Page 65 of Times Four There is a concerted gasp at my temerity from every volunteer gathered in the room, not just the minions and B1 and B2. One of the nicer volunteers comes up to me, concerned, but I ignore her. If she wants to be my friend, she should have come forward earlier when Christine is busy playing her too-busy-to-talk-to-you games and the minions snigger at what is supposed to be my discomfiture, instead of hiding out on the sidelines trying not to become the next target. “Sarah!” commands Christine, but she speaks to my back as I leave. I walk on towards the door as Christine calls more loudly “Sarah!” then I hear her short little legs clop along in their absurd heels as she trots behind me, trying to catch up. Christine really cannot afford to lose any more volunteers and we both know it. Even the complacent Committee that purports to manage this disorganised organisation has begun to seriously ask why so many volunteers join, only to leave again within a very short time. “Sarah, you misunderstand me. Of course I will reimburse you, but just as this moment” Christine sighs lustily, but the effect is ruined by the fact that she has to take two steps to my one to keep up. I swing round to face her. Christine stops trotting with relief and rearranges her face into a pained smile as she says “Sarah, you must have your grumpy pants on today!” She chirps a cheery little titter but her piggy eyes angrily flash around the room, demanding obedience. B1 and B2 snigger dutifully as do the minions but gradually silence overtakes the whole room like a creeping fog. I wait for complete silence before I reply “Your mistake, I think. I am not only wearing grumpy pants today, you didn’t notice that I have the whole outfit on and socks to match.” There is a definite laugh at that and it comes from the nicer volunteers. I flash a smile at them before I continue “Oh, and by the way, I resign” and I turn abruptly again to march out the door, leaving behind a room of whispering women. Sally from that Regency coaching inn would be proud of me. So would the young Sally, that brave pilot from the ATA days. Heck, I am proud of me. I found my long-lost courage. I don’t know where I lost it, or why, but I am very glad to have found it again, here and now and in this lifetime. The sun is warm on my shoulders and I feel great as I walk back to the car where Bill waits for me. Poor Bill. He has patiently waited all this lifetime for me to fight back honestly, instead of sniping sarcastically or worse, staying silent as I head for the barricades to hide out from any confrontation. I stop for a moment to laugh at myself. I will probably still be sarcastic Sarah on some occasions, but I don’t believe that I will need her as much now to protect me from being hurt in this lifetime. I now had the example set by those two Sallies that I admire so much. Even Seraphina had more guts than me and I am starting to think that Seraphina may have been seriously depressed back in those 12th century times when depression was supposedly unknown. When she cared about an issue Seraphina was more outspoken than I used to be, but now I had walked into a room full of potential enemies and rolled them up as gracefully and as completely as Catherine would. I am aware I am even walking differently, as I stride towards the car with my head high and glance absent-mindedly to see what car park Bill has taken. The sunlight suddenly blazes into an intense brightness and the birds sing fiercely as I register the number 44. Of all the spaces in all the car parks in all the world, Bill has chosen today to park in number 44. This time I laugh genuinely as I tumble into the vortex, anticipating my next adventure.
Posted on: Sat, 08 Mar 2014 22:41:24 +0000
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