Louise's Blunder by Sarah R. Shaber

Author:Sarah R. Shaber
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780727883926
Publisher: Severn House Publishers
Published: 2014-05-14T16:00:00+00:00

SIX

Give every girl an adequate number of rest periods during the day. [ … ] you have to make some allowance for feminine psychology. A girl has more confidence and consequently is more efficient if she can keep her hair tidied, apply fresh lipstick and wash her hands several times a day.

‘1943 Guide to Hiring Women’, Mass Transportation magazine, July 1943.

It was quiet inside the house. If anyone was home they must be napping, which sounded like a wonderful idea to me. If I couldn’t fall asleep I could finish Hungry Hill.

Just in case Phoebe was asleep I tiptoed up the stairs, my shoes in hand. When I got to the second floor landing a voice called down to me from the third floor. It was Milt.

‘Who’s there?’ he called out.

‘Hush!’ I said. ‘You’ll wake up your mother!’

‘She could sleep through a hurricane,’ Milt said from the top of the stairs.

She probably could, especially if she’d taken a Nembutal. Milt’s head poked around the banister.

‘I’ve got some new records’, he said. ‘Come listen to them with me.’

I didn’t have the heart to turn him down. I’d never been in the men’s attic bedroom before. Joe had shared it with Henry before he left for New York. We often communicated by knocking on a metal pipe that passed through our rooms. A pang of sadness struck me. Joe would never live here again. I clung to the thought that when – or if – he returned to the District he’d find lodging that would permit us a few hours of privacy occasionally. It occurred to me that one reason I postponed visiting him in New York was the chance that we’d never have an entire weekend to ourselves again, and we’d be even unhappier than we were now!

The attic room was more attractive than I expected. The dark ceiling beams were high overhead and a ceiling fan turned slowly under them. It would get too hot in summer to sleep there – Joe and Henry always moved to the porch. A curtain separated Milt’s sleeping area from Henry’s.

Milt was sprawled out on a double bed propped up on pillows and cushions. He was dressed in khakis and a plaid sport shirt but his feet were bare. Today’s newspaper and a couple of western paperbacks were spread out around him. A half empty bottle of bourbon sat on a table next to the bed, which also held a lamp and a record player.

‘Come into my lair,’ he said, and tossed me a couple of pillows. I sat cross-legged at the foot of his bed.

‘You look comfortable,’ I said, ‘like a sheikh in his tent.’

‘So where are the dancing girls?’ he asked. He seemed to me less angry than he had been this morning. That might be the bourbon, though.

‘Want a swig?’ he asked, passing me the bottle of bourbon.

‘Sure,’ I said, taking the bottle and swallowing a couple of gulps.

‘My goodness, the lady likes her liquor,’ he said, taking the bottle back from me and taking another pull himself.

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