Storm and Silence (Storm and Silence 1)

‘Quite so, Sahib.’

‘Where to next…?’ I hesitated on the sidewalk, thinking. Bloody hell, I really needed a secretary to keep track of my appointments, and fast! Hopefully, that youngster would live up to my expectations. He seemed like a bright young man. Where to now… where to-

‘Chauvinists!’ a shout rudely interrupted my thoughts. Or, to be exact, it was more of a shriek. ‘Oppressors of womanhood!’

I turned, just in time to see… What the hell?

Farther down the street, a figure was being dragged down the front steps of a polling station by two police officers. A figure I knew. I stared. Was it really…? Yes. My future secretary.

No. Oh no, this would not do. Not at all. If the police had caught that foolish youth breaking the law, they would just have to forget about it, until I had found someone cheaper and more law-abiding.

‘Officer!’ In three long strides I was in front of them. I was damn well going to get to the bottom of this! ‘Officer, what are you doing with this young man, may I ask?’

The sergeant turned and, when he caught sight of me, paled. Unlike the bank clerk, he clearly knew with whom he was dealing. If his facial expression wasn’t enough proof, his hurried salute definitely was.

‘Good morning, Mr Ambrose, Sir!’ he mumbled, trying his best to keep hold of my prospective secretary, who was wriggling like a rattlesnake in an attempt to get free. ‘Um… Sir, if I may ask, what young man are you speaking of?’

My eyes slid from the policeman to the young man in his clutches and back again. Was he daft? Who else would I be talking about?

‘That one, of course. Are you blind? What are you doing with him?’

‘Not him, Sir.’ Reaching up, the sergeant gripped the young man’s top hat and pulled. It was like that silly trick magicians did when they pulled a rabbit out of the hat - only in this case, I would have actually preferred it if a curious bunny poked its nose out of the hat. Instead, masses of wild chestnut hair tumbled out. I felt a cold hand clench hard around my vital organs. ‘Her. That's a girl, Mr Ambrose, Sir.’

Impossible.

Silence.

I stared.

More silence. And for the first time in my life, it wasn’t because I didn’t want to say something. It was because I did absolutely not know what to say. Or to yell. Or to bellow.

No. No, this is impossible.

‘Something wrong, Sir?’ the sergeant inquired dutifully. He got no answer from me. I didn’t have one. After a long moment of waiting, he cleared his throat. ‘Well, if you'd excuse us, Sir, we have to take this one away to where she belongs. Maybe a night in the cells will teach her not to do what's only for men.’

‘Aye,’ one of the constables chuckled. ‘Women voting? Who ever heard of something like that? Next thing we know they'll want decent jobs!’

Jobs.

Women.

Jobs for women.

A job for a woman.

No. No. No. No. No. No!

I only distantly heard the laughter of the policemen. Most of my attention was focused on the seething volcano of ice-cold rage that was rising inside me. Taking a deep breath, I met the girl’s eyes. She met my gaze head-on, not looking away, not even blinking. Other people had died at my hand for the kind of defiance I saw in her eyes right then.

A woman.

A job for a woman.

But she wouldn’t really…!

Paralyzed, I watched the policemen drag her away. Just before they pulled her around the corner, she turned her head back towards me and, grinning in a way that made me want to strangle someone, shouted:

‘Looking forward to seeing you at work on Monday, Sir!’