Rankin. She stepped closer and began again. “But now it’s all decided, and yesterday, the post brought confirmation that we leave Liverpool on July 7th, aboard the SS Lake Manitoba, an immigrant ship.” A sob of joy caught in her throat at the thought of her and Elsie spending Christmas with Tom.
Ethel and Nurse Rankin both stood silent, as if waiting for the other one to speak.
“I’m really sorry to lose you, lass. Write to me when you need a reference.”
“Thank you.” Ethel pulled a tissue from her pocket and wiped a tear from her cheek. “You’ve been very good to me. I’ll miss you.”
“And that feeling is mutual. You bring a love to this floor as I’ve never experienced in forty years of nursing.” Nurse Rankin chuckled. “I have to admit, though, I’ve feared at times that you’d end up taking all the hurting ones home with you.”
“I know,” Ethel said as she slowly opened her hands and laced her fingers together. “It’s not that I haven’t thought about it. And thank you, ma’am, for your kind words. I’ve enjoyed working here, and I’ll miss all of you.”
“You know, lass, I think you’ll do fine.” Nurse Rankin touched Ethel’s shoulder and lingered for a moment. “Remember those labour pains. Happens in more of life than we give credit—usually a sign of good things to come. God bless you in your new life.”
Ethel thought her superior was going to hug her, but she spun around and walked away. Turning, Ethel squinted through the grime-coated window at the dull morning light. She wanted to be excited about this decision and the journey ahead, but she couldn’t shake the foreboding of grief surrounding her.
2. Doctor’s Orders
Two weeks later, Ethel and her mother walked through the market towards the train station, picking up their skirts as they stepped across the gutters. The warm June air promised a pleasant summer day. Ethel shifted the bulky parcels under her arm and walked along the familiar street, glad she’d accepted Mum’s invitation to go to the shops. They jostled forward, careful to avoid the horses that pulled their drays and buggies along the street. The chatter of the shoppers aggravated Ethel’s unsettled mind. She usually loved London with its shops and crowds, but today seemed like an endurance race in which she’d lost sight of the finish line.
Suddenly, yells and screams of protest added to the clamour. Throngs of people began to gather, raising their arms, pushing and cursing.
“What’s going on? What are people so angry about?” Ethel asked as she craned her neck to see.
“Well, I’m not about to go and find out,” Mum said.
Ethel’s curiosity piqued. “Just move over here a bit, Mum, and then we’ll be out of the way. Maybe we can see what’s happening.”
Bobbies shoved their way into the centre of the crowd, shouting orders and threatening to use their sticks. Groups of people huddled together off to the side of the market, talking and laughing, sometimes heckling. Several people crammed in front of Ethel, forcing her to stand on tiptoe to see over their heads. Slowly, she led Mum in front of the shops, staying away from the big crowd in the middle of the market.
A lorry with high wire sides cut through the mob. A new group of bobbies jumped from it, swinging their sticks over the people’s heads and shouting mocking words that caused the crowd to shrink back. The bobbies promptly dropped the tailgate. A grinding sound resonated through the air.
A man behind Ethel grumbled, “Next thing, those women’ll want a seat in parliament.”
Ethel’s throat tightened and her heart pounded as she watched the bobbies drag some women by their hair, push and shove the rest, and throw them into the back of the lorry. They cried out, but the bobbies paid little attention to their pleas. After slamming the large doors shut, the officers climbed onto the running boards. The lorry with its passengers sped away.
Within minutes, the market had cleared of all the observers. Placards and posters with bold black letters spelling Votes for Women lay strewn across the dirty street.
Tears welled up in Ethel’s eyes. “Oh, Mum. Those poor women! What are they guilty of—speaking their minds and wanting to have an opinion? Surely we’re not that feared.”
With the afternoon spent, Ethel and Mum boarded their train and rode most of the way home to Enfield in silence. As the train chugged into the Enfield station, Ethel began to gather her bags.
“I’m going back into London on Friday for Elsie’s final medical appointment. I hope we don’t run into that hostility again. I don’t want to expose Elsie to it.”
“You’ll be fine, luv,” Mum said. “Just keep away from the square.”
Ethel knew it would take more than staying away from the square to avoid suffragists. They could appear at the most unexpected times and surprising places. Only yesterday, she’d read in the London Times that 153 women were arrested on Downing Street for rioting; one, an elderly woman, was in a self-propelled invalid chair. Ethel smiled, in spite of the horror of the incident. She would delight in being that woman’s nurse.
The sun shone brightly when Ethel and Elsie stepped down from the train onto the London platform a few days later. Elsie, petite with long brown wavy hair held back by barrettes, attracted people with her quick smile and big eyes. Ethel couldn’t help thinking that Elsie, as trusting as she was, would stand and chat with anybody, especially when she could announce she was getting new shoes.
A magician standing on a red box caught Elsie’s attention. An inquisitive child by nature, she squealed with delight when he noticed her. She laughed as she watched him work wonders with his high black hat and long silver cane. He had rabbits, doves, many flags and silk scarves. He knew his trade well. A dozen or more people applauded him, and Elsie jumped with obvious excitement. A keen child with infectious laughter—Ethel enjoyed watching her.
Standing in front of a wooden street bench, Ethel brushed accumulated dust and bits of twig off the surface. Lifting her hand to wave, she remembered how well Elsie had fared through the long six weeks of scarlet fever. She’d cried with her sore throat and headache but had tolerated the rash well. Seeing her today, jumping with joy at the magician’s tricks, made it easy to forget she was ever a sickly child.
“Come on. We’d better go,” Ethel called, looking across the street to the big clock set into the wall of the ancient stone building.
“No! No!” Elsie shouted.
“Yes, dear,” Ethel said. “Right now.”
Elsie headed toward her mother. “He is so funny.”
“Yes, that magician was very good,” Ethel said and laughed. “I don’t think I’ve seen such antics since I was a child. I’m glad you enjoyed the man with the balloons and funny hat, sweetheart.”
“Yes, Mummy. Can the funny man come with us?” Elsie asked.
“I’m afraid not, dear. He’s going to make other little girls laugh, and we need to get those new shoes before we’re off to the doctor’s office to hear how well you’re doing.”
Doctor Austin hurriedly flipped through a pile of papers in a large file as though looking for a particular one. “I’d like to take a little extra time with you,
