Mollie on the March

  Praise for Other Books by Anna Carey

  The Making of Mollie

  ‘I loved Mollie – she is rebellious … thoughtful and funny.’

  thetbrpile.com

  ‘A girl’s eye view of early feminism … exciting, vivid … with the impulsive and daring Mollie.’

  Lovereading4kids.co.uk

  ‘A historical novel with a contemporary edge.’ Sunday Business Post

  The book is set in Dublin, 1912, when Home Rule was being lobbied for, and women were arguing that the vote should be for all. The plot revolves around the irrepressible Mollie becoming both politically aware and active. The family servant, Maggie tartly sums up her own shaky existence, ‘I may very well be part of the family, but it’s a part that can be sent packing without a reference.’ I … curled up on the couch and did not put it down.’

  Historical Novel Society Review

  ‘For junior feminists … a must-read.’

  The Irish Times

  ‘Carey brings to life Mollie’s struggles in a way that makes the book strikingly relevant to the teenagers of today. A historical novel with a contemporary edge.’

  Sunday Business Post

  ‘A cracking book.’

  Irish Independent

  The Real Rebecca

  ‘Definite Princess of Teen.’

  Books for Keeps

  ‘The sparkling and spookily accurate diary of a Dublin teenager. I haven’t laughed so much since reading Louise Rennison. Teenage girls will love Rebecca to bits!’

  Sarah Webb, author of the Ask Amy Green books

  ‘This book is fantastic! Rebecca is sweet, funny and down-to-earth, and I adored her friends, her quirky parents, her changeable but ultimately loving older sister and the swoonworthy Paperboy.’

  Chicklish Blog

  ‘What is it like inside the mind of a teenage girl? It’s a strange, confused and frustrated place. A laugh-out-loud story of a fourteen-year-old girl, Rebecca Rafferty.’

  Hot Press

  Rebecca’s Rules

  ‘A gorgeous book! … So funny, sweet, bright. I loved it.’

  Marian Keyes

  ‘Amusing from the first page … better than Adrian Mole! Highly recommended.’

  lovereading4kids.co.uk

  ‘Sure to be a favourite with fans of authors such as Sarah Webb and Judi Curtin.’

  Children’s Books Ireland’s Recommended Reads 2012

  Rebecca Rocks

  ‘The pages in Carey’s novel in which her young lesbian character announces her coming out to her friends and in which they give their reactions are superbly written: tone is everything, and it could not be better handled than it is here.’

  The Irish Times

  ‘A hilarious new book. Cleverly written, witty and smart.’

  writing.ie

  ‘Rebecca Rafferty … is something of a Books for Keeps favourite … Honest, real, touching, a terrific piece of writing.’

  Books for Keeps

  Rebecca is Always Right

  Fun … feisty, off-the-wall individuals and a brisk plot.’

  Sunday Independent

  ‘Be warned: don’t read this in public because from the first sentence this story is laugh out loud funny and only you’ll make a show of yourself … this book is the funniest yet.’ Inis Magazine

  ‘Portrays a world of adolescent ups and downs … Rebecca is at once participant in and observer of, what goes on in her circle, recording it all in a tone of voice in which humour, wryness and irony are shrewdly balanced.’

  The Irish Times

  To all the women still marching for our rights in Ireland today.

  Acknowledgements

  Thanks to everyone at the O’Brien Press, especially Emma Byrne and my ever-patient and supportive editor Susan Houlden; Helen Carr for being generally encouraging; Lauren O’Neill for another wonderful cover; everyone who generously spread the word about Mollie, especially Marian Keyes, Claire Hennessy, Nina Stibbe, Sarra Manning and Sarah Webb; Nicola Beauman of Persephone Books; the historians without whose work I couldn’t have written about Mollie’s adventures, Rosemary Cullen Owens, Margaret Ward and especially Senia Paseta. Any historical errors are, of course, entirely my own; the extended Carey and Freyne families; and Patrick, for making me laugh and keeping me going.

  Contents

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Acknowledgements

  Historical Note

  21st June, 1912

  30th June, 1912

  4th July, 1912

  5th July, 1912

  Saturday, 6th July, 1912

  Monday, 8th July, 1912

  Tuesday, 9th July, 1912

  Wednesday, 10th July, 1912

  Friday, 12th July, 1912

  Sunday, 14th July, 1912

  Monday, 15th July, 1912

  Tuesday, 16th July, 1912

  Wednesday, 17th July, 1912

  Friday, 19th July, 1912

  Saturday, 20th July, 1912

  Sunday, 21st July, 1912

  Monday, 22nd July, 1912

  Saturday, 27th July, 1912

  A Note About this Book

  About the Author

  Copyright

  HISTORICAL NOTE

  This book is set in Dublin in 1912. At the time, Ireland was part of the United Kingdom, but there was a big demand in Ireland for what was called Home Rule. This meant that Ireland would be part of the UK, but would have its own parliament in Dublin. In 1912, the only people who could vote in general elections in the UK were men (and not even all men – only men who owned or lived in property of a certain value). Lots of women, however, were campaigning for the vote, and they were known as suffragists or suffragettes. In June 1912 several members of the Irish Women’s Franchise League broke windows of various government buildings as an act of protest.

  25 Lindsay Gardens,

  Drumcondra,

  Dublin.

  21st June, 1912.

  Dear Frances,

  I AM NOT IN PRISON

  I know this sounds awfully dramatic, but I last wrote to you just after Nora and I had broken the law as daring suffragettes, and since then I’ve rather been caught up in revising for exams and things. So I thought you might have been worrying about us. But I am happy to say that we are still free.

  Or at least, we are not in prison, like the brave suffragettes who broke windows all over Dublin last week. I know Nora and I are very lucky not to be languishing in a jail cell right now, but I must admit that I don’t feel very free. We still have a couple of exams left to do, and when I’m not studying my mother keeps making me do all sorts of stupid chores. This is particularly unfair as Harry, who also has exams, doesn’t have to do his usual task of helping Maggie with cleaning the boots. (This is literally the only thing he ever has to do, and it’s barely a chore at all as he actually LIKES mucking about with boot blacking, and besides, at this time of the year, there’s hardly any cleaning to do because the streets aren’t muddy, just dusty.) What with the studying AND all the mending I barely have a moment to think. In fact, I’m worried I might come down with a brain fever from overwork. Though when I told Mother this before school this morning she just laughed cruelly.

  ‘I don’t think there’s much chance of you working yourself into any sort of fever,’ she said, callously. Then she must have felt a bit guilty because she said, ‘But I suppose I could let you off the mending this afternoon. Just this once.’

  ‘Thank you so much,’ I said, very sarcastically, but she didn’t seem to realise I was being sarcastic because she said, ‘You’re welcome.’

  So anyway, that’s why I’m upstairs lying on my bed writing to you right now, instead of downstairs sewing buttons onto Father’s shir
ts, which is what I was meant to be doing this afternoon. Father is stuck in the office working on some dull bill or other so I am not missing the latest installment of his epic novel. Hopefully he will read it tomorrow evening.

  I haven’t told you much about his novel recently, have I? It’s still very exciting. The brave hero Peter Fitzgerald is pretending to be a German spy, but unfortunately he can’t really speak German so he has to say ‘ja’ and ‘nein’ to everything and hope for the best. That means ‘yes’ and ‘no’, in case you don’t know. Those are pretty much the only German words I know – they teach German in my school, but you have to choose between it and French and I chose French. I think it would be good to learn both, then if you had to pretend to be a spy (or if you actually were a spy), you would have more options. I’ve always thought being a spy sounds awfully exciting. Phyllis has accused me of spying on her often enough so maybe I have a natural talent for it. In fact, perhaps I should learn Russian too, just in case. Russian spies are always cropping up in books.

  Anyway! I am so sorry you won’t be coming to Dublin this summer. You could have joined in my and Nora’s suffrage activities! I don’t know if we will paint any more postboxes though. Just painting one postbox was terrifying enough. But we will do something, especially as the Prime Minister is coming to visit Dublin next month, and there will definitely be some sort of protest then. And in the meantime, we will try and go to more meetings. Of course Phyllis is refusing to take us to any, especially since the brave women from the Irish Women’s Franchise League got arrested for breaking windows.

  ‘Anything could happen now,’ she said. Remember, we had both been at that big meeting in the Phoenix Park a few days after the women got arrested. Loads of protestors turned up and yelled horrible things at the suffragette leaders, and the police had to step in when the mob started pushing and shoving them. That was bad enough, but Phyllis seemed to think that things would only get worse.

  ‘And,’ she said, ‘I won’t be able to keep an eye on you and Nora if things get dangerous.’

  As if we couldn’t take care of ourselves! She’s being so unfair. She needs us at meetings, if you ask me. If it weren’t for us, she’d have been caught holding a banner at that Phoenix Park gathering a few months ago. After all, me and Nora were the ones who told her that Mother’s friend Mrs. Sheffield was passing by. And what thanks did we get for that? None! She didn’t even buy us a bun in the Phoenix Park tearoom afterwards. We had to buy our own. She’s so ungrateful. I told her this and she didn’t even have the good grace to look ashamed of herself.

  ‘I never asked you to come to that meeting,’ she said. ‘And you needn’t look so martyr-ish. You only found out about the movement in the first place because you were sneaking around spying on me.’

  This was true, I suppose. But still!

  ‘Besides,’ Phyllis went on, ‘you’ve talked me into taking you to enough things already.’

  I was going to remind her that when she actually took us to the biggest suffrage meeting that ever there was, her stupid friend sold our tickets and we had to sit in the vestibule outside the concert hall for about five hours. But I didn’t get a chance to mention it because she immediately marched off into the drawing room where Mother was sitting with Aunt Josephine. I think she only went in there to avoid talking to me, as no one would ever join Aunt Josephine voluntarily. Poor Mother doesn’t have a choice, because Aunt Josephine just turns up at the house whenever she feels like it, whether she’s invited or not (which she hardly ever is).

  Phyllis should remember the movement needs all the support it can get at the moment because the IWFL heroines finally had their trial yesterday. Phyllis wanted to go along to support them, but Mother had made an appointment at the dressmaker to get some new summer frocks fitted, and Phyllis couldn’t think of a convincing excuse to get out of it. But her friend Mabel went to the court and she came over yesterday evening to tell Phyllis all about it. I already knew that Mabel had planned to go to the trial so when she called to our house and Phyllis took her straight upstairs to her room, I knew what they’d be discussing. And so – and this is NOT sneakish, Frances, I wasn’t spying on them – I followed them and knocked on the door.

  ‘Go away,’ said Phyllis, without even bothering to open it.

  I opened it myself and stuck my head in. ‘Please let me hear what happened at the trial,’ I pleaded. ‘You know you can trust me not to breathe a word.’

  ‘Oh go on, Phyl, let her stay.’ Mabel gave me an apologetic smile. ‘I still owe her for that business at the big meeting.’

  If you recall, it was Mabel who sold our tickets to someone else.

  Phyllis sighed.

  ‘Very well,’ she said. ‘But promise me you’ll just sit quietly on the floor and won’t interrupt.’

  ‘I wouldn’t dream of it,’ I said, and I sat down on the floor in a very dignified manner.

  ‘So, Mabel,’ said Phyllis. ‘Tell us all.’

  Mabel took a deep breath.

  ‘Well,’ she said, ‘the bad news is they got two months.’

  Two whole months! In a horrible dank prison, full of black beetles and other horrid things. I thought of the terrible bits about prison in No Surrender, that book about English suffragettes.

  ‘They won’t force feed them, will they?’ I said.

  ‘It depends on whether they go on hunger strike,’ said Mabel.

  I hoped they wouldn’t, for their own sakes. They do awful things to women who go on hunger strike. They shove mashed-up food down their noses and throats with a rubber tube, which sounds like utter agony. I read that some women can barely speak after they are released.

  ‘How did they seem?’ said Phyllis. ‘In the court, I mean.’

  ‘Jolly cheerful, actually,’ said Mabel. ‘Mrs. Sheehy-Skeffington had two huge bouquets of flowers with her. And they all seemed pleased so many of us were there to support them. I heard someone say there were nearly two hundred suffragettes in the gallery.’

  ‘Gosh,’ I said.

  ‘Even the judge seemed quite sympathetic,’ Mabel went on. ‘He said they were ladies of “considerable ability” and he didn’t seem particularly keen on having them there at all. But I suppose once they had been caught and admitted what they’d done, he had to give them some sort of prison sentence.’

  ‘So there weren’t any Antis in the court?’ asked Phyllis.

  Mabel shook her head. ‘I didn’t see any,’ she said. ‘Everyone seemed terribly supportive. And the ladies themselves were simply marvellous. When they were being led off, Mrs. Palmer cried “Keep the flag flying!” And we all cheered and cheered.’

  ‘Oh, I do wish I could have gone, instead of standing in a stupid dressmaker’s being poked with pins for hours,’ said Phyllis longingly.

  ‘And Mrs. Sheehy-Skeffington gave an awfully good speech,’ Mabel continued. ‘She pointed out that a man had got a shorter sentence that morning for beating his wife than they’d been given for breaking a few windows. And then she reminded us all that they might be going to jail, but that the rest of us were free and we had to remember that the Prime Minister is coming over in July.’

  ‘There aren’t any fixed plans for his visit yet, are there?’ said Phyllis. ‘I mean, no special meeting or anything.’

  ‘I don’t think so,’ said Mabel. ‘Mrs. Mulvany was saying something about making banners and posters and things to greet him on his way into town from Kingstown. But I don’t think anything’s been decided yet.’

  As soon as I heard this, I decided that me and Nora must find some way of taking part in the protests. I’m not sure the IWFL would let us hold an official IWFL banner (I know Phyllis wouldn’t), but I don’t see why we couldn’t march along behind one. Or even make one of our own.

  I knew better than to mention this straight away, though. Phyllis would only tell me it was too dangerous. She’s always convinced something really awful and violent will happen, and as far as I can tell it never does. Even the rowd
ies at that last meeting weren’t too frightening (though I suppose the police did step in before they could go too far). Whatever happens I am ready to face it for the cause. Besides, as you know, I can run pretty fast, so if the Antis did start throwing cabbages and things I’m sure I’d be able get away before I got hit by one. At least, I hope so.

  I am sad that you won’t be coming over here this summer, but how exciting that you are getting to visit America! Will you get to go to the place where Little Women is set? I remember Professor Shields telling us that it’s somewhere in New England. I love that book, even though the March sisters are a lot more devoted to their mother than I am to mine. They never really complain about her making them sew on buttons. Maybe Americans are all more saintly than we are. Please find out and report back.

  Part of me wishes that we were going away somewhere exciting and novel for the whole summer like you, but another part of me is glad that I won’t miss out on any suffrage activity, especially with Mr. Asquith coming over. And we will get to go on our usual holiday to Skerries in August, which isn’t particularly exciting but is always good fun, especially when the weather is nice. We can swim in the sea and go and look at the boats and spot seals. Harry says he’s going to hire a boat and row over to one of the islands off the coast all by himself ‘to get away from all you women’, but I bet he won’t. It’s just more of his usual boasting. I don’t think he even knows HOW to row a boat.

  I suppose I should go and learn some French verbs now, not that I want to. Oh, writing about verbs reminds me, in your last letter you asked how Grace Molyneaux had been carrying on since she threatened to tell Nora’s parents about me and Nora being suffragettes. Well, I am pleased to inform you that she has kept her word about not telling. In fact, now that the exams are about to begin she is in a complete frenzy, because this is her last chance to win the Middle Grade Cup, with which of course she is totally obsessed. She spends all her lunchtimes with her nose in her special study notebook which she guards with her life.