Five Dead Canaries by Edward Marston Page B

young, shapely and very attractive. But they were committed to a job that would round their shoulders, put furrowsin their faces and paint them with such a telltale yellow sheen that their social lives would be badly affected. Even the most loving husbands would be repelled by the change in their wives’ appearance and those in search of marriage proposals would be severely handicapped. In serving their country so willingly, they’d made unwitting sacrifices.
    Keedy was glad to step out into the fresh air again. He turned to Kennett.
    ‘Thank you for showing me round,’ he said.
    ‘Now you know what those five women did when they were here.’
    ‘I had no idea that conditions were so bad.’
    ‘They compare favourably with conditions in any of the other factories,’ said Kennett, defensively. ‘We do everything possible to minimise the danger to our workforce and to treat them with consideration.’
    ‘Granted – but it’s still worrying to see women doing such work.’
    ‘It’s an unfortunate necessity.’
    ‘What will happen when the war ends?’
    ‘Demand for munitions will cease,’ replied Kennett, ‘so we won’t need to maintain such a high daily output. Men who return from the front will naturally expect jobs and they’ll take priority over women, many of whom will have to be released to search for other employment.’
    ‘The damage will already have been done,’ said Keedy, sadly. ‘Who’ll take on women who look like yellow, jaundice victims?’
    ‘That’s a regrettable side effect of working here.’
    ‘Shouldn’t they be able to claim compensation?’
    ‘No,’ said Kennett, sharply, ‘that’s out of the question. They understood when they first came here what the job entailed. The women accepted the risk. They can’t turn round now and say that they deserve some sort of compensation. Where’s the money to come from to paythem? We’d go bankrupt. If we set a precedent with munition workers, it would be disastrous thing to do.’
    It would also be a civilised gesture, thought Keedy, but he didn’t wish to have a dispute with the works manager. Sympathetic as he’d been to the plight of the five victims, there were clearly limits to Kennett’s compassion. First and foremost, he had to maintain production at whatever cost. Workers were therefore seen as mere cogs in a machine rather than as human beings with needs and rights. One of Keedy’s questions was answered. When Florrie Duncan had come to his office to demand longer lunch breaks, she obviously got very short shrift from Bernard Kennett.
    After thanking his guide once more, Keedy took his leave and walked off the premises. The tour had served its purpose. He’d not just been interested to see how hard and unremittingly the women had worked, he was keen to note how often they came into contact with male employees. The latter were not just confined to management roles. Many worked alongside the women, doing the skilled tasks that were beyond them. Then there were drivers, porters, cleaners, kitchen staff and dozens of other men at the factory. Many of them came into daily contact with the munitionettes. Keedy had observed more than one of them shooting sly glances at the women. Could the bomber they sought be working somewhere on the site? Thwarted passion was a powerful emotion. Keedy had seen it drive people to do incredible things. The shells manufactured at Hayes were lethal but unwelcome sexual desire could be destructive as well. Was that what had cost five women their lives? It was an open question.

    Ellen Marmion did what she could to help the war effort by working as a volunteer with groups that organised food parcels to be sent tothe front or knitted gloves and other items for the soldiers. Aware of the privations suffered by those trapped in deep, muddy, rat-infested trenches, she strove to ameliorate their lot in her small way. On her way home after another session with the knitting needles, she passed a newspaper