A Summer in the Twenties by Peter Dickinson

Author:Peter Dickinson [Dickinson, Peter]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Tags: Fiction, historical, Mysteries & Thrillers, 1920s
ISBN: 9781618730848
Publisher: Small Beer Press
Published: 2014-05-26T16:00:00+00:00

As he watched her hold her sheet of paper aloft like a fiery cross he felt ashamed for her, and was beginning to wish he had not stayed for the meeting. Then, in the middle of the cheering, something altered. There was a moment of uncertainty in her movements. A small dark object flashed past her head, and the next instant another struck her shoulder and burst apart, manifesting itself to have been a clod of earth. The volume of shouting faltered, changed, rose. More clods flew. Miss Barnes did not flinch, but held up her arms for silence, peering at the same time in the direction of the attack with a vague and craning stare that made Tom realise suddenly that she was extremely short-sighted. Several more missiles flew, but only one hit her. They must appear to her to be coming at her from out of a misty sea of faces, though Tom thought there were only two, or possibly three, groups of assailants, one quite close to him. He turned and saw an upheaval in the crowd, a definite centre of scuffling. The men round him were pressing in that direction, yelling with anger. Tom moved with them without thought until a hand tugged at his elbow.

‘You better stay out on this,’ shouted Mr. Barnes.

Tom nodded and began to work his way sideways, clear of the press of men. It was thus that he saw what happened next.

The fight was taking place right on the edge of the crowd. Three, or perhaps four men, were defending themselves against the rest. Despite the numerical odds they had a momentary advantage because they had armed themselves with rough clubs of driftwood, picked up presumably on the wasteland before the fighting started; but the crowd was closing round them like an amoeba digesting a particle and in a few seconds they would be overwhelmed. Just before the crisis of the fight a man who had been standing a little clear of the crowd drew something from his jacket pocket, pulled his cap down to cover his eyes and barged into the melee. His arm rose. The thing in his hand was a revolver, which he pointed at the sky. Before the shock of the explosion was over his arm was withdrawn and he was barging his way out of the crowd again. With rapid, rehearsed movements he snatched his cap from his head, stuffed it into his pocket and knotted a red scarf round his neck.

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