The Detective's Guide to New York City by Nicki Greenberg

Author:Nicki Greenberg
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Affirm Press
Published: 2022-06-24T00:00:00+00:00

The Captain, Emmaline and Elliott were waiting in the foyer, rugged up in thick coats and hats. It was crisp and sunny, but the Captain had warned them that it would be chilly up on the viewing platform.

‘Did you get to rehearsal all right?’ Emmaline asked Norah.

‘Yes, just in the nick of time,’ Norah lied. ‘The opera was smashing, thank you.’

‘Wasn’t it? But do you know, I’m looking forward to your show even more!’

Pepper grimaced, willing Emmaline to leave the subject alone. Not a chance: Emmaline was tripping merrily on, telling Norah how she used to design theatre sets when she first started out, and what dreadful tyrants some of the directors could be.

Norah nodded along without betraying a hint of distress. Now there was a professional, Pepper thought. Norah could pretend so convincingly, you’d never know that she’d been desolate just an hour before. You’d certainly never suspect that she’d been tossed out of her show. A touch of powder on her reddened nose, a smile on her lips and a carefree lilt in her voice, and she could fool anyone. What a loss to Broadway it would be if Norah Gallagher were banished from the stage!

‘Your parents must be bursting with pride,’ Emmaline beamed.

Norah’s brave face almost slipped. ‘They’ve got front row seats,’ she said, with just the smallest catch in her voice.

‘Really? That’s wonderful. Will your brother and sisters be coming, too?’

Please stop, Pepper thought, wishing she could shove Emmaline out into the street.

Norah shook her head. ‘Ah, no. Mam’s stretching things as it is, paying for two in the front row. The others will come next week. Their seats are up in the Gods.’

‘Well! You’ll have no shortage of adoring fans there on opening night, anyway. Pepper and I will be your very own “gallery girls”!’

Oh, why did Emmaline have to keep on like this? Now Norah really was going to cry. Pepper watched in dismay as her friend’s eyes welled and her mouth trembled. But then Norah dived suddenly into her handbag, rummaged for her dreadful handkerchief and, with a wind-up like a baseball pitcher, blasted a fearsome sneeze into it. Everybody cried ‘Bless you!’ all at once, and Norah emerged, blinking theatrically, with a bright, brittle smile. ‘By Jeepers, that one nearly knocked me backwards,’ she said. ‘I’d better not be getting that dose off Florrie Fitzgibbon.’

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