Silence is Golden

12. Waste Disposal Squad in Action

How am I going to get rid of him? How am I going to get rid of him? How the hell am I going to get rid of him?

This was the only thought running through my head, again and again, when I made my way to work on Friday. I was getting desperate. I mean, I suppose I could always let myself be led to the altar, and when the priest asked me, 'Wilt thou have this Man to thy wedded Husband, to live together after God's ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony?' answer with a big, fat, resounding: 'No!'

But to be honest, I didn't know whether anyone would listen to me. I was still a minor. My aunt and uncle could decide practically everything for me. Could they decide whom I was to marry, too?

Part of me was afraid that, yes, they could.

I had to find a way to get rid of Morty! I simply had to! I had no intention of marrying any man. And if I did, it certainly wouldn't be a man like him. It would be a man like –

I cut that thought off before it could go any further. Now wasn't the time for silliness. Now was the time for deep thought.

'Lillian, my love!'

Correction: Now was the time for running! The voice from behind me froze the blood in my veins and set my heart hammering. He was behind me! If he caught up to me, I'd never get to work! And then...well, I wasn't quite sure if Mr Ambrose would 'fire' me, because I wasn't sure you could apply such a hot word to Mr Rikkard Ambrose. But he would definitely freeze me.

I hastened my steps. I just had to get around that corner! Maybe...

'Lillian, my darling! Stop! It's me, Mor–oomph!'

I was halfway to the street corner before I realized that Morty's footsteps were no longer following me. His voice, too, had cut off abruptly. Knowing I might regret it, I stopped to listen.

No 'Lillian, my love!'

No 'Lillian, hand over your bosom so I can cry tears of happiness on it!'

No nothing.

Slowly, very slowly, I turned. In the whole street, there was no sign of Morty. There wasn't any sign of anyone. And yet, in the moments before Morty's voice had cut off, I could have sworn I had heard a second, heavier pair of footsteps.

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a motion, and whirled. But the mouth of the alley I whirled towards was empty. Strange. For one moment I thought I had seen a shadow moving into it. No...not moving, exactly. Being dragged.

An involuntary shiver ran down my spine.

Stop imagining things! I told myself. And get to work!

Mr Ambrose did not freeze me. But he wasn't very warm and chummy, either. We still hadn't worked through the balance sheets, and his mood was getting icier with every penny of taxes that was added to the total. That day, I went home exhausted and thoroughly depressed at the thought of the weekend ahead. True, my dear employer worked me like a carthorse, but at least he wasn't prone to frequent and flowery confessions of love. I shuddered at the thought of having no office to escape to for two whole days. I knew what awaited me instead: forty-eight hours of Morty around the clock.

Only...

When Saturday morning dawned and we all sat down to breakfast, Morty didn't show up. Neither did he show up for lunch, or our usual stroll in the park to which my aunt in her cruelty had condemned me. When, after an hour of feeding the ducks, he still hadn't put in an appearance, I shrugged and returned home.

'What are you doing back here so early?' my aunt snapped. 'And where is Mr Fitzgerald?'

I shrugged again. 'He wasn't there.'