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The two men threw us scandalised looks.
‘Only listen to how they speak!’
‘Deplorable, isn’t it?’
‘When I was young, under old King George, things like this wouldn’t have been allowed to happen. Girls knew what proper behaviour was back then.’
Patsy opened her mouth, probably to tell the two where they could stick their proper behaviour, but I grabbed her arm. ‘Keep your mouth shut, will you?’ I whispered. ‘For Flora’s sake.’
Patsy hesitated a moment, but then closed her mouth again, grumbling.
‘Where did this outrage occur?’ the magistrate demanded of the bailiff, nearly quivering with moral outrage. ‘In a back yard? A garden?’
The bailiff reddened, but bravely cleared his throat and answered, ‘No, my Lord. In Green Park.’
‘In Green P-! You mean to tell me that these females bicycled in public?’
‘Indeed they did, my Lord.’
‘With children present?’
‘It pains me to say so, but - yes, my Lord.’
‘And they witnessed these females moving around on their bicycles, moving their unmentionables and sitting on saddles in a way that was totally…bifurcated?’
The bailiff nodded gravely. ‘Yes, my Lord.’
Slowly, the magistrate covered his face with his hand. ‘Good God!’
For a few moments, sombre silence reigned in the court room - except for the incessant clickety-clickety-click of Eve’s knitting needles. Finally, the magistrate lowered his hand. His gavel hit the wooden block, and in his driest, most graveyard-like voice, he proclaimed: ‘I will need some time to contemplate the sentence. This court is adjourned for five minutes. No, on second thought, ten minutes. These females should have some time to contemplate the gravity of their crime. Officer, stay here and watch the criminals. I would not put it past such perverse, corrupt creatures to try and escape the justice they deserve.’
‘Yes, my Lord! Of course, my Lord!’
A few moments later, the door closed behind the magistrate. Eve’s clickety-clickety-click carried on as if nothing had happened. I turned to Patsy and said, ‘So, you perverse, corrupt creature, you have to admit that I won the race to the duck pond.’
Patsy crossed her arms over her ample bosom. ‘I admit no such thing!’
‘Eve? You were there, weren’t you?’
‘Hm?’ Clickety-clickety-click.
‘There, at our bike race! You saw who won, didn’t you?’
‘Mhm.’ Clickety-clickety click. Clickety-click-clack-click.
‘Well? Who won?’
‘Hm-hm.’ Clickety-clackety-click-clack.
I sighed. Apparently, I wasn’t going to get any answers from this quarter. Turning, I focused my gaze on Flora. ‘You were there, too! Who won?’
I knew who had won, of course. Patsy would just not admit it, because she’d rather swallow her parasol sideways than admit anyone had beaten her at anything. Flora knew that, too. And to judge by the colour of her face, she wasn’t all too fond of the idea of having to tell Patsy she had come in second place.
‘Um…well, Patsy, you know…. It’s not always about the winning…’
‘Yes it is!’ Patsy contradicted her.
Flora tried again. ‘I mean, you two weren’t serious, you were just having fun…’
