Tuesday's Caddie

by Jack Waddell

  Conor stood silent for some seconds trying to take in what he had just heard. He couldn't chose between answering with his heart or his head. His head finally won. "Aye, 'tis most sad for you. He seemed a most unhappy man the day of our round. And 'tis sorrow I hear in your voice. I'm told marriage can often be difficult. Perhaps there would be a way to work things out?"

  This wasn't exactly what Annie had hoped to hear. "I know I'm not making any sense. But no, there is no going back on what's happened. I'm afraid it really is over."

  "You're to be considering a divorce then?" Conor asked.

  That was too hard a question. Annie shook her head, "No, not right now. It's very complicated." Then, trying to change the subject, she brightened and said "Well, now you know I have time this evening. And we both know I know you walk home. Can I offer you a ride?"

  "Thank you, but no, I'm to be staying tonight at the Bogey House. Mr. Graves and Gino have made it possible and tonight I think I shall take them up on it."

  "The Bogey House? What's that?" Annie asked.

  "It's a little bungalow up the lane here. I'm told members use it from time to time."

  "Oh, well, fine then. But if that's the case, maybe you can walk me to my car?"

  "Delighted I would be."

  Annie smiled and watched Conor heft his clubs to his shoulder. Together they made their way through the hedge and to her car. When they reached it, she took his coat from her shoulders and handed it to him. "Thank you for this, it kept me most warm. And thank you for listening. You make a great friend." With that she quickly leaned forward and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek.

  Flustered and blushing Conor stepped back. "Oh my! 'Tis my pleasure Miss Annie." Then realizing the mistake, "Sorry, Mrs. Annie, I mean…"

  Annie laughed a little at his flub. "There, there, I know what you mean." Then, taking on a mock tone of seriousness she said, "Now, are you to be my true friend?"

  "Why, yes!" he managed to utter.

  "Good. Then, as a friend, you must meet me tomorrow morning at eleven o'clock where the lane here meets Valley Spring Road."

  "But why?" Conor asked feeling himself getting completely lost.

  "I could hear in your voice when you talked to Meg that finding the new clothes Robert wants you to get has been difficult. So tomorrow we are going shopping. I'll have you back in time to do your practicing. It won't take us long."

  "Annie, no! I mean I can't be asking you to do such a thing. Handle it I can. Really."

  "Nonsense. If you're my friend like you say you are you'll let another friend help you. So what is it? Are you truly my friend?"

  Conor was caught. Every minute with her was somehow so enchanting he lost all track of time, all thoughts of anything else but her. It was for her he had practiced. It was for her that he had stayed out so late. It was for her that there was only one thing to say. "Aye, Annie, I am your friend. I will be there. Eleven o'clock." His heart finally won his voice.

  "Good. I'll see you then. Goodnight now…"

  Annie got in the car, started the engine and turned on the lights. She backed into the yard then turned right and drove up the lane toward Spring Valley Road.

  Conor watched the taillights disappear up the hill. His head was too full to form a logical thought. He followed the car up the lane until he saw the Bogey House on his right. There was no candle in the window. He walked around to the back of the house and found the cellar door. He opened it and stowed his clubs and shag bag carefully on the steps. He walked around to the front of the house, stepped up onto the porch and found the key under the mat. He let himself in. He reached by the door and found the light switch that turned on a table lamp beside the window. On the table were a box of candles and a container of matches. He lit a candle and put it in one of holders on the windowsill. Then he latched the door and slid the chain guard into its receptacle. He turned out the light. The candle's glow was enough for him to make his way to the back of the house and the kitchen where he turned on an overhead light. He opened the icebox and found some eggs, butter and milk. He set about making himself an omelet.

  After he ate and cleaned up he looked around the house. There were double beds in each of the two bedrooms. The living room contained a small dining table, a couch, an overstuffed chair and some side tables.

  He suddenly felt exhausted. He went to the door of one of the bedrooms and looked in at the bed. He could only imagine Annie sharing it with him. That was too much to think about. He took a pillow from the head of the bed and a folded blanket from its foot. He hung his coat on the back of a chair, removed his tie, opened his collar and kicked off his shoes. He made his bed on the couch, lay down and tried to make sense of all that had happened that day. But try as he might his thoughts kept swinging back to Annie and all that she had said and all that he had felt between them. He eventually fell asleep. He could dream of only her through the night.

  (back to top)

  Chapter 15

  Bullock’s Wilshire

  Wednesday, May 7, 1930

  Annie and Conor awoke very early Wednesday morning each with much to do. Annie had to finish the scene she was working on and messenger the draft to the studio. Another progress payment was due on its completion and it apparently was urgent that she did so. Franklin had stopped at the house while she was playing golf and left a note on her desk. She could see that he had gone through the bank statements she had left next to the typewriter. Funds were low. He would have to wait to make deposits into her accounts. He was sorry but there had been unexpected expenses. It would help greatly if she could submit the next portion of the screenplay as soon as possible. He was sure she would understand.

  Of course she didn't understand. Where had all the money gone? What was he doing with it? And what did he mean, "unexpected expenses?" How much could he be spending on his girlfriend or even girlfriends? She was angry. She was resentful. She understood he had come by knowing she would be out playing golf and could avoid her and any questions. And she was intent this day on other matters in her life, namely Conor. Franklin's demand for her work was yet another reminder of her tenuous hold on her life and the impossibility of changing it.

  Her anger fueled her focus. She rang the maid for coffee and sat down at her desk and began typing furiously.

  * * *

  Conor had opened his eyes on the couch to darkness. For an instant he couldn't remember where he was. Then he saw the candle had burned itself out in the night. He lay there sorting his thoughts for a minute. There would be time to make some coffee. Then he must get back to the boarding house to change clothes and perhaps take a bath. No, he must take a bath. If he was to go shopping with Annie he must get cleaned up. He might be poor, he might be ragged but he didn't have to smell like it.

  He rose from the couch and folded the blanket. He returned it and the pillow to the bedroom. He went to the kitchen, turned on the light and put water on for coffee. Then he went into the bathroom. When the coffee was finished he poured himself a cup and then stepped out the back door onto the small stoop. The cold pre-dawn air helped wake him as the coffee steamed from the cup. He thought of Annie. A line had been crossed, that much he knew. It must have taken courage for her to do so. Should he respond? And to what end? He had no answer for that.

  Conor went back inside and sat at the kitchen table and drank another cup of coffee. Even though he had the money the buses were not running this early. He would have to walk back to the boarding house. When he finished he cleaned up in the kitchen, put on his jacket and shoes, folded his tie and put it in his pocket, He turned out the kitchen light and left by the back door.

  * * *

  The morning dawned cloudless. The sun quickly drove the chill from the air so that by mid morning it was warm enough to put the top down on the Cadillac. Annie had finished her draft and arranged for the messenger. Now she was on her time and she was determined to enjoy it. She was running a little late, so she hurried as she readied herself and then scampered d
own the stairs and out the door.

  Conor had bathed, changed into his cleanest clothes and splurged on a bus back to Biarritz. He stopped by the caddie yard to assure Gino he had practiced the night before and would be back later to do the same. He walked down Spring Valley Road to the lane leading to the Bogey House and waited. He knew it would be a red car but he didn’t know which direction it would be coming from. He leaned against the street sign pole and alternated his gaze up and down Valley Spring Road. So it was that he didn’t see the Cadillac coming. He heard it pull up behind him and stop. He turned and saw Annie smiling at him through the windshield.

  “Hello, Conor!” she called out. “Sorry I’m late! Hop in!”

  He returned the smile as he waved reflexively in surprise. “Hello yourself!” he responded as he moved to the car and opened the door. As he got in he told her, “I wouldn’t know about late since I’ve not a watch, but you’re to be here now so all is right.”

  “So it would seem. Are you ready? It’s a bit of a drive?”

  “Ready I am!” he said as he settled into the leather seat. “So where is it we’re to be going?”

  “You’ll see. It’s just the absolutely perfect place to find what we need for you.” With that she shifted into first, let out the clutch and pulled away from the curb. They were off on their adventure.

  It had been a long time since Conor had ridden in a car much less one as grand as this. He studied the dashboard and all its dials. Then looked out across the hood at the chrome mermaid pointing the way to their destination. “’Tis a beautiful automobile you have Annie. What’s to be the make?”

  “Oh, it’s a Cadillac. It’s just a little indulgence I’ve permitted myself. And it is fun, don’t you think? Especially with the top down on a glorious day like today.”

  “Aye, it ‘tis, it ‘tis,” Conor agreed as he looked over at her profile, her chin held high as she peered over the steering wheel, her blonde air fluttering in the wind. Once again he thought how beautiful she was. He watched as she reached into her purse on the seat between them and pulled out a pair of sunglasses and put them on. He turned his eyes back to the road and looked at the city rolling towards him.

  She drove out of the Hollywood Hills south on North Highland Avenue through an alternating mix of commercial and residential areas. After North Highland became South Highland she turned left onto Wilshire Boulevard. As she drove she began to ask him questions about his life; how had he learned to play golf, did he have any family in the States, what did he do when he wasn’t caddying? Conor told her about growing up in Ireland, how he had a cousin living in Pasadena who worked at a ranch, how most of his waking hours were spent at Biarritz caddying or waiting to caddy. He had questions of his own but before he could pose them Annie pointed up over the windshield.

  “There! See that tower up ahead? That’s where we’re going!” she burst.

  Conor followed her finger and saw it – a four-sided spire reaching high into the sky, its crown sheathed in copper that had yet to acquire a green patina. It fairly glowed in the midday sun. “Oh my!” he exclaimed. “What is it? A cathedral?”

  Annie laughed. “No, silly. That’s Bullock’s Wilshire. That’s the store we’re going to.”

  Conor was incredulous. “That’s to be a store? Isn’t a little big to be a store?”

  Annie chuckled again. “Well, it’s a department store. So it’s like many stores in one.”

  “Oh,” was all Conor could manage.

  By then they had pulled past the front of the building with it’s nine giant windows full of elaborate displays of the latest fashion and merchandise designed specifically to appeal to those in passing cars. She turned right onto Wilshire Place than right into the drive and under the porte-cochere at the rear entrance. Two valets in livery immediately stepped forward on either side to open the car doors. Annie shifted into neutral and set the parking brake. “Okay, we’re here. Let’s go!”

  They got out of the car, Annie circling behind it to reach Conor who stood looking a bit lost. She took his hand and said, “Here, come with me,” and led him through the giant bronze and glass doors and into the foyer.

  Conor instinctively took off his cap and held it against his chest. He had never seen anything like this – travertine marble floors and marble walls lined with display cases of jewelry and other merchandise. Their footsteps echoed through the hall. “Are you sure this isn’t a cathedral?” he asked in some wonder.

  “Well if it is, it’s but a temple to beautiful things,” she answered. “Here, this way…” and she led him to six bronze elevators, three on either side of the lobby. Stretching out from the elevator lobby was a hall lined on either side with perfumes and cosmetics with murals above on the walls and ceiling.

  Conor couldn’t take his eyes off the art deco embellishments everywhere. Annie had to again lead him by the hand to an open elevator with an attendant waiting for them. “Third floor, please,” she requested.

  “Very good, Ma’am,” the operator replied as he closed the door and punched the button for the floor. When they reached the floor he opened the door and intoned, “Third floor, men’s wear, men’s furnishings, men’s shoes.”

  “Okay, now come along,” Annie smiled at him as she led him out of the elevator. “We’ll start with some shirts and ties. Tell me, how much did Robert give you to spend on clothes?”

  Conor was becoming more and more intimidated by the grand surroundings. “Well, it was five dollars. But perhaps I can add another five to that. And I may need to by the looks of this place.”

  “No, that should be sufficient,” Annie lied thinking Robert Graves must never buy his own clothes. “It’s just that they don’t accept cash here,” she explained continuing the lie. “I’ll just charge it to my account and you can pay me directly.”

  “’Twould be good of you to do that, but really I think this place is going to be too expensive for me. I mean, ‘tis to look rightly like a palace,” Conor whispered as they walked past cases of shirts and other attire and live mannequins modeling men’s wear.

  “It’s a well kept secret that the best things cost little more than the cheapest. Besides, if you’re to look like a member in the Calcutta you need to buy your clothes where the members buy theirs. That’s why we’re here. Let’s find someone to help us.”

  They walked together and approached a clerk arranging some shirts in a glass case. He looked up and appraised them both. “May I help you, Madam,” he asked, deciding to address the obviously more moneyed one of the two.

  “Yes you may,” Annie responded. “My friend needs three shirts, white, spread collar with stays, placket in the back, button cuffs. Egyptian cotton would be nice. Can you measure him up for them, please?”

  “Very good, Madam. Could the gentleman please remove his jacket?” the clerk responded reaching into the inside pocket of his suit coat for his tape measure.

  Conor leaned over to Annie as he took off his jacket and whispered. “Three? I shan’t be needing three! The Calcutta’s but two days.”

  “No, after you win you’ll need to change before the awards ceremony. And there’s probably a dinner afterward, too. So three it is. You can afford it.”

  Conor could only look at her quizzically as the clerk took his jacket between thumb and forefinger and, keeping it at arm’s length, turned and laid it on the glass case. He gave Conor another look of appraisal and measured his neck then his sleeves. He looked to Annie, “Are these to be ready-made or bespoke?”

  “How long for custom?” she asked.

  “Only a week, Madam.”

  “Good. We have time. Bespoke it is.”

  “Would there be a monogram?”

  “Yes, of course, on the left cuff, in navy. Conor, what are your initials?”

  Lost in the whole process, Conor responded simply, “C-J-O.”

  With that answer the clerk went on to measure Conor’s chest, biceps, waist and wrists. Returning the tape measure to his pocket he re
trieved a notepad and pen from the opposite pocket and wrote down the measurements and the initials.

  As he did so Annie instructed, “Make a note; not too tightly tailored. He will need some room to move in these.”

  The clerk looked up as he finished his notes. “Very good, Madam. Will there be anything else today?”

  “Yes. Next we need some ties.”

  The three moved on to several glass cases filled with silk neckties of every color and pattern. Annie selected a solid black, a solid navy and then a solid yellow. “Yellow is my favorite color,” she explained to Conor. “Perhaps you can wear this for me after you win your tournament.”

  Conor smiled, “Aye, I will. But there’s a spot of work to be done before then.”

  As they walked to the men’s wear section of the floor, Conor again leaned over to her and whispered, “Are you to be very sure I can afford all this?”

  “Yes, don’t you worry. I shop here so often I’ve earned a discount. We’re well within your budget still,” she smiled reassuringly, lying again.

  The clerk they had started with handed them over to another along with a piece of paper tallying their purchases so far. Annie ordered two pairs of trousers, one light gray, one camel, in lightweight wool, cuffed and double pleated. Again they were to be custom. She hesitated and considered ordering a sports coat then decided against it. They were no doubt at least three times Conor’s ten dollars and there was only so much she could expect him to believe.

  The clerk directed Conor to a small platform in front of a three-way mirror. As he did so, Annie said, “I want to pick something up while you’re being measured. I won’t be long. Wait for me here.”