Radio Girls

Hilda took a long drag of her cigarette.

“He may have some severe shortcomings, but he’d have to be a hopeless idiot not to like you. And if he were a hopeless idiot, you would have no interest in him. So there we are.”

Maisie took the ring from her bag and turned it this way and that, catching the light from the fire. Torquhil watched with desultory interest. She looked again at the photos she’d taken of Simon’s papers.

“So this is where we stand. Grigson has arranged for a contract between Nestlé and the Brock-Morland cacao holdings, which might get the family out of debt, and asked Simon to run his newspaper. I wonder if Simon even went to Germany at all.”

“That’s easy enough to find out, not that it matters. But he likely did. His family does have business there. Possibly less than they used to.”

“So it is bad for them.”

“It does seem so.”

Maisie ate another piece of cake. “I have to go to Nestlé,” she said.

“I don’t think that’s wise, now that we—”

“No. I know what I have to do. I know what I have to prove. You won’t try to stop me, will you?”

“I hope you know me better than that by now.”




It was almost surreal, being back at the BBC the next day and trying to pretend things were ordinary. Especially when Siepmann strutted in again to, as he said, “assess the space.”

“We’re going to be a bit snug, aren’t we? And still dreadfully busy, I’m sure.” He turned to Phyllida and put a consoling hand on her shoulder. Her eyes flitted toward it, but he bravely kept it there. “I’ll be bringing my girl over as well. You don’t need to worry about being the lone secretary here.”

“I can hardly contain myself for relief,” Phyllida said. She made a sharp turn back to the typewriter, forcing off his hand.

“Now, now, girls,” he said with a tinkling laugh. “Do let’s all be more cheerful and obliging. I would hate to have to recommend any of you be removed. And after all, this little reorganization is all to the good. We can’t have people thinking Talks is a woman’s sole domain, or the men won’t listen in.”

“We have a good number of men in the audience,” Maisie said.

“Most certainly, but that doesn’t stop us needing to be mindful. Best not to rock boats.”

“Of course, Mr. Siepmann,” she said. But she wondered if it was too late to keep the boat from changing course.

She’d once known how to talk to Reith. Maybe she still could.




“You may make an appointment, if you like.” Miss Nash, Reith’s new secretary (they still called her “new,” even though she’d been there nearly two years), looked at Maisie with dislike.

“Isn’t he having his tea now, though?”

“Yes, and he’s having it alone.”

“Would you mind terribly asking him if he’d like company?”

Miss Nash raised her eyebrows over her wire-framed glasses. But she asked and the question was answered. Maisie went in.

“Ah, Miss Musgrave.” Reith waved her in with his warmest scowl. “Yes, do join me. Most delightful. Still not smoking? Glad to hear it. Quite a bit of water under the bridge since you first joined us, hey?”

“Quite a bit, yes, sir. Coming to the BBC was the best thing that ever happened to me.”

“And very good for us, too,” he assured her, with a generous nod. “It does seem as if you’ve done well.”

“I think so, sir. Thank you. It was very good of you, sir, to let me work solely in the Talks Department. Wanting to do good work there was the best way I could thank you.” She hesitated, wondering if that was enough to warm him. “I do think Talks has done well. People seem to be pleased.”

“Yes, that’s my understanding overall,” he agreed. She wondered how many of the Talks he ever listened to. Or liked.

“Sir, I know you’re keen on expedience, and I’m wondering, perhaps, if it’s not too late to rethink the plans regarding Mr. Siepmann? That is, he’s excellent, of course, and done such fine work, but if Talks are doing well as they are, and Schools, too, maybe that’s a boat that shouldn’t be rocked?”

“Ah. Yes, I understand.” Reith nodded. He leaned back, folding his hands behind his head. “The trouble with success, Miss Musgrave, is it creates its own problems. Miss Matheson has said she needs more staff, the best available. Now she has it and someone to help her with the duller parts of managing as well.”

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