Peggy shook her head. “Your name’s Lily?”
“Yes.”
“She told me about you.”
Lily was astonished. “She did?”
“Yes. But she’s not here.”
“Where is she? I’ve been so worried. I called the other day—” Lily cut herself off as Peggy looked past her. Lily twisted around to look up and down the block, but no one was in sight. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m not supposed to tell anyone where she is.”
“You can tell me,” Lily said eagerly, trying to be persuasive. “You said she told you about me, so you know I’m her friend. I just want to know if she’s all right.”
“I’m not supposed to say anything to anyone,” Peggy said reluctantly.
“Will she be coming home soon?”
“I don’t know.” Peggy began to step back into the house. “I’m sorry.”
“Wait. Wait! If you can’t tell me, can you tell Kath I came by?”
Peggy hesitated.
“Can you tell her where I am? I’m not at home. I’m—I’m at Lana’s apartment. Tell her I’m at forty-eight Castle Street.”
Peggy backed away again, and Lily was afraid she was going to close the door in her face, but then she returned with a small pad of paper and a pencil. “Here,” she said, giving it to Lily.
Lily took the pad and scribbled down Lana’s address. She wrote: I’m at Lana’s. Lily. She handed it back to Peggy, who read it and nodded somberly.
“I’ll give it to her if she comes home.”
And then Peggy shut the door.
44
Lana returned carrying two bags of groceries, and Lily jumped up from the sofa to help. “Thanks, you can take that into the kitchen,” Lana said, handing Lily a bag while she nudged the door shut.
When it was all put away, Lana sat down on the sofa and lit a cigarette, and said without preamble, “I saw Parker. I asked him whether your friend Kath would have been arrested, but he thinks no, because she’s under eighteen.”
Lily took a seat in one of the Chinese chairs. “Does he know where she was taken?”
“No, but he thinks she would have been released by now. They can’t keep her, not if she didn’t have a record. She didn’t, did she?”
“No.”
“She probably went home, if her parents let her. That’s the real question.”
Remembering her encounter with Kath’s sister, Lily suspected that Kath’s parents had not let her.
Lana observed her thoughtfully across the coffee table while she smoked. “I think Tommy’s getting out tomorrow morning,” she said, tapping the cigarette into the nearly overflowing ashtray. “I know you’re in a tough spot, honey, but I think you’d better go before then. You can stay here tonight if you need to. Do you have a place to go tomorrow?”
Lily shrank back against the chair. “I—of course,” she managed to say. “I can go . . . somewhere.”
“If you don’t have anywhere to go, Parker said you might try the Donaldina Cameron House in Chinatown. Do you know the place?”
Lily was painfully aware that Lana was watching her with something like pity, and the pity made her shrivel with shame. “Yes, I know the place.” She tried to call up some bravado. “I’ll be fine. Thank you for letting me stay here for a bit.”
“Happy to. I’m very sorry for what happened.” Lana put out the cigarette and stood up, stretching. “And now I’m going to take a nap. I’m still hungover from last night. You’ll be all right out here? Do you want a book or anything?” She went to the octagonal table and opened the doors, pulling out a few paperback novels. “Here—they’re junk really, but some of them are fun.”
The covers were as lurid as the paperback romances in the back of Thrifty Drug Store. A woman in a slinky gown, her eyes downcast as a man in a fedora came after her, holding a gun: The Final Mistress. Two men engaged in a brawl in a dark alley while a woman in a ripped dress cowered in the corner: Midnight Caller.
“Thanks,” Lily said awkwardly.
Lana yawned. “Oh! I’m going to go collapse. See you in a bit.”
Lily listened as Lana went back through the apartment and into her bedroom, closing the door with a faint click. Her fingers tightened over the arms of the Chinese chair. Cameron House! Decades ago, Cameron House had taken in fallen Chinese women—prostitutes—but these days it was an after-school program for Chinatown kids. She imagined showing up at Cameron House, approaching the front desk in the wood-lined entryway, and asking for a place to stay. She could see the girl on duty giving her a puzzled look, lifting up the telephone to call one of the women on staff, saying, A destitute girl’s here. No, it couldn’t be done.