Home Front Girls

suppose you’d like to know how much we shall be paying for these stories?’ His eyes were twinkling with amusement while Dotty squirmed with embarrassment. ‘We thought that four pounds per story would be a fair price. Does that sound all right to you, Dotty?’
    She blinked in amazement. That was almost as much as she earned at Owen Owen for a whole month . She was going to be rich!
    ‘For that we would want a short story delivered to us by a certain date each month so that we could edit it and get it ready for publication: do you think you could manage that?’ he went on, giving her a moment to compose herself.
    She nodded, hardly able to take it all in and feeling totally out of her depth.
    ‘Of course, I’m sure there will be some here that we can use,’ Laura added, patting the small pile on the desk. ‘If you don’t mind leaving them with us to look through, that is. Then you won’t be under pressure to deliver any more for a few months at least, and it will give you time to obtain a typewriter.’
    ‘Right. Well, now we have all that sorted out I suggest I take you out to lunch to celebrate, young lady,’ Robert told her. ‘Laura has a contract all ready for you to sign. We’ll get you to do that on the way out, shall we? It will be a twelvemonth contract to begin with, if that’s all right with you?’
    Dotty merely nodded again, too dumbstruck to answer. This sort of thing didn’t happen to girls like her . . . did it? Perhaps it was all a dream and she would wake up in a minute?
    But then she knew that it wasn’t a dream when Robert came around the desk and, taking her elbow, steered her towards the door as he asked, ‘Have you ever been to London before?’
    She could feel the warmth of his one good hand right the way through her coat and her suit. ‘N-no, I haven’t,’ she stuttered.
    ‘Then I think a little sightseeing tour might be in order before we go for lunch. Unless you have to catch the train home, that is?’
    ‘Not until five o’clock.’
    ‘Good.’
    They followed Laura to a desk where she had a document all ready for Dotty to sign. ‘Do read through it,’ she urged in a very professional manner. ‘Basically it just says that you will deliver twelve short stories to us for the next twelve months.’
    Dotty did as she was told before signing her name with a wobbly hand. Then Laura said goodbye and before she knew it, Robert was leading her outside. Dotty was secretly relieved. Laura had been very nice to her, but she was so attractive and efficient that Dotty had found her slightly intimidating. Once on the pavement, Robert raised his good hand and a shiny black cab almost instantly pulled into the kerb.
    ‘Won’t they mind you being away from the office for so long?’ Dotty asked as she scrambled into the cab in a most unladylike manner.
    Robert leaned forward and told the driver where to go before sitting back in his seat and chuckling. ‘I doubt it, seeing as I’m the boss. What I should say is – I own the magazine.’
    ‘Really?’ Dotty was shocked. He must be a very rich man indeed yet he had no airs and graces whatsoever.
    Soon Robert was pointing out places of interest as they cruised by them. St Paul’s Cathedral, the Bank of England, then back down to Trafalgar Square and on through Whitehall past Number 10, Downing Street to see Big Ben and the Houses of Parliament, followed by Buckingham Palace and many other places that Dotty had only ever seen in pictures. And then eventually the cab drew up outside an expensive-looking restaurant and after paying the driver Robert helped Dotty out onto the pavement.
    Dotty’s cheeks were glowing by then and she couldn’t remember ever enjoying herself so much. Robert took her into the restaurant where a smart waiter in a black suit and a bow-tie took their coats and escorted them to a table by the window.
    ‘Please order whatever takes your fancy,’ Robert told her as the waiter handed her a menu, and once again Dotty felt lost. She had been brought up on very plain food and everything on the menu looked so fancy and expensive. She couldn’t even understand what half of it was.
    ‘Would you like me to order for you?’ Robert asked after a time as he saw her discomfort.
    ‘Yes, please,’ she whispered, feeling like a country yokel.
    ‘Is there anything that you particularly don’t like?’
    She shook her head and seconds later, he summoned the waiter and gave him their order then told him, ‘Oh,