Space wolf 06 wolfs hono.., p.26
Murder in Trafalgar Square: A Fairbanks and Flynn Mystery, page 26
‘No!’
For a brief moment, the wind dropped and a feeling of calm descended on the weather-beaten cliff top.
‘Goodbye, Coral…’ The whispered words floated in the air, then Irene and the flickering torchlight were gone.
‘Irene!’ Coral screamed into the darkness. She tried to run to where Irene had been, but the arms around her were too strong.
Coral pushed at Flynn’s chest as he pulled her closer, murmuring something into her ear. Unable to move, all she could do was stare at the spot where Irene had been, willing her to reappear.
40
‘Isn’t it too marvellous?’
The lump in Coral’s throat prevented her from speaking, so she squeezed Lavender’s hand in response. They stood in the shadow of Big Ben, watching suffrage societies from around the world gather in Parliament Square, preparing to march from Westminster to Hyde Park.
Policemen lined the roads but made no attempt to impede or halt the procession. Unlike Black Friday, the mood was joyous with a sense of serenity. Crowds clapped and cheered as the ladies marched by, holding pennants embroidered with the name of their society. Some were attired in their national dress while others wore historical costumes. One young lady came on horseback as Joan of Arc.
The air was filled with music and singing, and stretching as far as the eye could see was a stream of purple, white and green banners – the colours that had come to represent the cause.
‘This is more like it.’ Sid Watson kissed her cheek before dashing after Luke, who seemed to be wandering in a world of his own.
Coral watched as Luke stopped suddenly on Parliament Street, gazed around, then nodded. Sid knew his cue and quickly cleared a gap in the crowd so they could set up the camera. Coral guessed Luke had chosen the perfect vantage point for capturing each group as they passed. She’d go in search of them later and ask if she could have prints of some of the photographs.
Lavender nudged her. ‘Look who’s come to see us.’
Coral turned to find Flynn walking towards them, Goodspeed on one side and his daughter, Teresa, on the other.
Coral hadn’t seen much of Flynn since that terrible night in Dover nearly three months ago. But one evening, she’d returned from work to find a parcel in the hallway.
‘Your favourite detective inspector delivered it himself,’ Lavender had told her with a wink.
Coral had peeled off the brown paper to reveal one of Flynn’s paintings, simply signed GF. It was so beautiful, it had taken her breath away. Only later, when she was examining it for the hundredth time, had she realised what he’d done. He’d painted a view of the river from her home. Or the view that you would have seen from Adelphi Terrace before the Victoria Embankment had been built.
She’d written him a thank-you letter, and he’d called at the Stanmore Gallery a few times after that. However, their conversations were usually stilted as they were too afraid to stray from safe topics such as his paintings or how Teresa was getting on with her studies. Coral often found herself longing to sit across a table from him, sharing a meal as they’d done when they were investigating the case together. But she guessed that would never happen again.
‘Mrs Fairbanks.’ Flynn raised his hat. ‘Teresa would like to join the march. I wonder if I could entrust her to your care?’
‘Of course. Please join us.’ Coral reached out and took Teresa’s hand.
‘Thank you, Mrs Fairbanks.’ Teresa smiled, but her eyes were fixed on Lavender, as were Goodspeed’s.
‘Evan, darling. How lovely to see you.’ Lavender blew him a kiss, then turned to Teresa. ‘Pleased to meet you, I’m Lavender Lacey.’
‘I know,’ Teresa breathed. ‘I’ve seen you on stage. You have a beautiful voice.’
‘Thank you, darling. Today I’ll be singing with gusto. Do you know “The March of the Women”?’
Flynn’s smile faltered as Lavender began to teach Teresa the words to a song that had become the anthem of the Women’s Social and Political Union.
‘I’ll meet you in Hyde Park,’ he called, but Teresa was too captivated by Lavender to hear.
‘I’ll look after her,’ Coral promised, smiling at his resigned expression. She was about to say more when she was distracted by the sight of Marian’s grandmother, Florence Dean, coming towards her, carrying a lilac pennant embroidered with a single white rose.
‘The white rose of Yorkshire.’ Florence held it aloft. ‘It was Marian’s favourite flower.’
‘It’s beautiful. I’ll be thinking of her as we march.’ Coral held out her arm to Florence, craning to see Flynn, but he and Goodspeed had disappeared into the crowd.
‘So will I.’ Florence took Coral’s arm and thrust her pennant high into the air.
‘Time to go, ladies,’ Lavender announced. ‘Good strong harmonies now.’
With linked arms, Coral, Florence, Lavender and Teresa took their place in the procession, raising their voices to sing:
‘Shout, shout up with your song!
Cry with the wind for the dawn is breaking.
March, march, swing you along,
Wide blows our banner and hope is waking.’
Coral thought how much Penny would have loved to have been walking with them.
They’d both made statements regarding their part in the Hurlingham Club vandalism, the Riverside Lodge fire, and the events at the National Portrait Gallery.
Coral’s ring had been returned to her with a warning not to engage in further acts of civil disobedience. Just thinking about her wedding ring made Coral reach for her left hand to ensure it was safely in place beneath her white glove.
Penny had been convicted of arson but given a lesser sentence as she’d confessed and surrendered to the police. She was currently serving a short sentence in Holloway Prison, where she’d gone on hunger strike to protest at being treated as a common criminal rather than a political prisoner. She was due to be released soon, and Coral would be at the gates waiting for her. She’d heard Penny was in a poor state and needed nursing back to health.
Flynn had searched the garage on Long Acre and found what Penny had left for him to find. The deliveryman uniform, the porter’s trolley, the pieces of rug – and not much else.
And this is where the problem between her and Flynn lay. He wasn’t happy at having failed to solve the mystery of the Blanchet painting. He’d guessed at Penny’s involvement, although he didn’t seem to have any suspicions of the countess. As for Coral, well, she knew he was wary of getting too close to her.
Yet when she turned to gaze at the crowds, it was Flynn’s eyes that met hers. He and Goodspeed were walking beside them, clapping and cheering along with the other policemen lining the route.
‘New beginnings,’ he mouthed, giving her a searching look.
Coral smiled, then nodded. ‘New beginnings,’ she mouthed back.
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AUTHOR’S NOTE
This book begins on 18 November 1910. Black Friday.
On this day, a delegation – led by Emmeline Pankhurst, founder of the Women’s Social and Political Union (the suffragettes); Dr Elizabeth Garrett Anderson, the first woman in Britain to qualify as a physician and surgeon; and Princess Sophia Duleep Singh, the Indian goddaughter of Queen Victoria – tried to deliver a petition to the prime minister, Herbert Asquith.
They were accompanied by over 300 women, who marched on parliament after Asquith reneged on his repeated promises to introduce a Conciliation Bill to allow some women the right to vote. The bill would have given the vote to about a million women, mostly wealthy property owners. Although it was a compromise, it was enough for Mrs Pankhurst to suspend militant action in anticipation of the bill passing into law.
The women were greeted in Parliament Square by lines of policemen and crowds of bystanders who attacked them for the next six hours. Officers had been brought in from areas like Whitechapel and were unfamiliar in dealing with suffragette protests.
The women were beaten by police and thrown into the hostile crowd, where they were subjected to more violence. Hundreds of female protesters reported having their breasts grabbed and their long skirts lifted up to their waists.
The suffragettes claimed plain-clothes policemen had gone amongst the bystanders and were deliberately inciting the violence. In all, 115 women were arrested – but only 4 men. All of them were released the following day without charge on the orders of Winston Churchill, who was Home Secretary at the time.
There has been quite a lot of debate over Churchill’s role in Black Friday. Some suggest that what took place was a deliberate ploy and he’d encouraged police brutality. Others say that he knew the police had overstepped the mark, which is why he ordered the release of all those arrested. Whatever the truth of the matter, he ignored all calls for an inquiry into Black Friday.
As well as Black Friday, many other events, people, and locations mentioned in this book are real, including the false-fronted houses that can still be found on Leinster Gardens.
THANK YOU!
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MORE FROM MICHELLE SALTER
We hope you enjoyed reading Murder in Trafalgar Square. If you did, please leave a review. If you’d like to gift a copy, this book is available to purchase in paperback, hardback, large print and audio.
Death at Big Ben, the next instalment in this page-turning cosy mystery series from Michelle Salter, is available to order now by clicking on the image below:
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Thanks to the brilliant Boldwood team, especially my editor, Emily Yau; Marcela Torres in marketing; Rose Fox my eagle-eyed proof editor; and Rachel Lawston for the fabulous cover design.
As ever, I’m indebted to the numerous people, books, libraries, museums and archives that contributed to my knowledge of this period. A book that was especially useful was Rise Up Women! The Remarkable Lives of the Suffragettes by Diane Atkinson.
I’d also like to thank friends for their support: Jeanette Quay for videos, Barbara Daniel for advice and encouragement, Vicki Jull for film star names, and Moon, my oldest friend (length of time we’ve known each other rather than age!), for wine.
Thanks to my parents, Ken and Barbara Salter, for always supporting and encouraging me (special thanks to Dad for being my research assistant).
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Michelle Salter writes historical cosy crime set in Hampshire, where she lives, and inspired by real-life events in 1920s Britain. Her Iris Woodmore series draws on an interest in the aftermath of the Great War and the suffragette movement.
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ALSO BY MICHELLE SALTER
The Iris Woodmore Mysteries
Death at Crookham Hall
Murder at Waldenmere Lake
The Body at Carnival Bridge
A Killing at Smugglers Cove
A Corpse in Christmas Close
Murder at Mill Ponds House
The Fairbanks and Flynn Mysteries
Murder in Trafalgar Square
Standalone Novels
Murder at Merewood Hospital
First published in Great Britain in 2025 by Boldwood Books Ltd.
Copyright © Michelle Salter, 2025
Cover Design by Rachel Lawston
Cover Images: Rachel Lawston
The moral right of Michelle Salter to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. This book is a work of fiction and, except in the case of historical fact, any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Every effort has been made to obtain the necessary permissions with reference to copyright material, both illustrative and quoted. We apologise for any omissions in this respect and will be pleased to make the appropriate acknowledgements in any future edition.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
Paperback ISBN 978-1-83561-308-5
Large Print ISBN 978-1-83561-307-8
Hardback ISBN 978-1-83561-306-1
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Michelle Salter, Murder in Trafalgar Square: A Fairbanks and Flynn Mystery
