Nicola Clowes The Barlow RC High School

Nicola Clowes

The Barlow RC High School

16th August, 1819. Our Mother was a strong believer in the end of poor inequality. As a child at the age of six, I was not educated as to how my elders saw the way we would be created. Clothed in broken fabrics and feeling like a bruised family, due to the way we worked hard for little pay.

But today my family and others will now be heard. Walking towards St. Peter’s as a proud group of individuals. Banners up and our dignity even higher.

It was a peaceful atmosphere and the sun was shining. The sweet sound of children’s laughter and the sense of belonging.

Four people climbed up on the raised platform, all of whom were strong minded people ready to tell the city of Manchester their thoughts on the end of poor inequality. Twelve armed, strong soldiers on top of black horses. Looking over us like we were a piece of rubbish, picked from the ground itself.

Their slurred speech powered over us. Until our representative, Henry Hunt began his speech. Which we knew would go down in history. My hand tightly clutching my homemade banner. While my Mother held my opposite hand, the speech continued, “This is a peaceful pro-democracy in our home town.”

I would say the whole of Manchester was there, 80,000!

All of a sudden the sky seemed to darken, almost black. Crows preying over us, the sound was foreboding. A bang went off. Looking into the distance to see the soldiers galloping towards us. We were pushed from side to side.

Mother held mine and my sister’s hands tighter than ever. Time suddenly slowed. My Mother no longer beside me, but below me, lay on the cold wet ground. Her last words being, “Watch out girls.”

I grabbed her trench coat, my sister and me both ran to the side, trying to pull my Mother’s lifeless body towards us. As a glistening tear rolled down my round red cheeks. I kissed my little sister and told her everything would be ok.

I remembered Henry Hunt was a close friend to my Mother. I tried to tower over the people in front of me to see Henry being arrested. The only person I knew that could help me was gone. The crowd was now starting to shift. But the scene that was left behind was horrific. The screams breaking out, bodies lay on the floor in pain or even lifeless. Lay there because they wanted fair pay or even just one final chance to vote.

For a summer night it was almost never this dark. I held my Mother’s body tight, kissing her forehead lightly.

I promised I would never leave her here. To others she looks like a victim of an awful terror but to me she was a fighter of the cruel truth of this world.

She may have been a victim, but hopefully her life took a toll on this problem. One day she will be seen as a hero, my hero.