Last Night at the Telegraph Club(88)

The front doorbell pealed loudly. Lily started and dropped the pencil, which immediately rolled beneath the telephone table. She bent down to retrieve it, but the doorbell sounded again, and there was an impatient edge to the repeated rings.

Eddie poked his head out of the living room at the end of the hall. “Lily? Are you going to get the door?”

She gave up on the pencil and scrambled to her feet, discombobulated and tense, thinking irrationally that it must be the police. “Stay in there with Frankie,” she told her brother.

“Why?”

“Just go!”

His eyes widened in surprise, but he retreated, glancing back at her worriedly. As the doorbell rang again, Lily went downstairs. At the bottom she put her hand on the deadbolt and called out, “Who is it?”

“Lily? It’s Shirley. Let me in.”

Confused, Lily opened the door. Shirley stood on the front step carrying her purse and a garment bag.

“What are you doing here?” Lily asked. “Is something wrong with your dress? I thought I was supposed to meet you at the judging.”

“I just picked up my dress at the cleaners. I need to talk to you.”

There was something strange about the expression on Shirley’s face. “About what?” Lily asked. She wondered if Shirley’s parents had found out about Calvin.

“Can I come in?”

Lily let her in, and Shirley started up the stairs. Lily closed the door and followed. “Did something happen?” she asked.

Lily heard Eddie saying hello to Shirley, who responded briefly. At the top of the stairs, Shirley took off her shoes and set down her bags. “Are your parents home?” she asked.

“No.”

“Let’s go in the kitchen.”

“Why? What’s wrong?”

Lily went after Shirley into the kitchen, and Shirley shut the door. She went to the kitchen table as if she were about to sit down, but then she seemed to think better of it and paced over to the sink, arms crossed.

“I don’t know how to say this,” Shirley began.

“Say what? Is your family all right?”

“They’re fine. This is about—it’s about you.” Shirley lowered her gaze as if it pained her to look at Lily. “Someone saw you last night—this morning, very early—leaving a nightclub in North Beach. It was raided last night for— Honestly, I can’t even bring myself to say it. I told them it was a mistake because what would you be doing at a place like that? But they insisted it was you. It wasn’t you, was it? Tell me it wasn’t you.”

Lily had to sit. At first, she hadn’t quite believed what Shirley was saying, but slowly—too slowly, and then suddenly as if an explosion had gone off that only she could hear—she understood.

Shirley knew.

“—told him you’re not like that. I’ve known you since we were children! I would know if you were like that, but you’re not. Lily, why won’t you say anything? It wasn’t you, was it?”

She realized all at once, in one great overwhelming rush, how incredibly stupid she had been—how na?ve, how ridiculously foolish—to think she could go to the Telegraph Club time after time without consequence. Perhaps once—if she were extremely careful—but she had gone several times. She had left her home in the middle of the night and walked right down Grant Avenue—Grant Avenue!—past restaurants and shops owned by people who had known her since she was born. She hadn’t even bothered to hide her face. She had blithely assumed that in North Beach, surely, no one would recognize her. She had conveniently, recklessly, overlooked that she would be a lone Chinese girl on Broadway at two o’clock in the morning, as conspicuous as she could possibly get. The danger had always been there, but she had chosen to ignore it, and now here was Shirley, looking at her—pleading with her—to lie about where she had been.

Lily knew that she should lie. She should tell Shirley what she wanted to hear. Perhaps whoever had told Shirley hadn’t told anyone else, and if she denied it, Shirley might be able to put an end to this gossip; but as soon as that thought arose, she knew it was already too late. Word traveled lightning fast through Chinatown.

“Who saw me?” Lily asked.

Shirley was noticeably startled. “What does it matter?”

“I want to know. Who saw me?”

Shirley frowned. “Wallace Lai. One of Calvin’s friends.”

Of course.

Shirley asked, “Are you saying he was right?”

Lily didn’t answer. She didn’t have to. She saw the knowledge pass across Shirley’s face like a ripple on a pond. Her expression hardened and turned cold as she averted her eyes from Lily, as if she couldn’t bear to look at her.

“Why would you go to a place like that? Were you there with Kathleen Miller?” Shirley spoke Kath’s name bitterly.

Lily bristled. “What does it matter?”

“She was arrested last night.”

Lily felt as if all her breath was knocked out of her. “What? How do you know?”

“One of Kathleen’s neighbors is on the dance committee, and she called to tell me. The police went to Kathleen’s house this morning. The neighbors all know.”

“Is she at home now? Is she all right?” She wanted to shake the information out of Shirley.