In Search of a Hero

Chapter 7: Bases Loaded

Meeting Angela turned out to be a stroke of good fortune in more ways than one.

First, she was like no one Brennan had known before. Forthright and honest, her dry wit and somewhat scathing sense of humour spared no one, and respected no inflated ego. Used to Daisy's hero-worship or a combination of envy and suspicion from other women, Brennan found conversation with Angela refreshingly simple . . . even when she was the focus of her acerbic banter.

After a closed-door interview that lasted more than thirty minutes, Caroline Julian agreed to rent Mabel's soon-to-be-vacated room to Angela for the next six weeks, for $4.25 a week, plus ration coupons for food items. Noticing Angela's hesitation at the cost, Brennan quickly pointed out that the rate included breakfast and dinner, Monday through Saturday, and a noon-hour meal on Sunday. Angela somewhat grudgingly accepted, and opened her purse to pay a week's rent in advance. With no where else to go, she also accepted Caroline's offer of the sofa in the ladies parlour for that night . . . a decision which she soon regretted.

Shortly after midnight, Brennan woke to the sound of fingers tapping lightly on her door, followed in seconds by the futile rattling of the locked handle. When the knock came again, she tossed the covers aside and padded across the room. Angela's yawning face appeared in the gap when she cracked open the door.

"If I spend another minute on that sofa, I'm not going to be able to walk for a week. Mind if I bunk with you for the night?"

She was already inside the room before Brennan found her voice. She looked at the long, narrow single bed. "I don't think . . ."

Yawning again, Angela tossed her pillow at the foot of the bed. "It will be fine, we'll just sleep head to toe. I have to double-up sometimes with the backup singers and I've only been kicked in the head once."

While Brennan was still frozen in place beside the open door, Angela switched on the lamp on the bedside table and sat down, looking around with open curiosity at the studiously neat surroundings.

"You know," she grinned, "I just knew that you'd be one of those 'everything in its place' kind of girls."

Brennan finally closed the door and stood in front of it, self-consciously checking the scarf tied around the pin curls set into her hair, then pleating the thin material of her nightgown between her fingers. Even though it was the middle of the night, she felt positively dowdy compared to the fashionable cut of Angela's wide-legged pajamas. Unbelievably, they even appeared to be made from silk.

"I've found that the first step in using limited space efficiently is to keep it tidy."

"I suppose. Of course, I live out of a suitcase, so . . ." Angela braced her hands behind her and leaned back. "My room is next door, right? Is it like this one? I didn't want to ask for a look inside with all the crying going on."

Brennan finally left the doorway in favor of the chair at her small desk. "Yes, most of the rooms are similar in size. The one at the end of the hallway has a window overlooking the street."

"A window would be nice."

"I believe Mrs. Julian charges one dollar more a week for that room because of the window."

"I can do without a window."

"The furniture is standard across the rooms, too. Well, except for the desk," Brennan added, running a hand over the corner of the wood as fondly as if the piece was an old friend. "I purchased this for myself so you won't have one in your room."

"I've never met anyone who had their own typewriter before," Angela said, covering up another big yawn. "I thought you said you worked at the Treasury. Do you take in extra typing or something?"