a Breed of Women by Fiona Kidman Page A

have a bit of typing, you know. And,’ she added with a flash of inspiration, ‘she is the sort of girl who might work herself up in your organisation. After all, you do have quite a large office staff, don’t you?’
    Mr Stubbs scratched the back of his thick neck, causing an explosive-looking pimple to start suppurating. He flinched at the pain of it, but finally agreed that this was quite a laudable ambition. However, he would have to take two shillings a week off Harriet’s pay.
    ‘What would the total be, then?’ faltered Harriet, feeling that after such an enormous concession she should be grateful for anything that came her way.
    ‘Three pounds eighteen clear.’ His look challenged her to take it or leave it.
    ‘Thank you,’ whispered Harriet.
    Alice was very cheerful that evening, and roasted a chicken dinner. It was a good meal, and Harriet felt her spirits lifting. At least she was employed. In a week’s time she would have three pounds eighteen of her very own, and the week after that, and the week after that. It didn’t do to dwell too long on the fact that the point of her adventure was so far contained in a job on a department store haberdashery counter, only vacated by its previous incumbent because of an unfortunate condition. The world wasn’t exactly shouting out for her talents, but it was a start.
    Julie turned out to be a sallow girl with permed blonde hair. She seemed indifferent to Harriet’s presence, but considerably more methodical than Harriet had anticipated from the comments she had heard. Hooks and eyes, buttons and thread came in a variety of weights and sizes and it was no good trying to fool customers who were their own home dressmakers that they wanted anything but what they specifically asked for. If you did, eyebrows would be raised in long-suffering supplication and fingers would be drummed on the counter.
    The weather in Weyville was hot and oppressive day after day. By midday, the shop was like an oven. The customers were almost all old, or mothers of querulous children, sweltering in prams or held in harness by leather reins. After the lunch break, Harriet felt as though she were suffocating. The whole weight of her loneliness had started to bear down on her afresh. It was an exhausting process.
    Julie was staying on for another fortnight, but they had hardly exchanged a dozen words that did not deal with the shapes and sizes of domes and buttons or the ever-present heat. Whatever was going on in her mind, and it was obvious that there was a great deal, she didn’t seem prepared to share it.
    When closing time came on the second Tuesday that Harriet was at the shop, Julie followed her into the cloakroom.
    ‘You want to walk along with me?’ said Julie.
    Harriet looked up in surprise. ‘Yes, please,’ she said, trying to conceal her eagerness. She didn’t find her pale pregnant workmate particularly appealing, but being with anybody in the world was better than being alone.
    The two girls walked along in silence. Harriet hadn’t asked where they were going, but it seemed to be in the general direction of Alice’s house. Perhaps Julie lived near there. She hadn’t thought to ask, and it wouldn’t have meant much anyway.
    Near the lake that Alice had pointed out on the first day was a milk bar. Harriet had noticed it as she walked home, and, again, as on the first day, she had seen a group of young people gathered around it. She had been too shy to look up as she passed, but there had been a whistle or two. The atmosphere made her very nervous.
    ‘Coming in?’ said Julie.
    ‘You mean … into the milk bar?’
    ‘Why not? Don’t you like milk bars?’
    ‘I’ve never been in one,’ admitted Harriet.
    ‘What?’ Julie looked at her as if she was some strange curiosity. ‘Wait till I tell the kids!’
    ‘No, please don’t,’ begged Harriet. ‘No, honestly, I won’t come in if you do.’
    Julie shrugged. ‘Suit yourself.’
    As they walked in, the whistles