Free Extract: The Bobby Girls by Johanna Bell

Prologue

Sarah

As Sarah put the finishing touches to her article, the sound of excited chatter made its way across the offices of The Vote towards her desk. She had been working at the paper for the last year. Normally there was a sense of calm and relief as everyone met the final deadline and relaxed before the latest edition went to press. But today was different.She pulled her work out of the typewriter and left it at the end of her desk to be picked up, before making her way to the crowd that had gathered around Nina.

Peering over a few shoulders, Sarah could just manage to see the page proof that had everyone so giddy. It was there, in big, bold letters: RECRUITING. Squinting her eyes, she strained to make out the small print underneath. She could read enough to work out that a corps of female volunteer police was being put together.

‘Finally!’ she exclaimed, as Nina grinned at her through the small crowd. Nina, The Vote’s political secretary, had been campaigning for women to be allowed to become special constables for a long time. She had written about it in the paper and had even started recruiting a few months ago, before the Chief Commissioner of Police gave her permission to form the group.

The paper had run a big call-to-arms back in June, along with an article outlining all the reasons why women police were needed. Sarah had been outraged when Nina told her what the commissioner had said in response to her ideas: ‘You will get yourselves knocked on the head, and you surely don’t expect me to look after a lot of women.’ It was just typical of men – why couldn’t they see that women could look after themselves perfectly well?

‘The commissioner finally gave in,’ smiled Nina. ‘It seems all his manpower is off to fight so he has no choice but to draft in female help. Now we can start enrolling the women who have already come forward, and begin officially recruiting.’

Sarah felt a sudden rush of adrenaline as the enormity of the news sunk in. ‘This is our chance to show everyone what we can do,’ she said to her friend Daisy as they made their way back to their desks.

‘Will you be signing up, then?’ Daisy asked, nervously.

‘Of course,’ Sarah said. ‘Why on earth wouldn’t I?’

At twenty-one, Sarah was the youngest writer at the paper. Her age along with her short and slight frame led people to assume she was shy and meek.They were always surprised to discover that, though she was small, her personality was big.

‘It’s just . . . well . . .’ stammered Daisy, avoiding eye contact and staring uncomfortably at the floor. ‘I know this is what we’ve been fighting for for so long . . . but now it’s actually happening, I think I would be a little too scared to sign up.’

‘Are you pulling my leg?’ Sarah scoffed. ‘This is it, Daisy – this is what all the hard work has been about! Female bobbies! All the campaigning has worked! This is our opportunity to show the men we can do just as good a job as them!’ Sarah’s eyes watered as emotion took over. She paused before continuing. ‘This is our chance to protect all those poor women getting dragged through the court system by male police officers, male solicitors, male court staff and male judges – whether they’ve done something that deserves justice or been a victim. We need to do this for them!’

Sarah could feel all eyes on her as her voice increased in volume, as it tended to do when she got going on this topic. She couldn’t help it – she was just so passionate about it. She had been devastated when her beloved suffragettes had ceased hostilities at the outbreak of the war earlier that month. Yes, she agreed everyone needed to work together to help win the war – but she had been worried it would be at the sacrifice of all the progress that had been made.

Lowering her voice, she added, ‘Now that Nina has permission to go ahead, I’ll be drawing up my application. You should really think about doing the same thing, Daisy. We need to stick together and show everyone we can do this.’

As she sat back down at her desk, Sarah’s thoughts turned to what life in the police could be like, and how it would feel to walk the streets of London acting as a protector for vulnerable women. She was desperate to do her bit for the women’s lib movement, and if she could help those being let down by the all-male justice system – well, she could really make a difference.

As Sarah left the offices that evening, the latest issue of The Vote was going to press. She smiled to herself as she thought about it landing on doormats and desks in the morning, delivering all the hope and promise she had felt herself when she had first laid eyes on that groundbreaking cover.

Sitting down with her morning cup of tea, Maggie froze when she saw the newspaper lying at the other end of the kitchen table, the words ‘The Vote’ emblazoned across the front. She looked around furtively to make absolutely sure she was alone, then grabbed the corner and pulled it towards her.Her heart thumped hard in her chest as she flicked through. Her eyes were drawn to a section about Women Police Volunteers. She had to take a moment to process the news that the women behind the campaign had been given permission to start recruiting. After taking a deep breath, she drank in the words, every single one of them, making her feel braver and more empowered.

She knew that the suffragettes had been campaigning for this for years, but it just hadn’t seemed like something that could ever become a reality. Now they had the backing of the police commissioner, her tummy flipped as she dared herself to dream of getting involved in something so exciting.

I’d love to join these women, but Daddy would never let me, she thought sadly. At that moment, she heard her father’s footsteps coming down the stairs, and her heart pounded faster. Quick as a flash, she closed the paper, put it back facing the way it had been before she had touched it, and stared innocently into her cup of tea.

‘Good morning, Margaret,’ her father said stiffly as he walked into the room. Her father insisted on calling her Margaret even though she had begged to be known as Maggie for as long as she could remember. Her father was the strictest she had ever heard of. She lived with him, her mother and her brother Eddie in a big house in Kensington. She often thought that it was a good job the house was so big, as she was hardly ever allowed to go out and do anything on her own. She regularly wandered up and down the long corridors, pretending she was out in the fresh air for a stroll. The vast space also meant there were plenty of hiding places. Maggie had squeezed herself into many a secret spot over the years to avoid her father when he was in one of his moods. She had learned at a very young age that it was best to stay out of his way when he lost his temper, and she was now an expert at spotting the warning signs, and making a quick escape.

At eighteen, Maggie was desperate to get out into the world and start living her life, but her father was convinced she would do something shameful before he had a chance to present her at a Debutante Ball and find her a suitor. Maggie found it hard to keep friendships going when she’d only ever been allowed out of the house on her own to attend school. The few friends she had were always trying to convince her to sneak out, but she never dared to. No amount of fun was worth the punishment her father would dish out if he discovered her defiance. Her friends had no idea about his treatment of her, and the secret meant she found it hard to get close to anyone. Then there were all the bruises she had been forced to explain away over the years. How could she form proper friendships with these girls when they didn’t know the real her?

Maggie couldn’t think of anything worse than being married off young. She would rather go out and live her life how she wanted – and maybe find herself a husband along the way. She most certainly didn’t want to spend the rest of her days answering to a tyrant, like her mother had to. But her father’s work in politics and his affluent upbringing meant he was strongly against women’s liberation. The one time Maggie had mentioned the suffragettes in front of him, you’d have thought she had said a swear word. He only got The Vote to keep abreast of the opposition, and she didn’t normally get even a sniff of it. All her information about the women’s movement came from her few friends and sometimes from their cook, Florence – when her father was safely out of the house.

Maggie breathed a sigh of relief when her father walked past the paper on the table without seeming to notice it had been disturbed.‘I trust you will be putting a jacket on before leaving the house today,’ he said, without even looking at her. ‘We don’t want to give out the wrong impression.’ He had a thing about women showing off their arms. Maggie had known she was taking a risk putting on a short-sleeved dress this morning – but it was so hot outside.

It was bad enough her parents tried to dictate her every move – but her clothes? ‘Oh, Daddy!’ In her frustration, the words came out before she could stop them, and she braced herself. The outburst seemed to have shocked her father so much he had stopped dead in his tracks. Maggie couldn’t ever remember a time when he had been lost for words like this.

She knew she had only moments to prevent a full-scale row. ‘What I meant to say was, it’s really very hot to be wearing long sleeves or a jacket, and it doesn’t matter anyhow as there aren’t any eligible young men around to notice.’ She held her breath as she waited for his response. She didn’t often answer him back. The few times she had done, he had become so angry that she’d instantly regretted it. He didn’t hit her regularly, but he always made it clear that he was considering it. It was normally enough to make her think twice before standing up to him, so she wasn’t sure what had come over her this morning.

She flinched when he stepped closer to her and raised his hand in the air, a menacing look on his face. As he towered over her, he spoke in a snarl, his teeth and jaw clenched in anger as she cowered in her chair.‘Keep talking back to me, Margaret Smyth, and I will have no choice but to make you see the error of your ways,’ he spat furiously. Instinctively, Maggie put a hand up to cover her face. She wasn’t sure why – he had never struck her face before, always opting for parts of her body that were easier to hide with clothes.The only time he had slipped up was when her mother had stepped in to protect her a few years before. He’d caught her mother’s cheek and sent her flying into the corner of a table. She had nearly lost her sight as a result and now suffered regular migraines. Maggie wasn’t sure if her mother actually got migraines as often as she claimed – she suspected she used them as an excuse to take to her bed and stay out of her father’s way. She didn’t blame her. Her poor mother was normally his first port of call for a beating when he was feeling angry.

Suddenly, footsteps rang out on the stairs and her father moved back and dropped his hand. Maggie breathed a sigh of relief and silently thanked whoever it was who had unknowingly saved her.

‘We’ve spoken about that dress and it is not to be worn out of the house,’ Mr Smyth said firmly, his voice calm now, as though he hadn’t just threatened to hurt her. The way he could change moods within a heartbeat made her shiver. ‘Go and get changed before I send a maid up to your room to dress you in something I have picked out myself.’

Before she had a chance to say anything, he turned on his heel and left the room, leaving her alone once again with the newspaper. Maggie breathed a second sigh of relief before looking up to see her brother walking into the room.

‘Hey kiddo,’ he beamed, ruffling her blonde hair and kissing her on the forehead. Maggie quickly rearranged her hair. She always wore it long so that it covered her ears, and she hated it when Eddie messed it up. They both had ears that stuck out slightly, but while Maggie was self-conscious about hers, Eddie couldn’t give a hoot about his. He took a step back to study Maggie’s face. She realised then that she was shaking.

‘What’s wrong? You’re white as a ghost,’ he said, his voice full of concern.

‘Oh, Eddie, it’s just the usual,’ Maggie muttered, shrugging her shoulders and sighing. He scowled and put his arm around her, giving her a comforting squeeze.

They both knew there was nothing he could say to make it better.

They stayed in the embrace for a minute or so before Eddie pulled away to sit down and pour himself a cup of tea from the pot on the table.

‘One day he’ll get what’s coming to him,’ he muttered, staring angrily at the brown liquid in his cup. He took a deep breath and sighed before continuing. ‘He’s a bully, and bullies never win – not in the end.’

They sat in silence for a few minutes before Eddie rose abruptly.

‘We’re better than this life, Mags,’ he said, sounding positive now. ‘We’ll find a way to leave this all behind. But let’s bide our time and try not to antagonise Father in the mean- time, eh?’ he added encouragingly, giving Maggie’s hair another ruffle before leaving her on her own once more.Maggie angrily brought the newspaper around to face her again. She turned back to the section about Women Police Volunteers and stared at the words on the page. I’ll show Daddy who I can really be, she thought, smiling grimly as she imagined the look on his face as she revealed a year or so down the line that she had been doing a ‘man’s job’. It was enough to make her want to post off an application there and then.

Suddenly, she remembered Eddie’s words about not antagonising their father, and she groaned in frustration. But then, wouldn’t this be a superb way of giving the man his comeuppance? Eddie would be so proud of her! She found herself imagining what it would be like to gain enough independence that she could leave this house and make something of her life all by herself.