Tuesday's Caddie

by Jack Waddell

  Louise stayed strong. She listened to the horror in Annie’s voice and let her disgorge all the anger and fear and shock before responding. She asked Annie if she’d called her parents. When told no she offered to make the call. She told her to come to Chicago for a while until things settled down. She advised her not to talk to reporters, not to talk to anyone but a lawyer. She would need time. She should take care of herself.

  Annie listened but knew she needed something else. She needed Conor. She thanked her aunt and promised she would call the next day. When she hung up she went to her dresser and looked at her watch. It was eleven o’clock. She would need to get ready to go to Biarritz and watch Conor. That thought gave her purpose and with purpose came the ability to move. She began to pick out some clothes.

  * * *

  Conor and Billy ate breakfast with Charlie while Myrtle slept in. They talked about the previous day’s play and their strategy for the upcoming round. While Charlie was not that accomplished a golfer, he weighed in with his opinion on the shots required for the different holes. The two players listened politely knowing he was trying to help but could only speak to a different game than the one they were playing. He also told Conor the story of the auction and how Parker’s father had attempted to sabotage the team. Conor was not surprised. He understood fully the zeal with which some of the rich sought to protect their status by keeping the help in their place. But his mind was not on the Biarritz membership.

  Ever since he awoke and all through the breakfast conversation Conor found his thoughts trailing off to Annie. He couldn’t understand why she hadn’t come to watch him on Saturday. That he’d been dismissed as a caddie troubled him most because he wouldn’t be able to meet her for Tuesday’s round. Robert’s subsidy the past two weeks had allowed him to save enough money to get by for a time. It was Annie that was his concern. He must see her today.

  Billy watched Conor closely during the meal. He could see his eyes drift off to another place. It was the same thing he had seen late in yesterday’s round. Something was distracting him and that wasn’t good. He needed Conor this day. He decided to talk to him when they got to the course.

  * * *

  The caddies gathered in the yard waiting for their players to arrive could talk of nothing but Conor’s – Mick’s – play the day before. It was as if he were playing for each one of them. All the frustrations of their subservient role at Biarritz were salved at the thought another poor caddie, just like them, could possibly rise and triumph over their rich employers. Gino looked out at the yard from his door with some satisfaction. This yard full of misfit, damaged and luckless men could still muster spirit. It reminded him of the camaraderie he’d experienced in the Great War. And, as in a war, he would make sure there were spies working on his behalf.

  When Dogface came through the gate Gino called him over. “You, Dogface! Git your ugly mug over here.”

  Dogface bowed his head and moved to the door. “What is it, Cap’n?”

  “You didn’t see anything funny with Babcock yesterday, did ya?”

  “Nope. He played a clean round – weren’t never in that much trouble. He and the Parker kid ham and egged it pretty good is all,” Dogface whispered.

  “Benny’s watching him too, right?”

  “Well, yeah. I mean I told him what was up. But, you know, with Benny you’re never sure it’s gettin’ through, know what I mean?”

  “He ain’t all that dumb, he just don’t talk,” Gino said. “Anyway, keep your eyes open today. I know you’re on Compton's bag, but like I said before, stay as close to him as you can. You see anything, you tell Mick right away.”

  “Yeah, well, you know I will.”

  * * *

  As they pulled into the Biarritz parking lot Conor scanned the cars looking for the red Cadillac coupe. He didn't see it but he reasoned it was still early. Billy had felt well enough to drive and he parked the car and they went to the locker room to change into their shoes. Conor hung his spare clean shirt and the new yellow tie he hoped to wear for Annie after the round in Billy’s locker. He noticed his golf shoes had been cleaned and polished and left in front of the locker as if he were a member. He thought about how this would be the last day he would enjoy such a luxury, how it would be his last day at Biarritz. There would be people he missed. But he also knew that his future lay elsewhere. Definitely in another place, hopefully somehow with Annie.

  As they sat on the bench in front of the locker Billy looked over at Conor and again saw his eyes focused off in another realm. It was time to say something. “Listen, you seem like you have a lot on your mind. Something besides golf.”

  “’Tis nothing, really.”

  “I saw that look at breakfast and yesterday on the back nine. I lost you for a few holes there. I need you today. So what is it? What’s going on?”

  Conor squirmed a little. “I’m to be quite all right. Really, just a few things I’m to be thinking of.”

  “Well, we have a shot at something big today, big for both of us. I’ve got to have you up for this.”

  “I’ll be ready. ‘Tis a promise.”

  “Good.”

  They finished getting ready and emerged from the locker room to meet their caddies down by the pro shop. As they walked down the path Conor heard someone calling out his name.

  “Conor… Conor… Wait up please!”

  He turned back to see Meg Graves hurrying toward him from the clubhouse waving her hand, Robert and the two girls trailing behind. “Mrs. Graves!” he called back.

  Meg reached Conor and Billy a bit breathless. “Hello Billy,” she acknowledged with a small smile. Then she turned to Conor the smile fading, her tone lowering. “I don’t know if you’ve heard what happened to Mrs. Burke. It’s just dreadful. But I wanted you to know. After all, I feel like we three are friends.”

  As Meg spoke Conor’s mind began to race. “What is it?”

  "Annie's husband is dead. He was killed the other night. It's just so awful I can't believe it. But it's true. It's all over the papers this morning. I can't imagine what the poor dear must be going through."

  "Her husband? Killed is he?" Conor said dumbfounded.

  "Yes. Murdered, actually – over in Malibu. And then the one who did it committed suicide. Can you imagine?"

  Conor was struck speechless as he tried to grasp the news. Billy broke in. "Where in Malibu? When?"

  "I don't know exactly. A house on the beach the paper said. Late Friday night it was."

  "Who did it?" Billy persisted.

  "I don't know who it was. An actor. Leslie something I think was the name. Why do you ask?"

  "Don't know him then," Billy said. "Been to some parties over there is all."

  "Have you talked to her?" Conor asked finding his voice.

  "I tried calling all morning. All I got was a busy signal. She must be just devastated. It's just so terrible."

  Robert had come up behind Meg, the girls beside him. He put his hand on her shoulder. "Now Meg," he said. "It's time we let these boys get ready. They've got a big day ahead of them."

  "Oh, of course dear," she said turning back to Robert. Then, seeing the girls there she turned back to Conor. "Oh, I want you to meet our daughters… Sylvia here is our eldest and Lilith is the baby. Sylvia is getting ready to…"

  Robert broke in. "Meg, Meg. We can make all the introductions later after the round. Let the boys get on with it. Come, let's get some soda pop up at the clubhouse before they start out."

  "Yes, all right," she agreed. Then to Billy and Conor she said, "You boys play well today. We'll be watching you!"

  * * *

  Conor stood on the practice tee struggling to make sense of his thoughts and feelings. He worried about Annie. At the least she would be shocked and confused. He now knew why she hadn't been there Saturday. She must be terribly upset. That Franklin was killed was appalling. Awful, sick it made him to think of it. But now Annie was free, no longer married. Joyful he was about that. He cou
ldn't help it. He prayed she would show up today, although he would understand if she didn't. But now he could have her if he could only become something more than a caddie. But he no longer was a caddie. What was he? He was Annie's that was to be sure. But what else? Then he felt Billy's hand on his shoulder.

  "Come on fella, snap out of it. It's time to get on with what we're here for."

  Conor turned to him with a small smile. "Aye. 'Tis okay. I was just to be needing a minute. Had to think about something."

  "Yeah, well it's time to think about golf. Hit some shots why don't you? Let's see you loosen up."

  Conor smiled and nodded. "Aye, 'tis time." It occurred to him that winning the Calcutta would be the best way to make it to Annie.

  At that moment Babcock and Pennington walked by on the way to their place on the range. In a voice too loud Skipper said to Parker, "Like I was saying, class will out. You saw how that caddie folded over the last few holes. Last shot was pure luck. We've nothing to worry about today!"

  Billy scowled then called out, "Hey, Babcock! Shut your yap!" Then, to Conor, he said, "We've got to put it to that creep."

  * * *

  Annie finally settled on the most nondescript outfit she could – a long gray skirt and long sleeved dark navy blouse. She pinned up her hair under a cloche hat she pulled low on her forehead. She would wear her sunglasses. She desperately wanted to see Conor but she didn't want to be noticed by anyone, not even Meg. She had a strategy. She would park again down by the maintenance barn. She didn't care if the green crew saw her. They would be gone for the day by the time she left. She would wait for Conor to come to the fourteenth hole and then walk among the trees following him as he finished the round. She would talk to him when he was done. Somehow she would get his attention and get him alone. She had to see him. She had to talk.

  (back to top)

  Chapter 29

  Winning and Losing

  Sunday, May 25, 1930

  The gallery that had gathered at the first tee awaiting the final group of the day was much larger than on Saturday, perhaps three hundred in all: members and their families, friends of members, friends of players, even every caddie not working that day. After all, this would be the payday. Somebody was going to win a great deal of money and, from the look of it, it would likely be either Leland Babcock or Robert Graves. The crowd was nearly evenly divided in the allegiance. The original one hundred members by and large wanted to see Babcock win. They thought what Graves had done recruiting a caddie distasteful at best and disrespectful to the entire membership at worst. The other half of the gallery, the newer members along with the caddie contingent, was thrilled to be rooting for Conor, the underdog, and Billy, the charmer who had captured the fancy of most of the single women present who would end up following him in a flock throughout the round.

  Applause greeted the four players and their caddies as they took to the tee. Like the day before, there was no talk between the teams. Leland Babcock had installed himself as the starter and the final group's referee, such was his unquestioned status at the club. Using a megaphone he really didn't need given his booming baritone, he announced the players so loudly his voice echoed off the clubhouse well above them.

  "Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome our final group of the day. Hitting first is the team of Biarritz member Mr. Billy Compton and a member of the Redlands Country Club, a Mr. Conor O'Reilly. They completed the first day of play at four under par. Play away, gentlemen."

  Billy winked at Conor, patted him on the arm and then walked onto the tee. His drive was perfect – a high gentle draw that arced across the clear azure sky before settling onto the middle of the fairway – and it drew a scattering of applause from the gallery. Conor was up next and he stepped onto the tee box to a few whistles and shouts of encouragement from the caddies. His drive was different but just as perfect – a low screaming bullet of a shot that faded to the center of the fairway then bounded and rolled well past Billy's drive. More applause, whistles and shouts. Conor picked up his tee and looked up at Billy with a grin. Billy returned it with an "OK" sign.

  "Next on the tee are our first round leaders at five under par. Please welcome the team of Biarritz members James Parker Pennington, III and Sterling Arthur Babcock. Needless to say, we wish this all-Biarritz member team the best of luck." There came a round of applause before Babcock added, "And my son is to play well today if he knows what's good for him," Giggles and snickers sprinkled through the gallery.

  Parker played first, hitting a good drive down the right center where it finished abreast of Billy's ball. Skipper's drive was not as strong, pushed right and rolling into the right rough short of his partner's ball. Skipper smirked, shrugged his shoulders at his partner and tossed his club at Benny who caught it unblinking with one hand and slipped it into the bag. The final group in the 1930 Biarritz Calcutta Tournament was off.

  * * *

  The four played inspired golf over the first six holes. Word drifted back through the gallery that the teams ahead that had started near the lead were all fading. Meanwhile the final group had posted a barrage of birdies to distance themselves from the pack. Conor and Billy were playing equally well, both birdying two of the same holes and contributing two more birdies individually. Pennington had gone on a tear making three birdies on his own to Babcock's one to maintain the team's one-shot lead.

  The seventh hole was a par five that doglegged left around a cluster of large old pepper trees. Having hit four of his drives to the right over the opening holes, Babcock overcompensated and pulled it left into the trees. His ball came to rest half on a bed of dried leaves. Babcock stood over the ball, hands on hips, surveying the situation with Benny at his side. Shortly he was joined by his playing partner as a small group from the gallery gathered around. Billy and Dogface wandered over as well to see what was going on.

  "I can remove the leaves from around the ball, right?" Skipper asked.

  "Yeah, just loose impediments," Parker replied.

  Babcock bent down and carefully began picking away leaves from around the ball. But as he did so the ball suddenly toppled a half turn down into the leaves. Babcock saw it move, Benny saw it move. And so did Dogface. Babcock's hand froze for a moment then continued brushing the leaves aside. He stood up and moved to Benny and his bag to take a club.

  Dogface leaned into Billy's ear and whispered, "The ball moved. I saw it."

  "Hold on there, Skipper," Billy warned. "The ball moved. I think you have to replace it and take a stroke."

  Babcock's head snapped around to Billy. "What are you talking about? The ball didn't move."

  Billy remained calm. "It moved. One shot penalty."

  Babcock's face reddened. "I say it didn't," he snarled at Billy.

  "What's going on here?" Leland demanded stepping forward from the onlookers. "What's the problem?"

  "Compton here is lying. Says the ball moved," Skipper replied to his father as he glared at Billy.

  "That right, Compton?" Leland asked.

  "The ball moved. Skipper saw it," Billy replied flatly.

  "You lying bastard. I saw nothing of the kind!" Skipper shot back.

  "Hold on… both of you," Leland commanded. "Let me remind you I'm the referee for this match. In disputes of this sort when there's no clear evidence I have to take the player's word for it. In this case if Skipper says the ball didn't move, it didn't move. So play away."

  "It moved."

  The voice had come as if from nowhere. All eyes shifted to Benny.

  "What? What did you say?" Leland demanded.

  "It moved," Benny said slowly, staring ahead at nothing.

  "You stupid, stupid idiot," Skipper growled.

  "What do you say now, Skipper?" Billy shot back. Your own caddie…"

  "Quiet!" interrupted Leland. "Enough!" He paused to consider the situation, as shocked as everyone else that Benny had spoken. He had no option. "Very well," he announced in full voice. "Obviously Skipper didn't see it move
. But the caddie confirms it did. Hence it is deemed to have moved. One shot penalty, replace the ball and play away."

  The contingent of caddies in the gallery gave hoots of approval.

  "You can't be serious!" Skipper objected.

  "Do as I say!" Leland ordered. Then, under his breath to his son, "Don't whine. Be a man for once you twit."

  By now most of the gallery had gathered about the scene. They silently moved back out of the way as Skipper gave an angry, petulant kick at the dirt and then bent down to replace the ball. He glared at Benny as he snatched a club from his bag. He played his shot back out onto the fairway then flipped his club to the ground for Benny to stoop down and pick up and then stalked out after his ball. Billy looked over at Conor and winked.

  The teams matched each other on the hole when Parker saved par from the fringe and Conor lipped out a birdie putt from ten feet. While Billy and Conor remained a stroke behind, the tenor of the round had changed and along with it the sentiment of the gallery. Now there was but one team to root for.

  * * *

  The score remained the same through the next six holes. Pennington carried his team, making two clutch par saves and a birdie as his partner struggled, his face still flushed from the scene at the seventh hole. Conor and Billy played steadily but could only convert one of their birdie putts.

  As the four players and their caddies stood on the fourteenth tee looking down at the par three Annie was looking up at them hidden in the hedge behind the green. She could see Conor standing above talking to Billy and his caddie. He was smiling. That was a good sign. She wanted with all her heart for him to do well and win this day. She needed something to feel joyful about, something to take away the anger and emptiness that filled her soul.

  While he knew she probably would not show up that day, Conor couldn't help but survey the scene looking for Annie. He thought about the times they had spent on this green while he practiced. And he thought of their first night together when they had escaped back through the hedge to a world of their own in the Bogey House.