Reminder: Women could work in the past, but definitely not do higher status jobs such as secretaries. They could only be shop attendants of small businesses or work in factories where the wage is minimal and conditions bad.
Caveat: Warning, caution.
Vacillate: Hesitant, wavering.
Umbra: Shadow
****************
"Take it." Mrs Ambrose insisted as she pushed the bag back into my hands.
"No." Mr Ambrose spoke on behalf of me. His voice was sharp and curt. "We don't want your charity." He glared at me and I had no choice but to pass it back to his mother, reluctantly of course.
"It's not charity!" She exclaimed, miffed. Her eyebrows were scrunched together in chagrin as she gave it back to me with more force than necessary.
A staring contest then ensued between mother and son -- Mr Ambrose's no doubt with his usual considerable amount of frost while Mrs Ambrose's was brimming with hurt and indignance.
What a waste of time. You'd think that he'd know better than to do that.
I took the opportunity to sneakily unzip the backpack, stick my hand in and rummage around. The first thing I pulled out made my eyes pop out of my head like a cuckoo out of a clock.
Blimey! I stared in wonder at the wad of money. I had to roll it in my fingers to make sure it was tangible and not some ethereal dream. Karim, who was standing behind me, let out a small gasp from beneath his blooming beard. I turned and signalled for him to remain silent.
Keep the money. Mr Ambrose wouldn't know. My inner voice encouraged.
I hastily stuffed the cash back into the bag before I could be tempted to embezzle it. I reminded myself that honesty was the best policy, although I didn't always follow that rule. Dressing as a man to work and vote wasn't exactly the epitome of candor.
I returned the cash to its original place just as they broke off their glaring competition.
"I-we'll take the bag." I beamed at Mrs Ambrose and swung it over my back. "Thank you so much madam. How will we ever repay you for your kindness?"
Mrs Ambrose looked slightly startled. "No need, my dear. It was my pleasure!"
"Well then, we'll take our leave now." I bowed snappily, blatantly ignoring Mr Ambrose's arctic glower that drilled into the side of my head. "Pip-pip!"
"What do you think you're doing, Mr Linton?" He questioned coldly the moment we were out.
"Saving us all from your stupid pride."
And trying to ensure that I get a share of that money, somehow. Why waste perfectly good cash? Of course, I didn't say that out loud.
He didn't talk to me at all for the rest of the journey, not that he usually did. Everytime I turned and asked a question to Mr granite-faced Ambrose, I was met with freezing silence. At first, it was amusing as I would prod him in the ribs and smile at how he twitched infinitesimally. However it soon got boring.
"How's life been for you?" I casually asked Karim, resorting to the dreadful small talk. "What secretive missions have you been up to?"
He grunted and shuffled further from me. It didn't make much of a difference as the chaise was as large as Mr Ambrose's generosity.
"Not in the mood to talk, are you?"
"Go away." He glared at me. "I don't converse with Ifrits."
YOU ARE READING
After the Storm
Fiksi Penggemar*After the Storm* After the perilous journey to retrieve a file of paramount importance, and a trip to the desert to hunt down bandits, Lilly Linton believed that the turmoil had come to an end. But what happens when the ghosts of Mr Rikkard Ambrose...
