The boos and shouting of the women grew louder. Albert swallowed his fear, moustache twitching. One of them looked she was stripping off her clothes

"Dear God, they've gone radical!" Albert said softly, his vocalised fear lost in the din of the crowd. His eyes frantically scanned the crowd for Delilah. Surely she wouldn't be mixed up in all this? He spotted Sgt Maclellan and Luna. Poor Luna was going berserk.

"Orders, Sarge?" Albert asked, for the three bright chevrons on Maclellan's sleeve meant more pay, but also meant making the tough decisions.