Radio Girls(76)

Maisie wanted to point out they hadn’t answered her question, but Hilda was spreading their notes, German propaganda, and annotated articles across the table.

“I know you were putting it down to cleverness, Matty, but if the girl thinks you’re a spy, it may be because that handwriting looks like desperately tricky code.”

“What hilarity,” Hilda said. “How are you not a music hall star?”

“I have a rotten agent. So, your little interest in the political lunatic fringe rises again, I see.”

“Not so lunatic or fringe if they are attracting people with money. Miss Musgrave sneaked into an underground meeting . . .” Hilda turned to Maisie. “How were you able to get in, by the way? They weren’t letting just anyone in, I should think?”

“No, there was a code word, ‘lion,’ which . . .” She paused, as Hilda and Ellis were laughing.

“Sorry, Miss Musgrave. It’s only that these people are like little boys playing adventure games. Look at the advert again, just the first letters of every line.”

Hilda ran her finger down the ad:

Listen in a like-minded crowd!

If Siemens is your favorite wireless,

opt to gather ’round with us.

News of a real sort and refreshments, too!

“And I daresay it’s ‘Lion’ for the lion of England,” Ellis finished, wiping his eyes. “But really, Matty, how can you think people who put on such a poor show are worth worrying about? I grant you, they would do better to take up good, solid hobbies like Onanism—”

“Ellis!”

“—but I fail to see anything illegal.”

“They want to take over the BBC and stop women working there!” Maisie cried.

“Everyone wants to run the BBC. You’re a great success. But I’ll say to you what I said to Matty. I see foolishness and odiousness, but not illegality.”

“The Radio Times,” Maisie said suddenly. “Not just any magazine—they picked the Radio Times to alert people to meetings.” She whirled to Hilda. “That quote. From that fellow Goebbels. Where he said that coup the Nazis staged in 1923 might have succeeded, if they could have taken over the radio.” She turned back to Ellis. “That wasn’t legal. And now they’re trying to raise money, and from here, too. And if British Fascists are thinking along the same lines—”

“I said they were legal, not decent,” Ellis muttered.

“Honestly, if captains of industry are giving up a free evening to attend Fascist meetings, they must see a business opportunity,” Hilda said. “And that’s rarely good for those who like freedom. They want to buy some papers too, it seems, to further exert influence.”

“Ah, following closely in Mussolini’s footsteps, eh?” Ellis asked with a theatrical wink. Hilda, to Maisie’s surprise, actually blushed.

“My point,” Hilda said, biting her lips, “is that it might be worth keeping at least a casual eye on them.”

“That takes time and money,” Ellis said. “Of which I have virtually none. But if the two of you wish to dig deeper and then share findings, there is always plenty of brandy.”

“So you do think it’s worthwhile!” Hilda cried.

“No. I’m just humoring you,” Ellis said. “You always like to have all your thousand and one projects. But I say, Miss Musgrave, do be careful. These fantasists rarely amount to much politically, but they can allow their ideas to run away with them, which can be a bit dangerous. Not really something a nice young girl ought to be getting muddled up in.”

“That’s very good advice,” Maisie said gravely. “If I see any nice young girls, I’ll be sure to pass it along.”





FOURTEEN




London, September 1928

Dear Lola,

I’m so pleased the show is such a success and you’re enjoying Rome. I do miss you, though. You needn’t worry about my moving anytime soon. I’m earning more money as a Talks assistant, but I’d rather build up some savings, and of course get some more decent clothes and things. I do wish you were here to help me with shopping (which wasn’t true but it would delight Lola). Tell me more about this visconte who meets you at the stage door every night. I hope he’s noble in every sense of the word! We all miss you. Mrs. Crewe wants you to hurry home from such a disreputable place as Italy, though she’s glad you decided to keep your room here. As am I, and thank you again for giving me free rein with your things. I’m putting them to good use, and will tell all when you get home.

Yours,

Maisie

Even if she had funds enough to move, there was absolutely no time for flat-hunting. In addition to her full days as a Talks assistant, she continued to type Hilda’s notes on broadcasting as they accumulated, every few weeks. A fine book was taking shape. Her budget now allowed for her own copies of morning papers, and as she had mastered the art of balancing in the tram without holding a strap, she could read and mark interesting events or people that might generate a Talk. And now she was sniffing around at what this unauthorized branch of the Fascist party was up to, as it was trying to upset her apple cart. She never felt tired, only energized.

This week was particularly historic, as she was the first one to attack a submitted script with a red pencil. The Talk was A Day in the Life of a London Postman. She worked on it in the tram, in the evenings, even in the bath. Make it conversational. Bring out the most interesting bits. Help him be his most natural self. Then she presented it with high ceremony to Hilda.