All I can say is, Mrs C. weren't wearing that when I handed over the horse to her earlier. Must've had it on under her dress.
I'm surprised but try not to show it. Can't take my eyes from her legs. I only seen a woman's legs like that once at a panto of Dick Whittington, and even then she wore tights and the tunic came to her knees. Mrs C. ain't dressed as Dick, though, but as Robin Hood. She wears a short green tunic belted in the middle, little green boots, and a green and purple cap with a white feather in it. She's got bare legs, from her ankles up to — well, up high.
She's leading the white horse what Miss Black's riding. You'd think Miss Black'd be dressed as Maid Marian or Friar Tuck or some such, but instead she's got on a full suit of armour and a silver helmet with a white feather in it that bobs up and down in time with the horse, just like the ostrich feathers on the horses in a funeral procession. She holds the reins in one hand and a flag in the other with words on it I can't read.
Maude just stares. Who can blame her — everyone's staring at Kitty Coleman's legs. I has to say — they're fine legs. I'm bright red looking at 'em, and go hard, right among all them people. Has to cross my hands in front of me to hide it.
‘Who's Miss Black meant to be?’ I ask, to distract myself.
‘Joan of Arc’ Maude says it like she's spitting the words.
I never heard of this Joan, but I don't tell Maude. I know she don't want to talk.
We've been standing on the pavement a bit ahead of 'em, so we can watch 'em approach. As they pass by Maude looks like she wants to say something to her ma, but she don't. Mrs C. ain't looking at her — she has a funny smile on her face and seems to be looking way ahead, like she sees something on the horizon she can't wait to get to.
Then they're past. Maude don't say nothing, and neither do I. We just watch the procession go by. Then Maude snorts.
‘What?’ I say.
‘Caroline Black's banner has a mistake on it,’ she says, but she won't tell me what it is.