The Bunco Ladies

By Ilett O'Connor

How do you save a dying church? Why not ask a group of 1950s women.

The Bunco Ladies will show you how to do it - even if its illegal.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Feb 21, 2015
• ISBN: 9781503544802

Ilett O'Connor

Ilett O'Connor has been a social studies teacher in the New York City public school system for over twenty years. She earned a Bachelor of Arts Degree from Brooklyn College in Sociology, a Master's Degree in Education from Adelphi University and a Doctoral Degree in Literacy from Hofstra University. Ms. O’Connor is listed in America's Who's Who in American Teachers and is the author of many Children’s books including, Kodiak Bear's Day of Adventure, Natie and the Unconquerable Sheila, How Bear Lost His Tail and The Tale of the Triangle, The Square and The Circle. She is also the author of three novels: The Bunco Ladies, Bent But Not Broken and A First Collection of Short Stories. Seesaw is her fourth novel.

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Copyright © 2015 by Ilett O’Connor.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

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Rev. date: 02/20/2015

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Contents

Chapter I

Chapter II

Chapter III

Chapter IV

Chapter V

Chapter VI

Chapter VII

Chapter VIII

Chapter IX

Chapter X

Chapter XI

Chapter XII

Chapter XIII

Chapter XIV

Chapter I

Early summer on Long Island New York is not usually warm. But today it was hot enough to fry an egg on the sidewalk in Jewel, one of the border towns between Nassau and Queens County, if one wanted to demonstrate the record breaking day. A good shower of rain would soon cool things down Mrs. Durham said to no one in particular, as she fanned herself with her white lace handkerchief which was now grey from wiping the sweat off her round plain face. If it had been later on in the century the conversation might have centered around global warming but then this was the 1950’s and the ladies had more important things on their minds. As members of their thriving church community they were meeting to help the poor, the downtrodden members, of their local community in their small town. But in all honesty the ladies were also here to help themselves. In St. Paul’s Letter to the Corinthians, the absent saint writes to his church members always encouraging them to keep up the good work for this is how the church will survive. The ladies might have accepted this premise in good faith. But would Saint Paul have been encouraged by their good works in keeping their church alive?

Mrs. Chapman bustled about in the church basement where the monthly meeting was usually held. A large woman, she was married to a short rotund man as passive and uninteresting as a doormat who allowed himself to be henpecked at her leisure. All the ladies knew who ruled the roost in the Chapman’s home. Of course she had tried to use her bossiness with the ladies who would have none of it. Rumor had it that she wanted to be president of the Ladies Aid Committee, but that desire would not be forthcoming since there were not enough votes to guarantee her the coveted position. Out of the corner of her eye the ever quiet but subtle Mrs. Durham watched Mrs. Chapman busily laying out her pot luck dinner on the lunch tables where members who had arrived earlier had delivered their dishes and making such a fuss about everything. ‘That sly, sly one,’ Mrs. Durham said to herself. ‘So quiet so calculating, so dangerous. She will never be president if I have anything to do with it.’

As the hour of the meeting approached a few more of the ladies entered the basement room complaining about the heat and the humidity. Mrs. Vogel remarked that the equator must be melting but no one commented on her foolish choice of words. According to Mrs. Kransky at the last meeting, no one should take Mrs. Vogel seriously since she was usually not all there. Two months ago at a prior meeting she had been going around the room spouting skidoo, skidoo for most of the meeting. Where was the rest of the ridiculous term the ladies all wanted to know? A few of them concluded that Mary Vogel was getting on in age and losing much more than her hearing. They let her be and looked the other way when she went a little off her rocker. Their subtle looks toward each other as she took on another personality indicated that one of their members was slowly going over the edge.

Do you know something? It must be about a hundred degrees outside, Mrs. Haverly said as she tramped loudly down the stairs.

Yes, Mrs. Einstein, Mrs. Lerner nastily admitted with a smile and a dramatic roll of her eyes as she followed her Sister-in-Christ down into the basement.

It is hot today, but it’s cool down here. I’m glad we decided to have our meeting in the basement. Both ladies went over to the others who were seated and began catching up on past news and awaiting the rest of the ladies committee. Before Mrs. Haverly even made herself comfortable she was delving into matters that were of no concern of hers. Her exchange with Mrs. Lerner was not long in coming for everyone already there knew that Mrs. Haverly minded other people’s business and not her own and she always presented a holier than thou attitude. It was only a matter of time before someone pulled the rug out from under her feet and reined her in.

I wonder if Mrs. Fallon will make it to the meeting today, Mrs. Haverly said. Last meeting she wasn’t feeling well. And to no one in particular she voiced her feelings regarding a certain issue that was really none of her business. And you know her problem with that kid.

Mrs. Lerner admonished her right there and then. Mrs. Haverly, I thought it was understood that Mrs. Fallon’s problems were no ones but her own. If she asks for advice and intervention from us then we support her. Until then I think her personal problems should be off limits.

Oh Caroline, you always sound so proper. Mrs. Fallon wants us to support her. She just doesn’t know how to ask for it. I think if we open up to her about supporting her, she will in turn open up to us. She just needs a little prodding.

So be it. Let it be on your head when she tells you to mind your own business. Don’t say I didn’t warn you. And with that she walked away to count her monies regarding the totals in the bank accounts she managed as church treasurer since part of the meeting would entail a report on her money total and what expenses she had incurred for the month. Five minutes after she had turned her back on Mrs. Haverly, the woman under scrutiny with the problems that Mrs. Haverly felt needed church support walked in.

Margaret Fallon was close to sixty years old but never owned up to her six decades on the planet. Lately she had begun to feel her age as her problems pressed down upon her heart. This morning she had counted the number of new grey hairs in her hairline that had appeared, that were not there last month. She knew what the problem was but not how to deal with it. As a widow she had turned to her church in her hour of grieving and had found much support. But this one with Joey had been too large to handle. It weighed down upon her heart. What had she done to deserve this? She had lived a godly life and to end up with a situation she had no control over was painful and daunting to her. Her only child had become an embarrassment not only to her and her family but to the town it seemed. He had destroyed the trust that others had invested in him and in the interim he had wiped out what little integrity he had built up through the years. To this day her child could not explain why he had committed an act so revolting, so despicable, that when familiar people met her in the street, they lowered their eyes or turned their heads the other way. Being shunned tormented her. But she had to go on because life went on. She only hoped that her Christian sisters would accept her and not judge her. She had not committed a crime; he had, but she was paying dearly for it. Her hope was that her son would eventually overcome, be exonerated and get his life back on track.

The moment she entered the church basement of the Hope Presbyterian Church she knew she had been the object of discussion. Everyone looked guilty and uncomfortable. The smiles were there but the underlying current of tension filled the air. Here she thought she would find some peace, a respite from the trials and tribulations from the outside, but it had followed her here, stalked her, enveloped her, cutting deep into her, as sharp as a knife. Mrs. Lerner looked stricken and Mrs. Haverly had a smile on her face that did not quite reach her eyes. She hoped that she would not become a bone of contention between these two women because of her situation. Good afternoon ladies. Quite a hot spell we have going here. It should cool off soon though. I hear there’s a storm coming. Everyone smiled and turned away as Mrs. Fallon unburdened herself of her packages. No one could really have surmised the force of the storm brewing within her. They were her cards and she held them close to her chest as she busied herself setting up the table for the upcoming meeting.

When Mrs. Merton entered a room she always made a statement. Today was no different. When the flashy Stella sailed in with a huge smile, fanning herself with her big broad straw hat that usually sat on top of her fire engine red hair the whole room began reverberating with her energy. Mrs. Durham tried to restrain herself under her breath- bottle or natural? Only a pinch and a sharp look from Mrs. Chapman silenced her. Of course Mrs. Merton knew the lethal controversy she generated. But it was so much fun provoking these straitlaced ladies and she knew each of their buttons and which ones to push. To make them really crazy she thought maybe she would begin talking about her escapades with her new husband. Last night he had slowly fed her grapes while she was relaxing in a bathtub of bubbles. Last month he had massaged her tired feet after her long hard day at work. Simple loving things, but the old biddies might turn color about little things they felt were too risqué. Just mentioning these events to Mrs. Chapman might make the poor woman take on the florid complexion of her husband. Two months ago she had sweetly threatened to do the Charleston and poor Mrs. Fallon had looked like she needed a round of oxygen. No she would not be naughty today. Also she had promised her husband that she would behave herself at today’s meeting. So instead she breezily enquired of each and everyone’s health and asked if there was anything that she could help with. When the entire group turned to answer her query Stella realized she had become an important member of the group. And when each lady answered no, this allowed Stella to sit there and look pretty while fussing with a piece of lint on her dress that did not even exist. Let the games begin.

Stella faced the basement entrance hoping that her friend Mrs. Austin would show up. A flighty scatterbrained Sister-in-Christ she usually repeated herself and constantly talked about her good works. Carla Austin talked because she needed to fill the silence. She was really on another planet and a gossiper too but she had a good heart and that was what drew Stella to Mrs. Austin. Stella had learned earlier not to say too much about herself to Mrs. Austin but she was willing to listen to any information that Mrs. Austin had to impart. It wasn’t a good Christian thing to do but Stella was not in the business of hurting other people’s feelings no matter what anyone thought of her. A good friend especially in case of an emergency was hard to find. But if Mrs. Austin mentioned one more thing about the inefficient transportation system in New York City, Stella felt she would go nuts. There were glitches in the system that would eventually be fixed. ‘Patience,’ Stella wanted to say, but Mrs. Austin just went on and on until Mrs. Haverly rescued her by yelling at Carla to stop pestering the poor girl.

Not much later the lady in question tramped down the stairs. A slightly heavy set woman, Mrs. Austin was always on a diet but showed no evidence of it actually working because she was too undisciplined to carry it through to the end. Even though Stella kept reiterating that diets did not work, that exercise was the key, it went in one ear and out the other. Like a general prancing into an invaded city, Carla Austin looked for a moment like she had a platoon of troops bringing up her rear while talking a mile a minute. Pulling her large sunglasses off her face and relieving herself of her packages, she began to relate an incident on the way in that had curtailed her getting there on time. No one seemed to be listening to her tirade but actually everyone was watching her unpredictable behavior. Yes, Mrs. Haverly said to herself, there was a waiting bed at the psychiatric ward for a certain member and it looked like it would be filled tonight. On second thought there might be two beds filled tonight because into the room walked the resident teacher Mrs. George. Mrs. Haverly prepared herself for a half hour of tirade about what those kids did today.

It’s been one hell of a day.

Mrs. George, please don’t swear. You’re in God’s house. Please show some respect, Mrs. Lerner said.

Katherine George was teaching summer school and she was suffering terribly and the whole world had to know about it because her situation had become critical. The heat might have affected her brain but the kids were also driving her crazy. And with good cause. The failing students did not want to be cooped up inside a hot classroom when they could be outside playing with their friends. So they vented their frustration on the teacher who because of legal technicalities could not vent her frustration back on them. Hence the venting to the ladies. Lost in thought, Mrs. Lerner was brought back to earth by Mrs. George’s preposterous ramblings about punishing the inappropriate behavior she had to contend with on a daily basis.

Sometimes I wish we could send those kids out to play for a while with the traffic.

With the traffic? Good Lord, Mrs. George. Where is your Christian duty to these kids? Mrs. Lerner said.

Mrs. George seemed to be in a trance because she paid no attention to Mrs. Lerner and continued voicing her opinion. Don’t we have a war to send them off to? Seriously, they’re not human. Do you believe what that Rocco did today?

With no response to her question she continued. He tried to burn down the school for God’s sake. This morning he came in with a box of cigarettes rolled up under the sleeve of his tee-shirt. I informed him not once but three times – no cigarettes in school, no smoking in school. What was his response? Mrs. G. you worry too much. What did I smell two minutes later? What do you think? Smoke. Yes I said smoke. He had started a fire in the garbage container. Of course I yelled ‘fire’ outside my classroom door and what did Rocco do? He poured kerosene unto the burning garbage container and threw the whole thing in the hallway. Where did he have the kerosene? In a flask container in his pants? Then smoke filled the hallway, the fire department came. I tell you that boy is going to live his life in prison.

The shocked ladies listened to this painful recollection of Mrs. George in awe. Mrs. Chapman was the first to speak. Goodness Gracious. My Gosh. I do hope he’s going to be incarcerated for this. Heavens, what is his problem? Do you know anything about his home life? The poor thing. Kid’s today. What will they be doing years from now? Stealing? Vandalizing property? Hurting themselves? Hurting teachers? Murder? Mrs. George, you be very careful now. Your life is on the line.

Mrs. George who did not expect this much support from her circle of friends burst into tears. The ladies rushed over to her bent over figure, rubbed her back and offered words of encouragement. They were so engrossed with Mrs. George that no one even looked up or greeted Margaret Simmons when she walked into the room.

Hey, who died? What’s going on here? Why is Katherine crying? Do you know what? Don’t tell me. It’s the kids. I’ve told you Katherine more than once that you are going to lose your sanity if you don’t find another job. Save yourself while you can. Those kids don’t care about you. They’re selfish little brutes. If they could rip out your heart and get away with it, believe me they would.

Mrs. Simmons, please don’t incite, Mrs. Chapman said. You’re making the situation worse. You of all people should know that all kids are not all bad. They’re a few bad apples.

And Katherine’s got them all. That’s the problem. Do you think they don’t like her where she works? If I had to come up with a reason for Katherine’s problems in that school, I would say there has to be a vendetta against her. If it’s not the kids, then there’s trouble with the administration. Can’t they give the poor girl a break? You mark my words, poor Katherine is going to end up either in the crazy hospital or losing her life altogether. I’m sorry to say this but look at her. She’s a mess.

Mrs. Haverly had stayed on the sidelines watching the scenario unfold. Now she felt that a response was necessary to calm the waters and the ladies in preparation for tonight’s meeting. Mrs. Simmons stop talking crazy. You know that this job is our dear Katherine’s profession. I would suggest that Katherine try to transfer to another school. This would save her sanity but still keep her in the system to receive her well deserved pension to a job that she has devoted years of time, energy and her life to. What do you think Katherine? Is that a viable prospect? Calm yourself and think hard on this possibility.

You’re right. Mrs. Haverly. I’m sorry that I lost it. I guess I’m just stressed. You’ve made a very good point. I shall look into the prospect of a transfer. And with that Mrs. George got up, exited to the bathroom to wash her tearstained face and prepare for the upcoming meeting.

Margaret Simmons watched Katherine George walk away and sighed inside. Who was she to give advice to anyone? She had her own personal problems to deal with and solve. As she grew into old age, life had become increasingly difficult for her and coping with her aches and pains was a daily experience that oftentimes made her wonder why she had to grow old, why anyone had to as a matter of fact. Her great fear was losing her very independence and ending up in a nursing home. But she was not a helpless being as she pretended to be and her daughter-in-law knew this for a fact. It might be an attention getter for others but her son’s wife had firmly told her last month that she needed to be more independent because she did not intend to trickle water into her mother-in-law’s mouth when her mother-in-law was quite able to do much more living on her own than she pretended to. Life was so unfair at times. But the trite words had energized her. Maybe her daughter-in-law was right. There might be a lot that she could do for herself on her own. Tonight she had started her new independence, she had supported Mrs. George in a manner that surprised her. Maybe if her daughter-in-law was around to see this she would have said ‘Bravo Ma. I always knew you were resourceful.’ The lesson had been learned.