just long enough to draw breath before she turned the knob and made her way purposefully inside. She immediately saw that her sour-faced supervisor was at her own desk, taking work to be done out of her in tray to distribute it around the other typists. She must have realised that as it was now approaching nine-thirty Cait wasn’t turning up for work again. By now several of the other clerks and typists had noticed her, staring at her agog as she weaved her way through their desks.
Hearing the sound of heels approaching on the hard floor, Sylvia Grey looked up. Her eyebrows rose when she saw it was Cait. If she noticed her smart new look she didn’t make any comment, just said evenly, ‘Good morning, Miss Thomas, so good of you to grace us with your presence. Would you like to come into my office? We need a private talk.’
It gave Cait great pleasure to reply to her, ‘What I have to say to you can be said here.’
Sylvia Grey shot her a knowing look, interjecting before she could add another word, ‘Don’t try to offer me any more unacceptable excuses for your absences, Miss Thomas. The person you got to telephone me yesterday told me you were in bed suffering from women’s problems. We are all women in this department, and if we all took time off when we suffered from our so-called problems then this firm would grind to a standstill. You don’t look to me like you’re suffering from anything debilitating. In fact, I’d say you’re positively glowing. I doubt there is any acceptable excuse for your lateness today.’
She shook her head sadly. ‘I’m afraid we’ve arrived at the stage where your behaviour can no longer be tolerated. It isn’t fair to the rest of your colleagues who have to share your workload while you take days off, as and when you feel like it, as well as keeping up with their own. We won’t be asking you to serve out your notice. It’s a shame it has come to this as I did have high hopes for you.’
This statement stunned Cait. ‘High hopes! But you were forever singling me out to criticise my work and passing me over when it came to promotion.’
The older woman eyed her meaningfully. ‘Constructive criticism, Miss Thomas. It’s my job to point out mistakes made by all my charges, spurring them on to improve themselves. I singled you out no more than you deserved, which in truth wasn’t very often. On the whole your work was of an acceptable standard since you’ve greatly improved from when you first joined us here. As for passing you over for promotion, you aren’t ready for that until such time as you temper your attitude, young lady.’
‘There’s nothing wrong with my attitude!’ Cait exclaimed, insulted.
Sylvia Grey eyed her. She had in fact tried to speak to Cait on numerous occasions about her annoying and unnecessarily superior manner. ‘And while you believe that, Miss Thomas, you’ll never achieve any higher status than that of typist. In this company or any other.’
Cait puffed out her chest. Well, that’s where the old dragon was wrong and it was going to be a great pleasure to tell her that there was no higher position in a firm than heading it up as the daughter of the owner. She wanted everyone in the room to hear what she was about to divulge. In a loud voice she began, ‘For your information, Miss Grey . . .’
She was interrupted by the arrival of Sylvia Grey’s assistant, a tiny mousy woman who in a squeaky high-pitched voice announced: ‘Sorry to disturb you, Miss Grey, but Mr Cummings has asked for one of the girls to be sent to him for dictation. I took the liberty of answering your telephone as you were otherwise occupied. He says it is urgent.’
Miss Grey thanked the woman and said to Cait, ‘I’ll have your wages and cards made up ready for you to collect next Friday from reception. Please clear your desk of any personal belongings and be on your way.’
With that the older woman hurried away, leaving Cait fuming that she’d been cheated out of her moment of glory.
The personal belongings she had kept in her drawer – a nearly empty bottle of hair lacquer, hairbrush, couple of lipsticks, clear nail polish for halting runs in her nylons, a packet of Fox’s Glacier Mints, a half-eaten packet of custard creams – she threw