‘And what do you think?’ I held my breath, not sure I really wanted to hear the answer, but before I could I heard a roar from Howard.
‘Arjun!’
Turning, I spotted Arjun walking past not ten feet away, both hands clutching a placard that said, OUR TREATMENT OF WOMEN IS WELL UNDER PAR.
He jumped and froze as Howard’s cry hit him. Some of the women nearby looked around.
‘Arjun, what are you doing?’
Arjun stayed rooted to the spot.
‘Tell me you have confiscated that,’ Howard asked in a warning voice.
Arjun looked momentarily terrified, as if he was considering throwing the placard at us and escaping in the other direction, but then he puffed out his chest and jutted his chin and met Howard’s eye. ‘I agree with them. They should join us. It’s an archaic rule. It’s a sin not to let them in. No longer shall we oppress them!’ His voice wobbled on the last line and I couldn’t help but grin as he bravely waved the placard around.
‘You fight the patriarchy, Arjun,’ I called out, nodding at him enthusiastically. He gave me a sisterly fist pump and went back to his placard and the latest chant.
Howard turned on me. ‘I brought you here to end this madness, not encourage it. Margaret claims to have picked up this notion from you. Have. A. Word.’
‘Me?’ I said with surprise, glancing at Grandad, who I could have sworn was laughing into his hand. ‘OK, I’ll go and see what’s going on.’
Feeling rather conspicuous as I moved through the gathering crowd, I stepped over the liver-spotted legs, some surprisingly tanned and toned, past flasks of tea, grey heads bent together and the odd golf club (possible weapon if the polo-shirt attendant got frisky?) and headed towards Margaret.
‘Lottie, you came! How lovely. Did Teddy tell you to come? How sweet of him. I did hope he might approve of what we’re doing.’ Margaret’s cheeks were flushed, two pink spots, and her eyes sparkled. She looked to be burning with restless energy. I couldn’t dim that gleam on her face.
‘Did you organise all of this?’ I asked, staring round at the women, some of whom were looking curiously over at her as if awaiting instruction. She bent down and picked up a loudhailer.
‘What do we want?’
‘Inclusion!’ the crowd chanted.
‘When do we want it?’
‘Now!’
Then she put down the loudhailer and continued chatting to me. I didn’t recognise this Margaret, this sharp-eyed, confident woman bossing people around. ‘Phyllis, take that placard to Hetty. I think her F has fallen off and women’s gol makes no sense. Paula, could you round up that group at the back? They’ve just arrived and they look lost.’
She picked up the loudhailer again. ‘We want in, we want in.’ The crowd took up the chant.
Arjun was front and centre joining in, grinning at me and giving a thumbs-up. I was glad to see him looking a little healthier, more colour in his cheeks, energy in his stride. I was being swept up in the atmosphere, the cries from the women, the bickering of the polo-shirt man who had been joined by a polo-shirt woman who was looking rather confused, all my other thoughts fading away.
Men were picking their way across the women lying down, manoeuvring their clubs over their bodies to get inside.
I returned to Howard, wondering just what I was going to say.
‘Well,’ he said breathlessly as I approached. ‘Did you talk her down? Woman to woman?’
‘Er . . . not exactly.’
Howard’s eyes narrowed. ‘What do you mean, not exactly?’
‘Um.’ I scuffed my toe along the ground. ‘Um, I agreed to take over the loudhailer for her so she could go to the toilet.’
Howard was turning a funny shade of magenta and Grandad had definitely lost it now, patting him on the back and stifling a laugh with his other hand. ‘Maybe it’s for the best, old chap. Give the club some new energy. And we could use the green fees. Clubhouse looks rather dated.’
‘Clubhouse will be turned into a pink hell on their watch, all china cats and tea pots,’ Howard spluttered. ‘They’ll get rid of Sky Sports, they’ll demand one of those fancy coffee machines. They’ll want wine in those silver ice bins.’
‘You’ve been saying for ages we should get a cappuccino maker,’ Grandad protested.
‘This was not how I wanted it,’ Howard spat. ‘And I’m not talking to Arjun ever again.’
Grandad opened his mouth and sensibly shut it again. We both knew we would get nowhere while Howard was in this mood. I bit my lip and stood there, listening to the chanting behind me and trying to look vaguely like I cared. I tried to sympathise: Howard was a man who didn’t like change, knew where he stood. On the other hand the rule was archaic and ridiculous, and of course the women should be fighting to access the golf club they all live close to.
‘Why don’t we get off and get Lottie back to her flat, eh?’ Grandad said, clapping a hand on Howard’s shoulder.
‘Fat lot of good she did us. Inciting things further,’ he said, glaring at me as I realised Margaret was beckoning me over for her loo break.
Feeling strangely shy I turned to Grandad. ‘Don’t worry, I can make my own way back. I’d better . . . ’ I nodded my head in Margaret’s direction.
‘Lottie, about the other night . . . it really isn’t what you think.’
I nodded slowly, knowing there was more to say but realising this was enough for now. ‘OK,’ I said, a weak smile on my face.
‘Lottie!’
The loudhailer called me. I cringed. ‘I better go.’
Grandad tipped his head in acknowledgement. ‘Right, well, Howard, that leaves you and me,’ he said in a bright voice. ‘How about we head home, put the kettle on and—’
‘HEAR OUR CALL, GOLF IS FOR ALL. HEAR OUR CALL, GOLF IS FOR ALL.’
He had to raise his voice. ‘I’m sure all this will die down soon enough.’
I crept away back towards the gaggle of women and Margaret. One elderly lady had hoisted herself up on to the low stone wall and was marching along it with her placard. The polo-shirted workers were desperately pleading with her to get down and simultaneously asking the lying women to get up. I felt a burst of pride for Margaret doing what she thought she needed to do to be heard. Heading over to her, I took the loudhailer.
‘Thanks, Lottie,’ she said, almost crossing her legs she was so desperate to get to the toilet.
Grandad was leaving, a shy half-wave in my direction. Feeling marginally better I switched on the loudhailer and raised it to my lips. ‘WE THOUGHT YOU LOVED BIRDIES. LET THE WOMEN IN.’
Darling Cora,
I saw Lottie today. Howard frog-marched her to the golf club to help stop the protest (a long story). I’d made things so much worse between us the other night and could barely look at her. She looked wan and pale and her flat was unkempt and as sad as her and Luke. How did I get myself into this position? She thinks I’m withholding all these terrible dark secrets from her, when really I am just trying to keep a promise to Arjun. I know I need to fix things but I don’t seem to know how. And I couldn’t find the right words today. What should I say? How do I make things right again? Why aren’t you here to advise? You would know precisely what I should do.