‘Would I be sitting here if it were?’
‘I suppose not.’
His shining smile faded a little, and his eyes became more questioning. ‘Why do you do it? Why did you come here and seek work?’
Strangely, although his friendly smile was waning, he sounded even more interested than before. And so I answered: ‘I don't want to be dependent on anybody. I don't want to wear chains.’
‘You could marry,’ he suggested, touching my hand again and sending sparks all the way up my arm. ‘I’m sure that there would be many interested gentlemen.’
Not bothering to point out the unlikeness of that, I shook my head.
‘Chains of gold are still chains, Mr Ambrose. I want to decide what to do with my life.’ I hesitated, and then enquired: ‘Why are you so interested?’
Abruptly, the beaming smile was back in full force.
‘I am simply trying to get to know you a little better,’ he said, spreading his arms in a gesture of innocence. ‘I find that it is always much easier to achieve one’s aims if one knows about people.’
I had to admit, some part of me was flattered. Suddenly, I couldn’t really meet his eyes, but had to look down at the floor, abashed. He was being so… nice. I knew how to shout at nasty Mr Ambrose. I didn’t really know to say to nice Mr Ambrose who touched my hand and gave me biscuits. My eyes fell on the biscuit in my hand. It was the fifth I had consumed so far. They really were excellent.
‘And what about you, Sir?’ I asked, feeling the need to be polite and show interest in him just as he had shown in me. ‘Why do you do the things you do?’
His smile seemed to flicker once again.
‘Never mind about me,’ he said with a wave of his hand. ‘Here, have another biscuit. And tell me more about the efforts of the suffragists. It all sounds very interesting.’
I spent the easiest day at work ever. Mostly, we talked a lot, and he smiled a lot. A very, very great lot. Sometimes I ate another biscuit. He only had me write down a single appointment: a new one for tomorrow, which he said he hadn’t known about previously. I was kind of surprised he would squeeze an appointment into his timetable at such short notice, but with the brightest smile ever he told me it was very important, and I didn’t like to pry.
‘And by the way,’ he said, ‘I would like you to accompany me to this particular appointment.
I nearly dropped the appointment book.
‘But… it’s after working hours,’ I stammered.
‘Yes it is, but it’s really very important. Please? I need someone there I can rely on.’
He thought he could rely on me! And his smile was so convincing…
‘Yes, of course, Sir,’ I said, growing about two inches, a proud grin on my face. ‘I will be there.’
‘Thank you very much, Miss Linton.’ His smile almost blinded me with its brilliance. ‘I promise, it will be an unforgettable experience.’
After that, he didn’t require much more from me. It wasn’t long before he told me I could go home.
‘But it’s not time yet, Sir,’ I protested.
He waved my protest away. ‘Oh, tush! You’ve had a tiring day, and you’re going to need all your strength for tomorrow. Turn in early and catch a good night’s sleep.’
‘Well… if you say so, Sir. Thanks for your concern.’
A bit flustered, I packed up my things and left the office. Was he going to keep up this behaviour? If so, things would really change around here. I could certainly use one change for the better in my life, the way the rest of it was going.
I almost ran home. My friends and I had agreed to meet in the park for some last-minute discussion and preparation before the big event tomorrow - our plan to sabotage the efforts of those evil, diabolical chauvinists who were going to meet in Hyde Park. I had told them I might be a bit late to our meeting, but now, since Mr Ambrose had let me go early, I might be able to make it in time.
Through the back door I slipped into the garden and quickly changed from male into female outfit in the garden shed. Back on the street, I wasn’t quite as quick as before; apparently trousers were better suited to running than hoop skirts. But still I made pretty good time. I had almost reached Green Park when the realization hit me.
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:
