Page 22 of Storm over the Caribbean
I felt like ramming my head against the wall. Only, I couldn’t! Because I had to watch my health, dammit!
“Oy, ye dere! Didn’t ye ’ear me? Break it up!” My head jerked up. While I’d been distracted, the policemen had already reached the edge of the crowd. “This whole event is disturbing da Queen’s peace!”
“Really?” one of the women called out. “An event forwomen’srights is disturbing theQueen’speace?”
Without hesitation, one of the bobbies reached out to grab the woman by the arm.
The problem?
The woman in question was my friend, Eve. Before the bluebottle could even try dragging her off, her elbow was buried in his guts.
“Oomph!”
“Let go, prick!”
“Assault!” I didn’t know which of the policemen the shout came from, but it didn’t matter. “Assault on an officer of the law. Get them!”
In an instant, they had swarmed us. Only then did I realize they’d been waiting for this: an excuse, any excuse, to crack down on us. Now they had it.
Bloody hell!
Thud!
“Agh!”
The first girl crumpled under a strike from a truncheon. Immediately, two policemen jumped her, wrestling her to the ground. That was a mistake.
These were my friends, my friends’ friends, and my friends’ friends’ poodles. I might not be able to fight. But I sure as hell was able to command.
“Get ’em, girls!”
“She’s right!” Eve shouted. “Get ’em!” And she jumped forward, towards the policemen. Shouts of agreement came from all around and, parasols raised, every single woman rushed forward to meet the attack. A moment later, the two forces clashed, and—
“Argargargh! Get dat friggin’ dog off me arse!”
“Ha! Take that, oppressor of womanhood!”Wham!“And that!”Wham!“And that!”
Smiling, I settled down on my chair and surveyed the battle like a general would his army. And what an army they were! Elbows slammed into abdomens, parasols poked and proddedwhatever they could reach. We could actually win this! We could—
Just then, the shrill sound of a police whistle echoed over the meadow. My head jerked up and I saw them.
Crap! Reinforcements!
More policemen streamed into the park through the gate. Dozens, no, nearly a hundred of them! Bloody hell! Was their boss the chief chauvinist of London or something?
The women were now swiftly losing ground. They tried to use parasols, chairs and whatever else they could get hold of to defend themselves, but it was pointless. The police outnumbered them two to one and, as much as it galled me to admit, were stronger and tougher. Before I knew it, they had forced their way through the crowd. Forced their way to whereIwas.
“Hey!” And then there she was. Patsy, standing right in front of me. “Don’t you dare! Can’t you see she’s preg—”
That was when the policeman at the head of the pack shoved her out of the way, sending her sprawling onto ground. Before I could blink, he was on me. Was the bastard actually going to…?
Hell yes, he was!
Narrowly, I dodged his first strike. For the first time in a long time, I felt fear. Real fear. And not just for myself. No, this was fear for my friends, fear for my family, fear for mychild. I tried to jump back, but I rammed into the table behind me, forcing a pained gasp out of my throat. The policeman in front of me smirked. Growling, he raised his truncheon to strike—only for a hand to clamp around his wrist, almost snapping it in half.
“Don’t. You. Dare.”
Wrath
