Until the Rivers Run Still

Part 1 Chapter 1

PART 1

"The past is a foreign country: they do things differently there." L.P. Hartley, The Go-Between.

Chapter 1 – May 1950

'Next,' he called wearily.

Pulling at his tie to loosen it, he rolled his shoulders, trying to relieve the tension in them. It had been a long, hard day. He'd been dreading this day ever since his secretary Blanche announced her engagement. She hadn't handed in her resignation right away, but he'd known it was inevitable.

'That's the trouble when you employ young girls,' he had complained to his wife at the time. 'Just as you get them worn in, they go and get married.' He didn't like the older "Misses" either. They were less decorative in the office, and too set in their ways. He reserved the right to be the crotchety one. He was the station manager, after all, and deserved to be the difficult one.

There'd been so many applicants. Every silly young woman who thinks she can type must have applied for the job.

That was the problem with running a radio station. Too many young things applied for jobs just for the chance to see, up close, their favourite radio stars. Maybe they thought they might catch the eye of one of the young and handsome men working there. Or at a pinch, even an old one would do, as long as he was wealthy and successful. He smiled, ruefully remembering the offers even he'd had. He was too scared of his wife Dot to take them up, though. He wasn't totally crazy.

He heard the door open and quick steps approaching him. He looked up with a fake smile, trying to suppress a sigh, expecting another pretty, simpering young face.

His face froze. He stared at the young woman who stood in the doorway smiling slightly, her white-gloved hands clutching a tiny black handbag. She was neatly dressed in a navy dress with a white Peter Pan collar and a navy hat on her neat shoulder-length black hair. Nothing unusual there, but it was her face that transfixed him. She reminded him of a little doll; a little Chinese doll. He'd never seen anyone like her before; at least not in real life.

He was surprised by her appearance, but relieved that at least she wasn't another very young girl. Too many of the applicants had been barely out of their teens. This girl looked more mature than the others did. He thought she was probably in her late 20s; immaculate, well presented and tiny.

'Please come in.' He stood up as she entered the room, and smiled stiffly, trying not to let his astonishment show.

'Good afternoon. Should I sit down here?' she asked, indicating the chair in front of his desk.

Another surprise. She spoke in an ordinary Australian accent, not the Chinese one he was expecting.

'Yes Miss, Mrs. ...?' he let the question hang in the air.

'Miss King.' She sat down; her hands held neatly together on her lap. 'I'm here to apply for the secretarial position.'

'Yes, well Miss King. My name is Mr. James Martin, and I'm the manager of the radio station.' He cleared his throat as he sat down. He shuffled through his papers, looking for her application. 'Ah yes, here it is. Miss Lucy King.' He scanned the application quickly, to remind himself of its contents. 'I can see you've had lots of experience and I've noted here your references are excellent. Why do you want to work here?' he asked, beginning the interview.

***

In contrast to the previous applicants, and despite his initial negative reaction to her appearance, as the interview progressed Mr. Martin found himself warming to her. Her replies to his questions were very straightforward and pleasant. She conveyed a simple confidence in her abilities, without appearing conceited. Despite their short acquaintance, he quickly realised that he felt comfortable with her. After the formal interview questions had been asked and answered, they sat chatting for a while.