Free Tell Them I'll Be There by Gerard Mac

them up first chance I get.’ He looked worried. ‘Listen, Dan, this doesn’t seem right somehow.’
    Dan smiled. ‘Don’t worry about it. Give it a go. Give it all you’ve got. And don’t worry about me. I won’t be far away.’
    Another brotherly abrazo and a quick wave to Nathan who was still in the shop and Dan set off for the Avenue.
    â€˜Take care,’ Michael called, his eyes moist. He was feeling guilty now as if he had broken up what was left of the family. ‘And watch out for the navy.’
    Dan raised a hand above his head as he turned the corner. So this is it, he told himself a little surprised. You’re on your own.

SEVEN
    T HE NEW YORK businessman had given Dan his card. When you get settled give me a call, son. I might be able to use you. Use me? Dan thought. As what? He had no qualifications , no experience of working in a big city. But Joe Baker had seemed serious and genuine. His last words as he and his wife, Barbara, left the ship were, ‘Give me a call, why don’t ya?’
    Dan fished the card and an old envelope from his pocket. This was where he kept what little money he had left, eight dollars and forty cents. Joe Baker Associates , he read, 339 Madison Avenue . Maybe he should telephone for an appointment . But could he afford to and what would it cost? He stopped to look at the men’s suits and shirts in one of the wide windows of Manhattan’s newest and biggest store, Saks Fifth Avenue. He had to find some decent clothes. Nobody was going to give him a job the way he looked. Flat cap, frayed jacket, collarless shirt. Except maybe a labouring job. There were no price tickets on the suits but they were well out of his reach anyway. Maybe he could hire a suit. But what the hell? Joe Baker knew more or less all there was to know about him. Maybe he should try him first.
    He had worked out the layout of the city. It was pretty good really, made a lot of sense. Avenues going down, streets going across with the odd exception. Broadway seemed to go its own way, cutting across the rest. Maybe Madison did the same. Or why didn’t it have a number? Best to ask the way. Excuse me, he said apologetically as a smart-looking young man approached. But the young man walked straight on, didn’t even glance at him. Welcome to New York, Dan muttered to himself. He stared at his reflection in a shop window. He looked like a tramp. The young fellow probably thought he was going to tap him for a hand-out. I’ve never begged in my life, Dan told himself indignantly.
    He walked on along the shabby sunless street and out to another bustling thoroughfare. Must be Fourth Avenue, he guessed. Then he saw the sign: Madison Ave. Number 339 turned out to be an office block with an open street door. Vertical blinds obscured the ground floor windows. Dan hesitated briefly but then he decided he might as well try his luck.
    Through the door was a small vestibule. On the wall was a list of five or six companies followed by an invitation to ‘Ring for attention’. He pressed the button next to Joe Baker Associates. Nothing. He pressed it again and eventually a girl of about his own age came primly down the narrow stairway with a fixed business smile. But when she saw Dan the smile evaporated .
    â€˜Yes?’ she said archly.
    Dan snatched his cap off. ‘I’m here to see Mr Baker.’
    â€˜Do you have an appointment?’
    â€˜Er … no,’ he said. ‘Not exactly.’
    The girl frowned and shook her head as if what he asked was out of the question. ‘I’m sorry …’
    â€˜Look,’ he said. ‘Just tell him Dan Dolan is here, off the ship.’
    Still she hesitated but then she looked relieved as Barbara Baker, laden with several expensive-looking shopping bags, came in from the street. ‘Mrs Baker,’ she said ‘This man …’
    Barbara’s face lit up when she saw Dan.