Wow! Already time for the second post. If you didn't read the first post, find it here. Look out for all the 'rule of three' references: the three men at the entry of the first scene, the three women in a relationship with the mayor, the three mobile phones that the mayor operates, and finally the mayor's name: Peter P Petersham! I also used two of the prompts from last week: an argument, and the fear of an impending misfortune.
This week I'm using the prompt; 'a relationship becomes complicated' (563 words).
Bright colours and bold emotive messages bounced all around her. She grasped the wooden stake that her own placard was attached to, and continued to bounce it up and down to the chant.
"What do we want?"
"Support locals," she cried out with the other thirty people protesting.
"When do we want it?"
Caitlyn Mollison had worked herself up into a moderate state of rage for the first time in her life. She was nearly beside herself that the Council had voted to allow this monstrosity to be built and soon to open in their lovely Renaissance. Now they were protesting in front of the fenced construction site.
The decision would effect the health of the community, especially the health of their children, and it would generate excessive amounts of litter that no one would take responsibility for.
In joining the Community Action Against External Development Group, Caitlyn had been thinking of her girls - triplets, Katherine, Karla and Kylie. They were six years old, and so impressionable. They would be easy prey for the advertising and Caitlyn cringed in anticipation of the nagging she would face.
She wasn't so absorbed that she didn't see her husband pull up on the other side of Villein Road in his blue and white checkered vehicle. Still focusing on the chant, she slyly watched his lean body unfold from the front seat. He was all crisp and shiny in his uniform as he leant on the bonnet of his car, squinting into the sun to watch the protestors.
He hadn't been happy when she joined the Group, but had so far kept his disapproval to himself because she hadn't publicly displayed her opinion. Her presence here today would complicate their relationship.
Senior Constable Mollison grabbed his two-way radio from his belt and appeared to listen to it intently before snapping a quick reply. He then started to cross the four lanes of empty street. Caitlyn thought he was glaring at her, so re-doubled her effort in bouncing her placard.
She had just turned away from his as she followed the others in their slow circular march, when she felt a firm grip on her elbow.
"The girls have just called the station," came her husband's low gruff voice in her ear. "Someone's thrown a rock through the front window. We need to get home."
Caitlyn gaped, panic starting to rise in her like a boiling pot of water. She instantly thought of one of the punk teenagers that her husband often had run-ins with.
But her husband moved away to speak to Dianne, the Group's leader and then to some of the other members.
When he came back to her, gently guiding her with a hand on her lower back, they crossed back over the Villein to the police car.
"The girls are ok," he said eventually, as they buckled into the front seats.
"Good," Caitlyn nodded, looking out the passenger window, wishing not for the first time that her husband would change his career.
"Someone's not happy with your Group. Nine houses in total have been targeted. Dianne's and some of the others here today. The mayor, too. I guess the owner has some local friends after all."
Again, Caitlyn gaped. Then felt a stab of guilt in the pit of her stomach. This attack was brought on her family by her.