Page 21 of Storm over the Caribbean
Uh-oh…
“Um…Patsy?” Rising from my seat, I began to back away. “Perhaps I should leave for a bit and…”
“Oh no!” Smirking, the dastardly wench linked her arm with mine, practically nailing me to her side. “You’re not going anywhere! Not after your event was such a spectacular success! Besides…there’s no real need to leave.”
Raising one hand to her lips, she gave a horse whistle, attracting everyone’s attention. “Oy, ladies!” she called out.“Listen up! Mr Rikkard Ambrose has given such a marvellous speech, why don’t we show our appreciation?”
Another explosive cheer rose from the crowd. A moment later, everyone surged forward, and Mr Rikkard Ambrose found himself swarmed by the only unbeatable force in the universe: female admirers.
“Am-brose! Am-brose! Am-brose!”
The last thing I saw of my husband was a single hand, desperately waving from the ocean of oestrogen he was about to drown in. Cocking my head, I cast a glance at Patsy.
“I never thought I’d say this, but…thank you for siccing a bunch of women on my husband.”
“You’re welcome.”
She held out the platter with solid chocolate, and I took a piece. What a perfect moment shared between friends. We were just settling in to watch the show when, suddenly, someone decided to ruin our fun.
“Oy! Break it up, everyone!”
The rough voice cut right through the cheers of the crowd. As everyone went silent, I heard the noise that, so far, nobody had noticed: the thudding of heavy boots. Trepidation rising inside me, I turned in my seat to where the noise was coming from, and saw…
Crap!
There, dashing straight towards us across the park, their faces twisted into vicious smiles, stalked the worst nightmare of all suffragettes, freedom-fighters and jaywalkers: policemen.4
“It’s the bluebottles!” some girl shouted. “Run!”
Ha! Run? Me?
Not likely!
Smiling grimly, I got to my feet and grabbed my chair by the backrest. The boys in blue wouldn’t be breaking upthisdemonstration. I was just about to lift the chair into the air when a hand grabbed me by the wrist.
Huh?
“Stop this, Lilly! You can’t!”
Who? Who would dare to stop me from venting my righteous wrath upon the enemies of feminism? My head whirled around and…
My jaw dropped.
Patsy?
Patsywas stopping me?
Brain, restart please. And then check if the world is still rotating the right way.
“Patsy, what are you doing?” I demanded.
In answer, her gaze slid down. What was she looking at? There was nothing there, except…
Except my belly. My big, bulging, pregnant belly.
Oh.
Crap! How the hell could I have forgotten? Wasn’t as if the little brat didn’t remind me with kicks at regular intervals! And I was going to go into a fight like this? Instinctively, my hands moved down and came to rest protectively over the bulge. The thought of what I had almost done, what I had risked…
