The big event was tomorrow - our demonstration for women’s rights. Our protest action against chauvinism. Tomorrow, after working hours. Which was exactly when I had agreed to go on a special appointment with Mr Ambrose.
Blast!
I stopped in my tracks. Blast! Blast! And blast a few more times, preferably with loud explosions! What was I going to do?
For a moment, I considered going back to the office and telling Mr Ambrose that I couldn’t go with him. But I discarded that idea quickly. He had been so friendly today, so accepting - I couldn’t just throw that in his face. I needed the work and had to do what was necessary. My friends would understand.
Will they? Oh, sure, they’d understand if they knew your reasons. Unfortunately, though, they don’t. And you can’t tell them.
I really couldn’t. Or could I?
For a moment, I considered the possibility. But immediately an image came into my mind of Eve jumping up and down excitedly, shouting ‘What, Lilly? You run around all day dressed up in trousers?’ loud enough for the entire park to hear.
I shuddered.
That image was followed by one of Flora regarding me with wide, fear-filled eyes. She wouldn’t be able to sleep at night if she knew what I was up to during the day! I could tell Patsy, maybe, at some later point, but there was no way of tipping her off while the others were there.
I made my decision.
Squaring my shoulders, I started off again and, soon after, had reached our little bench by the pond where we always met. The others were already there, passing around several large cardboards and chattering excitedly. Eve spotted me first and started waving like mad. The others turned and beamed at me.
‘Ah! Our general has arrived!’ Patsy proclaimed. ‘Ready to inspect your troops before our attack on the chauvinists of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland?’
‘Well, yes… but…’
‘Look here,’ Patsy continued, interrupting me. ‘We made signs! This is mine.’
She held up a large cardboard sign on which she had painted in large, bold, red letters:
VOTES FOR WOMEN NOW!!
‘And this is Flora's,’ she said, holding up another sign. It read, in elegant cursive script:
Please consider granting votes to women at the earliest opportunity. Thank you.
My lips twitched.
‘I think I would have been able to tell which of you made which. Patsy…’
I swallowed. Now was the time. There was no way around it. ‘Patsy, there’s something I have to tell you all.’
‘Yes, what is it?’
‘I… I have to…’ I stopped, not knowing what to say.
The smile slowly disappeared from her face.
‘What’s wrong? Has something happened to Ella? Has that fellow Wilkins…’
‘No, no,’ I hastened to assure her. ‘It’s nothing like that. Ella is fine.’
‘What’s the matter, then? You look strange.’
I swallowed again. Why did my throat have to be so darn dry? It wasn’t like I was planning to commit a murder.
Only, it was nearly as bad. They had all looked so happy a moment ago. Now they looked at me with anxious faces. My friends - the best friends in the world. The people I was going to have to disappoint.
‘Well… not to beat around the bush… to come straight to the point… I can’t come tomorrow.’
‘I don't understand,’ Eve said, a puzzled frown on her face.
‘To the demonstration. I can’t come to the demonstration in Hyde Park tomorrow.’
‘What?’
Patsy had a sergeant major’s voice, and when she used it to full effect the result was deafening. Wincing, I took an involuntary step back.
‘Look, it wasn’t my choice. I didn’t mean to…’
‘You can’t mean that, Lilly! You can’t possibly mean that!’
She advanced on me, hands on hips, a thunderous expression on her normally so cheerful face. With relief I noted that her parasol was leaning against the bench a few yards away.
‘After all the preparation we did, all the planning we put into this? Now you want to draw in your tail and run?’
‘It’s not like that, Patsy, really. I never…’
‘And it was you who came up with the idea in the first place! I thought you were a rebel! I thought you despised oppression just as much as we do!’
‘Well,’ Flora dared to venture, ‘I don't exactly despise op-’
Patsy shot her a steely look. ‘Shut up! You’ll despise oppression if I say you despise oppression, understand?’
‘Yes, Patsy. Of course, Patsy.’
‘Look,’ I tried to reason with her. ‘It’s not like the demonstration won’t happen. I mean, you will all be there, right? Goal achieved.’