Secrets on 26th Street by Elizabeth McDavid Jones Page A

she’d better go on to the barbershop. The hours at the barbershop dragged by, and when six o’clock arrived, Susan stowed her shoe-shine kit and fairly bolted for the door. The long walk back to the Western Union office seemed endless. The sun cast long shadows of buildings across the sidewalk in front of her. Hundreds of faces and figures hurried past her, but Susan didn’t see them. All she thought about was her telegram and the reply that would surely be waiting for her.
    But there was no reply.
    Her chest tight with disappointment, Susan rushed out into the alley and nearly tripped over a scrawny dog nosing in a garbage can. She had counted so much on that telegram. Now her mind was a blur. She didn’t know what to do next.
    Then it struck her that maybe she’d gotten no telegram because Mum was already home!
    She raced to 26th Street and the familiar red tenement. Somehow she knew that Mum would be there. Mum would be at the big black stove in the kitchen, humming to herself as she fixed her girls their dinner.
    Susan burst through the kitchen door, her lips already forming words of welcome, but her hopes sank when it was Bea she saw chopping cabbage on top of the washtub cover. Mum was not home.
    Bea was smiling. “I’ve got good news for you, love. I got a telegram today.”
    Susan’s pulse quickened. Could Aunt Blanche’s telegram somehow have been delivered to their flat while Susan was at work?
    â€œYou needn’t worry anymore about your mum,” said Bea. “She wired from Long Island. She’s enjoying her rest so much, she decided to stay on for a few more days.”
    Susan’s first reaction was relief. Mum was safe . But as Bea’s statement sank in, Susan’s heart twisted: Mum, staying out of work simply to enjoy herself? It would never happen. Bea couldn’t be telling the truth.
    Susan opened her mouth to say so, then shut it quickly as she noticed Helen, sitting cross-legged on the floor with Lucy. Helen was wearing the most troubled expression Susan had ever seen on her face. And she was beckoning Susan toward the bedroom.
    Once alone in their bedroom, Helen, in a frightened whisper, told Susan of the telegram’s arrival only a few minutes before Susan got home. “I saw Bea’s face when she opened it, Susie. The way she looked, it wasn’t good news she was reading. She wouldn’t let me see it when I asked to read it. There was bad news in the telegram—I know it.”
    â€œWhat are you saying?” A lump of fear was gathering in Susan’s stomach. She knew very well what Helen was getting at.
    Helen’s voice sounded small. “I’m afraid something bad has happened to Mum, and Bea doesn’t want us to know. Susie, I’m scared.”
    Susan pulled her sister close to her chest. She could feel Helen’s heart pounding. “Don’t be, sweetie. We don’t know anything yet. We’ve got to get hold of that telegram and read it. That’s all.”
    Helen pulled away and stared up at Susan. “How? Bea’s got it in the pocket of her apron. We’ll never be able to get it from her.”
    â€œIf something is truly important, there’s usually a way to get it.” Bea’s words sprang from Susan’s mouth as naturally as if they had been her own. Susan’s chest tightened painfully as she realized how Bea had become such a part of her. “Just give me a minute to think,” she said to Helen. She paced over to the window and stared out at the shops across the street. From here she could almost read the labels on the cereal boxes stacked in the front window of Mr. Haggerty’s grocery store. Then her mind jumped to the way Lucy always poured too much milk on her cereal. And then, Susan had an idea.
    She knew exactly how they would get the telegram from Bea.
    At dinner that night, Susan ate slowly, waiting for her cue from Helen. Helen was chattering