Mrs. Porter Calling by AJ Pearce

Author:AJ Pearce
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Scribner
Published: 2023-06-29T00:00:00+00:00

* * *

Mrs. Porter was true to her word and was not seen in the office again that week. This was unremarkable, as she was never in the office on a Friday, but unusual in that no one—not even Mr. Elliot—received a single phone call. She hadn’t even bothered with the teeny ideas she had mentioned before our meeting at Senate House. When Guy tried to get Mrs. Porter’s approval on a pressing article that she’d insisted she must see, he was met with complete silence. When a message was finally sent back to him, it merely said, “Mrs. Porter says, do as you wish.”

It was the first real sign that perhaps, just perhaps, our plan was beginning to work. With a weekend of fire station shifts and catching up on readers’ letters ahead, I dared to allow myself a sliver of optimism. Having completed the Friday night shift, Thelma and I were on the second part of a double, working on through Saturday. It had been a quiet night and now we chatted on our lunch break, eating paste sandwiches and leafing through two American magazines that Mrs. Porter had brought into the office. It was impossible not to marvel at the colourful pictures and what seemed like abundance on every page.

“What’s Miracle Whip Salad Dressing?” asked Thel. “Do they mean salad cream?”

“I don’t know,” I said, peering at the advert. “Everything’s different, isn’t it? Look at this bra. ‘Superb bosom contours guaranteed.’ ” I looked at my chest and wondered if it came up to scratch.

Thel studied hers and we both pulled faces and laughed.

“All right, ladies?” It was Fred, standing in the doorway with his hands over his eyes. “I don’t know if I should come in.”

“It’s OK, Fred,” I said. “You’re safe. How are you?”

“I could do with a rest,” said Fred, and he began to give us an update on a recent air raid at the postal sorting office in north London that had needed thirty-two pumps to get the resulting fire under control. It had been quite spectacular, and the NFS had worked through the night trying to put it out.

“Bloody Germans got away with it as well,” he added darkly. “Dodged the ack-acks and legged it. Two dead and fifty thousand parcels up in smoke. That’s between you and me.”

“Of course,” said Thel as I nodded.

“Oh, and now, before I forget,” added Fred, “Thel, Leonard on A Watch says do you have those shoes you’re lending his Rosie? Only it’s her party this afternoon.”

“Dammit,” said Thel, “I’ve left them at home.” She looked at her watch. “I wonder if I could nip there now?”

One day, I thought to myself, the idea of talking about borrowing a pair of shoes in the same breath as saying that people had been bombed will seem very strange and more than likely insensitive in the extreme. But it was normal conversation now. Just what we did, even though there was nothing normal about it at all.

“I’ll go,” I said, shaking myself out of reflections that would not do anyone any good.

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