Chapter Thirteen
Stopping Traffic
To Catch a Hen Requires More Than Speed.
It was the chase scene rehearsal everyone was waiting for, except for Heather. She was positioned on a beam close to the ceiling and looking down on the stage, feigning boredom. She had the beanstalk lever to push, and according to the postman, timing was crucial.
“It’s all down to you,” he said earnestly. “Lucinda’s depending on it.”
His words stuck . . .
Lucinda the legs was a love-or-hate sort of woman. Men loved her, and most women hated her. She had a strut that saw to that, a strut that rendered other women invisible, and with one flick, Heather could ruin it all.
The thought intoxicated her.
Heather peered down onto the hall. She could see the sound effects girls’ heads bent over their glockenspiel, t
