It was wonderful to be able to write to Charles without having to put on a chipper face. As if Monica’s coming on board wasn’t the most remarkable piece of good luck, Bunty’s suggestion about the house gave us all a much-needed spring in our step. It was hugely supportive of her, for even though the building was owned by her grandmother, it was very much Bunty’s home. We took the tea things up with us, and once we had sensibly gone through the rest of the agenda and made plans for next steps, everyone spent the rest of the evening rearranging furniture in the rooms on the ground floor and taking it in turns to “be” the various members of the Woman’s Friend team and positioning ourselves in different configurations to see how we could all fit in.
The dining room table was a large and impressive reminder of the days when twelve people could easily be seated at dinner to enjoy numerous courses, all of which required different cutlery. As a result, having set up a typewriter (my own, quickly brought down from my room), a container for stationery (an old cocoa box from the kitchen), and several trays for correspondence (three old vegetable crates), which were sat on dust sheets so as not to scratch anything, it was clear that there would be more than enough room for everyone to sit, and most important, work.
As we arranged everything, anyone would have imagined that we had procured tens of thousands of pounds and that Woman’s Friend was already ours. Suggestions came thick and fast for obtaining basic office items, which were now almost impossible to find. I wondered out loud if we could sneak out something small each day from the current Woman’s Friend offices.
“That,” said Guy, “is stealing, and a definite no.”
There was no doubt that despite the fun of setting up an imaginary office in Bunty’s house, in all probability we would be worryingly short on some critical pieces of kit, not to mention the impossibility of trying to run a business from one telephone line. Monica, however, was a very calming influence.
“All part of the business plan,” she said, exhibiting the same level of concern as if someone had just asked if she could lend them a spare hankie. “I don’t mean to sound blasé, but I’m sure Guy will back me up when I say publishers acquire, launch, close, and sell off magazines at an indecent frequency.”
Guy, who was sitting in a corner with Mrs. Mahoney discussing production requirements, looked up and nodded. “They’ll be circling Cressida as soon as the word is out.”
“So we need to buckle to,” said Monica. “If Guy and I put our heads together, we can come up with some pretty decent leads as to investors, and if Captain Thomas is game, I can bore him silly with the operational side of his Business Director role. The rest of you really do need to keep Woman’s Friend going day to day. Otherwise it won’t be worth saving. What do you say, Captain Thomas?”
“Harold, please,” said Harold. “Delighted to be on board. Not working has been driving me mad, so I’m grateful to have something to do.”
“This really is incredibly good of you, Monica,” I said. “I’m beginning to think we might just have a chance of making this work.”
“I’m thrilled to have elbowed my way in,” she replied. “It’s going to give me a new lease of life, and you know how fond I am of Woman’s Friend. It started my career,” she added to Thel and Bunty. “Mrs. Porter is just the worst type. You all deserve better.”
“We just have to get on with it,” said Guy.
Everyone agreed. It was time to crack on.
Monica had been right. Word about Mrs. Porter’s planned sale spread around the publishing industry as fast as a Hold the Front Page piece of news. Guy said he spent more time fielding phone calls from publishing acquaintances asking for the inside track than actually doing any work on Woman’s Friend, let alone trying to fit in cloak-and-dagger meetings with Monica and people they hoped might become interested parties. We all agreed that the last thing we wanted was for the Dishonourable Egg to catch wind of what we were doing, so any hint of discussion was banned. None of us trusted Mrs. Pye and certainly not Mr. Elliot.
Mrs. Porter did not come back to the office.
Her presence, however, was more than felt. Now freed from the shackles of hiding from Small Winston, Mr. Elliot took to creeping around the office like a spectre, silently appearing with missives before announcing, “Mrs. Porter wishes…” or more often than not, “Mrs. Porter is not happy that…”
I buttoned my lip and kept my head down, even when war effort articles I had been planning for months were randomly pulled and replaced with photographs of aristocratic toddlers.
“Am I being a killjoy?” I asked Mrs. Mahoney one morning as a rousing feature about a reader who had joined the Women’s Land Army was swapped for a picture of a small child, turnip in hand, standing by an enormous front door. “I appreciate that ‘Lady Barbara at Work in Her Garden’ is terrifically sweet.”
Thankfully, Mrs. Mahoney agreed. “We all like to see the little ones joining in, but we’re tight on paper and those land girls are feeding the country. No offence to little Lady Barbara, of course, but a kiddie with a turnip’s not quite the same thing.”
We all just kept going, but it was hard to watch everything we had been working on get cut and cut and cut. Yours Cheerfully now hardly took up a third of the page. We put WRITE TO US AND WE WILL WRITE BACK in capitals at the top of the page, doing our best to keep the readers informed and feeling that it was still their magazine. We wrote back to everyone that we could.
“Have you actually had a weekend?” Bunty asked when she returned from her trip with Harold to find me sitting on my bed, still in my NFS uniform, answering letters on my typewriter.
“How was your granny?” I said, ignoring the question. “And did she like Harold?”
Bunts moved the typewriter out of the way and sat down. “Granny looked a little tired, but yes… she LOVED him!” she said, beaming at me. “It was all I could do to get a word in edgeways. He was ever so nervous, but he came through it with flying colours.”
“Oh, Bunts, I’m so pleased,” I said.
“I know,” said Bunts. “So am I.” She put her arm around me and gave me a hug. “Thank you for doing your best to be normal about it all. It must be a huge strain.”
It was, but I played it down. “I just want you to be happy,” I said. “After everything has been so rotten.”
“I am happy, Em,” she said. “Oh, and by the way, there’s another thing. Granny said yes to the house.”
“What?”
Now Bunty laughed. “She said yes if you and Guy need it. So you’d better tidy this bedroom if you’re going to use it as an office.”
It was the best possible news.
“And Harold is taking to all this business planning like a duck to water,” she continued after I had returned the hug, nearly crushing her in my excitement. “I think that’s what swayed Granny actually. Honestly, she still doesn’t see me as a grown-up. She’d have thought it a hare-brained scheme if it had come from me and you, but Harold was all serious and threw Guy’s name in at the drop of a hat, so she thought it was a marvellous idea.” Bunts rolled her eyes. “I blame Queen Victoria.”
“You always do,” I replied. “It’s most unfair. My granny’s the same age as yours, and she had her own bicycle by 1892.”
“Horrifying behaviour,” said Bunty happily. “Most unsuitable.”
“I’ll tell her that,” I said. “Oh, and speaking of unsuitable, Roy is looking after Gert and Daisy until Thel’s birthday. She definitely smelt a rat. I should have made him do it from the start.”
“I hope they start laying soon,” said Bunty. “Ooh, hold on, I think that’s Thel now. Talk about something else.”
We quickly switched back to Mrs. Tavistock and the house, and when Thelma appeared in the doorway, Bunts gave her the good news.
“What a relief. Well done,” she said, coming into the room and collapsing into the chair by the window. “It’s nice to get some good news.” She puffed out her cheeks.
“You all right, Thel?” I asked.
“I’m fine,” she said, pushing her shoes off. “It’s my flipping sister who’s the problem. I’ve just been in the telephone box feeding pennies in.”
“You should use the one here,” said Bunts.
“Thanks, but it’s OK. Poor old Else can talk the hind leg off a donkey once she gets going.” Thel looked frustrated. “She’s just been dumped by the infamous Reg. He’s decided that although he said he was married to ‘the wrong woman’ who ‘didn’t love him and made his life utter hell,’ he’s had a change of heart and isn’t going to leave her for Elsie after all. She’s beside herself.”
“Might he change his mind back?” I asked.
“I hope not. His wife’s having a baby,” said Thel. “Poor old Elsie. She always picks wrong’uns, but this one’s really broken her heart. He’s now saying he didn’t promise her anything and she’s made it all up. Honestly, he’s a piece of work.” Thel took off her hat and tousled her hair. “Mum’s worried out of her mind.”
“What are you going to do?” said Bunts.
“I’ll have to go and see them, but I can’t before Wednesday night. I’ve got back-to-back shifts.”
“Well, we can look after the children,” I said quickly. “I’m sure some of the girls on B Watch won’t mind covering for you. A couple of them owe me, as I’ve stepped in for them tons of times.”
“Thanks, love,” said Thel, looking relieved. “Mum says Elsie has been missing work, and the last thing we need is her getting the sack. Would you mind if I stay until Saturday? I can come back first thing so I’m in time for our afternoon shift. I just hope I don’t have to leave Mum if Elsie’s in a state.”
“Why not bring them back here for a few days?” said Bunty. “Elsie can tell work she’s poorly. We’ll look after everyone, and the kids will cheer them both up. It’s school sports day next week. Your mum will love it, and we can make sure we all watch out for Elsie if she wants to just hide away back here.”
“That’s really kind, Bunts,” said Thelma. “I’m sure they’ll be fine where they are.”
“Honestly, bring them for a break,” said Bunty.
“I’ll have to see how Else is,” said Thel. “You’re sure you don’t mind having my three while I’m away? You’ll have to get them out of bed for school—they’re awful in the mornings.”
“Piece of cake,” I said. “I’ll borrow a whistle from the station.”
“You two are saints,” said Thel. “I’m sorry to drop this on you, but I know I should go. To be honest, I’ve been quite unsympathetic to Elsie and I need to make up for it.”
“Tell her she’s far from being the only one,” I said. “If I had a shilling for every letter we get about this exact thing, we’d all be out eating at the Ritz. You do what you need to do. The kids will have to put up with being horribly bored with us.”
Thelma smiled. She knew I had no intention of letting them get bored.
“If they’re with you, they—and more to the point, I—will know that they are safe and they are loved. That’s all that matters. And they must clean their teeth. I’ll tell them in a minute. I bet they’re in that flipping shed again, aren’t they? I’d better write to Arthur and tell him too. It’s ages since we’ve heard from him. Makes you jittery, doesn’t it?”
“No talking like that, now,” said Bunty. “He’ll be home soon enough.”
“God love him,” said Thel. “Right, I’m going to pack.”
“Cup of tea,” I said to Bunts. “I’m parched.”
“You’re off to plan how to spoil them, aren’t you?” said Thel, who knew us both far too well.
“Not in the least,” I said. “Now, who fancies another trip to the zoo?”