Calling the Shots

by Annie Dalton

  They’d lost everything, including their home. All Grace stood to inherit now was her husband’s debts.

  That night Lenny came into the girls’ room and I heard him and Rose talking. Honesty stayed huddled silently under her covers, giving off such minimal vibes, I doubt they even remembered she was there.

  I was shocked to hear Lenny say, “I’ll really miss Papa, but in a weird way I feel like I’ve been set free. Being a doctor was his dream, not mine.”

  “So what’s your dream, Len?” Rose’s voice was snuffly from crying.

  “Don’t laugh,” he said awkwardly. “I want to be a stuntman. I met this actor on the train. He said there are great opportunities in the film industry for young guys like me, who aren’t afraid to take risks.”

  Rose was disgusted. “You’ve had this expensive education and you want to throw it all away just so you can fall off horses and get brain damage! Have you any idea how lucky you are to be a boy? I’d do anything to go to college. But I’m a girl, so everyone assumes I’ll just marry a nice lawyer. Aargh!”

  “You won’t have to get married for years yet. I’m sure Papa would want you girls to finish your education.”

  Rose gave him a bleak smile. “Where’s the money coming from?”

  Lenny sounded unsure of himself suddenly. “Mama can ask her family for help. They own a plantation for heaven’s sake. They must have loads of dough.”

  Rose shook her head. “Mama’s family is a taboo subject. Remember how she used to clam up when we asked about them?”

  “I know, but if she’s desperate.” But Lenny’s voice trailed off.

  Next day, to their amazement, Grace brought the subject up herself.

  “I have reached a very difficult decision. I have been lying awake, racking my brains, and I simply cannot see any alternative. I have a little jewellery, enough to buy train tickets with some over for emergencies.”

  “Mama,” said Rose. “What are you saying?”

  Grace seemed to be talking to herself. “I was so young when I left home. People can change. Whatever happened, you’re still his flesh and blood. I’m sure that when your grandaddy actually sees you, he’ll want to help. We’ll pack a few necessities, and the lawyers can see to the rest.”

  I noticed Honesty slip out of the room while her mother was still talking. I hurried after her and found her in her bedroom removing her diaries from the drawer.

  As I watched, bewildered, she tore all the pages out of the notebooks, stuffed them into the tiny fireplace and dropped a lighted match into the grate. When her diaries were reduced to a heap of curling black ash, Honesty lifted down a suitcase from the top of the wardrobe and started to pack.

  She folded bloomers, chemises, blouses and pinafores; put them into her case and carefully fastened both catches. Then she put on her horrible coat and hat, seated herself on a hard wooden chair and remained there, staring into space, until the taxi came and the Bloomfields left their home for ever.

  I left with them, so I can tell you that Honesty didn’t once look back. She just stared straight ahead, humming tunelessly. I knew then that this was going to be the toughest assignment of my angelic career.

  Chapter Five

  In Honesty’s day, a first-class train carriage looked exactly like your great granny’s front parlour, even down to the tablecloth with fancy fringes. They might look cute in movies, but in reality they ponged of dust and coal fumes and men’s cigars, not to mention human sweat. People weren’t too big on personal hygiene back then.

  After he’d stashed everyone’s luggage, Lenny escaped out into the corridor. He pulled down the window and watched the Philadelphia skyline disappearing into the distance.

  Grace had brought a pack of cards and started to build a house for Clem. Rose was curled up in a corner seat, reading as usual. Honesty stared at her fingernails for a few minutes then she muttered, “I’m going to get a soda.”

  I hurried after her along the swaying corridor. The soda just turned out to be an excuse because Honesty walked right through the dining car and out the other side. These carriages were crowded with tired men and women, all sitting on hard benches instead of comfortable plushy upholstery, and there were ratty cardboard suitcases on the luggage racks instead of leather.

  My skin was starting to prickle like crazy. This is usually a sign that there are other angels in the vicinity.

  Sure enough, two carriages down, I spotted a giveaway cosmic glow where an earth angel was sitting calmly amongst the paying passengers. She wore a shabby Twenties coat and a cute little cloche hat trimmed with a faded silk rose. I felt so proud of my profession, I can’t tell you. The humans had no idea they were sharing their railway carriage with an invisible celestial agent, but from their peaceful expressions I could tell they were responding to her angelic vibes.

  The angel and I gave each other a brief wave, one agent to another. Then I hurtled breathlessly after Honesty.

  Our train shook and juddered as another train roared past. There was a flash of fire, and I glimpsed the driver furiously stoking the boiler. Steam billowed past the windows, like special FX on pop videos.

  I heard snatches of talk from the passengers. An old man was complaining, “You know the thing about America? Everyone is always rushing someplace else.” And I heard a salesman boast, “Nowadays it’s not enough to sell sausages. You got to sell the sizzle too!”

  In the last carriage, a group of tough-looking hoodlums in slouch hats were playing cards. Honesty stood watching until one of them noticed her and said humorously, “Beat it, kid. Didn’t your mama tell you gambling is wrong?”

  She rolled her eyes. “I’m just watching. Anyway, what my mama doesn’t know won’t hurt her.”

  He laughed. “Step inside, sister.”

  And to my dismay she joined them. I felt sure that he old Honesty would never have behaved like this. Occasionally, the guys passed around a brown paper bag, and took swigs from the bottle concealed inside. They jokingly offered it to Honesty, but she said scornfully, “Haven’t you heard? That stuff is illegal.”

  “I was just going to send Lenny to look for you. What took you so long?” Grace asked her when we eventually returned.

  “I was talking to some interesting people for a change,” Honesty said rudely. “You don’t think I’m going to stay cooped up in here all the way to Georgia, do you?”

  After lunch, Honesty went to sleep and I watched the vast landscape flow past. Occasionally a shabby little railroad town flew by. Ragged kids waved from the fields. Obviously our train was the big event of their day.

  Then, for no apparent reason the train began to slow down and eventually came to a standstill.

  At first, I thought we’d stopped beside some kind of massive garbage dump. Then I saw it was a little hobo town, a settlement of tumbledown shacks and improvised tents that had grown up beside the tracks.

  A couple of guys were having an argument. An older guy was slumped by a camp fire with his head in his hands. I could see his toes sticking through the broken ends of his boots. Dirty little kids ran around half naked, despite the cold. One of them was still just a baby. A woman was stirring a pot over the fire. She was so painfully thin that her shabby dress hung off her like a sack.

  Feelings of despair and desolation welled up inside me. The kind that make you go, “Why bother? This life is just too hard.”

  I’m an angel, though, so I soon sussed that these weren’t my personal feelings. They weren’t anyone’s personal feelings, in fact. Originally they were probably an evil freebie from the PODS. Now these deadly PODS vibes hung over the makeshift settlement like fog, and the wretched inhabitants had no choice but to inhale and exhale them with every breath. The PODS have some sick strategies for making humans do their work for them.

  The baby toddled up to the woman and pulled at her skirts. The train gave its mournful wail and she picked up the baby and turned to gaze at us as we moved off, as if all her hopes and dreams were leaving on our
train.

  As the train gathered speed, I did something I should have done days ago. I got out my Agency mobile and called up the GA helpline.

  I couldn’t help smiling as I waited for someone to pick up. It would be so cool to say, “Hi, it’s me, I’m on a train!” Then I heard the helpline worker’s voice and went hot to the roots of my hair.

  “Finally!” said Orlando. “We’ve been expecting you to call for days.”

  Did it have to be him? I thought. Couldn’t I just once talk to Orlando when everything was going well?

  Then I reminded myself that I was a bona fide celestial trouble-shooter, and efficiently updated Orlando on everything that had happened.

  “I sit up all night, beaming her vibes,” I finished up. “But nothing seems to get through. She’s totally shut herself off from the rest of her family.” I swallowed. “I’m scared she’s going to do something stupid.”

  “You think she’s a suicide risk?” he asked.

  I felt a stab of worry. “I don’t think she’d deliberately—”

  Rose dropped her book with a crash. People were running out into the corridor. I looked to see what had got everyone so excited and gave an unprofessional shriek. “Yikes! I’ve got to go!”

  Thundering down a hillside towards us were hordes of Indian braves!

  As I reached the corridor a mob of cowboys came galloping out from behind the trees and started having a major shoot-out. Horses plunged and reared in terror, and cowboys and Indians fell sprawling in horrifically gruesome positions.

  This is terrible! I thought. People are killing each other, and I’m the only angel in the area. I must do something!

  Then an old truck came in sight with an old-fashioned movie camera on the top and I went limp with relief.

  A tubby little man got out of the truck. He started bellowing through a megaphone and suddenly the whole scene rewound itself. All the dead horses, cowboys and Indians miraculously came back to life and went scrambling back to their original positions, and the truck reversed madly out of the shot.

  I felt like such a ditz. I could see now that the braves were nothing like real-life Native Americans, just white stuntmen in crude costumes and makeup.

  The other passengers drifted back to their seats, but Lenny didn’t seem able to tear himself away. He stayed glued to the train window until the actors were microscopic dots. Then he leaned his forehead on the dirty glass and closed his eyes, as if he was replaying all the stuntmen’s cheesy death throes in his mind.

  The train tracks curved and divided and began to run along beside a river, a river totally unlike any I’d ever seen in England. It was absolutely vast, like a sea. Huge steam boats like floating palaces chugged past, their paddles churning up the muddy river water. I’ve never seen anything so romantic as those riverboats. Their glitzy big-hearted names sounded like song lyrics to me: Delta Queen, Heart of Georgia, Memphis Belle…

  The sun had started to set, and a path of gold and crimson rippled across the surface of the water. Honesty’s mother pulled down the window, letting in the hot, damp, sweet-smelling air. From the entranced expression on her face, I guessed we had reached the south. Grace seemed relieved and happy to be back in her home state - but I sensed tension underneath, as if she secretly dreaded meeting her parents again after so many years.

  My mobile went off in my bag. It was Orlando checking if everything was OK. I explained sheepishly about the shoot-out being a movie stunt, and he said, “What’s that in the background?”

  The train had just let out one of its plaintive wails, so I said, “You mean the train?”

  “No, the music.”

  “Oh, it’s just some guys on a riverboat playing jazz.” I held the phone up to the window so he could hear.

  “Wish I was there,” he said. “It sounds amazing.”

  I gazed out at the boat chugging past in the southern dusk. Suddenly its decks lit up with hundreds of tiny fairy lights. I said softly, “It is so totally luminous you would not believe…”

  Next morning the sun rose over cotton fields. It was barely dawn and already sweating black men and women were working among the rows of fluffy cotton plants. A look of strain came over Grace’s face.

  Lenny and Rose were in the corridor talking in low voices. Rose looked upset so I went out to see what was going on.

  “I’ll make sure you get there safely, then I’m going to find those film makers and make them give me a job. I’m going to get into the movie business Rose.” Lenny sounded desperate. “You see if don’t. I’m a man. It’s time I made my way in the world.”

  She gave a bitter little laugh. “Playing cowboys! Bang bang you’re dead! Oh, yes, a really big man!”

  I could see she was trying not to cry. Lenny said earnestly, “Rosie, we’re not so different. You’re crazy about the past. Well, I’m just as crazy about modern times. Movies are where it’s all happening. I’ve got to do it, sis!”

  I saw Rose’s face soften. She sniffed back her tears and patted her brother on the back. “It’s OK, Len,” she told him. “It’s OK. We’ll be OK.”

  Lenny kept his word. He came with them to the gates of the fine old plantation house where Honesty’s mother had been born and brought up. Then he hugged them all goodbye.

  Everyone else watched forlornly as Lenny trudged back down the road in the shimmering noonday heat. But Honesty kept her head down, kicking sullenly at the dirt.

  Grace took a deep breath. “Let’s go meet your grandaddy,” she said to Clem. “See if time has improved the old buzzard any.”

  And then she gasped, “Oh, my stars, it’s Isaac!”

  A barefoot old black man with tufts of silver in his hair was coming down the porch steps. He looked as if he couldn’t believe his eyes. “Mizz Grace?”

  Grace ran and threw her arms around him. “Isaac, I have missed you SO much!” Both of them had tears on their faces. “So how’s Celestine?” she said eagerly.

  Isaac’s voice was so sorrowful, he almost seemed to be singing. “She passed, Mizz Grace. She passed. It’s just me and the children now.” He tried to smile. “Got me eight little grandbabies, can you believe that? Two of the girls work for your mama and daddy.” He yelled into the house. “Dorcas, come out here.” And Isaac’s granddaughter came running out.

  In my opinion, she was way too young to be working as anyone’s maid, but apparently they did things differently down here. Dorcas was wearing a prim white cap and apron, but like Isaac she didn’t seem to own any shoes.

  “Mizz Grace is back,” Isaac told her. His granddaughter gasped and a strange look passed between them.

  I thought, uh-oh.

  Dorcas showed Grace and her children to a sunny terrace where Grace’s parents were having breakfast.

  Grace said nervously, “Hello Mama, Daddy.”

  There was a moment when any normal parent would have jumped up and hugged their long lost child, but there was just this weird electric silence. Then her father dabbed his mouth with a snowy linen napkin and said, “Why, Grace, this is most unexpected. What brings you here?”

  Honesty stepped forward. “If you must know, my papa got hit by a truck,” she said in her zombie voice. “And his sleazeball of a partner vamoosed with our mama’s money.”

  Rose looked appalled. “Honesty, for Heaven’s sake.”

  “But that is why we’re here,” she said, all innocent. “You don’t think we’d be sponging off our rich relations if we had a choice?”

  Grace gave Honesty a look which would have reduced any normal child to a quivering jelly. “Please forgive my daughter,” she said quietly. “This is not an easy time for us.”

  Her father ignored her and turned to Rose. Suddenly he was all folksy southern charm. “So what’s your name, pumpkin?”

  “She’s Rose,” piped Clem. “I’m Clem and this is Honesty.”

  “And honesty is obviously a quality dear to your sister’s heart,” said their grandfather, as if Honesty was invisible. “Bu
t when she becomes a little older and wiser, I hope she will also learn the value of simple southern courtesy.”

  Grace’s mother tinkled a bell and Dorcas ran in and bobbed a scared curtsey.

  Someone ought to tell these old relics that slavery’s over, I thought angrily.

  “Get my grandchildren’s room ready,” Grace’s mother drawled. “They can have Miss Grace’s old room for now.”

  Rose looked puzzled. “But where will Mama sleep?”

  “We’ll talk about that later, dear.” Their grandmother tinkled the bell again and an even younger maid rushed in. “Take my grandchildren upstairs and run their baths,” she said in that same languid tone. “They’ll need to freshen up after their long journey.”

  The children reluctantly followed the maid into the house. Something felt distinctly off, so I thought I’d better stay and find out what was going on.

  It’s a good thing I did. As soon as Grace was alone with her parents, her father said coldly, “I’m sure you understand that it is quite impossible for you to stay here.” He made it sound as if this was a reasonable thing to say to your own daughter.

  Grace looked as if he’d struck her. “You’re sending us away?”

  “Just you, Grace,” he said in the same cold reasonable voice. “The children are welcome to stay.”

  Grace opened her mouth but couldn’t seem to find her voice.

  “It’s not as if they even look Jewish,” Grace’s mother said brightly. “No-one need ever know.”

  Oh, NO way! I thought incredulously. No wonder Grace never came back home. These old monsters disapproved of her for marrying a Jew!

  “I suggest you leave tonight, after the children are in bed,” her father went on. “That way you’ll avoid distressing them with overly emotional farewells.”

  Grace was breathing fast. “Avoid distressing them? My children have already lost their father, you can’t possibly—”