Tuesday's Caddie

by Jack Waddell

  "You all right?" Conor asked again.

  Billy reached up with his right hand and felt the bandage. "Dunno."

  "You took quite a shot."

  Billy tried to smirk. "Um."

  "I'm to be thinking we should get your parents over here."

  Billy nodded.

  "I'll call then." Conor went to the nurses' station and asked to use the phone. He dialed for an operator and was soon connected to the Compton's home. Myrtle answered.

  "Hello, who is this?"

  "Hello Mrs. Compton. This is to be Conor O'Reilly, Billy's friend."

  "Yes?"

  "I'm to have some bad news. Billy's been in an accident. Hit his head he did. He's over here in St. Vincent Hospital right now."

  "Dear Lord!' Myrtle cried. "Is he all right? What happened?"

  "Took a fall he did. He's awake now. Doctor says he should be all right but they want to watch him for now."

  "You said St. Vincent?"

  "Yes. Third floor ward."

  "Tell him we'll be right there."

  "Aye, Ma'am." Myrtle hung up. Conor went back to the bedside. Billy had his eyes closed.

  "You awake still?" Conor asked.

  Billy opened his eyes and nodded.

  "Your mother said she'd be right over."

  Billy nodded again and closed his eyes. "Seein' double," he mumbled.

  "Just rest. It should get better." Conor didn't know that but it sounded like the right thing to say. He sat back down in the chair.

  It wasn't a half hour later Myrtle and Charlie Compton came down the hall. Myrtle rushed past the white screens surrounding the bed and hugged her son. Charlie stood back and motioned Conor over. "You must be Mick,"

  "Aye. But 'tis Conor."

  "Right. Good to meet you Conor. Now tell me, how'd this happen? He drunk again?"

  "No, no. Just an accident. We were at a restaurant and he fell against a table. Freak thing it was."

  "What restaurant?"

  "Angelo's. Over on Sepulveda."

  "I see." Charlie knew enough about Angelo's to know Conor was probably lying. But he understood that's what a friend would do. "You been here all night, have you?"

  "Aye."

  "I appreciate you taking care of Billy. Now that we're here why don't you go home and get some rest. We'll take it from here."

  Conor did want to go, but not home. Annie and Meg would be waiting at Biarritz in a few hours. Conor nodded and moved next to Myrtle. "All right, Billy. I'm off now. You be taking care of yourself. We need you ready to go on Saturday."

  Myrtle turned and glared at Conor. "Saturday? I don't think so! You men and your damnable Calcutta. My boy is hurt bad. Look at him! He's not going to be playing any golf with the likes of you this weekend!"

  Billy smiled weakly at her outburst. "We'll see, mother."

  "My apologies Mrs. Compton. Meant no offense." Conor backed away from the bed and turned to Charlie. "Sorry, sir. Here's to be the keys to Billy's car."

  "That's all right, son. I know what you meant. Thank you again for taking care of him." Charlie took the keys and then took Conor's hand and shook it. "I'll tell Bob Graves what's going on."

  "Thank you," Conor said. He walked away, down the hall, down the stairs, out of the hospital and onto the sidewalk. He began looking for a bus stop. The Calcutta was over. Now there was only Annie.

  * * *

  Annie was nearly an hour early. She couldn't help it. She sat in her car in the parking lot for twenty minutes before getting out. She went into the locker room and changed her shoes and then took considerable time touching up her makeup. She strolled out of the locker room and down the path to the clubhouse somehow believing that time would pass faster if she moved slower. She finally approached Fred the starter in his little shelter. He was on his stool, his chin in his hand, reading the sports page. "Hello," she said. "I'm Mrs. Burke. I believe we have a caddie today. Mick is his name."

  Fred's head snapped up. "Oh. It's you. Mrs. Graves here yet?"

  "No, not yet. But soon. We're teeing off at three o'clock."

  "I know. You're on the sheet. Why don't you wait until she gets here?"

  Annie had never dealt with Fred by herself. "I'm sorry, but I was hoping the caddie could help me with something back at my car."

  "That's what the valets are for."

  Niceness wasn't working. "Sir, I would like the caddie out here now. Right now. Can I make that any clearer for you?"

  Fred blinked once and then slid off his stool. "You say his name is Mick?"

  "Yes."

  Fred shuffled his hunched over little shuffle into the bag room. Presently he returned and retook his throne. "He ain't here," he pronounced.

  "What? That can't be!"

  "Hasn't been around a few days I'm told. Don't worry; we'll get you another caddie. Yard's full of the buggers."

  Annie looked over at the grape stake fence. Her first instinct was to run over and open the gate to the caddie yard and see for herself. She turned around and looked back up at the clubhouse. She didn't know what to do. She turned back to Fred. "His real name is Conor. Maybe there's a mistake."

  "Mick, Conor, same difference. He ain't here."

  She could feel herself beginning to shake. She looked around and saw her clubs on the bag rack. She walked over and took out her putter and some balls. She would wait for Meg on the practice green.

  * * *

  Conor woke with a start. He knew instantly he'd overslept. He cursed himself. It had taken two buses and over an hour to get back to the boarding house. He'd had to change clothes. Billy's blood was all over his shirt and trousers. He also was exhausted. There had been little sleep at the hospital. He had laid down intending only to take a nap. From the light in the window he knew it was late. He looked at the alarm clock. Twenty to six. He cursed inwardly again, this time at Billy. He was nothing but trouble; Tijuana, the Calcutta, now this. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and sat up. He tried to focus. Get dressed. Get a cab. Get to Biarritz. Find Annie.

  * * *

  "I've got some bad news, Bob."

  "What is it?"

  "Billy got himself banged up pretty good. I don't think he can make the Calcutta."

  "What happened?"

  "The Conor kid said he fell, but I think he got himself in a fight, or just beat up. Hit his head pretty bad, stitches and everything. He's still pretty woozy."

  "Jeez. Is he going to be all right?"

  "Doctors think so but they want to watch him. He took a real shot. He's seeing double he says."

  "Well, that stinks. Anything I can do?"

  "No, Myrtle and I have it covered here at the hospital. He's asleep now. We just got to wait it out."

  "So much for the best laid plans."

  "Yeah, I guess so."

  "I'm really sorry, Charlie."

  "Me too."

  * * *

  Meg grew increasingly concerned with Annie as the round progressed. She'd started out inexplicably nervous and edgy. Then she'd grown quiet and distant. At first Meg blamed it on a bad time of the month. Then she thought maybe it was just the different caddie that had thrown her off. Whatever it was, Annie was not herself. As they walked up the fairway on the last hole of the day Meg decided to find out what was going on. "Annie, what's the matter, dear? You've seemed so preoccupied today. Is everything all right?"

  "Oh, yes, it's just some things at home. Nothing really."

  Meg decided to probe. "Well, I know I missed our Conor. I can't understand why he couldn't caddie for us today. I hope he's all right."

  "It is odd. But he has that Calcutta coming up. Maybe he's off practicing or playing somewhere. And, after all, it was only we two he's been caddying for." Annie worked to stay matter-of-fact.

  "Maybe so. But I think I'll have to tell Robert we didn't see him today. And you said they told you he hadn't been around for a few days. I'm sure he'll want to know that too."

  * * *

  Meg and A
nnie were still on the course when Conor walked into the yard, "Hey stranger," Pissquick called out. "Where you been?"

  "'Tis some grand adventures we've had to be sure."

  "I bet."

  Conor walked over to the Dutch door. "Gino?" he called out. A few seconds later he saw him approach down the hall from the bag room.

  "It's the Irishman! Fancy meeting you here. Glad you could favor us with a visit. Must be hard running with the crowd you're in now."

  Conor dodged the jab. "Need to talk to you, I do."

  "I bet. Here to collect a few days pay are you?"

  "That's what I wanted to talk to you about. Billy Compton got himself hurt. Doesn't look like he can make the Calcutta. I think I should be off the payroll. 'Tis back to caddying."

  "That's too bad. Would've liked to see you two guys play. And you're a little late. Those two women you been looping for went out a long time ago. And I got four or five guys ahead of you right now."

  "No, I'm not to be meaning today. I'll be back tomorrow to caddie. I just wanted to let you know."

  "So that's it then? No pay?"

  "No."

  "Not even for the past few days?"

  "No."

  "Suit yourself, Mick."

  * * *

  Annie had been too agitated to join Meg for "tea" after the round. They chatted in the locker room about the day and the upcoming tournament and wondered again where their caddie could have been as they changed their shoes. They said their goodbyes and walked out together then went each to their own car in the parking lot. When Annie got into her car she saw a scorecard that had been torn in half stuck in the fold of the seat. She leaned over and fiddled with her hair and her makeup in the rearview mirror until she saw Meg pull away. The she reached down and picked up the card and turned it over. It was a note: "Meet me at Bogey House. C."

  She caught her breath. He was here. She fumbled with her keys hurrying to get the car started. She tried to drive slowly, normally, out of the parking lot but she almost hit the front gate before Harry could raise it for her. She turned off Valley Spring Road and coasted down the lane toward Bogey House. Her heart sank when she saw another car parked in front of it. There was a burning candle in the window. She wasn't sure what to do. She pulled around behind the barn and stopped the car. She waited. Suddenly she heard, "There you are!" and she jumped, startled. Conor had appeared as if out of nowhere at the passenger door window.

  "Oh, you scared me!"

  Conor smiled. "Sorry for that I am. But I'm to be glad you found your way here."

  "Come on, get in before anybody sees you."

  He opened the car door and stepped up into the seat. Before he could close the door she slid over on the seat and put her arms around him and drew him close. She kissed him. "I was so worried about you," she whispered. "Where were you? Where did you go?"

  He reached up and held the back of her head and returned her kiss. "'Tis a long story… and a sad one. But 'tis getting better now that I'm to be with you."

  "You must tell me. But what should we do? It looks like there's somebody in Bogey House."

  "Aye, they came just after I got down here. No telling how long they're to be. I don't know where 'tis we can go."

  Annie considered the options. "Close your door. We'll go to my house."

  "Your house, really? 'Tis safe is it?"

  "Safe as any. Maybe safer. Only two people to worry about. Come on, shut the door and let's get out of here."

  “I’m not thinking this to be a good idea.”

  “Trust me.”

  (back to top)

  Chapter 23

  Dancing

  Tuesday, May 20, 1930

  As they turned into the driveway Annie told Conor to lie down on the seat so he couldn't be seen.

  "Aye, 'tis the nefarious Irish spy invading the castle. Let's to see what mischief he can make." He leaned over on the seat his head next to her thigh. He reached over and began tickling the back of her knee.

  "Stop that! You'll make me drive right through the garage!" she laughed and slapped at his arm.

  "Aye, that's to be the plan. A great diversion we'll create while we steal across the moat and enter the castle keep. Full speed ahead my lady!"

  "Conor!" She pulled into the garage, stopped the car and turned it off. "Wait here. I'll give you a signal when it's safe to come in. And for heaven's sakes be quiet." she laughed at him as he sat back up.

  "Ah, a signal is it to be? Very crafty my lady. What is it to be? One if by land, two if by sea like your Paul Revere? 'Tis is it a midnight ride we are to take?"

  "Conor, behave yourself." she scolded with a laugh. She got out of the car and swung the garage doors closed leaving a narrow opening between them and then went inside. Conor was to stand out of sight behind the doors and watch through the opening for the all clear. He took his post. The garage smelled of gasoline and damp wood and dried grass. For a moment it took him back to hiding out with his pals and smoking cigarettes in the greenkeeper's barn at Lahinch.

  He'd been joking with Annie to mask his unease. He thought it should be easy to get past the maid. But the husband was something else. He could come home at any time. And then what? He tried not to think of that. Nor did he want to think of romancing another man's wife in the man's own home. It was all very troubling. But he wanted Annie and he wanted her now. Nothing else could matter.

  It was some time before he saw Opal leave from the front door, a shopping bag hanging from her arm. He saw her reach the sidewalk and then turn right and walk away from the house. Shortly after that he saw Annie leaning out the back door and waving him in. He pushed open the garage door and made his way to the house.

  She brought him in through the kitchen. It was one of the biggest he had ever seen. Cast irons pots and skillets hung from a rack over the gas range. Two large iceboxes stood together on one wall. An enormous butcher block was placed near a counter with three porcelain sinks. As he walked through he asked, "So are you to be cooking in this palace of a kitchen?"

  Annie giggled. "No. The truth is I can't boil water. Thank goodness for Opal. She's a wonderful cook. Follow me."

  They walked past the dining room and living room with their antique furnishings all arranged as if in a museum display of Edwardian times. He thought them rooms his mother would have enjoyed. When they reached the foyer he looked into Franklin's study and saw the bar. Annie had started to lead him up the stairs. "Do you think we could take a bit of scotch up with us? 'Tis a most sad story I've to tell you. And, sadly still, I'm not to be joking."

  "Help yourself," she said. "And bring two glasses."

  Conor went into the room and came back out with a bottle and two old fashioned glasses. "Ready we are," he said holding them up for her to see.

  "Come on up to my study. We won't be bothered there."

  Conor followed her up the curving staircase. The ornate wrought iron railing was another sign of the architect's original intent to create a mission-style home. It had been the owner who had chosen a different direction with the oriental carpets and the gilded sconces and the antimacassars on the upholstered wing back chairs and the ornately framed reproductions of paintings of the English countryside. But despite the clash of styles the home was impressive. And Conor found himself increasingly uncomfortable. The place was too big, the footsteps on the tile floor echoed too loudly, the emptiness held a coldness that fireplaces and radiators and stoves could never warm.

  He felt better once he went through the double doors that led in to Annie's study. He could see this room was hers. She closed the doors behind him. "You pour, I'll lounge. Meet me on the couch," she said.

  Conor set the glasses and the bottle on a side table by the door and poured them drinks. "You've a beautiful home, Annie."

  "I could never think of it as mine," she said. "It's not what I would do. There are some beautiful things around. They're just not beautiful here. Come sit next to me."

  He walked to the couch and
handed Annie her glass. "A toast," he announced raising his glass. "Here's to my damsel fair whom I would to woo this night." He took a sip.

  She returned his salute and drank. "Now woo you butt next to me and tell me what's been happening with you. Where have you been?"

  Conor sat next to her and recounted the tale of Michael and Copper Cal. He told her most of went on in Tijuana and last night at Angelo's and in the hospital that morning. He finished by telling her that his chances at playing in the Calcutta were over.

  "So 'tis back to being a caddie," he sighed. "At least for the time being. But I'm still to have my dreams."

  "Well, the Calcutta was only a chance anyway, correct?"

  "Aye, but a good one. We were to be playing well. And we were surely to be a better bet than Copper Cal."

  Annie laughed. "I'm sorry. But Copper Cal and Tijuana sounds like something Damon Runyon should write about."

  Conor shook his head and took a sip of his drink. "I don't know any Runyon, but it can't be comedy he's to be writing. So tell me, what is it you've been doing with yourself this past week?"

  "If you must know, I've been thinking about you!" She picked up a pillow and swatted him on the head. "Even when you're not around you're no good for my deadlines!"

  "And I'm to be sorry for that?"

  "You bet, buster. I've fallen behind on my screenplay. And it's all your fault!"

  "Don't be pouting so. I aim to make it up to you."

  "Well, you'll have to wait. I'm going to take a shower. I'm all salty from golf. But I'll be right back."

  Conor smiled. "Do as you will, my lady. I'll just be nursing me scotch."

  Annie leaned over and gave him a peck on the cheek. "It's good to be with you again. I missed you." She rose from the couch and went to the doors. She turned back to Conor. "Oh, and be a little quiet if you can. It won't be long before Opal gets back."

  "Aye, quiet I can be."

  Once Annie was gone Conor got up and took off his jacket and tie and tossed them across the arm of a chair and began to walk around the room. He looked at her desk and the typewriter. He read what she had typed on the page still rolled in the machine. He thumbed through some of the manuscript next to the typewriter. Using her silver lighter he lit a cigarette and wandered over to the bookcase and scanned the titles looking for something familiar. Finding none he walked over to the window and looked out across the front yard. Finally, he'd had enough.