STARLIGHT PROMPTS

Ladies Who Lunch

A change is coming.

From all corners of the realm of Norlandia they came, the woman of the cities and the provinces, raised into action by the injustice of it all.

In a throng that overwhelmed the Watchman, they advanced down King Bertram’s Parade, in the direction of the government building. A mass of women, thirsty for change.

It had been Aphra Claringbold who had started it all. She had seen that women were the real power in the land. She saw that they had the strength, in their numbers to influence the actions of their menfolk. All that was required was for them to stand together. From humble beginnings in the Excelsior Tea rooms, her organisation, The Ladies Who Lunch, had grown and spread across Norlandia.

From Metropol City to the wilds of Northcastle, from Aserol in the south to the Westerlands, women had become enlightened, had awoken to their power and were ready to use it. And yet, up till now the menfolk had been blissfully unaware of the movement or dismissed it as a diversion.

As Aphra had realised, power need not come from the barrel of a gun or a workman’s toil. It could be wielded in more subtle ways.

And this was the result. Starlight. The name was chosen because, to the men who ruled, it sounded like another feminine foolishness. She thought back, to where it had all begun.

Aphra Claringbold regarded the top of her husband’s head, visible over the news sheet that he was reading, whilst he munched on his fast-break. The sheet was held in a metal frame fixed to the table and every now and then Vincent would grunt.

When he did so, Madge, the breakfast maid would stir herself, walk over to him and turn the page. Not for the first time, Aphra wondered what went on beneath the oiled black hair that extended into enormous side whiskers and a bushy beard. He might have been her husband but he did not include her in his cogitations.

Well, she thought, two can play at that game. She was sure that he would be shocked to think that his wife, far from being the pliant woman he considered her, was, in fact, the leading light in a women’s movement which sought to change the order of things, to give women a voice and a purpose beyond ornamentation.

Men were so simple in some ways, she thought, yet tantalisingly difficult in others.

She could have had her own news sheet to read, a duplicate frame was currently laid flat at her end of the table. She chose not to, the news was always boring to her, new inventions, coal production figures and the like, or reports of the latest war — brought back days out of date by steamship from the front. The wonders of the clockwork printing press and the steam-mobile were lost on her, to her mind, the advances in technology were never worth the cost in human lives. It was her opinion that, either through accident or redundancy, machines reduced man’s nobility.

Vincent cleared his throat and Madge tensed. “My dear,” Vincent muttered, “it says here that cofé supplies will be disrupted whilst the war continues, that will slow your luncheon group down a bit; you may have to drink char eh?”

He chuckled and she could see the top of his head moving.

He was referring to the group of wives that met informally for cofé and gossip at the Excelsior Tea Rooms. They had recently moved from the Garden Rooms after the owner had installed the latest, steam-driven, automatic drinks dispenser and had sacked all the waitresses. Another example of male arrogance to add to her list, she thought.

The membership of the group varied but was drawn from women in the same situation as her. They did not fill their conversation with meaningless talk, as Vincent no doubt assumed, but rather discussed matters close to their hearts. Chief among them were the social conditions in the land and the grip on power that men possessed. That and their insatiable desire to engulf the country in war for their own profits, as long as they were not personally involved in the misery it brought.

Aphra had a sudden realisation. Vincent might be high up in the reaches of power in the land, and he might have a title and the belief in his own superiority as a man, but in fact, she was the one with the power. It mattered not that men were in charge of everything.

She ran this household, she controlled the money and the servants. Surely she could use that fact to bend Vincent to her will. It should not take long or require much effort. In fact, Madge, the breakfast maid, had power over him as well. Each of the servants did, whether they realised it or not. Madge could spit in his char, or perhaps add an emetic to his food. And all he had to do was upset her. The fact that he could order her to do whatever he wanted only gave him the illusion of power. Her foray into the machinations of the tea room’s owner had proved that to her.

In that episode, Aphra had gained her first proof of the power of females. Aghast at the indifference of the owner to the plight of the sacked staff, she had organised all her friends to ignore the establishment and to tell everyone they knew to do the same.

She had been gratified to see that, after several weeks of empty seating the owner had removed the machine and reverted to waitress service, but they had never gone back. His enterprise had ceased trading soon after.

Perhaps, she considered, her ladies should use this power to change things in society for the better. She would raise the idea with her companions later.

“Are you going into the ministry today, dear?” she asked the news sheet.

The sheets rustled as if thinking of an answer. “I suppose so,” Vincent replied. “There are always matters to attend to, I may be late returning.”

Aphra sat in her usual seat, from which she could see the street through the large glass windows of the tea rooms. Around her were four others, Keziah, Emmaline, Beatrix and Constance. All were married to important members of the ruling elite, all had lives of privilege. But they all hated the stifling constraints of Norlandian society and wanted to change things.

Aphra raised the subject of her ideas for change.

“It occurs to me, ladies,” she began, “and it has been on my mind for some time that the male in Norlandian society has far too much influence over the way things are.”

There were nods of agreement.

“What has made you decide that?” asked Constance.

“I sit and listen to Vincent gleefully sending men off to die horribly, and then complaining that there is no cofé to be had, because of the fighting,” she said. “Somehow, he fails to see the connection, It angers me and I keep wondering, what are the social injustices that females might be able to influence?”

“Why the more you think,” cut in Aphra, “there is little that could not benefit from the removal of male dominance, for the more caring attitude of the feminine.”

The others looked shocked. Males were all-powerful, that was the way things were. Women had always been in the background. How could they change ages of dominance?

They sat silently for a moment and drank, contemplating what might be done.

“It’s all so much that could be changed for the better,” Constance brought them back to reality, she sighed, “But how to do it, where to even begin?”

“We cannot appeal to men directly,” said Keziah. “They will just dismiss us as simpering and silly.”

Emmaline chimed in. “Surely it must be possible to influence our menfolk to a better way of thinking? One that serves the common good.”

“What can we do?” asked Beatrix, “how can we bring change when we are allowed to do nothing?”

Beatrix looked perplexed, “pardon me, Emmaline,” she said, “I too feel frustration with the way things are, I fail to see how from a position of weakness we can change much.”

Aphra recalled her thoughts at the fast-breaker table, “I think that Emmaline means that we have a power that we do not realise that we have,” she said. “Power is not just the ability to wield a shovel or fire a gun. Think of the Garden Rooms.”

There were murmurs of acknowledgement, while Emmaline had gone red at the attention and began to doubt her ability to articulate her thoughts.

“You are both right,” she said, “my thought was that we merely need to join forces and show solidarity. We are half the population, after all. If we were united, and the men knew that, there would be no limits to what we might achieve.”

Aphra let them talk, they were right. She felt triumphant, she had sown a seed and they had nurtured it. At last, there was silence.

“We have a power that we did not realise that we had,” she said. “And yet all we need is organisation and will. We can overturn the dominance of the male without them even realising it. We must organise, rally our sisters across the land and put on a show of public unity.”

“How might we do that?” asked Constance.

“We could all travel to the seat of government,” said Aphra. “ A vast throng. We need not do anything once we are there, simply stand together and show that we exist.”

How can we organise such a demonstration?” asked Beatrice.

“By contacting our friends, all over the land. Get them to band together, as we are and be ready to act.”

“We must give it a special name,” said Emmaline, relieved that they were listening to her. “One that is known to only us. One that will not excite suspicion.”

“I have it,” said Keziah, who had been the more silent of them up to now. “We can call our enterprise, Starlight.”

I’m Richard Dee and I write all sorts of stories. Find out more, join my mailing list and claim your free novella below