WHERE'S ANN?

New Zealand Listener, Volume 13, Issue 321, 17 August 1945, Page 24

WHERE'S ANN?

(Written for "The Listener" by

KAY

66? TRUTH! Am I hot!" Ann Coffey opened the door of her skimpy little attic room and collapsed on the bed. She kicked off her shoes, rolled down her stockings, undid her blouse, wrenched off her corsets, then buried her nose down on the pillow. If that miserable little window would only open. No view, only sooty chimneys. Anything’s good enough for us skivvies. She glanced over at her alarm clock. Two forty. No more work that day, thank goodness. She lay there, drawing heavy~ breaths of relief that were almost sighs. The heat ‘beat down from the iron roof. Noise rose up in spirals from the 40-roomed Hotel Belvedere, a roaring symphony of sound in which each detail added its own emphasis: a door closing, a window being opened, a sudden clack of laughter, the whoop-00-oop of the lift going up and down, the sudden sharp click, the stampede of feet when it stopped. It was Grand National Week, a week of scorching’ nor-westers. And the hotel was packed from roof to cellar. Not the quality tourists who year by year came from overseas and gave handsome tips, but the more prosperous New Zealand farmers who celebrated a year’s hard work by a hectic week at the races. Ann wiped off the sweat from her face with special vehemence as she remembered the station owner’s wife, that prunes and prisms, that prissy who thought she owned the place and kept telling the girls off like as if she was Lady Muck. -White-Stackhouse as she calls herself. \ jumped-up would-be. I’d like her to have the dog’s life us girls have to put up with at Race Week.,She gave a great heave and turned her face to the wall where her nose brushed the roses on the wallpaper. Holy father, what wouldn’t I give for a nice long shandy! The bunion on her right foot was red and shiny. I’m not so young as I used to be. Those varico’ veins o’ mine. She lurched over again and her eye caught her one picture, a shiny oleograph-how did they get that lovely shine — of a grand lady in a long royal blue velvet dress .with silver buckled shoes. She "was looking out to the pink sunset, her jewelled hand was on the stone ‘balustrade of the terrace-those varico’ veins are giving me billy-o. * % % KNOCK. In came Gert, flushed but still blooming with unconquerable youth. "Gosh, you do look knocked out," she cried. "Will I open the window." "Won't open," Ann said. "Struth-feel like nothing on earth." _ "Going to the trots? You could come with Bill,and I." "No trots for this child," Ann laughed, half sitting up and already better for

the company. "I done all the trotting I want for one day." "Do you good to get a breath of air. This room’s like an oven. Could I put on some money for you. Bill says No Dope’s a cert." "Awright, I leave it to you. Phew, I hate this heat. Fair kills me. M’heart’s been playing up a treat, too. On m’feet too much." Gert pulled the blind down as far as it would go. "I could open the door." (No, don’t. Enough racket as it is.) "Look here what about a drink. A beer?" "A nice long: shandy would do me fine Gert, thanks very much." * * bod HEN Gert went out Ann looked again at the majestic lady outside the door of her castle, her lily hand on the balustrade and she wished and wished she had been born one of those bluebloods who floated from room to room and never did a hand’s turn. That was why Ann devoured True Romances. When her eyes covered the close print she seemed to hobnob with those dinkum ladies and gents of high degree, surrounded by their retinues of powdered butlers, valets, and lady’s maids. If Ann had only been born in England and had been a bit prettier. Perhaps a great lot prettier and of course 20 years younger then perhaps some scion might have fallen in love and carried her off to a life of grandeur and luxury like they did in True Romances and she could wear the strawberry leaves and jerk the gold-tasselled bellpull with the best of them. Then Gert came in with two foaming long shandies on a tray. They both drank in silence, one long greedy pull. "Pretty good, eh,’ Gert said licking the foam off her lips, "Bill’s not getting off after all. A jolly shame. Pete would have to get one of his bad turns in the bar so Bill has to stay put. So I’m not going. No fun on your pat. Anyway me feet’s that swollen with tearing round. Might do some unpicking. Could bring it in here for company." "That'd be good," Ann assented. * * a ERT was a real good sport, nothing was a trouble to her and she was that kind she’d do anything for you. Ann got up, rinsed her face and brushed her hair back as she frowned at her muddy image in the glass, then plomped down on the bed again. That shandy had been a godsend. Poor Gert, she was disappointed but she never made any fuss. Gert came back with a red evening dress and a pair of scissors. A "Use a razor blade," Ann suggested. "No-might tear the silk. Sorry I got to put up the blind again to see." (continued on next page)

(continued from previous page) Gert pursed up her lips and leaning over the red dress snipped and snipped. "I say,’ Gert said, "there’s some queer trash here. The side of them. When I gave that old hardface Mrs. Curtis her coffee she turns on me and she says, Call it coffee-I call it slops. I could’ve chucked it at her hard old phizz. All done up like a wedding cake at her time o’ life. What’s her little game-child stealing?" "Give me the gentry every time," Ann said. "They got manners. and treat you like as if you’re a ‘uman being. They’re a pleasure to wait on." "Not me Charlie. Don’t want to be the dirt under anybody’s feet." "But you’ve never seen them, Gert. The people who come now they think they’re nobs but they’re only snobs." "Too used to giving orders for my liking. What a life! Just lay in bed and give your orders and get it, no matter what: Do me!" Ann rubbed the back of her Hand against her forehead and smiled remembering. yaa? "Clara Butt was something lovely. A REAL lady she was. The fuss she made of me," Ann said, "Wouldn’t have anyone else neat her. Where’s Ann, she says. She knew I loved music and even sang to me once. The great old conflabs we used to have." "That’d- be. all right. A singer. She works -for her living. Don’t fancy that kind of a voice. Too much like an organ. Never could stand organs." "You don’t know singing," Ann blurted, "A beautiful voice I call it. She had a pet parrot and it took a great fancy to me. Always landed suddenlike on my shoulder. Clara said it never took to no one else before. They always gave me tickets for their concerts. I don’t mind waiting on the real Mackay-but that riffraff what’s she ‘call herself — White-Stackhouse. I wish somebody else had her table." Ann was off.on her hobby horse again. Gert put her dress down and got up and peered in the glass.

"Gosh I need a perm bad, don’t I?" Bill likes me smart. Haven’t got a sec to breathe Race Week. Be glad. when it’s over." "So’ll I. They give you a pain in the neck that crowd. They don’t know one wine from another. Lord Bexbury now, He was a regular fuss for the right wine.’ (Gert politely smothered a yawn. What did she care what Lords drank. They could drink themselves blind for all she cared.) "He said Lord Bexbury didsome of our wine was awful tack. So it is to those people. They have old wine in their cellars going back I dunno how long." "When I was at the Clevedon," Gert said, hoping to change the subject, "we had the Russian Bally. They couldn’t speak proper English and were they funny." Gert threw her "hands about and | jerked up her ren: They both laughed together. "The way those Biaatiters go on, Do they throw themselves. around. I got a few free tickets. The Bally was real lovely, all up on their toes and light’s a feather." . She broke off to give a big yawn, "Must be afternoon. What you want to eat with it." "You're a good sort waiting on me. Just a sanwich. Bring a great big teapot up there’s a love. I’m that dry I could drink the sea." a * By N the middle of tea Ann said, "Just before the War we had the Hon.what was it-Vanessa Corbett and she had a little runt of a husband, A fair devil for the girls and could he toss off the brandy. She was a lovely woman > wasted. Always dressed as plain as plain -just a costume and when she had dinner in her private suite she wore a plain black dress, not an ear-ring, not a thing. I bet she had thousands o’ pounds o jewellery stowed away in the family They all do. She was a deer-stalker and showed me ‘photos of her catches. Real old conflabs we had. Once I was away "when she was hére and she says, Where’s Ann. Ann’s the one I want. She would show me her dresses and ask me, What one do you like. What’ll I wear Ann, the Hon. Vanessa says. ...."

Gert got up and poured another cup for herself. "Yes, those big bugs are all right when you're running after them. Why the devil should we have to run after the likes of them who’ve never dirtied their hands and why shouldn’t they like you and me." "You don’t understand," Ann said with a big sigh, "Those people have got class. They talk different, they do everything different... .. "Everything," tittered Gert. "Pretty near everything," Ann smiled back. "One old devil I couldn’t stick, Lady or no Lady. But most o’ them are lovely. What wouldn’t I give to be in England in a real castle as one o’ the staff, I bet you’d jump at it yourself. In fact, Lady Knowles — she was a deerstalker, too-wanted to take me Home with her-that was years ago. I dunno what happened-she must have forgot about it and I didn’t like to remind her. It’s not my place to remind the likes _o’ her, She had her maid of course, but she loved to have me around. Where’s Ann, she always said. Came here lots o’ times. Her daughter got married to one o’ the big nobs. I seen the pictures in the Tatler. It was a real grand affair, page-boys and all. ROYALTY WAS THERE. And there was Lady Knowles smiling in front. Now who did the daughter marry-some Duke-the Duke > "The Duke o’ Plazatoro," Gert snig--gered. Ann knew no Gilbert and Sullivan and missed the point. Just as well. "Nothing to joke about, ees d " Ann ‘said. "Now, don’t get huffy," Gert laughed back. She threw the dismembered dress on the bed. "Finished at last. A good riddance. Time I got moving. See call in the morning Ann." Just my luck, stewing in that sc when I could’ve been having a great time at the trots. Poor old Where’s Ann. You better not stay too long in this job Gert m’girl or you'll get the dingbats too.