Free Beware This Boy by Maureen Jennings Page B

change rooms. The female workers are on the right, the men on the left.” He gave a sly chuckle. “Perhaps we should have reversed that, given that women are the distaff side of humanity.”
    Tyler didn’t realize what he was referring to at first, but he nodded politely.
    “When all the workers have changed from their outdoor clothes, they declare that they are ‘clean,’ as the expression goes. Section A and Section B operatives, who deal with the fuses, proceed to their buildings, which are outside. Section B, alas, is where the explosion occurred.” He indicated the men’s change room.
    “We can go through here, sir.”
    “If you don’t mind, I’d like to go by way of the women’s room first. Follow in their footsteps as it were.”
    “Of course, sir. This way.” Cudmore actually knocked on the door before he opened it.
    The room was spartan, with wire-mesh lockers along the walls and a wooden bench running down the centre. The lavatory stalls were at one end and a communal wash basin in front of them. Blue overalls were hanging on pegs and more than a dozen pairs of black flat shoes were tucked underneath the bench, mute testimony to the absent women. Tyler knew that most of the workers would be returning tomorrow, but there was something oddly desolate about the sight of those empty shoes. He was reminded of the fairy story about the dancing princesses that he used to tell Janet when she was small.
    Cudmore seemed to pick up on his thoughts. “The slippers have a way of disappearing. Many of the young women say they make excellent dancing shoes.” He indicated a red-painted barrier about six inches high that divided the room just beyond the lockers. “That bar delineates the clean area from the so-called dirty area. As you can see, it’s a mental deterrent rather than a physical one. When they’re ready, the girls simply step over it and exit through the far door.”
    “Are the change rooms kept locked?”
    “No, they’re not. There were at one time. Mr. Endicott wanted to discourage what he called lavatory-mongering. He thought the women were tempted to linger and gossip with each other.”
    Tyler could tell by Cudmore’s tone of voice this was not a rule he approved of.
    “The key kept going missing,” continued the secretary. “It became too much trouble to hunt it down if anybody needed to get in. To use the toilet or some such.”
    Tyler walked over to each door in turn and examined it.The locks were the old-fashioned kind, requiring a fairly large, straight key.
    “No problems with theft, I take it?”
    Cudmore shook his head. “We’re a small factory. Everybody knows everybody else. We’ve had no trouble with anything like that.”
    “Except for the vanishing shoes.”
    Cudmore smiled. “We’ve decided to call that normal wear and tear of equipment.”
    Tyler noticed the secretary had edged closer to the doorway, presumably so he could flee immediately if one of the distaff side did appear.
    “Shall we proceed?”
    Cudmore stepped over the barrier and ushered Tyler through the door, which opened onto a short roofed passageway. Tyler coughed as the damp outside air penetrated his lungs. It might be more comfortable for the workers if the passage was enclosed. He’d use what clout he could muster and recommend it. Music, covered walkways, pats on the back. What next?

    Eileen found it strange being in the empty factory. She often went in at odd hours. Ever since the factory had been converted to war work, shifts ran day and night. There was always the noise of the machines, the bustle of the workers coming and going. This morning nobody seemed to be in the offices but she wasn’t surprised. She’d known Charles Endicott for a long time, and if there was an unpleasant situation he could avoid, he would.
    She went into the clinic, which was tucked away at the far end of the main floor. She didn’t expect any patients today, so she didn’t change into her uniform, but as she was