Episode 2 Up the Women

# Nana was a suffragette Almost the last alive

# Nana was a suffragette, over 95

# She sang Votes for women is just the beginning

# You haven't seen anything yet

# Oh, Nana was a suffragette. #

BIRDSONG

Ssh!

A-h-h-hem!

Gwen?

Yes, just putting out my home-made fairy cakes, Margaret.

No!

A-h-h-h-hem!

-Gwen?

-Yes, just coming. Er...

Yes, um, about these, um, placards, Gwen.

Um, what was it exactly you said to Mr Jones from the woodyard?

Well, I said six by three.

Six by three with the poles, or six by three with the poles?

I'm not sure, Margaret. I'm not sure.

I was just very conscious not to take up too much of his time

as he's made them for us for nothing.

I'm not sure I made a hand gesture.

-Where were you?

-Well, I was in the line at the butcher's.

Mr Hill, the butcher, had asked me

how large I wanted the beef brisket

for the annual St Augustine's church dinner,

and Mr Jones from the woodyard had just asked me

what dimensions I wanted our plackets to be.

And I looked at Mr Jones and... Oh, yes, I did gesture.

I gestured to Mr Hill, six by three.

Right. Yes, I see.

-They're wrong, aren't they?

-No, no, Gwen. They're not wrong.

Oh, Margaret, I'm so sorry! I'm exhausted.

Mother was up all night with her pleurisy.

She's finally agreed to take up smoking,

which the doctor recommended.

But it just seems to keep her wide awake.

Good grief! Are you putting together a paddle steamer?

-Oh, they are wrong!

-No, no, no, no, they're not.

They're perfect for our purpose.

What, a trip down the Mississippi?

We are putting Banbury

Intricate Craft Circle Politely Requests Women's Suffrage

firmly on the map, Mr Millar.

We're carrying them on a suffrage march to the post office.

They are wide like this so we can fit more writing on them.

You could fit the Testament Old and New on those.

I'm here! I'm here!

I wasn't going to come tonight

as I've been extremely busy with the annual ball bearings gala.

It wasn't a gala, Helen, it was a dinner for seven.

Thank you, Mother.

When one has spent one's life pursuing pleasure for its own sake,

I'm sure it's hard to imagine how complex the responsibilities

of dutiful married life are.

Yes, I'm sure as I lie on my deathbed,

I will cast my mind's eye back

over all the table arrangements I never made.

Not long now.

-Hello, Emily.

-Don't speak to Emily.

She's being punished for indulging

in the most deplorable, unnatural act.

I was listening to Bizet.

Music for fallen women.

What's this? Are you building a windmill?

No, these are placards for our suffrage protest.

We're marching to the post office today.

Oh. I see you're still hellbent on attempting to captain

this rudderless ship of fools

upon the topsy-turvy seas of a motherless society.

If you mean campaigning for women's votes, then yes.

I've come today to tell you that I shan't be joining you.

-Oh.

-No matter how hard you try to persuade me.

-Yes.

-I'm not a suffragette.

-Right.

-And I never will be.

-No.

-Goodbye.

-Goodbye.

Well, I'm sure we'd all love it if you'd stay.

Yes, yes, please, Helen. Please stay.

Oh, well, very well, if you insist, I will.

But I will not participate,

I will merely observe and criticise...constructively.

How very selfless of you. Thank you, Helen.

-Right, so shall we get on with...

-Not at all.

..painting these placards?

Right, well, shall I talk you through the various bits and bobs?

-Bits and bobs?

-The brushes and paints to paint the signs.

It's a complicated business

and it can't be approached with any degree of slapdash.

There's art in it.

You can't dip brushes like you're dipping toffee apples.

I know that. I've recently read Ruskin's Placards of Venice.

I think I know what I'm doing.

Right, well, just remember to thin the paint with the turps.

Turps? Ruskin didn't mention turps.

Hang on. Why don't I do one? You've got enough placards.

Now, this is a one-inch horsehair Merriweather.

The second most expensive you can buy.

Dip it in lightly. Just a little. You don't want to clog it.

Now, what do you want me to write?

Oh, er...down with men?

Down with men. Right-ho.

So...lightly as you go.

Paint it right out till the brush is empty and then dip again.

Oh, right. Had Michelangelo been a caretaker...

Yes?

Well, had he been a caretaker, he would have...

I don't understand.

Well, I'm just saying if he had been a caretaker,

he would have paid a lot of attention to his brushes.

Oh! Goodness.

I wasn't... It was just a passing... Please, I...

I'm a bit worried about these plackets, Margaret.

-I'm not sure if we'll be able to lift them up high.

-Really?

Oh, yes. Um... No, I'm sure it'll be fine.

I'm sure it'll be fine. Just...

The gravity exerts a downward force

and the floor exerts an upward force.

And seeing as both forces are of equal magnitude

and in opposite direction, they balance each other out.

It's simply a case of just finding perfect equilibrium.

Like this.

Agh!

Mr Millar?

I think this is commonly known as falling at the first hurdle.

Don't worry, Mrs Unwin. I have a solution.

There are many ways to wrangle a pole.

Indeed.

I shall be back with technical reinforcements.

Let's get on with painting the placards.

Everyone, there's been a suffrage attack

on the statue of Venus in the Banbury library.

It's in the papers!

Oh! Yes.

"The attack is believed to have been carried out by suffragettes.

"The suspects are still at large

"and the police are calling for witnesses."

-Do you want to see, Helen?

-No, thank you.

-They axed off her blubbery Mabels!

-Goodness!

And they painted out her flannery Ann!

Why would they do such a thing?

Because she's more than just her flannery Ann

and her blubbery Mabels, Gwen!

-Emily!

-She's not an object.

Well, she's a statue, which technically is an object.

I've spent many GLORIOUS afternoons being an object of desire.

When I worked as a governess for the Tutti Filangieri's in Napoli,

the baron took a shine to me

and we lay in his orchard discussing beauty and truth

in the shade of his rare plums.

Eva, what is a flannery Ann?

Your, er... Your pompom la bute.

Your Jennifer.

Your Michaelmas Avenue.

-Your vagina, Gwen!

-Emily!

Emily, there is a child present.

Oh, are we doing placards? Oh, that's exciting!

What can I write on mine, Margaret?

Oh, um...

taxation without representation is tyranny?

All right.

Do we have to write slogans, or can we just do patterns?

We're a protest group, Gwen, not a children's nursery!

Yes, but I don't see why we can't decorate them.

Perhaps with some flowers in the corner.

It is vital one studies one's canvas

before one commits one's brush to it.

When I studied painting under Jacopo Tonillieri in Roma,

he would insist that I paint naked to add frisson to my brush.

-Did it work?

-It certainly did.

Could you please spare us

this catalogue of lecherous trysts, Mother?

No!

-Eva?

-Yes, Gwen?

You know your...well, your flannery Ann...?

Yes, Gwen.

Um...how does the... Well, does it join up?

Is that... Is that how the kittens come out?

Join up with what, Gwen?

Well, does it join up with your soldier's mitten?

-Your what?

-Your rear guard.

Your reserve constabulary.

Oh! No.

So, where do they come from?

Oh, dear, sweet, innocent Gwen.

They come from heaven.

Through the fiery furnace of hell.

Oh, no, I've ruined mine!

Oh, I'm sure you haven't.

Oh! No, look, everyone.

Yes, she has.

Yes. So I see. I see.

Don't worry, Eva, everyone will know what you mean.

I just didn't want anyone to know that I couldn't spell tyranny.

Nor taxation.

Nor representation.

Nor is.

Did you hear about Mrs Latham and the General's eldest son?

-Oh, yes!

-He's quite exquisite, though, is he not?

She's no better than she should be.

I heard they were at it in the kitchen

and Fran the scullery maid walked in and found them.

Apparently, he was in nothing but his boots.

Troppo-troppo non-stoppo!

Listen to yourselves!

This is all just a little game for you, isn't it?

You provincial gossips!

Nothing but a petty distraction from

the loveless servitude of your empty lives.

Well, I hope I never end up like you.

Oh, really, Emily?

And how exactly do you think you will succeed

where all these women have failed?

It's perfectly obvious.

I will simply choose never to fall in love.

That is a woman's downfall.

To succumb to the vanity and idiocy of romance!

Sorry I'm late.

Ladies. Miss Emily.

Late for what?

For the meeting.

-This is our woman's suffrage meeting, Thomas.

-Yes.

-And you wish to join us?

-Very much so.

Absolutely!

Welcome! Welcome! Piu sono meglio!

I don't think my Charlie would like it

if he knew I was in a group with other men.

Please, please, do not think of me as a man.

More as a pupil, one whom you can educate and illuminate

as to the nature of your truthful, fearless, human hearts.

You...

you, you, you...you are unhappy cogs

worn down by the grinding mechanics of male society.

Cogs that would break free of the system

and shatter the machine for ever!

And though I am not a cog, I can act as a spanner.

A spanner in the works of your oppression.

Yours to... Hmm... Yours to use at will.

A tool of protest. Thank you.

Bravo! We have ourselves a spanner!

What do you think? Shall we use this tool?

Gwen, will there be enough cake?

-Oh, yes, there's plenty of fairy cakes left.

-Fairy cake, Thomas?

Oh, thank you. Did you make these, Miss Rapier?

Er...n... Yes, yes! Absolutely positively made those myself, yes.

Very firm.

Did you read about the attack on Venus?

Yes. Isn't it wonderful?

Oh, um, I could never consciously set about

mutilating such a fine depiction of gentle beauty.

Shouldn't this battle be waged with the pen rather than by the mallet?

Well, I suppose the weight of one's weapons

depends on the strength of one's wrists.

This is the sort of thing we should be doing!

Not picketing some stupid postbox.

I chose the post office because of its proximity,

but I'm perfectly open to any suggestions for suffrage action.

Anyone?

We could shout.

Shout! Very good, Gwen.

Shout. Anyone else?

Arson!

Arson. Yes, good.

We could set fire to something.

Again, good.

Ride a horse bareback through the town completely naked

with garlands in our hair.

They do that sort of thing in Wiltshire all the time.

We are not in Wiltshire!

And we're not celebrating harvest festival. We're protesting!

I think we should chain ourselves to something.

Chains. Very good, very good!

-Kidnap the Prime Minister!

-Er...well, um...

You will do no such thing!

-Blow up Parliament!

-Er...yes.

I-I-I'm writing these down,

but that doesn't necessarily mean I agree with them.

-Kill the King!

-Sit down, Emily!

I'm not going to write that down because I don't think any of us

want to face the death penalty, now, do we?

I did rather think that preventing people from posting letters

-does set just the right tone.

-Thank you, Thomas.

We're not doing that, are we, Margaret?

What if it's an important letter? An order of wool, for example?

Or a birthday card for a little kitten?

A detailed letter of complaint to Banbury Council?

A letter to a married man trapped in a loveless hell?

Er, yes, well, we don't have to if no-one wants to.

We could just go to the post office

and stand near the postbox and shout.

Well done, Gwen.

We're supposed to be disturbing things, aren't we?

If we're worried about inconveniencing people,

surely we're missing the point.

-You're right, Emily, you're right.

-Ladies. Thomas?

-Frank.

-I knew we had something.

Excellent! What have you brought us?

They're from the marching band.

You just hook on your drum, or in this case, pop up your placard.

What a good idea. They're absolutely perfect, Frank.

I don't think you step into it, Gwen. I think you put it over your head.

No, no, no. You're doing it all wrong. Let me demonstrate.

Are you suffragetting, Thomas?

Yes, I am, as a matter of fact, Frank.

Do you want me to pop back and get you a marching band belt?

-No, no, I think I can manage perfectly well, thank you.

-Oh.

Can I help you, Miss Emily?

Yargh!

I'm all right. I'm quite all right.

I have a congenital wrist condition.

How are you managing, ladies?

These are wonderful, Frank. Just absolutely perfect!

Good evening!

Oh, it is now.

Good evening, officer. May we be of assistance?

Are you the Banbury Intricate Craft Circle

Politely Requests Women's Suffrage?

They are, I'm not. I'm just here.

Right, who's in charge?

Goodness only knows. Frankly, it's a Rangoon fiasco.

Well, it was Margaret's idea.

Margaret. Right.

Margaret? Margaret Northcote?

You do recognise me! Hello, John!

I spent my summers on John's father's farm.

Ooh, John!

-What are you doing here?

-Investigating a crime.

-What a surprise to see you.

-Yes.

We were always up to something in those hay bales, weren't we?

Ladies and sailors, ladies and shepherds, ladies and highwaymen.

-Stand and deliver!

-Yes, of course.

-You won all my marbles.

-I gave them you back, though.

Yes, you did, you did. I still have them all.

Only just.

To what do we owe this pleasure, John?

I'm here to investigate a terrible act of vandalism

that was carried out on a statue in Banbury library.

-They axed off her blubbery Mabels.

-Indeed.

I don't want to make any assumptions,

but Miss Reid from the baker's on Thrumchurch Street

-told me there was a suffrage group meeting here.

-How dare she!

What a...cow!

-Gwen!

-Sorry.

I thought I'd pop down and ask you a few questions

and then let you get back to your...whatever it is.

You don't think we did it, do you?

-No, no. Just routine.

-Do you have any clues?

The only things left at the scene

were a mouldy cheese sandwich on stale bread

and a chunk of peanut brittle.

Well, we are suffragettes, but we're very low-key.

We're just taking these placards on a march to the post office.

Yes, they look like you're about to barricade yourselves in.

As I say, I'm sure you've got nothing to do with it.

Kidnap PM.

Blow up Parliament.

Oh, no, no, no, no, no, don't worry about that, John.

That was... It was... We were... Just a...

"Kill the King".

Emily! You are not going out like that!

-Officer, she's not a suffragette.

-Yes, I am.

No, you're not! You're a naughty girl!

Well, be that as it may, I need to speak to you all individually.

I'm sorry, Margaret. I'm going to have to file a full report on this.

-"Kill the King" and everything.

-I understand, John.

-Officer Thackeray.

-Sorry, John... Sir... Officer Thackeray.

I'm sure it's all very innocent.

-Is there somewhere I can use for interviews?

-The kitchen?

-Right. Who would like to be interviewed first?

-Me!

-The one that got away.

-Oh, stop it, Myrtle!

Ask me anything you like.

Right. Yes, well, I intend to.

I'm an open book.

-Name?

-Myrtle Von Heckling.

-Age?

-Guess.

-I'm sorry?

-See if you can guess.

Where were you last night between the hours of 10pm and 11pm?

In bed.

Alone?

Alas.

Right, in bed alone.

Can anyone verify that?

No, because you were alone, obviously. Yes.

Who do you think it was, Margaret?

Someone who likes peanut brittle and cheese sandwiches, I imagine.

I like cheese sandwiches! Did I do it?

I don't know, Gwen. Did you?

I don't think so!

You'd know if you did or not, Gwen.

-How?

-You'd remember, Gwen.

Oh, yes, of course. Sorry.

Thank you, Mrs Von Heckling.

Miss.

-Who's next?

-Gwen, would you mind?

Margaret, if I do not return,

will someone take Mother her fresh poultice?

Yes. Yes, I will.

But don't worry, Gwen. You will return, it's just routine.

She has the look of a guilty woman.

Now, there's no need to be nervous.

-I just want to ask you a few simple...

-Yes.

..questions. What's your...

Gwen Rapier, 3 Dundonald Street, Banbury, Oxfordshire.

-And what's...

-Seamstress.

Who...

My mother.

-Have you...

-No, never.

I had a proposal from Kenneth Hillingdon,

but Mother forced me to turn him down. She said he was a simpleton.

-Were...

-No, I was never in love with him,

but he had a kind heart and I felt he loved me deeply.

No, Miss Rapier, I wanted to ask you where.

Oh, sorry. Um, with my mother.

-Right. All evening?

-Yes.

Thank you. You may go.

Oh, thank God! Oh! Thank you!

Just to re-iterate, we have no intention of killing the King.

You've done very well, Gwen.

Try not to undo that good.

-Could you send in the next person, please?

-Right.

I'm in the clear!

Helen, you're next.

If I must.

Mrs Helen Bute, wife of Samuel Bute,

owner of the Bute Ball Bearing Company.

Sponsor of the Banbury Flyers, the Banbury Rovers

and the Banbury Waterboatmen.

Thank you. Er...

I think what you are trying to say is,

"Thank you, Mrs Bute, that will be all."

Yes, yes. Thank you, Mrs Bute, that will be all.

-You are too kind.

-Would you send in the next one?

No.

Who's next, please?

-Um, Eva? Would you...?

-Oh.

Let me just get this right. You've got...

14. Yes, 14 children.

Liberty, Charity, Patience,

Providence, Prudence, Justina,

Earnestina, Constance, Clemence,

Chastity, Virginity,

Abstinence, Moderation and John.

That's 13 girls, 1 boy.

Last night, you were...

Last night, Virginity was locked

in the coalhole by Chastity and Abstinence

because she'd smashed Chastity's doll on the fire grate.

Virginity, she's got a terrible temper.

She gets that from her father's side. He's hot-headed.

He weren't there last night,

otherwise they wouldn't dare behave like that in front of him.

They gave the key to Liberty, who's two,

so only the good Lord knows where that went!

It was the housekeeper's night off,

so cook and I, we had to bash down the door

with my husband's bronze lion doorstop.

-Well, I think that's...

-Bless the little pigeon!

She was fast asleep on a pile of coal

by the time we smashed the door down!

I knew I probably should give her a punishment

for smashing Chastity's doll, but I just didn't have the heart.

See, my feeling is Virginity's punishment

had already been meted out by Chastity and Abstinence.

Yes, well, thank you for your time, Mrs, er...

Do you have any children?

Would you just send in Margaret, please?

Of course.

Your turn, Margaret!

Right. Yes.

# John and Margaret sitting in a tree. #

Mother!

Well...this really couldn't be any worse for Margaret, could it?

Huh! I mean, picketing the post office. What a catastrophic idea!

I thought we should picket Betty's sweet shop.

She's always very miserly with her peanut brittle.

If they was going to picket anywhere,

it should be Mrs Allam's cheesemonger's on Gridley Hill.

She once sold me mouldy cheddar and told me it was blue Leicester.

Or that dreadful bakery on Thrumchurch Street

run by that slattern - Miss Reid.

The one who shopped us over.

Why anyone would let her near flour,

eggs and a mixing bowl with those hands!

Oh, I know! Have you seen them?

She's got filthy fingers like burnt sausages.

Well...

..this is...

However could we have guessed we'd be in such a situation?

Ah, it's just routine. Nothing to worry about.

Right, just going to ask you a few questions.

You know my name, obviously.

Not your married name.

It's Thackeray... Unwin.

Yes, Unwin. I'm married. Married.

12 long years.

Extraordinary, isn't it,

that we should meet like this, again,

after all these years?

You remembered my name.

Yes. Well, I'm good with names, faces.

It helps in my profession.

Yes. You must be professional.

What's your address?

14 Lavender Road, Banbury, obviously. And yours?

Um...

No. just...just ask your questions.

Right, I will. Where were you last night?

My husband was in his bedroom, reading, and...

..I was in mine...alone...

on my own...writing.

Were you there all night?

I can't do this!

I must think of my son Cecil.

Was he awake?

He sleeps fitfully. He wears callipers.

Well, I, er...I think that's all. Thank you.

Yes. Yes. Goodbye, John.

Thank you for being strong for both of us.

It's the right thing to do.

-Goodbye.

-Bye, then.

Yes, you can't look up.

It's too painful. I understand. Goodbye.

SHE SIGHS

Oh! Oh, yes.

-Sorry.

-Yes.

Right. Well, I'm off.

Wait! Aren't you going to interview me?

-I don't really see there's any...

-What if I did it?

But you didn't! Be quiet, Emily!

I did! I did it! Arrest me!

She didn't. She was with me all evening.

What colour paint did you use to paint out her...

Flannery Ann?

Um... B-lue?

Yell...?

Red?

FAINT WHISTLE >

You're all perfectly innocent.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I shall leave you to get on with your...

whatever it is. Ladies. Frank. Thomas.

FAINT COMMOTION

Officer Thackeray.

Right. Come on, everyone, placards up. Let's get to the post office.

I am abstaining.

Everyone except Helen!

Oh! Mrs Unwin, the post office shuts in five minutes.

-Oh, no!

-Shall I

pop down the road and see if they'll stay open for a bit longer?

Would you, Frank? Would you?

I know Bob from the Vegetable Grower's Guild.

Do you think we need a signal to alert us to danger?

What, like a whistle?

Oh, I never whistle, it's common.

Everyone can whistle, can't they? THEY WHISTLE

We don't need a whistle! Can't we just go?!

How about a bird call?

What about an owl? We can all do an owl, can't we? Owl?

THEY IMITATE TAWNY OWL

Yes. On your own, Gwen.

SHE HOWLS

-Yes, not your wolf, Gwen, your owl.

-That was my owl.

SHE HOWLS

That's definitely a wolf.

We can we all do a wolf, can't we? THEY HOWL

Argh! I can't stand this! I can't bear it any longer!

I wish to be turned inside out and rolled on the salting room floor.

Anything! Anything but this interminable inaction!

Can't we just do something?! Somebody just DO something!

Up the women! Huzzah!

-SMASH

-Oh!

Oh, no!

< WHISTLE BLOWS

GWEN HOWLS

Yes, all right, Gwen, thank you. Yes, yes.

Who threw this?

I did!

No, I threw it. Arrest ME!

No, you didn't! Be quiet, Emily!

Who has been consorting with Miss Reid

from the Thrumchurch Street bakery?

I have! I'm sorry, everyone!

Gwen! How could you?

I just didn't have time to make our tiffin!

I would never ever normally buy shop-bought cakes, officer!

Well, it was Miss Reid, Mrs Allam the cheesemonger

and Betty from the sweet shop who attacked the Venus.

No!

Am I an accomplice? Are you going to arrest me?

Margaret, Mother's poultice is in the larder on the meat shelf.

Please don't force-feed me!

No, that won't be necessary.

As far as I can see, the only crime you've committed

is buying cakes from Miss Reid's bakery.

I recognised it because I use them as slow compost on my courgettes.

Do you really?

Yes. They work a treat.

Anyway, it turns out you're not the only suffragettes in Banbury.

They're calling themselves the Free Suffragette Army.

Now, that IS a strong name, don't you think, Margaret?

The post office will stay open for ten more minutes!

All right, come on, then. Placards up.

No. Put that down, Emily. Carry your grandmother's.

UNINTELLIGIBLE AND OUT OF TUNE SINGING

# Nana was a suffragette

# It's as if she's still alive

# Nana was a suffragette

# Their voices still survive

# Singing Votes for women is just the beginning

# You haven't seen anything yet...#

Subtitles by Red Bee Media Ltd