Free A Step Too Far by Meg Hutchinson Page B

intolerable. But to reject this order would result in a far more dreadful penalty.
         Perhaps she should explain, should write to the magistrate asking to be assigned some other place of work, to any factory other than TITAN ENGINEERING, the factory where her husband was manager.

8
    Isaac Eldon! Temper lending speed to her feet, Katrin walked quickly along Lower High Street.
         Why had Arthur Whitman thought to bring that man to management?
         She almost spat the question aloud.
         ‘ You have done a valiant job, Miss Hawley .’ Arthur had smiled at her across his wide-topped desk. ‘ But it is one I cannot ask you continue .’
         She had done a valiant job but she could not continue!
         Had he seen the consternation in her eyes? That sense of shock turning to anger, a cold vicious anger which deepened when he had gone on to say . . . ‘ the responsibility is too much for a woman as young as yourself to carry and with the continuation of war then the burden can only increase, therefore I have asked Isaac Eldon to take on the post of works manager .’
         The rest of what Arthur Whitman had said had barely registered over the turmoil seething in her head.
         Isaac Eldon would be works manager: he was thoroughly conversant with every aspect of the forging of steel; he would take responsibility for production but even with that load removed from this office he was loath to ask she replace Harriet Simpson.
         ‘ Why? ’
         It might have seemed like anxiety at the prospect of being told she was no longer required, but its progenitor had been the demon she had long served, the demon of bitterness. But she had kept that hidden, merely asking quietly if her work had proved in any way inferior to that performed by the older woman?
         Deep brown eyes had flashed quick apology. She had proved admirable in all she had done, but he paused, a hand flicking through hair that daily became more liberally sprinkled with grey, Harriet had years of experience.
         ‘ But ,’ she had answered swiftly, ‘ you have said Miss Simpson will not be returning; as for experience that comes only from being allowed to try and that is what I ask, Mr Whitman, that I be allowed to try .’
         She had the benefit of Harriet’s tutoring . . . she had managed exceptionally well on her own . . . had taken up the reins  . . .
         He had mused aloud, fingers pressing worriedly at his temples, then in a tone remorseful as that quick glance, ‘ If you are sure, Miss Hawley, then you have my gratitude .’
         Gratitude! Gratitude but not trust. Katrin Hawley was not to have quite all of the authority the blessed Harriet had enjoyed, rather she should refer to Eldon on those occasions Arthur Whitman was absent.
         She paused at the kerb of the busy road, waiting to cross to where an imposing coyned building marked the corner of Hollies Drive. There was an assortment of vehicles: lorries with their loads concealed beneath tarpaulin sheets, vans with names and logos painted out, all were devoid of reference to street or town, nameless of origin or destination, they simply passed anonymous and unrecognised.
         But she would not go unrecognised. No, the name of Katrin Hawley would become well known at Prodor. But for the time being she must accept the fact of Isaac Eldon becoming works manager. Oh yes, she would defer to Eldon, only not in the manner he or Arthur Whitman expected.
         The thought brought a smile as she darted across the road, but on reaching the turning for Hollies Drive, she was flung backward, her shoulder hitting the wall of the graceful building as she collided with a figure emerging from its entrance.
     
    Some sixth sense had prevented her posting that request to the Magisterial court, some desperate last-minute warning sounding in her brain as she had sealed the envelope.
         ‘It will be seen as one more refusal and you will