Swansea Girls (17 page)

‘Yes, Mr Thomas, Mr Butler, thank you.’ Katie gripped Lily’s handbag tighter. She had no idea why she was thanking them.

‘Sit down, girl, sit down,’ Mr Thomas muttered impatiently shuffling his papers. ‘You’ve applied for the position of office junior?’

‘Yes, Mr Thomas.’

‘It appears from your certificates and college references that your typing and shorthand speeds are excellent and, most important, also your spelling. You went to night school?’

‘Yes.’

‘Why?’

The question took Katie by surprise. ‘Because I had to leave school at fourteen,’ she blurted uneasily, ‘and I wanted qualifications that would get me a better job.’

‘Your teachers didn’t think you were up to passing the matriculation?’

‘No, Mr Thomas, they were pleased with my work but my father – my family – needed the money so I had to leave.’

‘And you work in a café at present.’

Katie stared at the application form in his hand. It was hers, she recognised her handwriting and as she’d detailed her entire history on it she couldn’t understand why he was asking her questions she’d already answered.

‘Yes, sir,’ she muttered, forgetting to call him Mr Thomas.

‘And what exactly is it you do in this café? It is the one opposite the Grand Theatre?’

‘Yes, Mr Thomas. I clear tables, wash dishes, serve behind the counter and wait tables when we’re short-staffed.’

‘Take the money,’ he barked.

‘No, Mr Thomas, one of the family works the cash register.’

Mr Thomas frowned and Katie had the feeling he’d decided her present employers didn’t regard her as trustworthy enough to handle their money.

‘Are you happy there?’

‘Yes, Mr Thomas.’

‘Then why do you want to leave?’

Well drilled by Miss Crabbe, Katie refrained from listing her real reasons. That she wanted to work in a clean office instead of the hothouse, chip-fryer atmosphere of the cafe. That she longed to do more challenging work than skivvying. That she wanted more to look forward to than promotion to waitress when she’d only have to remember which people had ordered what food and writing out bills. And most important of all, she wanted to earn more money than she could in a café. Money enough to take her out of her family’s basement and enable her to buy nice clothes, perm her hair and give her the same air of sophistication as Isabel Evans. Money that would secure her independence so she need never be reliant on a man to keep her.

‘I would like to work in an interesting position where I could use the skills I’ve been taught in evening class and hopefully acquire new ones,’ she chanted parrot-fashion.

‘You do know what this job is?’

‘Yes, Mr Thomas.’ Disconcerted by his piercing stare, she concentrated on a point somewhere between his and Mr Butler’s heads. ‘It’s office junior.’

‘I don’t know what your idea of an office junior’s duties are, Miss Clay, but in Thomas and Butler they make the tea, run errands and copies off the duplicating machine and do the filing. You do know what filing is?’

‘Yes, Mr Thomas. Storing documents in alphabetical order.’

‘You’ve done it?’

‘Miss Crabbe explained it, Mr Thomas, in evening class.’

‘So you’ve no actual experience.’

‘Miss Crabbe kept our typing and shorthand exercises in a drawer in files in alphabetical order. When we finished one we were allowed to replace it and remove the next.’

‘A drawer, not a filing cabinet.’

‘Yes, Mr Thomas.’ Katie recalled the bank of pale oak filing cabinets behind the receptionist’s desk and wished she’d never mentioned Miss Crabbe’s single drawer.

‘You don’t help out in the office of the café by any chance, do you?’

Katie sensed that Mr Butler had meant to be kind, but lost for words she stared down at her hands. The nearest thing to an office they had in the café was the shelf under the till where they stored receipts, invoices from suppliers and the cigar butts Mr Petronelli could never bring himself to throw out. ‘No, sir,’ she stammered after an embarrassing pause.

‘That’s unfortunate.’ Mr Thomas pulled his chair forward. Lifting the file in front of him, he rapped it down on the desk. ‘So you’ve no experience and you’ve just passed your examinations.’

‘With distinctions in shorthand, typing, English and spelling,’ Katie interrupted eagerly to show what she could do, after all the talk of what she couldn’t.

‘I can read, Miss Clay,’ Mr Thomas snapped, making her feel more inadequate than ever. ‘But you’ve no experience of office work.’

‘I learn quickly.’ Katie dared a second interruption because she sensed the job she’d pinned all her hopes on slipping from her grasp.

‘I don’t doubt you do.’

‘And my shorthand and typing speeds will improve with practice.’

‘Our juniors do very little typing and no shorthand. We have secretaries for the skilled work.’

‘I would be happy to work my way up, Mr Thomas. All I need is a chance to prove myself.’

‘It’s an office junior we want, Miss Clay, not an ambitious “would-be” secretary. Frankly, if we have a vacancy at senior level we advertise the position as suitable for the holder of an accredited school of commerce diploma. You’ve met our Miss Evans.’

‘Yes, Mr Thomas.’ Katie looked down at her hands again. She didn’t need Mr Thomas to remind her there was no way she could compete with the likes of Isabel Evans.

‘She not only has a diploma from a school of commerce but also from Lucy Clayton.’

Katie remained silent – she had never heard of Lucy Clayton.

‘One last thing, what sort of wages were you hoping to earn?’

‘Miss Crabbe ...’

‘Ah, your mentor, or is it oracle?’ He laughed at his own joke but Mr Butler remained straight-faced.

Failing to understand the significance of Mr Thomas’ remark, Katie ignored it. ‘She suggested one pound ten shillings a week would be fair for girls with our qualifications but I would be prepared to work for less if there were prospects.’ Katie dug her nails into the palm of her hand. Everyone in night school had warned her that wages were tricky, ask too little and you could find yourself working for less than the going rate, too much and you wouldn’t get the job.

‘Well, Miss Clay, Thank you for your time.’ Mr Thomas left his seat, effectively ending the interview.

‘Thank you for seeing me, Mr Thomas, Mr Butler.’

‘As we have more people to interview, we’ll inform you of the outcome in due course.’

‘Yes, thank you.’ Holding the envelope she hadn’t opened and her bag, she rose slowly, balancing her broken shoe precariously on her sprained foot.

He pressed a buzzer on his desk. ‘Miss Evans will see you out.’

Katie hobbled to the door with as much dignity as she could muster. It opened before she reached it.

‘See Miss Clay out, Miss Evans. Then I have some letters for you to take before we interview our next applicant.’

‘Yes, Mr Thomas.’ She closed the door. ‘That wasn’t too bad, was it?’ she asked as she helped Katie to the front door.

‘It was dreadful.’

‘If you don’t get the job, look on it as practice for the next interview. It might be for a better job that pays more.’

Katie tried to return Isabel’s smile, but she couldn’t help feeling that the secretary had sized up her prospects the moment she’d broken her shoe. And even if Isabel was wrong, she’d rather work in the café for the rest of her life than face another ordeal like the one Mr Thomas had just put her through.

Philip Butler left his chair, picked it up and carried it across to the back wall of his uncle’s office. ‘You’ve already given the job out.’ It was a statement not a question.

‘A chap in the Chamber of Commerce has a daughter just out of Gregg’s. He has a business but won’t take her into it. Not that I blame him for that, it’s notoriously difficult to work with family. Her mother’s a decent sort of woman, knows how to talk, dress and present herself, so the daughter will be more our sort.’

‘Then why advertise the job and get the hopes up of poor girls like that? She was practically dying of nerves.’

‘Which will go against her no matter what job she applies for. If she’s like that at an interview just think what she’ll be like when she has to work.’

‘You didn’t make it easy for her.’

‘I wish your mother had never sent you to that blasted university. All you’ve done since you’ve come back is spout socialist ideals. Do yourself and me a favour, Philip, grow up! Thomas and Butler is a well-respected firm. People look to us to lead the way. We can’t take on an unsuitable girl just because you feel sorry for her. And after talking to that one I’m not sure she should be aiming any higher than the café she’s already working in.’

‘I think ...’

‘You think! I’ve been meaning to say this since you joined Thomas and Butler. Just because your father and I setup this firm together, don’t go assuming that you have an equal partnership.’

‘My father ...’

‘Your father is dead, Philip. I offered to buy out his share. Your mother convinced me I should take you on instead. But unless you cure this sentimental streak and start behaving like a professional, I will press her to accept my offer. The next interview is in one hour. Be prompt.’

‘I’m not sure I want to sit in, if you’ve already promised the job.’

‘Do you want to continue working here?’ Richard Thomas stared at Philip. ‘Fine, I’ll see you then. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have letters to write. Someone in this firm has to bring in enough to cover the overheads.’

‘Hey, Katie, you look smart.’ Adam ran to catch up with her as she hobbled across the road. ‘What’s the matter?’ he asked as they reached the pavement and he saw tears in her eyes.

‘I’ve broken my shoe.’

‘So you have and twisted your ankle by the look of it. Have you been to the doctor’s?’

Adam’s kindness coming on top of Mr Thomas’ brusque interrogation was too much. Katie burst out sobbing as she clung to the arm he offered her.

‘I had to take a couple of hours off to go to the dentist. I’ve just left. Come on, I’ll help you home.’

She shook her head fiercely.

‘Then how about we go down the café opposite the Albert Hall and have a cup of tea?’

Too upset to argue, Katie allowed him to lead her away.

‘Two teas and two sticky buns please, George,’ Adam called as he pushed open the door to the cafe. ‘And plenty of sugar in one of the teas, my friend here has twisted her ankle.’

‘So I see.’ George picked up a rag and soaked it under the cold tap behind the counter. ‘Here.’ He handed it to Adam. ‘That might bring down the swelling.’

‘Thanks, George. Katie ...’ Adam looked across to see her tears still falling thick and fast. ‘Look, if it hurts that much I’d better take you home.’

‘It’s not my ankle,’ she burst out between sobs.

‘Then what?’

‘You’re being kind and that man was horrible.’

‘What man?’

‘Your tea, miss, and help yourself to all the sugar you want.’ George pushed the bowl in front of her. ‘And here’s two of our stickiest buns. If I were you I’d eat first to make sure you get at least one bite. Adam’s a terror when he gets in front of those. I’ve seen him eat six in a row.’

‘Thank you.’ Katie managed a watery smile.

‘That’s better.’

‘I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me. I had this interview for an office job and it went wrong.’

‘Is that all?’ Adam lifted her foot up alongside him as he slid into the booth opposite her.

‘All!’

‘I take it you wanted the job.’

‘More than anything.’ She glared at him. ‘And don’t you dare sneer at me, Adam Jordan, just because you’re working in the Land Registry and I’m in a café. I could work in an office if I was given the chance.’

‘Of course you could work in an office and I’m not making fun. My mother told me you came top of your class in night school. Look, I know what you’re going through. I never thought I’d pass my Civil Service entrance.’

‘But you did.’

‘Eventually. But it wasn’t easy and by the time I’d finished the last examination I’d begun to wonder if I’d be better off labouring like my father.’

‘You don’t mean that.’ Katie blotted her tears with her handkerchief.

Adam bit into one of the buns. ‘Yes, I do,’ he reiterated decisively. ‘I know there’s no career prospects labouring, but unlike me, my father’s never had to worry about making a mess of things and losing his job. I’m terrified someone in work is going to realise that I’ve no business being in the Civil Service. That saying about “the higher you go the further you fall” could be prophetic where my career is concerned.’

‘I’ve never thought about it that way.’

‘Take my cousin, Tom. He has absolutely no ambition beyond his guitar and music. He, Jack Clay and a couple of the boys formed a skiffle group last year. They’ve got their first engagement on Saturday, a youth club dance in St James’s church hall, but Bill Haley and the Comets couldn’t be more pleased with a booking at the Albert Hall. I envy them their dreams of success.’

‘I haven’t got anything besides work either. This was my big chance to get out of the café and I messed it up.’

‘There’ll be other interviews.’

‘There won’t, because that’s the last job I’m applying for. I won’t risk going through another experience like that again.’

‘What on earth did this man say to you that was so horrible?’

‘That I had no experience.’

‘Well, you haven’t, have you?’

‘There was no need for him to say it the way he did. As if all I’m good for is café work.’

‘I’m sure he didn’t mean it that way, Katie. He was probably looking for someone who was used to working in an office because they don’t have time to train you in the things that can’t be taught in night school.’

‘Do you think so?’

‘I think there’s a right job waiting for everyone. You’ll find yourself an office job or it will find you, if that’s what you really want. Now drink your tea.’

‘After I’ve paid for it.’ She fumbled in her handbag.

‘My treat, if you’ll come out with me.’

‘Just the two of us?’

‘Why not?’

‘I’d prefer to go out in a crowd.’