The Poor Relation by Susanna Bavin

Author:Susanna Bavin [Susanna Bavin]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780749023737
Publisher: Allison & Busby
Published: 2019-09-05T16:00:00+00:00

‘The governor wants you, Maitland. Look sharp. No time for that,’ the wardress added as she tried to smooth her appearance. ‘Governor knows what prisoners look like. The posh ’uns are the exact same as the reg’lars.’

Wobblier on her feet now, or perhaps just wobblier in her head, she was aware of corridors and stairs, of doors being unlocked in front of them and locked again behind. She was brought into an office with a closed door on the far side. A man got up from behind a desk, crossed to the farther door, knocked and went in, shutting it behind him. The wardress stood ramrod-straight and silent. Mary endeavoured to do the same, but exhaustion vibrated inside her. It was all she could do not to tremble.

The door opened and they went in. There was a vast desk with a bewhiskered man seated behind it, looking stern. The man from the outer office stood at his shoulder, looking snooty. She didn’t mind the sternness, but the snooty expression made her stand up straighter.

‘Maitland, Governor,’ the wardress said.

‘So you’ve come to your senses. Good, good. Stupid females like you cause a deal of bother, silly pieces with unwomanly ideas, who think it’s clever to get sent down for knocking off a policeman’s helmet. Utter balderdash, as I said to the chief constable over dinner only last week. Much as it goes against nature to have married women working, you modern females present a compelling case to allow the employment of married women teachers. Your problem is you’ve been educated, if you can call it that, by embittered spinsters and look where it’s got you. Votes for women – I don’t know. I’d as soon give the vote to my dog. Sign that.’

There was a sheet of paper on the desk.

‘What is it?’

‘Don’t waste my time. Sign it.’

Bending forward, she inhaled sharply against the swooshing sensation inside her head. There was a pencil beside the paper. She picked it up. There was a space at the bottom for her signature.

‘For pity’s sake, woman, what’s the matter with you? Sign it. If you can’t write, put an X.’

‘I’m reading it.’

‘There’s nothing to read. It just says you won’t go on hunger strike.’

‘There’s something about—’

‘Yes, yes, you regret and renounce your unwomanly deeds and so on and so forth. Get it signed so I can send it to the Evening News.’

Mary stared. She couldn’t believe what she had heard, yet when she listened to the words over again inside her head, they said the same thing.

‘Give me strength,’ the governor muttered. ‘What’s the matter with her?’

A sharp jab in the back made her swing round to glare at the wardress before she turned back to the governor.

‘I won’t sign. And you can consider me on hunger strike.’

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