High Time (14 page)

In a little while she was back, beaming. The weakest of the ladies at Noah’s Ark showed a ninety per cent hemoglobin content. The nurse complimented them on their fine, rich blood and asked them to come back Monday morning—and to omit breakfast.

Mrs. Feeley smirked and bridled.

‘Sure, dear, we’ll be glad to! Nothin’ like beer to make good red blood! Don’t they give it to nursin’ mothers?’

The nurse grinned.

‘You know we give a beautiful pin, like a medal, to those who give blood regularly,’ she said. ‘These chaps here have had to coast for a month or so! Guess they don’t live right!’

‘Hell!’ Mrs. Feeley cried, clapping the nurse on the back, ‘I feel happy an’ like we was really doin’ somethin’ for the first time since this stinkin’ war started! They didn’t want us for this! An’ they wouldn’t have us for that! But I’d like to see the son-of-a-bitch that can stop us from givin’ plenty of good, red blood, now that we found out about it! We got a right to give our blood same’s them guys landin’ on them Eye-talian beachheads! You can just expect us reg’lar!’

‘You can come in every eight weeks, Mrs. Feeley!’ the nurse said. ‘Blood like yours is really needed!’

‘I’m aimin’ to earn me one o’ them medals,’ Mrs. Rasmussen smiled, entranced by the idea of a premium.

‘And just to think of all the months we have wasted,’ Miss Tinkham lamented. ‘We could have saved hundreds of lives just among the three of us! It was indeed Providence that brought us out this afternoon to search for our niche in this war!’

‘Never mind! You’ll still be in time to help!’ the nurse said, winking at Mrs. Feeley. ‘Why don’t you take these fellows home and fill them up with some of the stuff that makes you girls so full of business?’

‘Yeah. Let us in on the secret,’ Oscar grinned.

‘C’mon! Time’s a-wastin’!’ Mrs. Feeley cried, grabbing Oscar by the arm, and the five of them went away, promising to be back bright and early Monday morning.

Back at the bar the ladies crowed over the two crestfallen men.

‘Guess we’re too old for them fancy airplane factories, an’ them Wacs an’ Waves—but we ain’t so dusty when you get right down to what makes the ol’ wheels go round!’ Mrs. Feeley boasted.

‘Isn’t it marvelous?’ Miss Tinkham crowed. ‘We had no idea of our own natural riches!’

‘Yeah,’ Mrs. Rasmussen grinned. ‘We didn’t know how good we felt till they told us! It’s them stews does it!’

‘Yeup! An’ all that cheese an’ liver an’ things don’t exactly run us down!’ Mrs. Feeley gloated.

‘All those wonderful minerals and vitamins Mrs. Rasmussen gives us!’ Miss Tinkham added.

‘Lentils! That’s what they gives nimmick people in the Ol’ Country!’ Mrs. Rasmussen cried, and then sneeringly remarked: ‘Peanut butter! Foo!’

Poor Oscar and Jasper were so hungry by now that they were drooling.

‘I’m so hungry I could even eat meat-loaf!’ Oscar said.

‘Meat-loaf!’ Mrs. Rasmussen scoffed. ‘Kennel Ration is what they gives you in them lunch-counters!’

‘Yeah, but we can’t help it, Mrs. Rasmussen! We can’t find no other kinda place to eat,’ Jasper explained.

‘Sometimes after a salmon croquette, I think I’m likely to faint on the job!’ Oscar said.

Mrs. Rasmussen looked as if she wanted to throw up at the mention of such disgusting viands.

‘Well, ladies,’ she said, ‘there ain’t nothin’ for it: we’re sabotagin’ the ships if we don’t feed ’em! You sure better have your ration books along with you!’ she said.

They had. They not only had their ration books, they had money—lots of money. The ladies rode in state for the second time that day. Down to the Bay City Market they rode in the interests of war production. Jasper and Mrs. Feeley went on a reconnaissance tour of lower Fifth Street and came back grinning from ear to ear. Between the two of them they had acquired twenty-four bottles of tender, luscious brew. A whole case, in these degenerate days!

Mrs. Rasmussen bought high, wide, and handsome. When she had a goose, nobody had to show her how to pick it. Because these poor creatures were so low in iron, she purchased calves’ liver—and a whole pound of bacon. She bought a standing rib-roast—four ribs. The points soared into astronomical figures, but she had two extra books. After the market had been thoroughly looted, the men carried the swag to a taxi and they all went home to the Ark.

Darleen was at home and the children had already been put to bed. That was a big help, Mrs. Rasmussen thought, for Darleen could entertain the guys and keep them out from underfoot while she smothered vast quantities of onions to go with the liver and bacon. If there was anything she despised, it was two or three little scorched loops of onion draped on a dry piece of liver. Hers were always clear amber rings full of flavor and minerals.

Miss Tinkham was entertaining the guests with music. Darleen helped Mrs. Feeley with the table and then rejoined the group near the piano.

‘Gosh! I didn’t know you was a musician!’ Oscar said. ‘What was that you was playin’ over and over?’

‘Sure pretty, ain’t it? Ain’t heard it before!’ Jasper said.

‘Oh, it’s just a little something that has been haunting me for weeks; just a little improvisation!’ Miss Tinkham fluttered.

‘You mean you made it up outa your head?’ Oscar asked.

‘Oh yes! I often do!’ the composer said modestly.

‘Hasn’t it got no name?’ Oscar insisted.

‘I’m thinking of calling it “We’ll Recapture Rapture.” Rather timely, don’t you think?’

‘Timely? I think it’s swell! You’re a genius, Miss Tinkham!’ Oscar cried.

Mrs. Rasmussen appeared with a tray full of glasses of beer and a plate of hard-boiled eggs.

‘Just a little somethin’ to fill up the far comers,’ she said.

The men needed no urging. Darleen ate an egg and got herself a soft-drink out of the icebox.

‘Gawd!’ Mrs. Feeley fumed, ‘how you don’t ruin your system with them filthy things is a wonder to me! Peel the linin’ off the inside o’ your mouth an’ take the tripe right outa your stomach, they will!’

‘Gee, Mrs. Feeley,’ Darleen said, ‘most people don’t know that! They think that’s what beer and likker does to you!’

And Mrs. Feeley, backed up by the American Red Cross blood tests, proceeded to tell Darleen with indisputable authority exactly what beer really did for people. The teetotalers had better steer clear of her after those tests this afternoon.

‘An’ as Mr. Feeley always used to say, Darleen, when our Lord he went to that weddin’ that time, an’ they run out, he sure as hell never turned that water into no soda-pop!’

Darleen was learning more every day. It was not often that a girl had the chance to improve herself along so many different lines!

Mrs. Rasmussen announced dinner and the guests took their places. Old Timer came in and Mrs. Feeley made a mental note to run him down to the Red Cross Monday morning—Darleen too. Might be a very good idea in her case—now that she was taking care of the children, there was no telling when some nosy Parker would come along wanting to see her health paper.

Jasper and Oscar ate silently and rapidly as though they were afraid someone was going to snatch their plates out from in front of them. Never had they tasted broiled liver and bacon like that—literally smothered in golden onions cooked in butter. The hashed-brown potatoes had a crunchy, reddish crust and not a drop of grease about them.

‘What is this stuff in the sandwiches?’ Oscar asked.

‘Parsley butter with lemon juice,’ Mrs. Rasmussen replied. She had nothing but scorn for the poor scientists who were just finding out that parsley was a source of iron. Any dope would know it had iron in it from the way it made your teeth feel.

Finally the guests could hold no more. Oscar said he wished they could run a blood test on him now.

When the dishes were washed and put away, the company assembled at the front of the Ark. Oscar cleared his throat in a way that showed he was about to tackle a tricky subject.

‘Not to be boasting, but I’m drawing down ninety dollars a week and Jasper here makes seventy-five, and I want you ladies to know this is the first good meal we have ate in six months! You can’t buy a meal like that at no price in the joints!’

‘Yeah. Sure tough when you got it an’ can’t spend it!’ Mrs. Rasmussen agreed, much pleased by the tribute.

Mrs. Feeley said nothing—they ate like that all the time. Mrs. Rasmussen could make more with two eggs and an old pair of straw sandals than the average woman could make with sirloin tip.

‘You was saying that you was trying to help the war-workers,’ Oscar continued. ‘Now, if you could see your way clear to feed me and Jasper here our dinner every night, we’d be glad to pay any price you might ask. Wouldn’t we, Jasper?’

Jasper nodded vigorously.

‘We ain’t never took no boarders,’ Mrs. Rasmussen said, looking at the other ladies.

‘We know that,’ Jasper said hastily. ‘But you’d be helping twice over, because we’d soon be in shape to give blood every eight weeks if we was getting a good hot meal every night! Breakfast, now; that’s about the same anywhere. And lunch we can get at the Yard, but that real meal when we feel worn out at the end of the day is the problem! You’d be doing a job nobody else could—an’ the price wouldn’t matter to us!’

Mrs. Feeley and Miss Tinkham went into a huddle with the chef. Now that the twins were gone, and Darleen had the other children, what was to stop them?

‘Well, for one thing, all the work would be on you, Mrs. Rasmussen,’ Mrs. Feeley said, and Miss Tinkham agreed.

‘If you was to help me with the marketin’ an’ Miss Tinkham took care o’ the table, an’ the two o’ you washed the dishes, I could do the plannin’, preparin’, an’ cookin’! Get us a good square meal out of it, besides!’ Mrs. Rasmussen had her Achilles’ heel like the rest of us. Seemed like there was no greater thrill to her than to watch a hungry man eat.

‘It’s up to you,’ Mrs. Feeley said. ‘Whatever you wanna do, we’re with you! Ain’t that right, Miss Tinkham?’

‘Indeed it is! And I agree with Oscar about it being a service that no one else could duplicate!’ Miss Tinkham was always glad to help her fellow man.

Mrs. Rasmussen went back to the two men.

‘They’s on’y one thing: there ain’t no profit in just two guys; might’s well put the big pot on with the little one. So you’ll have to get me four more guys! An’ before we start, I’ll make it plain that I ain’t caterin’ to no finicky eaters! They gotta bring their ration books, an’ everyone of ’em has gotta be givin’ blood to the Red Cross like us!’

Jasper and Oscar got up and shook hands all around, they were so happy over the arrangement. They said they knew just the right fellows to bring.

‘An’ if they want beer, they’ll have to bring their own,’ Mrs. Feeley announced. ‘It’s too hard to come by.’

The men agreed and said they had better shove off so the ladies could make their plans. They promised to be on time Monday evening at six sharp, with the other four men.

After they had gone, Mrs. Feeley fortified herself with a nice cold beer and asked: ‘Now where we gonna ‘commodate six guys?’

‘Right here at the table,’ Mrs. Rasmussen said. ‘We can dish it up handy to the stove. We can wait on ’em an’ eat after we got ’em fed an’ sent off!’

‘How much you gonna charge ’em?’ Mrs. Feeley grinned.

‘Well, on account o’ them bein’ run-down like, an’ havin’ to be fed so many expensive body-builders, with everything so high in spite o’ the price ceilin’, I’m aimin’ to ast ’em ten dollars a week apiece!’ she finished in a spurt.

‘You ain’t lackin’ for nerve,’ Mrs. Feeley chuckled.

‘That is less than a dollar and a half a dinner,’ Miss Tinkham said grandly. ‘And when you consider that Mrs. Rasmussen’s dinners are practically a health treatment free, gratis, and for nothing, I do not consider the price excessive.’

‘An’ I gotta pay my help some salary,’ Mrs. Rasmussen said.

‘We gonna get a salary?’ Mrs. Feeley asked.

‘Sure! An’ found! Our eats money can go for anythin’ we want, ’cause I aim to make their chow feed us all,’ she explained, with one of her rare winks.

‘You’re the deep one!’ Mrs. Feeley marveled.

Darleen said she was going to pay something for her board, even if they would not take rent from her.

‘Your eats comes outa the kids’ chow money,’ Mrs. Rasmussen said. ‘You gotta be savin’ your money to make you a hope-chest! Bet you ain’t got sheet or blanket to your name!’

‘Do you think I’ll be needing it?’ Darleen smiled.

‘Listen, girl: friends meet before hills do!’ Mrs. Feeley said, with conviction.

‘I don’t know why you-all take such an interest in me,’ Darleen mused. ‘Nobody never has cared what I done before!’

‘We like you, girl,’ Mrs. Feeley said. ‘An’ we wanna see you get ahead in the world!’

‘Even though we do not know Johnny,’ Miss Tinkham explained, ‘he is serving his country and it is our duty and pleasure to keep you from feeling lonely—for his sake as well as for the pleasure of your company! He will indeed be proud when he hears how you have undertaken the care of the children of a dead hero!’

‘Did you taste them cookies she made last week?’ Mrs. Rasmussen inquired. ‘An’ she never left a single grain o’ sand in the spinach!’ Mrs. Rasmussen was proud of her pupil, especially since Darleen had begun doing Mrs. Rasmussen’s hair for her in a page-boy bob. The long, turned-under hair-do hung limply along the sides of Mrs. Rasmussen’s narrow face like the droopy ears of an old beagle.