside it. The morning was bitter-sweet for Sophy. She was roused by the inspiring speeches of Christable Pankhurst and Annie Kenney, and the fellow-feeling in the crowds which encompassed women from all walks of life and all classes was like nothing she had experienced before, but Cat should have been there beside her, her lovely face aglow with passion for the cause and her voice joining in the cheers for the speakers. The sea of pretty hats and summer dresses worn by the tens of thousands of women present, the bright sunshine and the almost carnival atmosphere, brought home her loss even more, and Sadie must have been feeling the same because she whispered in Sophy’s ear, ‘She’s in a better place, ma’am, that’s what you’ve got to keep remembering,’ as she squeezed Sophy’s arm.
The rally finished with a resolution calling on the government to bring in an official Women’s Suffrage Bill without delay which was passed overwhelmingly, and although there were one or two ugly moments when trouble flared, the police came to the rescue immediately.
There were the usual groups of Hooray Henrys dotted about the fringe of the park as the rally broke up – rich, ineffectual young men who made a nuisance of themselves at such events because they had more money than sense, drank too much and had little respect for women outside their own class. Since Toby had become unemployable due to his drink and drug addiction, he had drifted into the company of such types now and again, but however freely he spent Sophy’s money, he was still unable to keep up with the profligate lifestyle of most of them, who were recklessly extravagant and wild.
It was as Sophy and Sadie approached the line of horse-drawn cabs waiting for hire at the perimeter of the park that she heard her name bandied about by one such bunch of wastrels. ‘Hey, chaps, isn’t that Sophy Shawe the actress, good old Toby Shawe’s wife? She’s even more of a beauty close to, and willing to entertain, according to Toby.’
‘Ignore them, ma’am,’ Sadie murmured at her side.
Sophy nodded. The words had been spoken loudly, and clearly meant to reach her ears.
The next moment, the two women found themselves surrounded by a group of laughing young men who were eyeing Sophy in an insolent manner as they jostled each other. Aware that they only had a few yards before they reached the cabs, Sophy glanced at them coldly. ‘Please let us pass.’
Disregarding this, the foppish young man who seemed to be the ringleader and who had spoken before, swept his hat off his head in an exaggerated bow. ‘Let me introduce myself. Rupert Forester-Smythe at your service, Mrs Shawe.’
Sophy allowed no expression on her icy features. ‘I said, please let us pass.’
‘Hoity-toity.’
From the laughter which followed from his cohorts you’d have thought Forester-Smythe had said something extremely witty.
Sadie jabbed at the man nearest her with the end of her parasol, causing him to jump to one side. More laughter followed.
‘We have a mutual acquaintance, Mrs Shawe.’
Sophy had no intention of holding a conversation with Rupert Forester-Smythe and stared at him without speaking.
‘A certain Toby Shawe?’ he carried on, undeterred. ‘And he’s been very . . . vocal about your – shall we say willingness – to show a fellow a good time.’
This was too much for Sadie. Using her parasol again she lunged at Forester-Smythe and prodded him in the stomach. ‘Get away, you foul-mouthed creatures!’ she hissed furiously, before using the light umbrella to clear a path to the first cab, the driver of which had jumped down from his seat behind the horse and was saying, ‘Can I be of any assistance, ladies?’
The group of young men were now hooting with laughter and blowing kisses to the two women as the cab driver assisted them into the carriage, but as it drew away Sophy caught a fleeting glimpse of Forester-Smythe’s face, and he wasn’t smiling like the others.