Radio Girls(107)

“We have a good number of men in the audience,” Maisie said.

“Most certainly, but that doesn’t stop us needing to be mindful. Best not to rock boats.”

“Of course, Mr. Siepmann,” she said. But she wondered if it was too late to keep the boat from changing course.

She’d once known how to talk to Reith. Maybe she still could.




“You may make an appointment, if you like.” Miss Nash, Reith’s new secretary (they still called her “new,” even though she’d been there nearly two years), looked at Maisie with dislike.

“Isn’t he having his tea now, though?”

“Yes, and he’s having it alone.”

“Would you mind terribly asking him if he’d like company?”

Miss Nash raised her eyebrows over her wire-framed glasses. But she asked and the question was answered. Maisie went in.

“Ah, Miss Musgrave.” Reith waved her in with his warmest scowl. “Yes, do join me. Most delightful. Still not smoking? Glad to hear it. Quite a bit of water under the bridge since you first joined us, hey?”

“Quite a bit, yes, sir. Coming to the BBC was the best thing that ever happened to me.”

“And very good for us, too,” he assured her, with a generous nod. “It does seem as if you’ve done well.”

“I think so, sir. Thank you. It was very good of you, sir, to let me work solely in the Talks Department. Wanting to do good work there was the best way I could thank you.” She hesitated, wondering if that was enough to warm him. “I do think Talks has done well. People seem to be pleased.”

“Yes, that’s my understanding overall,” he agreed. She wondered how many of the Talks he ever listened to. Or liked.

“Sir, I know you’re keen on expedience, and I’m wondering, perhaps, if it’s not too late to rethink the plans regarding Mr. Siepmann? That is, he’s excellent, of course, and done such fine work, but if Talks are doing well as they are, and Schools, too, maybe that’s a boat that shouldn’t be rocked?”

“Ah. Yes, I understand.” Reith nodded. He leaned back, folding his hands behind his head. “The trouble with success, Miss Musgrave, is it creates its own problems. Miss Matheson has said she needs more staff, the best available. Now she has it and someone to help her with the duller parts of managing as well.”

“But Mr. Fielden does very well as her deputy, helping with managing, and all the rest of us work very hard to keep things running so smoothly,” Maisie said.

“Of course you do, and it’s very much to your credit. But I suspect Miss Matheson’s great ambition is causing all of you to wear yourselves out in her service. Under this new scheme, all your energies will be better allocated, and Miss Matheson will be better able to hone her considerable talents and produce fare that is more suitable to the times in which we’re now living. You see, Miss Musgrave, the world economy is now in a frightful state. People need comfort, and we must provide that.”

“But don’t they need good, well-rounded information, too?”

Deep disappointment crinkled Reith’s face.

“I would advise you against assuming too many of Miss Matheson’s qualities, my dear. You must understand I have to please people. The governors, you know, they’re always trying to keep us up to the mark. They worry, Miss Musgrave, and they charge me to keep them assured, and that’s a very heavy charge.”

His eyes were wistful, and she could see he meant every word. She wondered, though, what might happen if he allowed the BBC’s popularity to assure the governors instead.

“Besides which, Mr. Siepmann will bring a great deal to the department and allow Miss Matheson and you girls on her team to focus on the sort of Talks you like best. I know this sort of change is difficult to understand, dear, but trust me. You always said you did, you know.”

She looked into his piercing dark eyes. He was testing her, testing the memory of her gratitude.

“Of course I trust you, sir.”

And she did. There was something to be said for knowing exactly who he was and how he operated. What the rest of them needed to better master was how to work within that operation to achieve their ends. But it was an unending game, wherein they kept drawing near and he moved the goalposts.

“I rejoice to hear it, Miss Musgrave. Thank you.”

And thus was Maisie defeated.




“So that’s that, then.” Phyllida sighed, frowning around at the crowded Tup. “I suppose it was to be expected.”

“It shouldn’t have been, though.”

“All parties come to an end.”

“This is work.”

“It certainly will be. But we’re still here, and still fighting, aren’t we?”

“Damn right.”

“Onwards and upwards.” Phyllida tossed back her gin with the brio of a sailor.

“We’re still the modern women, aren’t we?” Maisie sought reassurance.

“We are. A force to be reckoned with. We’ll just have to make Siepmann sorry he ever wanted to be part of Talks.”

“Yes. And we’ll have to see what we can do about making Miss Matheson the next DG. After that I’m going to stand in the next election.”

“And I’m going to leapfrog Mr. Fielden and be director of Talks. With a regular column in the Listener, with my name on it.”