Page 36 of Sassy & Sixty
"Good evening, my children," Emma intoned in a voice that was probably meant to be pious but came across more like she was auditioning for a particularly hammy production of The Sound of Music. "I'm just out for my evening constitutional. And to save a few souls, of course. Any sinners about?"
Mrs. Fitzgerald from number 23, out walking her poodle, did a double-take so dramatic that she nearly garrotted herself with the dog lead.
"Emma," Rosie hissed from the doorway, "what on earth are you doing?"
"Keeping the peace, my child," Emma replied serenely, before ruining the effect by pulling a hip flask from somewhere within the folds of her habit and taking a hearty swig. "The Lord's work is thirsty business.”
Rosie groaned, retreating back into the house and wondering, not for the first time, how her life had come to this.
Inside, she found Catherine and Maria huddled around the kitchen table, poring over what appeared to be architectural plans.
"Um, what's all this?" Rosie asked, almost afraid of the answer.
Catherine looked up, her eyes shining with an almost manic light. "We're planning escape routes! Look, if Richard comes in the front, we can shimmy down the drainpipe here, or if he tries the back door, there's a lovely big rhododendron we could hide in."
Maria nodded enthusiastically. "And I've been researching how to make smoke bombs out of household chemicals. You know, just in case we need a diversion."
Rosie pinched the bridge of her nose, feeling a headache coming on. "Ladies, don't you think this is all getting a bit... out of hand?"
But before either of them could respond, a shrill whistle pierced the air - the signal they'd agreed on to indicate Richard had been spotted.
"Battle stations!" Catherine yelped, upending her chair in her haste to get to the window.
They all peered out to see Emma, still in full nun costume, facing off against a very confused-looking Richard on the pavement.
"Do not go near that woman, you fiend!" Emma was bellowing, waving her rosary like a weapon. "The power of Christ compels you!"
Richard, to his credit, looked utterly baffled. "I... what? Look, I just want to talk to Catherine. Who are you?"
"I am Sister Mary Merlot of the Order of Perpetual Sobriety," Emma declared. "And I'll not have you harassing these good women!"
By this point, a small crowd had begun to gather, drawn by the spectacle of a nun in hoop earrings berating a middle-aged man on a quiet suburban street.
"Oh god," Catherine moaned, burying her face in her hands. "This can't be happening."
But it was happening, and it was about to get worse. As Richard tried to sidestep Emma, she made a grab for him, missed, and instead managed to knock off her own wimple.
"Emma?" Richard exclaimed, recognition dawning. "What on earth-"
But Emma, never one to admit defeat, doubled down. "The power of Chardonnay compels you!" she roared, splashing the contents of her hip flask at Richard.
It was at this precise moment that a police car, summoned by a well-meaning but utterly confused neighbour, pulled up to the curb.
What followed was a scene of such sublime chaos that it would go down in neighbourhood legend for years to come. Emma, trying to flee, tripped over her habit and face-planted into Mrs. Fitzgerald's petunias. Richard, still spluttering from his impromptu wine baptism, attempted to explain to the increasingly bewildered police officers that he was not, in fact, being attacked by a militant order of nuns.
Meanwhile, the rest of the Sensational Sixties Squad, alerted by the commotion, descended on the scene in their various ridiculous disguises. Julie, still clutching her paintbrush, managed to splatter half the gathered crowd with what she swore was "cerulean blue" but looked suspiciously like emulsion. Trisha, in her gardener get-up, began loudly lecturing the police on the importance of proper lawn maintenance.
Rosie, Catherine, and Maria watched from the doorway, torn between horror and hysterical laughter.
"Should... should we do something?" Catherine asked weakly.
Rosie shook her head, a giggle escaping despite her best efforts. "Honestly, I think we'd only make it worse at this point."
It took nearly an hour for the situation to be sorted out. By the time the police left, having extracted promises from both Richard and Emma to "keep the peace," the entire street was buzzing with excitement. Mrs. Fitzgerald was overheard telling anyone who would listen that she always knew "that woman was a bad influence," while Mr. Thompson from the corner housewas demanding to know if there was a secret convent in the neighbourhood that no one had told him about.
As the impromptu audience dispersed, the Sensational Sixties Squad retreated to Rosie's living room, a motley crew of dishevelled disguises and sheepish grins.
"Well," Emma said, breaking the silence and absently picking petunia petals out of her hair, "I think we can safely say that Operation: Ditch the Dick was a rousing success."
