Then without further ado, she pulled the trigger.
Sibyl’s heart stopped. She thought she could actually see the tranquilliser dart in the scant seconds it took to zoom toward her. What she most certainly and astonishingly did see was the dart ping off some hidden barrier an inch away from her shoulder emitting a small burst of white light, like sparkler, and then fall useless to the ground.
This remarkable occurrence was met with absolute silence as everyone stared at the tranquilliser dart on the ground.
Then their eyes shifted and they stared at Sibyl.
Then their eyes swung to Tamara.
Tamara seemed just as stunned by what happened as anyone because, indeed, it was stunning because it was magic. Then she shook off her surprise and screamed, “What?”
“Told you it would work,” Marian whispered somewhat smugly to Phoebe and Mags.
It was at this point that Tamara charged forward.
And her intent was clear.
It was going to be a catfight.
Sibyl had never been in a fight in her life (if you didn’t count the hair-pulling fights she had with Scarlett as a child… and as a teenager… and once in their twenties).
There was no way to avoid it, Sibyl knew, and with nothing for it she braced for impact.
Except, the oldies had been in preparation for leaving so some of them were upright and most of them had carrier bags.
To the unpractised eye, these facts would seem harmless.
And therefore Tamara vastly underestimated her adversary’s allies.
Two steps into the room, Mrs. Griffith put out her new (steel) cane, tripping Tamara.
This would have been enough and Tamara would have gone (and actually started to go) flying, however, at the same time, Marianne heaved out her carrier bag, losing hold of it as its momentum grew with its weight so it went flying toward Tamara, hitting her smack in the chest. With an awful grunt of pain and surprise, Tamara fell backwards instead, completely stunned and unable to catch herself, landing flat on her back.
To this, Gilbert forged (slowly) into action and threw himself on Tamara to hold her down (or actually, gingerly got down on his knees and then fell forward on top of her).
In an effort to pin her on the ground and also not be outdone, one of the other oldies dropped her carrier bag on Tamara’s right leg, another on her left and slowly, but surely, Tamara (and Gilbert) were being buried under the considerable weight of carrier bags.
“Jesus,” Rick breathed from behind Sibyl, finally arriving on the scene and watching the Attack of the Old Age Pensioners as Kyle jogged in through the sliding doors the other way, skidding to a halt at the sight.
“Stop!” Kyle shouted and immediately all the pensioners ceased their vengeful activities and moved back.
“I’ll call the police.” Phoebe fumbled in her bag for her mobile.
“I’ve already done it,” Tina murmured from her new place beside Sibyl.
Mags, Phoebe and Marian joined Sibyl and Tina and they stood watching as Kyle helped Gilbert up. Tamara, who was struggling to pull herself out from under the carrier bags, was hauled out none-too-gently by a stony-faced Rick. Rick ripped the gun viciously from her hand and rather alarmingly (in Sibyl’s opinion), handed it to Mrs. Griffith. Luckily, Mrs. Griffith took it between thumb and forefinger, a look of distaste wrinkling her nose and hurled it into the seat of one of Colin’s plush, new chairs.
This, Rick knew, he would never live down – to have the person he was supposed to be protecting defended by a slew of oldies was just too much. He found himself, not for the first time, lamenting the day he took this job.
Unfortunately, now Tamara was angry and humiliated and this was not a good combination. Once she got to her feet, with Rick’s strong hand holding her exactly where she was, she whirled (as best she could, nearly pinned to the spot) woodenly toward Sibyl.
“Why wouldn’t you just go away?” she shouted madly, scowling at Sibyl. “Colin is mine!”
“Colin?” Marianne hacked.
“Sibyl’s man,” Mrs. Griffith answered.
“Oh yes.” Marianne nodded. “I remember him, he’s tall.”