Morton photographed the account, then turned the page. He was surprised to see that the women’s complaints had resulted in an assessment of the cells at Holloway by H.M. Inspector of Factories. His report, which tested for air quality, ventilation and carbonic acid stated that the cell, D.I.12 which had ‘previously been occupied by Miss Emmerson was a ‘special cell’, situated in the building at such a height that the ceilings of the cells are about 3 inches above the level of the pavement outside. The windows are constructed of very thick glass, which excludes a large part of the light, so that the illumination is inferior to that of the ordinary cells. Each cell measures about 12ft x 7ft with an air inlet consisting of a grating measuring 16x5 inches situated above the door.’ The report concluded: ‘It is probable that any sense of oppression or discomfort felt in these cells is of psychological origin, due to the feeling of close confinement affecting a person unaccustomed to it.’
Morton pondered the statement ‘of psychological origin’, another whitewash term that could be used to cover up any effect of any type of harsh prison treatment. His growing fears about the conditions of the prison and Grace’s incarceration persisted when he turned to the next page—a further series of reports on the suffragettes at Holloway. Among them, he found Grace.
Daily Report on: Grace Emmerson
What is the physical and mental condition of the prisoner? Both satisfactory. She strenuously tries to make any examination impossible by wriggling. She will not be weighed jumping all the time on the scales.
Is the prisoner taking food voluntarily? No
If not, is the prisoner refusing both a) food b) water, and what sorts of food have been offered to the prisoner? Refuses a) and b) coffee, milk, cocoa and anything else
General conduct? Fair
General remarks in the case of a prisoner refusing food? Forcibly fed by means of the oesophageal tube twice daily with milk, eggs, Valentine juice and Benger’s food. Dr W. Hilton-Parry assisting.
Awful, Morton thought, as he stared at the sheet. To go to prison for your beliefs was one thing, but to be held in a sub-standard cell and force-fed twice a day was quite another.
He worked his way through to the end of the file, finding no further mention of Grace, but plenty of additional mistreatment of other suffragettes. The succeeding pages made for uncomfortable reading: letters between prisons and the Home Office seeking confirmation on the force-feeding of suffragette prisoners on hunger strike. Young women. Old women. Pregnant women. Sick women. This was the ugly underbelly of the lauded, banner-carrying marches that history liked to recall. Morton’s eyes glazed over and he thought of his daughter. His brain, befuddled from the horrendous details which he had been reading all morning, began to superimpose her in the position of these women. Her face was blurred, but inside, he knew that it was her.
A tannoy announcement joggled him out of his reverie. Even though he pushed the absurd notion from his mind and looked back down at the file on the desk in front of him, his heart continued to feel doughy, as though he had just had a premonition into the future.
He needed a break. He looked at his mobile—lunchtime already.
Heading back out through a security check, Morton descended to the ground floor, where he purchased a large coffee and a tuna mayonnaise sandwich. He sat alone at a small round table that overlooked the entrance to the archives and the lake. He wanted to phone Juliette, just to hear her voice and to know that they were both okay. The uncomfortable feelings which he had felt upstairs lingered in his gut, accentuated by an enhanced sense of his separation from wife and daughter. He sent her a text message instead, polished off his coffee and sandwich, then headed back up to the Document Reading Room.
He spent some time completing the file, increasingly understanding more about the plight of the suffragettes. In 1913, in response to growing public disapproval of force-feeding prisoners, the government changed tack by introducing a new law. Force-feeding desisted. Instead, when the women became dangerously ill from being on hunger-strike, they would be released from prison and re-arrested the moment that they became well again. The Cat and Mouse Act, as it became known.
Morton swapped the file for the one containing details of Grace’s first arrest. The folder was thick, yet the mention of Grace was thin, adding nothing more about her arrest for incitement than that which he had gleaned from the online newspaper report. The third of the Ancestry-referred documents was as scant as the previous. It detailed Grace’s conviction, which included identifying personal details and the sentencing for pouring ink into the pillar boxes, but offered no other new information.
He switched to another Home Office document that referred to the Brighton branch of the WSPU, but, after more than an hour’s searching, had found no specific references to Grace. It was the same in the next two folders. By the time document-ordering had ceased for the day, Morton had found nothing more of her. It was curious that following her release from Holloway in 1911, someone as militant and defiant as Grace should suddenly became a model citizen with no further arrests. Perhaps, he thought, she had continued but simply not been caught.
Just getting into his own house was like a scene from the Mission: Impossible films. Having managed first to avoid the clanking metallic symphony from his absurdly large bunch of keys, he successfully pushed the door open so slowly as to eschew the mournful groan that usually accompanied anything resembling normal door-opening speed. Then, just as he was ready to step inside, a gaggle of noisy teenage girls appeared at the bottom of Mermaid Street and he had to pull the
