The American Lady(31)

Whenever another day had passed without her picking up a pencil to sketch, she was happy when Wanda suggested some outing for the next afternoon. Or announced that it was time for them to go to Pandora’s dance class. On days like those she could forget for a while her feeling of imprisonment.



After their first successful outing, Marie, Wanda, and Pandora had decided to go out for coffee after every class.

One of their favorite cafés was in Central Park, where Pandora knew one of the waiters. If his boss wasn’t watching, he always slipped them an extra scoop of ice cream or refilled their coffee cups for free. On top of which, the café had a fine terrace with sunshades and cast-iron furniture and a view over half the park. What could be better than sitting there on a summer’s day, enjoying a treat in the open air?

One day, as they were sitting there under a striped umbrella, Wanda proudly announced, “Starting next week I’m afraid you’ll have to do without my company. I’ve found a job!”

She beamed as the other two congratulated her and then explained what the new job was.

“Supervisor in an overcoat factory?” Pandora frowned and put down her sundae spoon. “But darling—you can’t be serious!”

“Oh but I am!” Wanda said, laughing. “I know it’s not the most exciting work, but I’m glad to have found anything really. And don’t we always say you have to make the best of what you’ve got?” She put a hand to her head and tucked her hair behind her ear with a carefree gesture.

She had been expecting Pandora to turn up her nose at the news. “Why don’t you come and work for me?” her teacher had asked recently. “You could be my assistant.” Both of them knew, however, that it was utterly impractical, however kindly meant; Pandora barely had enough money to cover the rent, never mind to pay an assistant’s wages.

“Make the best of it?” Pandora said now excitably. “Make the best of a job as a slave driver? Don’t you know what it’s like in those factories? Those poor women have to work hundreds of hours a week, and they’re only paid a pittance. The sewing machines are deafeningly loud, and they have to sew the heavy cloth so fast that they’re always getting their fingers in the machines. Stitched right through. The windows and doors are barred so that they can’t even look outside or take their mind off their work for a moment.” She was counting off her points on the fingers of her left hand as she spoke.

“Not all factories can be so awful, can they?” Marie asked, disturbed by what she heard.

“That’s what I read last November in the newspapers. There was a special report. Fifteen thousand seamstresses went on strike over poor working conditions. It was the biggest women-only strike ever. The factory owners were so riled up they hired squads of bruisers to keep the strikers in line. But the women refused to back down. They spent three weeks picketing the factory gates, standing out in the snow and ice and slush. They didn’t do that just for fun, believe you me. You must have read about it.” Pandora shook her head and turned to Wanda.

“Well, yes,” Wanda said slowly, then leaned forward on the bench. “But they say that things have gotten better since then, in lots of ways. And if I’m a supervisor I can make sure that the improved working conditions really are observed.”

Pandora shook her head. “Well even if that’s the case—which I very much doubt!—I refuse to have anything to do with those slave drivers. If one of those factory owners offered me a hundred dollars to dance, I’d refuse!”

Wanda heaved a deep sigh. “All the same, I don’t see that I have any choice but to give it a try. Who knows? Perhaps I can even help the women who work there? In any case, I’ve made up my mind to do everything right this time.”

Everything would be all right; it had to be. Why had she let Pandora’s remarks get to her like that? Not that Harold’s reaction had been much better: he had asked her whether she had switched sides and joined the proletariat now. What a stupid thing to say!

As they were talking, the ice cream in the silver bowls in front of them had melted to a pink puddle. Wanda began to scoop it up with fresh enthusiasm.

“In all the jobs I’ve had so far, there’s always been some string of ghastly coincidences that ended up in me getting fired. But my bad luck can’t last forever, can it?”

She saw Marie nodding in agreement, which made her feel a little better. Pandora just frowned.

“This time it’ll all work out, I can feel it!”



Whereas Marie always felt that Wanda was keeping something back, she was convinced that she knew what Pandora was thinking. The dancer never bothered to conceal anything but lit up the whole world with her good cheer. Marie had never met anyone who took life so lightly. Wanda had charm and could win over strangers whenever she chose, but Pandora was an absolute master of this art. She hardly ever had any money, but she never let that spoil her fun. She could always find someone—including Marie and Wanda—who was happy to pick up her share of the tab.