Good Things do Happen (when you least expect them)

If I wanted to, I could make a long list of all the bad things that happened to me over the years, but I won’t depress myself.  Thinking of the last year alone would be reason enough to jump off a cliff.

First of all, there was that new job. It was in an advertising company, a bit of a change for me.  When I walked through the glass doors into the large reception area, I felt I was already going up a notch.  There was red leather couches, chrome pillars and exotic plants everywhere.  The girl behind the reception desk looked like something out of Vogue.  When she called my name, I noticed she wore false eyelashes, and nails that had never seen a scrubbing brush.  “I’m too old for this place” I thought.  “Positive thoughts!” I told myself.  I immediately switched to a different persona and let the “new me” do the talking.

I did get the job, much to my surprise, and the following weekend, decided to go on a spending spree, credit card in hand.  I needed a few new outfits to fit the job, and, well, I hadn’t spent anything on myself in a long time.  The only trouble was, I wanted to be savvy about what I bought. I purchased two new suits, then I had to buy two blouses to go with them.  My present shoes looked a bit shabby when I tried on a new pair, and well, I’d had the bag since God knows when.  “Start from the inside out” was what all the stylists tell you, so out with the old and in with the new. To top it all, there was a really good hair stylists waiting for me to take the plunge.  I was getting a bit anxious when I saw all the hair on the floor around me, but a young trainee soon swept it out of sight.   I had palpitations thinking what I had spent, but consoled myself that with the new job and good wages, I’d have the credit card paid off in no time.  It was all great.  I settled in with the new job, new people, and things really looked rosy.  Then came the bombshell.  Six months in, and the firm went bust.  Some of the girls said they could see it coming, but there wasn’t a whisper until we all got our marching orders.

And so I left with one arm as long as the other.  My friend and I drank two bottles of wine discussing my next move, and apart from a sore head on Sunday morning, my options didn’t look good.  Weeks went by.  I got some Temping here and there.  I could just about pay the rent, but what was left didn’t even stretch to a bottle of vino on Saturday night.  I muddled through.  After sending off several CV’s and going to a few interviews, I got a job as secretary in an insurance office.  I was on the up again.  Bills were being paid, including my credit card.  I had no high notions about status in my new employment.  At least I had the new clothes to give the impression of someone upwardly mobile.  I declined the after work drinks and lunches out.  I kept my head down.  People started to talk about holidays abroad and plans for the summer.  I said I was going to a relative living on the coast.  Surprisingly no one showed much interest, so I got away with it.  I was making it up anyway

I often thought about how easy it was for other people my age to have their lives sorted.  Husbands, family, nice homes, holidays abroad.  My life seemed to just struggle mundanely onwards, month after month.  I remember being told years ago to “be grateful for what you’ve got.  There are other people worse off”.  Yes, I know.  It’s all relative really, isn’t it?  I’d fantasize about winning the lottery, while I sat with my feet up watching the soaps on television.  I’d buy a house by the sea, give some money to my family, give some to charity, and some to the RSPCA.  I’d make sure I had a nest egg so that I’d never have to worry about everyday bills again.  Those kind of dreams kept me going, even when week after week I felt like I was throwing money down the drain.  Then, out of the blue, I was asked out by this lovely man from work. “Play it cool” I told myself.  I tried not to be too keen.  “Sorry I can’t make it this Friday, but if you’re free next week sometime, that would be great” I told him.  I bought a video on Friday night so I wouldn’t be thinking of him.  We went out the following Thursday night.  He took me to a lovely restaurant in the city centre straight from work.  I reverted to my “new persona” and made myself feel like I was really used to eating out at stylish restaurants.  Strangely enough, it felt natural.  Life was really meant to be like this. I’d love to ask you in” I said coyly when he dropped me home,  “only my sister is staying and has to get up early tomorrow morning”, I lied.  He kissed me on the lips, lingering for a moment, and looked back before getting into his car.   Did that look mean he believed me or he didn’t?  I wasn’t sure. He must have liked me because we went out for six months.  Then he told me he was being transferred abroad.  I never quite understood what he did for a living, though I did try to find out.  He was always a bit evasive.   I minded more being on my own after that.

Then I got notice on my flat because the landlord was in trouble financially and was selling the house.  I felt I was back to square one again.   A girl from work told me about a flat that was going near her and I took it.  It was a dump, but It would do for a while. I felt so dejected, I joined the local tech and did an Assertiveness Course, for all the good that did me!

It’s funny how things work out.  Just when I thought I couldn’t cope with another disappointment, I met a girl from school.  We had been friends, but lost touch over time.  She had moved to New York and as we sat having coffee in “The Paradiso”, I was mesmerised at the stories she was telling me.  While my life was going from one fiasco to another, she was on the up and up in the Big Apple, living the life.

Now, months later, home after another working day, I look across the river and I’m dazzled by the New York skyline. I wonder why it took me so long to see that there could be something better.  I do miss home.  I miss, well I’m sure there’s plenty of things I miss, if I had the time to think about them.

 

 

 

 

 

 

House for Sale

People came every day to view the house

Old threadbare carpets lay underfoot

Furniture belonging to another time

A sofa bed for visitors, always welcome

Soft and warm and well used

 

Sun shone through the open back door

A swing, motionless, hanging from a tree

Toys scattered, covered by the undergrowth

Memories of children’s laughter

Silent for a long time now

 

He wanted their childhood home

To be cherished again

Not “open up this space” or

“Extend up and out” or

“Glass doors to take in the view”

 

It was perfect as it was

Its quirky shape and lived in rooms

The fireplace drawing everyone in

Where songs were sung, stories told,

And everyone laughed a lot

 

A lick of paint, a bright colour here and there

Would put a smile on the old house again

It wouldn’t cost much or take long

The house was solid and grounded

Like the people who once lived there.

 

 

Josephine Nolan

Their World

Stepping out on her porch in the garden

Drawn by the laughter and cheer

She listened and walked a bit further

Stepping close to the fence, not too near

A stick broke beneath her, she panicked

It cracked like a whip in the air

She held onto the fence, hardly breathing

Didn’t want them to know she was there.

 

A family were seated together

Enjoying the afternoon sun

Their glasses were raised to each other

A birthday or some sort of fun

They laughed and enjoyed one another

So easy and joyful and gay

In a world of their own little bubble

Each one with so much to say

 

Back in her own little parlour

So empty and quiet these years

She thought of her sons and her daughter

Farewells and so many tears

Their phone calls and letters would cheer her

Bring news of the lives that they had

How happy she was they were thriving

They’d never be told she was sad

One Step Behind

She was walking home to the flats through the darkened streets. The quietness began to make her nervous.

She noticed a tall dark shadow close behind hers as she passed a lamp post. It was still there when she reached the next one. Her heart was thumping and she quickened her step. She started to run. She couldn’t hear the footsteps but knew he was still there, keeping up with her.

The faster she ran, the faster he ran. She willed herself on, desperate to outpace him. Her heart was racing and fear consumed her. She scrambled over a bush trying to escape, but every step she took brought further obstacles. She was climbing stairs but thought she’d never reach safety. And still he was behind her, almost within grabbing distance. The sweat was pouring off her.

Then the alarm went off.

Daughters

I don’t remember the tears or sleepless nights

I don’t remember the tiredness

I see fleeting moments of smiling faces

Pretty dresses, ‘what have you done’ thoughts

The years passed so quickly

 

I remember their first trips abroad

I planted a rose called “Patience”

On all their journey’s, I prayed

Saw photos of sun on their faces

Love in their hearts

 

Christmas was our time, our joy

A bonus each year they came home

New Year was theirs, with their friends

They were with me wherever they were

I travel with them in my mind

 

Our numbers are bigger and smaller

A generation apart but together

Time for their own children now

Their loves, their hopes and their dreams

Still my best work, my two daughters.

My Son

He always sees the best in people

If I get annoyed or feel hard done by

He says “no one has died”

We watch the news together sometimes

I rant about some injustice or politician

He usually has a way of calming me down

Sometimes I think he’s too laid back

 

Now I see him with his baby daughter

She reacts to his tenderness

An immediate smile and gurgle

He has more incentive to better himself

His kindness stretches beyond his family

 

I wish I could win an argument with him

Somehow I’m always on the left foot

We have to agree to differ

I love his outlook and his sensitivity

I love his strength

And I love him

The Assistant

Did you every go into a shop and get a very unwelcome look from the person behind the counter?  You say “good morning, just the paper please”.  She looks at you as if you’ve invaded her space.  You hand her the paper.  She zaps the bar code.  You give her two euro and she hands you the change.  You say “thank you”.    She still hasn’t said a word!

Continue reading

The Hotel

They arrived wearing their finery. The men in top hats and tails and ladies showing off their dazzling dresses, shoulders draped in furs or cloaks.  You had to be ‘someone’ to be ushered through the doors of the finest hotel in town.  Sometimes whole floors were booked in the name of a prominent family, or some well to do out of towner.  The lounge was filled with couples mostly, from big industry or professions.  Some movie stars from the West Coast stayed during their visits to New York. Stars of Broadway celebrated opening nights, and successful runs of plays and variety shows.

John Connor and Arthur Long were on the Reception.  It was a long day for them until old Mr. Ashley and Robert Naughton took over the night shift.  They could all tell you some stories but, like a priest, their lips were sealed.  Joe Broaden was on the door in his fine black uniform with gold braids, and sporting a top hat.  Apart from the suit he got married in, it was the only one he owned.  He had been sentinel for the hotel for more years than he cared to remember. Joe and his friend Bert Blacksmith had started work the same week.  They had even gone to the same school, on the other side of town. When they put on their uniforms, they felt like they belonged.  Bert brought the luggage in and despatched them to the relevant rooms.  Over the years, he had sent his kids to the best schools.  He was a very friendly and helpful sort.  Guests liked him and tipped him well.  Joe did alright with tips also.

Ed Phillips was the Manager.  He was the link between all the ground floor staff, and the problem solver.  He had his own office on the ground floor but spent a lot of his time hovering around between the lounge, the dining room, and the cocktail bar.  His job was to make sure everything ran smoothly.  He would stand by the tall marble pillars at night, observing the comings and goings.  Nothing got past Ed Phillips.  He was the eyes and the ears of the hotel.

That was until one night in early December.  The foyer had been decorated with silver lights and red and white decorations.  The chandeliers in the main lounge sparkled against the fairy lights criss-crossing the room.  A large Christmas tree stood between two bay windows, covered in red baubles and silver and red ribbons.  Almost every inch of the tree’s lights shone or flickered against the subdued lighting.  Red candles had been placed in crystal vases at the centre of each table which was covered in white linen.   A roaring fire, mantelpiece decorated in holly and red ribbons, drew guests to its warmth.  It had been snowing for a few days.  Sitting near the fireplace, but slightly in the shadows, sat a young girl, on her own.  She had come straight in from the street.  Instead of going to the reception area, she took a seat close to one of the large white pillars.  She wanted to observe, but not be noticed.  Waiters walked back and forth, carrying silver trays slightly above their shoulders, heading to the surrounding tables.  The dining room was already full.  Some people had brought their drinks from the dining room into the lounge. Christmas carols and festive music was being played by a gentleman on a grand piano in the far corner of the lounge.  The reception was busy with people still arriving.  John and Arthur were taking phone calls and handing out keys. Bert was rushed off his feet taking luggage to the various floors for the guests. Ed Phillips had noticed her coming in. His eyes had followed her as she took a seat near the fire.  He approached her, asking if he could be of assistance. She replied that she was waiting for her brother, and made no further effort to converse with him, hardly looking at him.  Edd asked what her brother’s name was and she replied, ”I want to surprise him” and turned away.  He was never rude, but Ed Phillips could be persistent.  This young lady stopped him in his tracks. She had no intention of getting into conversation with him. There was something about her demeanour that unsettled him.  She looked a very fashionable lady.  Her dark hair fell in curls down her back.  Her blue hat matched her coat which reached to her ankles.  As he walked away, he noticed that the black boots she wore looked scuffed and dusty. At that moment, he got distracted when a party of revellers came through the front door.

“That wasn’t a bad day” said John Connor to his colleague.  Arthur long was at the far end of the desk, making sure that everything was in order for the next shift.  He had noticed the young girl by the fire earlier. “Did you see the young lady in the blue coat leaving?” Arthur Long said.  “Did you see her meeting anyone?”  “Can’t say I noticed, Arthur”. The phone rang again.    “Our little one is giving the missus a hard time these nights” said Arthur when he finished the phone call.   “I hope we get some sleep tonight”.  “Ah, its early days.  She’ll settle down soon” said John Connor.  He was glad himself and his wife were long past those days with the kids.  When the shift was finished, they stood on the steps of the hotel.  Snow was falling and the track marks in the road where becoming slushy.  They said “goodnight” to each other, and putting their hats on and collars up, disappeared into the night.

Mr. Ashley and Robert Norton took over reception, and were hoping for a quiet night.  Mr. Ashley was not far off retirement age, and young Norton was learning all he could from the old timer.  They got on well in spite of the age difference, and Robert enjoyed hearing all the stories of times gone by.  A lot of famous people had come through the doors.  Robert wouldn’t have been too familiar with most of the names.  They were all from way back, but Mr. Ashley could tell a good story.  Most of the guests were going out for the evening, but some were still arriving.  People came to the reception area asking for taxi’s and sat in the comfort of the lounge until their taxi was announced.  Young Robert’s eyes were opened to the affluence and style that he saw coming and going.  Ladies in long dresses and furs, beautiful hairstyles, adorned with glittering hair clips.  The men were equally dapper, some in black evening suits, top hats, black cloaks with red or yellow lining swept across their shoulders.  He thought of his sisters and his mother and wished one day they too could be so stylish.

The lady in the blue coat, Dora, sat by the fire as the guests came and went.  She was waiting for one gentleman in particular.  It had been a while since she saw him, but she knew this was where he came before Christmas each year.  It took a long time to plan.  Up to tonight, she had been driven by past events.  Tonight she wasn’t so brave.  Her nerves were getting the better of her as she waited.  After the Manager approached her, she felt like heading for the door.  She talked herself out of making a quick departure.  She had to see this through, and it wasn’t just for her.  A crowd of people came through the front door.  They were all in high spirits.  She watched them walk up to reception and picked him out immediately.  “Let’s all meet down here for drinks in an hour” one voice was heard above the rest”.  Everyone answered together, and soon they were dispersing towards the elevators.  She slipped in behind the first group, facing out towards the closing doors.  It stopped on the 6rd floor.   Most of the men wanted to get out.  She took a few steps to the left, allowing them to go ahead.  Then she followed in the same direction, keeping her distance behind them. They were in such jovial spirits, talking and laughing, they didn’t notice her.  He stood in front of room 606.  He closed the door behind him and proceeded to take his jacket off.  He poured a drink and sat in the armchair, watching his reflection in the dressing table mirror.  He would have a long soak in a while and dress for the evening.  He closed his eyes and fell asleep.  He was awoken by a tap on the door.  “Who is it?” he asked in a gruff voice, annoyed at being disturbed. He heard “Room service” from the other side of the door.  It didn’t dawn on him that he hadn’t ordered room service, as he shuffled towards the door, still half asleep.  A beautiful girl in a white uniform was smiling at him. “Can I come in sir?” she said.  He felt a bit hung over from all the drinking that afternoon.  She turned as if to bring in a tray or trolley, but in a second, turned again towards him, and he put his hand up to his chest.  He was stunned.  His hand was covered in blood.  As he staggered back into the room, some flicker of recognition crossed his mind.  Was it the smile? The door and the woman were disappearing into the distance as he fell to the floor.

The tables looked exquisite as guests took their places in the dining room.  A group of men stood at the bar in the lounge.  “Where’s he got to? He’s usually the first down to the bar” said one of the men.  He was the oldest of the group.  They were all middle aged men, having a weekend away from their wives.  They were business men from a small town out West, well connected and prosperous. They loved to let their hair down once a year in the big smoke.  After a while, one of the group went to reception, and asked Arthur Long to ring their friend’s room.  The phone rang for a while, but there was no reply. Arthur tried again.  Still no response.  He told the guest he would go up to the room himself.  “It’s no trouble” Arthur Long said.  Arthur knocked for a few minutes, put his ear to the door, and when he heard no movement inside, decided to use his security key.  When he opened the door, he was horrified to see a man lying on the cream carpet, in a pool of blood.

Arthur told John what he had seen, and the Manager was called.  They did their best to keep it contained, but when the ambulance and police arrived at the hotel, reporters were hot on their heels.  Chaos ensued amongst the victim’s friends.  Questions were asked, phone calls were made.  Two of the group went in the ambulance with the injured party.  The rest skipped dinner and stayed at the bar.  It was in the early hours of the morning that the two friends returned to the hotel.  They joined their friends around the fire in disbelief. He was in a critical condition.  “Touch and go”, the doctors said. They decided to go to their rooms and try and get some sleep before daybreak.

They were told by the police not to leave town. It could go either way in the next forty-eight hours.  The police tried to be discreet.  They took a room in the hotel and called the friends of the victim in one by one.  They were all totally dismayed.  No one knew of anyone with a grudge against their friend.  They weren’t even from New York.  They were all just ordinary guys with ordinary lives.  Yes, they knew each other since they were kids, went to the same college.  No, they couldn’t think of anyone who would want to harm their friend.  They were stunned with disbelief.  The victim’s wife had to be told.  She flew to New York with her brother and arrived early the next morning.  The few days that started out so well were a shambles.  There were more questions than answers, and the police were at a loss themselves.  The knife hadn’t been found, and they had very little to go on.  The enquiry hit a brick wall.  Their friend was stable but still in a bad way. The knife hadn’t damaged any vital organs, but it would take time before he could be interviewed, or leave the hospital and return home.  The police were reluctant to let the friends leave New York, but after a few days, the police had no reason to keep them there.   It would be several weeks before the victim, his wife and her brother flew home.

Mr. Ashley and Robert Naughton came off the night shift, distraught as they told John and Arthur what had happened.  They were all in shock.  Ed Phillips instructed everyone to go on like any other day.  He was trying his best to do likewise.  It was a bit too much to ask with members of the police going back and forth.  Within a week, things were getting back to normal, at least for the hotel staff.  Speculation had been rife.  Theories had been thrown around like confetti.  It dampened the otherwise joyful season somewhat, but as new guests arrived, mostly oblivious of what had happened, the decorations and chandelier’s started to cast their magic, along with the trays of beverages and hot toddies.  It had made front page news in the New York papers for a few days, but other important issues soon took over.

One afternoon Ed Phillips noticed three couples coming into the hotel.  There was a lot of banter going on between them.  One young lady stood out from the rest. She wore a long blue coat with a white full length fluffy dress underneath.  She had short black hair with a round blue hat perched to one side, and black feathers sticking out.   Ed Phillips thought he saw a ghost.  He held the back of a chair as they walked past him heading for the reception.  The lady in the blue coat reminded him of the young girl sitting by the fire, the night the guest had been stabbed.  He had meant to go back to check on her that night, but other things took over.  He beckoned Arthur Long at reception.  “Are you alright Ed?  You look like you’ve seen a ghost.  Would you like some water?”  After a few minutes, Ed said “do you remember the girl who was sitting by the fire, the night of the stabbing?” “I noticed her alright” said Arthur, “ but there were a lot of guests arriving that night.  I didn’t think of her afterwards”. 

A couples who had just arrived, got their keys and left the reception area. Ed asked John Connor about that night.  John couldn’t recall anything.  Ed turned to Bert.  “Can you remember her leaving?” Bert was usually very observant but he couldn’t help either.  Joe Broaden, the doorman, was asked and just shrugged his shoulders.

Everyone went back to their stations.  Ed decided he would give his old pal Bill Reynolds a ring at the Precinct.  He would find out if any progress had been made.  He was itching to mention the woman in the blue coat, by the fire that night. Why didn’t he think of it on the night, when the police were questioning everyone? It probably meant nothing. 

Speculation and gossip had died down.  They were all preparing for the onslaught of Christmas, knowing that there would be little time off for any of the employees.  At least it had stopped snowing, and the roads and highways were free flowing.  When the front door opened for guests, the roar and pandemonium of the traffic outside could be heard, along with sirens and Christmas carols.  It was beginning to feel like a normal Christmas in New York.

Christmas came and went, and New Year with all its madness.  The staff at the hotel were able to take a few days off here and there.  Ed Phillips still put in more hours than everyone else, but he couldn’t let go of what had happened on his watch.  The police were no nearer to finding the assailant, and weren’t giving too much away about their investigation.  Ed rang Bill Reynolds from time to time, but he couldn’t, or wouldn’t, tell him much.  Ed Phillips had no one to go home to.  His hours at the hotel had put a strain on his marriage to Ellen, and she had long ago jumped ship.  He didn’t do much with his free time except have a few drinks in local bars, and tend the plants on the ninth floor balcony of his apartment. For vacations, he travelled to Chicago to his brother and his family.   He loved the kids, but was glad to get back to the solitude of his own place, and work.  There was a jazz band playing in a bar a few blocks away. He loved the music and sometimes popular artists performed.  There was a regular crowd and they all greeted Ed as he came through the door.  One evening he dropped in for a beer before going home.  It had been a really busy day and he needed to relax.  As he sat at the bar, his eye was drawn to a new waitress on the other side of the room.  “That face is familiar” he thought, but couldn’t place where he had seen her. She was wearing a white uniform and her dark hair was caught up under a cap.  It had a band around it and her hair was tied in a bun at the back.  He sat rigid in his chair when he remembered the face.  The girl by the fire on the night of the stabbing!  He watched her as she took orders, walking back and forth to the bar.  After a while he decided to go to the men’s room, and get a better look at her. There was no recognition from her when he caught her eye.    He left the bar and waited in his car, near the back entrance where the staff came out after closing time. They said their ‘goodbye’s’ and separated.  She was one of them. He decided to follow her on foot.  They had walked for about fifteen minutes. She stopped in front of one of a row of large run down houses. She searched in her bag and walked up the steps, putting her key in the door, and closed it behind her.  He walked to the other side of the street, watching to see if any lights went on.  There was a window at the top of the house, four storeys up, and soon the light went on and a curtain was drawn.  He came out of the shadows and walked back to his car. His heart was beating faster.  

It was hard to sleep that night, and twice as hard to get up for work the following morning.  He went through the usual routine at the hotel, checking that everyone was at their station and that there were no problems facing into the day.  He spoke with John and Arthur at reception.  They went through the list of guests leaving that morning, and those arriving.  He went into the kitchen and had a look at the menu, having the usual conversation with the chef about numbers for lunch and dinner.  The floor staff were busy putting white cloths on tables, and setting up for breakfast.  Someone else was putting fresh flowers in vases. It was the usual hive of industry before the first guests appeared into the dining room.   There were a lot of ‘behind the scenes’ activities that he had to oversee, but for now, it was a good start to the day. He took a break, and had a strong cup of coffee in his office.

 It was well into the New Year and a year after the stabbing at the hotel. The police had drawn a blank and, as far as he knew, lost interest. Ed had thought long and hard about reporting the young girl he’d seen in the bar, to the police.  One evening, fate took a hand.  She was being hassled by a drunk and Ed went to her aid.  It was near closing time and her uniform was soaked in beer.  He offered to walk here home.  She said her name was Dora, and asked him in for a night cap, and he accepted.  Over the course of a few months, they seem to hit it off.  Their working hours didn’t make it easy to meet.  He worked days, and she worked nights.  Their weekends were spent walking around Central Park, or down by the river.  They enjoyed meals out and stopping off at coffee bars. Sometimes they spoke about their childhood. One Sunday afternoon they spent a few hours at the jazz club, near the river, and then stopped nearby for coffee.  She had been silent for a while, looking out onto the river, when she started her story. 

She was from a town in Arizona.  Her parents were farmers and they struggled, but were decent people, and hard workers.  Her father was a lot older than her mother.  They got into debt after her father passed away.  Her mother had to sell up and move into town.  Her mother was still young and eventually got work in a big store in the town. She was beautiful, with long dark hair, and a smile that would melt your heart. It was there that she met Bob Langdon, son of the proprietor.  The Langdon’s were prosperous and prominent in the town.  Bob and her mother saw each other for about a year, but she was never introduced to his family.  She didn’t think they would approve of her anyway. He was very charming, and they were having a lot of fun together. When she told him she was pregnant, he dropped her like a brick.  She was sick a lot and had to take time off work.  They sacked her.  She was desperate.  She tried to contact Bob, but found out he had been sent to manage a store in the Midwest, owned by his family. “My mother picked up work in bars. I was born and we lost our home.  Next thing she knew, Bob Langdon came back to town, with a wife.  The daughter of some big shot in the Midwest”.  She rarely saw him.  They mixed in different circles, but if by chance they passed each other on the street, he looked straight through her and his daughter.  When she was in High School, her mother got sick.  She was going downhill fast.  “I vowed if I ever got the chance to get even with that Bob Langdon, I’d make him pay.  He destroyed my mother”.  

It was well known that the guys went off to New York every year.  She needed a change from life in a small town. She found out all she could about New York before she packed up and left.  She knew where the guys stayed when they got to New York, and how long they would be there.  It was well planned out in her head.  “I was well settled in, a place to live and job, when I knew they would be arriving.  A friend lent me a coat and hat. I said I was going to a wedding.  I felt quite the lady dressed up.  I had my uniform underneath.  I only had one pair of boots.  They would have to do”.  Ed was staring at her.  “But you could have killed him Dora!  You could be in prison now!” he said.  “If I’d meant to kill him, I would have used a gun” she said.  She lifted her head and looked him straight in the eyes.  “Now you know the story, you might as well go to the cops.  I’m past caring really”.  She looked desolate.  She reminded him of a little bird trapped in a cage.  Ed Phillips took her hands in his.  “I think you deserve a break” he said.  “You’re young.  You should be having the time of your life”.  “He smiled and wiped a tear from her eye, and took her arm as they walked out into the cold January evening.