‘Hey up! I didn’t think you were going to show.’ Nellie Taylor stood with her folded banner at the top of Skipton High Street, grinning, as Jane joined the small group. ‘We’ve not got a very good show today. There’s only five of us. Nevertheless, we might be small in number, but we are determined in our beliefs. Let’s show Skipton that we mean business, that women can no longer be treated like second-class human beings.’ She lifted her banner and looked at all her comrades-in-arms, waiting hopefully for any more followers of the cause. ‘What’s up with you, Lady Jane? You look as if you are in a mood. All not well in your world?’ Nellie didn’t believe anything could be wrong in a world filled with the amount of money the Atkinsons and Foxes had.

‘It’s Mama. She tried to stop me joining you, she just doesn’t understand. I hate her at the moment. All she thinks about is the business, nothing else.’ Jane scowled and pulled her sash of green, cream and violet straight, as she made ready for the march down the High Street.

‘It’s people like your mother who are keeping the women of this town chained to their homes and husbands. She pampers to their needs as ignorant kept women – prizes for their men, dressed in their hobble skirts and smelling of perfume. They don’t have time to think for themselves. That’s why she’s so against you being with us.’ Nellie was in full voice. ‘I’ve been thinking; we should do what Kitty Marion’s done: break a few windows, make folk sit up and take note. Her and Clara Giveen even set fire to the grandstand at Hurst Park to show how strongly they feel. It’s no good us feebly walking down the High Street and doing nothing. Nobody’s going to give us a second glance,’ Nellie yelled.

‘I don’t know, Nellie. Sergeant Monks is watching us, I saw him when I walked out of the store. He’s got his eye on us.’ Jane looked worried.

‘Nah, he’ll be more bothered about his pork pie from the butcher’s; he just thinks we are a lot of silly girls and women. Right, come on, ladies: best foot forward. Let’s show the good people of Skipton what we want.’ Nellie thrust the banner to two girls behind her and linked arms with Jane, stepping out in her black lace-up boots and long full skirt, ready to take on the world.

‘Votes for women. Votes for women!’

Nellie yelled as she pushed her way down the bustling High Street, ignoring the jeers from men and the disgusted looks from women of higher society. Jane was pulled along beside her.

‘What do we want? We want justice, we want equality,’ she yelled, and her followers took up the chant.