“Come on, Molly, up the stairs with you.” Gus shepherded me up the stairs and by the time I was out of my wet clothes and into my robe, the steam was rising from the mammoth claw-footed tub that was the pride of our bathroom. “I’ll even let you use my Parisian soap to make you feel lovely and decadent,” Gus said with a wicked grin as she closed the door.
I eased myself into the water and lay back, thinking how lucky I was to have such wonderful friends. Their names, of course, were not really Sid and Gus. They had been named by their parents, rather more conventionally, Elena Miriam Goldfarb and Augusta Mary Walcott, but around Greenwich Village, where we lived, they were always Sid and Gus. They were also, for all intents and purposes, a couple—something I had not come across in my sheltered Irish existence before. At home this would have made them social outcasts, to be whispered about behind closed lace curtains. In the society in which Sid and Gus moved, there were no rules. I found this delightfully refreshing and had become very fond of them both. They, in their turn, treated me as an adored child who could do no wrong.
By the time the water had begun to cool I was feeling relaxed, energized, and ready for anything again. I came downstairs to find fresh rolls from the French bakery around the corner on the kitchen table and the wonderful aroma of Sid’s Turkish coffee. I can’t say I had ever learned to love Turkish coffee as much as they did, but at this moment it was clearly a symbol of home and everything being all right after all.
“So do tell all, Molly. We’re quite agog,” Sid said, pulling up a chair beside me and breaking open a roll. She had changed out of the silk pajamas into dark gray trousers and an emerald green gentlemen’s smoking jacket which offset her black, cropped hair wonderfully.
“Not until she’s had something to eat, Sid. The poor lamb has been through an ordeal,” Gus said, taking the basket of rolls from Sid and handing it to me. “They’re still warm. Heavenly.” She was still in the red robe, her light brown curls still wild and untamed around an elfin face.
I sipped the black syrupy liquid and then took a big bite of warm roll, with melting butter and apricot jam. It felt good to be alive again.
“You’ll never guess why they apprehended me to begin with,” I said, looking up from my roll with a grin. “They thought I was a woman of the streets.”
“You? Were they particularly nearsighted policemen?” Sid asked.
“It was dark and apparently they had just made a raid on a nearby bawdy house.”
“Then why didn’t they release you the moment it became obvious that you were not that type of woman?” Gus asked.
“They decided I had to be up to no good, loitering alone in the middle of the night. They thought I might be a lookout for a gang.”
“Molly as a gangster’s moll! This gets better and better,” Sid spluttered through a mouthful of crumbs.
“I’m sure it wasn’t very amusing for poor Molly.” Gus patted my hand. “A night in a dreadful jail cell. How horrid for you, my sweet.”
“It wasn’t too bad. The cell was full of prostitutes, but they couldn’t have been kinder to me. They knew as well as I did that I’d been wrongly arrested.”
“So presumably someone with sense came on duty this morning, took one look at you, and realized a terrible mistake had been made.” Sid reached over to refill my coffee without being asked.
I made a face. “The person who came on duty was none other than Daniel Sullivan—the last person in the world I wanted to see in such circumstances.”
“Daniel the Deceiver, you mean?” Gus asked. They were well aware of my story and thought very poorly of him for his actions. “Why didn’t you use his name to get yourself released last night? It’s the least he could do for you, after trifling with your affections like that.”
“I refuse to ask Daniel Sullivan for help. My pride won’t let me. And besides, I knew he’d only say I told you so—which is exactly what he did.”
“I take it he still hasn’t broken his engagement then?”
“Let’s not talk about it,” I said. I helped myself to another roll. “And do you want to hear the ultimate annoyance of the evening? I found out when the police were leading me away that I had tailed my erring husband to his mother’s house, not his floozie’s.”
They both burst out laughing.
“You spent the evening spying on him visiting his mother? Oh, but that is rich.”
I had to laugh with them. “How was I to know? All I knew was that he was visiting a woman. It never occurred to me that the woman could be his mother.”
“Poor, sweet Molly,” Gus said, still smiling. “I wish you’d stop this highly dangerous life and become something sensible like a writer or a painter.”
“I made up my mind to stop last night,” I said. “Stop doing divorce cases anyway. I find they leave a bad taste in my mouth. I know they were Paddy’s bread and butter, but . . .”
“But they’re not your cup of tea!” Sid finished for me, delighted with her own wit.