I Am Mary Dunne by Brian Moore

Author:Brian Moore
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Open Road Media
Published: 2017-02-15T00:00:00+00:00

The Barbizon Plaza’s where Janice Sloane is staying. A lot of Canadians stay there. I decided it was better to find out who L. O. MacDuff was than to stand about worrying. I got the phone book and dialled the number.

‘Babizon Plaza, good afternoon.’

‘Room 2020, please.’

It rang and rang and rang until the operator came back on. ‘Room 2020 does not answer. Would you care to leave a message?’

‘Yes, please.’

(I thought I would leave my name, so that whoever it was would know I’d called.)

‘One moment, please.’ Click-click-click. Then a new voice, male: ‘Front desk, good afternoon.’

‘I’d like to leave a message for a Mr MacDuff in room 2020.’

‘One moment, please.’

I waited.

‘Did you say MacDuff, madam?’

‘Yes.’

‘I’m sorry, we don’t have a MacDuff registered.’

‘But I got a message from a Mr MacDuff in Room 2020.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘Well, who do you have in Room 2020? Perhaps my husband got the name wrong?’

‘I’m sorry, madam, we’re not allowed to give our guests’ room numbers.’

‘I see. Well, would you leave a message for whoever is in Room 2020 that Mrs Lavery called.’

‘Yes, madam. Mrs Lavery. Thank you.’

I hung up and, I don’t know why, suddenly became convinced that this L. O. MacDuff person was from Butchersville, was someone my mother had instructed to look me up in New York. Then I remembered Mama and her polyp and decided, never mind what Dick says, it won’t hurt to call her. Besides I can use this MacDuff person as an excuse for calling. So I looked up her number and direct distance dialled.

It rang, it rang.

An operator’s voice. ‘What number are you calling, please?’

‘Area code 902 and the number is 678-2762.’

‘Thank you and thank you for giving me the area code. That circuit is overloaded, let me try to get your number for you.’

She dialled. I heard a number of clicks and then a crackly, small-town voice. ‘Butchersville.’

‘Operator, this is New York calling. We are trying to reach 678-2762. Will you try that for us, please?’

‘Six seven eight two seven six two,’ said the voice back home. A dialling sound. Then the phone rang in my mother’s kitchen, rang and rang and rang, while we three women, none of whom had ever seen the other, sat listening across the wires. It rang, it rang.

‘That would be Mrs Dunne, wouldn’t it?’ said the voice from home. I could imagine her, some Mrs Tiggy Winkle in a knitted grey cardigan, having a cup of tea as she answered the calls.

‘Yes, that’s right,’ I said.

‘Guess she’s not home,’ said Mrs Tiggy Winkle. ‘Want to leave a message?’

Big-Time Operator relayed the question: ‘Ma’am? Care to leave your number, the party could call you back?’

‘No, thanks, it doesn’t matter.’

‘I could try for you in, say, half an hour?’ Big Time offered.

‘No, it’s all right.’

‘Thank you then,’ said Big Time. ‘And thank you, operator.’

‘You’re welcome,’ said Mrs Tiggy Winkle. We all hung up, and I decided I would try Mama later, maybe after dinner. I tried to remember if Terence had said something about going out to a movie.

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