standing up and sliding her Nike-swathed feet over the brown tatty lino that had seen better days towards the coffee pot.
‘It wasn’t the best night I’ve ever had, let’s put it that way,’ I answered, placing my mug on the table and looking up at Molly.
‘I’ll pour us both a coffee and you can tell me all about it. It can’t be that bad.’ Her tone was sympathetic.
‘Sorry, but there’s no more coffee, I’ve run out … again.’
Molly peered at the coffee pot then back to me, her expression a mix of surprise and sympathy, but she had no idea how difficult things really were. I immediately felt guilty for not sharing my woes with her, but the last thing I wanted was pity.
‘You can have this one,’ I offered, sliding the mug over the table towards her.
‘It’s okay, you look like you need it more than me. I’ll grab a water from the faucet.’
‘I don’t get paid until tomorrow.’ I sighed, ‘But there’s a couple of slices of bread left if you fancy some more toast.’
Molly gave me an inquisitive stare before pulling open the door to the refrigerator. Every shelf was bare except for a mouldy block of cheese wedged right at the back.
‘What are you planning on eating today?’
I shrugged, feeling totally helpless. I hadn’t even thought that far ahead yet. I didn’t want to think that far ahead.
‘Dunno, I’ll probably end up with a couple of Twinkies,’ I replied partly in jest, but deep down I knew if things carried on the way they were this could become reality.
‘Have things really got that bad?’ Molly’s tone was now a little more serious.
‘Oh Molly, I just can’t make ends meet, no matter how hard I try,’ I answered, not meeting her gaze. ‘It’s really difficult to find work, with a decent wage, working decent hours. Every job I go for has already been filled or the salary only just about covers my rent, leaving nothing for anything else. I don’t want to be working dead-end jobs; I want a career, I want to work in the area I’m trained for, but I just don’t get past the auditions. Something has got to give. I can’t carry on like this.’
Molly shut the refrigerator door before squeezing my hand, but stopped short of telling me it was going to be all right. It wasn’t. In fact, it hadn’t been all right for the last few years, but lately things had been slipping further out of my control and I was unable to hide it any more. There was a pile of unpaid bills sitting on the table in front of me and to make matters worse, I was already a month behind with my rent.
‘Let me help you.’
I didn’t realise I was holding back the tears, but I clearly was, as her kind gesture soon had them flooding down my cheeks.
I shook my head, ‘Thank you, that’s a kind offer but no, you have your own bills to pay. This is my problem, not yours.’
‘Don’t be crazy Alice, you’re my friend, my best friend. I can stretch to some groceries for you and help you sort out this mess. Have you told your mom?’ she probed lightly.
‘No,’ I confirmed, ‘the diner she was working at has just closed down and I know she’s in a similar situation. I didn’t want to go worrying her.’
Molly gave me a concerned look and pulled out a chair and sat down at the table opposite me.
I thought back over my last three jobs and blew out a breath. I’d handed out leaflets in Times Square for a pittance, worked unsociable hours in a twenty-four-hour burger joint which was usually frequented by drunks and undesirables, and currently I was employed as a cleaner at a theatre on Broadway. The money barely covered my rent, never mind extras for food or nights out. I couldn’t afford new clothes and every day was a struggle. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be.
Last night had been a turning point for me, I’d decisively told myself that something had to change. I needed to take control.
‘I had dreams once Molly, and look at me now. Can you remember when we first met?’
Molly smiled, ‘Of course I remember.’
Molly and I had met three years ago while doing an impression of a tin of sardines on the subway. It had been rush hour and we’d been travelling in the same direction towards Times Square, holding on to the same metal handrail. We’d both noticed him at the same time.
‘Look at those lashes, jealous!’ Molly had whispered to me and I’d chuckled.
I couldn’t help but stare at his bright-blue eyes, his rugged cheekbones and those eyelashes. Molly had been right, they were incredible. Any girl this side of the city, actually any side of the city would have died for those lashes. His attire, which consisted of a bright-purple velvet suit, a brown top hat and a gold bow tie, was causing a little commotion with another group of girls sitting nearby. And I was mesmerised too, he had a certain aura about him.
The train slowed down and he jumped off at 42nd Street. But just before he did, he’d turned to us with a twinkle in his eye and whipped out two golden tickets to Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory.
As we hopped off the train close behind him, we watched as he disappeared through the hordes of people.
‘It’s not every day you get a ticket to chocolate heaven,’ Molly sighed, and I laughed, stuffing the ticket inside my handbag. We walked and giggled all the way to Times Square.
In that short walk, something between us just clicked and we got on like a house on fire. I told her I’d just graduated from performing arts and about my dream to perform on Broadway.
Molly invited me for a coffee and we strolled up 6th Avenue in the New York sunlight towards the radio station, the place where Molly had worked since leaving school. She told me she’d started off as a general dog’s body, answering the telephone, making endless cups of coffee and generally avoiding the wandering hands of the guy on the news desk. But now, with her quick wit, hard work and determination she’d secured a place behind the mic and worked the afternoon show between five and seven o’clock on weekdays.
I was in awe of her, and as we walked through the glass doors of the studio, it felt like stepping into a different world. In the foyer were signed photographs of numerous famous people that had been interviewed at the station and Molly told me that she’d met most of them. It was exciting to think she’d rubbed shoulders with the rich and famous and was becoming successful in her own right. I too wanted my name up in lights, I wanted to be interviewed by radio stations and see my name splashed across magazines.
Now that I’d graduated, there was a fire in my belly. I was searching for jobs on Broadway and was excited for what the future would hold.
After the coffee, Molly invited me to join her in the studio and sit in on her radio show. The excitement kicked in as she gestured for me to sit opposite her. I watched in amazement while she put on her headphones and pulled the mic towards her and got the show underway. After the first song had played, Molly snapped a photo in the studio with us holding up the golden tickets and tweeted #findwillywonka. Within the hour, Twitter had responded and the actor Joe Tucker had replied.
That same evening Joe had invited us to one of his shows. It had been
