We had all known that there was always a good chance we wouldn’t be able to save Woman’s Friend. From the moment Mrs. Porter began changing the things that meant anything to anyone, it had been a downhill slope, and the fact that she had sold it out from under our feet should not have come as a surprise.
But when it did happen, and she had spelt it out so very carelessly, it was still the worst ever shock. Other than Mrs. Pye, who, despite Mrs. Mahoney’s kind gesture, had picked up her handbag and rushed out of the office, the rest of us convened in the old journalists’ room, just as we always did when something was up.
“Are you all right, Hest?” I asked her. “I’m very proud of you. You did ever so well in there.”
Poor Hester was now tearful, and I didn’t blame her one bit. “Why was she so horrible?” she whispered. “Even to Mrs. Pye?”
“She’s a very spoilt, nasty lady,” I said. “Whatever happens, we’re better off without her.”
Hester nodded bravely, but I couldn’t help but think that I didn’t have the first clue of what “whatever happens” meant.
Guy shut the door. I had never seen him so entirely beaten, but with head held high, he addressed his colleagues. His friends.
“I want to apologise,” he said, “for everything. I’m so sorry it has come to this, and even sorrier that I wasn’t able to manage Mrs. Porter, either in the way that she gave you this awful news, which was unforgivable, or indeed, over the last few months. From what I understand, the late Lord Overton thought I might be able to have some form of influence over his niece. I’m afraid I failed.”
Mrs. Mahoney began to say something along the lines of “don’t be daft,” but for the first time I could remember, he didn’t accept her view.
“Thank you, Mrs. Mahoney,” he said. “You’re very kind, but I had wanted to do better for you all. As you know, I’d hoped we could somehow keep Woman’s Friend.”
“Excuse me for asking, Mr. Collins,” said Mrs. Shaw, “but if you’ve got the money sorted out, can’t we set up a new version?”
Guy smiled, the wrinkles around his eyes looking deeper than usual. “Mrs. Shaw,” he said, “you are remarkable. Undefeatable. But setting up a completely new magazine is a very different project. Woman’s Friend was sold for its name and reputation. Beginning from scratch would take far more money. And launching magazines is a tricky business. Many more fail than succeed.” He paused, and then cleared his throat. “I think we are at an end,” he said. “I cannot tell you how sorry I am.” His voice broke slightly. “Please do not feel you must work until the sale is finalised, as Mrs. Porter expects. If there is anything at all I can do to help, then of course, I will.”
Everyone looked even more disconsolate after Guy finished speaking. We all felt wretched, and we knew that he understood.
As we sat in silence, there was a knock on the door, and when Guy said, “Come in,” Clarence appeared with a sack from the post room.
“I’m sorry to interrupt,” he said, seeing our dejected expressions. “It’s the post. I’ll just put it down here.”
Seeing Clarence was the last straw for Hester, who promptly burst into tears. No more Woman’s Friend meant no more seeing our Post Room Junior Administrator every day. It really was too much. Clarence looked mortified.
“Blimey, I’m sorry, Hest,” he said, not knowing what he had actually done. “Do you want a hankie?” He fished a nice clean one out of his post room uniform pocket and handed it to her, which she managed to accept, although the chivalry of the moment now reduced her to helpless sobs. “What’s happened?” asked Clarence, looking as if he was ready to punch whoever had upset Hester.
“We’ve had bad news about Woman’s Friend,” I said. “Mrs. Porter’s sold it.”
Clarence was a bright young man, so it didn’t take much more than a second for him to realise that this would mean Hester had lost her job. It also meant he wouldn’t get to see her every day either.
“She can’t do that,” he said, his ears going very red, very fast. “It’s not on.” Then he looked embarrassed at his emotional response and added, “I mean on the readers. It’s not fair on them.” He gave the postbag a kick, which was what we’d all have done, given half a chance. “It won’t be the same,” he ended sadly, not meaning the readers at all.
By now everyone was beginning to look as if they wanted to join in with Hester’s tears. There had to be a bright side somewhere.
“We’ve still got a little while,” I said. “Four more issues. That’s something we can work on together. And Mrs. Porter said she’s going on holiday, so we can pretend it’s like old times. It can be our last hurrah. I fully intend to ignore anything Mr. Elliot says, for a start.”
“Three Bags Bloody Full,” muttered Mrs. Shaw. “Miserable old git.”
“That’s the spirit,” I said, “and we still have the readers.” I nodded towards the slightly dented sack. “I know we used to get three times as many letters, but we can still do something. And don’t forget all the people we’ve helped. All the times you’ve typed up replies, written letters, listened to them. Or answered the phones when people rang in. Mr. Newton, look at how you kept Woman’s Friend going when it was hopelessly out of date and very few people wanted to advertise with us. You’ve been doing that all over again these past weeks. Any magazine would be proud to have you. I know we’ll all have to go our separate ways, but it doesn’t mean we can’t stay friends. And until then, I for one am going to try to say goodbye to the readers properly. Not for Mrs. Porter. Not to keep things going for her—she’s never cared about anyone, let alone the women who write in. She’s done everything she can to put them off. Well, bugger Mrs. Porter—sorry, Hester, don’t listen—but I’m not bloody well giving up on the readers until the very end of the last day.”
“Well said, Emmy,” said Mrs. Mahoney. “Although do you know what sticks in my throat? It’s that when we get complaints about the sillinesses she’s put in our magazine, the readers don’t know that we agree with them. I’ve a mind now to tell them. Put in a little note when we write back to them. PS, we’re as sorry as you are that it’s all gone on the wonk.”
I nodded. It had been driving me mad too.
“So why don’t we?” I said. “Every letter we send, we say that we’re really sorry, but Woman’s Friend has been sold—thanks for sticking with us, and goodbye.”
“I like that,” said Mrs. Shaw.
“So do I,” said Miss Peters.
“I might write to the advertisers,” said Mr. Newton. “Politely, of course.”
Guy had been quiet for some time, chewing his bottom lip and looking miles away. I knew he was as crushed as the rest of us. Now, though, he finally looked up.
“I agree,” he said. “The readers deserve an explanation. And we deserve to get to say our goodbyes.” He pushed his spectacles up his nose and turned to his Head of Production. “Stop the press, Mrs. Mahoney,” he said. “Let’s tell the readers exactly what has gone on.”
WOMAN’S FRIEND TO FRIEND NEWS FROM US TO YOU
Some of you have written to us over the last few weeks with questions about the recent changes that have been happening to your magazine. I am sure lots more of you had similar thoughts too. If we’re honest, actually so did we.
Some of you have liked the changes, some of you haven’t, but what we at Woman’s Friend didn’t do was talk to you about them—here in one of the parts of the magazine that particularly belongs to you. We really should have, so please forgive us for being slow on this matter, but now that’s exactly what we’d like to do.
You’ll see on this page a selection of the letters we have received from you with views on a range of subjects—from the sorts of fashions we’ve been telling you about, on through to the things we haven’t been doing. We are glad that almost all of you like the dog pictures—you’ll see in this issue there are rather a lot more! We all know Small Winston well. He is a lovely chap, although occasionally gets out of his bed on the wrong side.
We also want to tell you, with the very greatest of sadness, that Woman’s Friend is moving on. It will still be available for you every week, but the magazine is getting new owners, so your team here will be saying goodbye. We had hoped to buy the magazine ourselves, but sadly got pipped to the post. We want you to know that we tried.
We are sure that there will be lots of interesting things to look forward to in the magazine, and the good news is that the current team have four more issues with you, so do keep writing in! We promise to answer every single letter that we can, either printing them in our pages or writing back to you. We apologise if our replies are a little short or even handwritten rather than typed, but we’re going to do our best to help you out if you have any worries.
We would love to hear from you. The Woman’s Friend readers are the best in the world. Through thick and thin over the years, we have loved writing to and for you.
Thank you for letting us into your homes.
With fondest wishes,
Your Editor, Guy Collins,
and all your friends at Woman’s Friend