Laura got up, felt the rumble, the nervous tremor of the machine between her knees. Mary let out the clutch, gave it gas. “Don’t let go.” They shot off. Laura shouted. She could feel Mary laughing where Laura gripped her round the waist. “Maniac!” bellowed Laura, but her heart was racing with delight. However much the war had cost, it had paid with this freedom: to run a hospital without interference, to ride a motorcycle without judgment. Strictures belonged to the old world too.
