Calling the Shots

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Book: Read Calling the Shots for Free Online
Authors: Annie Dalton
herself. “I was so young when I left home. People can change. Whatever happened, you’re still his flesh and blood. I’m sure that when your grandaddy actually sees you, he’ll want to help. We’ll pack a few necessities, and the lawyers can see to the rest.”
    I noticed Honesty slip out of the room while her mother was still talking. I hurried after her and found her in her bedroom removing her diaries from the drawer.
    As I watched, bewildered, she tore all the pages out of the notebooks, stuffed them into the tiny fireplace and dropped a lighted match into the grate. When her diaries were reduced to a heap of curling black ash, Honesty lifted down a suitcase from the top of the wardrobe and started to pack.
    She folded bloomers, chemises, blouses and pinafores; put them into her case and carefully fastened both catches. Then she put on her horrible coat and hat, seated herself on a hard wooden chair and remained there, staring into space, until the taxi came and the Bloomfields left their home for ever.
    I left with them, so I can tell you that Honesty didn’t once look back. She just stared straight ahead, humming tunelessly. I knew then that this was going to be the toughest assignment of my angelic career.
     

Chapter Five
    I n Honesty’s day, a first-class train carriage looked exactly like your great granny’s front parlour, even down to the tablecloth with fancy fringes. They might look cute in movies, but in reality they ponged of dust and coal fumes and men’s cigars, not to mention human sweat. People weren’t too big on personal hygiene back then.
    After he’d stashed everyone’s luggage, Lenny escaped out into the corridor. He pulled down the window and watched the Philadelphia skyline disappearing into the distance.
    Grace had brought a pack of cards and started to build a house for Clem. Rose was curled up in a corner seat, reading as usual. Honesty stared at her fingernails for a few minutes then she muttered, “I’m going to get a soda.”
    I hurried after her along the swaying corridor. The soda just turned out to be an excuse because Honesty walked right through the dining car and out the other side. These carriages were crowded with tired men and women, all sitting on hard benches instead of comfortable plushy upholstery, and there were ratty cardboard suitcases on the luggage racks instead of leather.
    My skin was starting to prickle like crazy. This is usually a sign that there are other angels in the vicinity.
    Sure enough, two carriages down, I spotted a giveaway cosmic glow where an earth angel was sitting calmly amongst the paying passengers. She wore a shabby Twenties coat and a cute little cloche hat trimmed with a faded silk rose. I felt so proud of my profession, I can’t tell you. The humans had no idea they were sharing their railway carriage with an invisible celestial agent, but from their peaceful expressions I could tell they were responding to her angelic vibes.
    The angel and I gave each other a brief wave, one agent to another. Then I hurtled breathlessly after Honesty.
    Our train shook and juddered as another train roared past. There was a flash of fire, and I glimpsed the driver furiously stoking the boiler. Steam billowed past the windows, like special FX on pop videos.
    I heard snatches of talk from the passengers. An old man was complaining, “You know the thing about America? Everyone is always rushing someplace else.” And I heard a salesman boast, “Nowadays it’s not enough to sell sausages. You got to sell the sizzle too!”
    In the last carriage, a group of tough-looking hoodlums in slouch hats were playing cards. Honesty stood watching until one of them noticed her and said humorously, “Beat it, kid. Didn’t your mama tell you gambling is wrong?”
    She rolled her eyes. “I’m just watching. Anyway, what my mama doesn’t know won’t hurt her.”
    He laughed. “Step inside, sister.”
    And to my dismay she joined them. I felt sure that he old

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