Free Honeyville by Daisy Waugh

not!’
    ‘ Well , I ain’t going with her.’
    ‘Dora?’ she turned to me, rather pitifully. ‘Darling? Don’t you want to come with us?’
    ‘Heck. It’s all the same to me,’ I said.
    ‘No but really,’ she said again. ‘I’m not going without Dora.’ It sounded less adamant this time.
    ‘What’s that, missie?’ he teased her. ‘Are you afraid?’
    ‘You bet I am,’ she said.
    He laughed. ‘Don’t be chicken. I’ll make it interesting …’
    I felt a stirring of responsibility. She was a grown woman, yes, but a terribly naive one and I had introduced the two of them. ‘I don’t think you shall go, Inez,’ I told her. ‘It’s dangerous out in the towns. Feelings are running so high.’
    ‘If anyone tells me again that it’s dangerous!’ she said. ‘I know it’s dangerous. And please won’t you come, Dora?’ She turned to Lawrence. ‘Won’t you please let her come?’ But by then I think we all knew the answer. Inez had already begun to unpin her hat.
    We exchanged hats, and they set off together. ‘You look after yourself,’ I said to Inez as she climbed into the back of the Union auto and tucked herself out of view. ‘Come and see me tomorrow if you can – and bring me back my hat!’
    ‘I’ll come and tell you all about it! My new life as a Union organizer …’ She giggled, waiting for O’Neill to start the engine. ‘Don’t you dare tell Aunt Philippa!’
    I smiled and waved, and wondered when she imagined I was likely to do that.

8
    There was a back door to the house that the girls were supposed to use when we were off duty, opening onto a narrow servants’ stairway (the contrast between it and the plush richness of the front of house was almost comical). The stairway led directly up to the second floor, where I had my private rooms: a parlour, in which to entertain my clients after we had departed the ballroom, with bedroom, dressing room and bathroom leading off it. They formed, by necessity (as all the girls’ rooms did), an oasis of apparent privacy. As Inez knew from her vist the other day, it would have been a simple business for her to slip in and out of the building without meeting anyone. Even so, she didn’t come. I waited for almost a week, until finally I was concerned enough for her welfare that I called in at the Union offices to ask after her.
    Lawrence wasn’t there. He’d been summoned to Denver that morning. I asked Cody (the bony lad) if he’d seen Inez recently, and he laughed.
    ‘She’s in here most the time,’ he said.
    I was rather hurt to hear it, which surprised me. I left him with a sullen message for her, asking for the return of my hat, and trudged back home through the hot streets, feeling glum and slightly foolish.
    She was sitting on a wall on the corner of Plum Street, tucked into the side of our imposing parlour-house porch, waiting for me, swinging her feet in the sunshine.
    ‘ There you are!’ she cried, leaping off the wall and coming towards me. ‘I thought you would never come home! Where have you been ? I have so much to tell you. So much! First about the camp. And then about Lawrence. You realize, don’t you, that I’m in love . At last, Dora! And I have you to thank for it.’
    ‘In love?’ I repeated, a touch sourly. ‘Well, goodness me!’
    ‘ Absolutely in love. Of course I am in love. And by the way, if that’s you “acting surprised”, then you need to work on your acting skills, darling. You look just the same as if I had said to you: after night comes day. Was it really so predictable?’
    In the face of such excellent cheer it was, of course, impossible to remain chilly for long. I said: ‘Well. You look very happy, Inez.’
    ‘Because I am!’
    ‘He seems like a good man,’ I said pleasantly, though in truth I’d not given it much thought.
    ‘Oh he’s awfully good,’ she replied. And she smirked and blushed and giggled. And wriggled and writhed.
    ‘Oh …’ I said slowly, examining her. ‘Oh