Free The River Flows On by Maggie Craig Page A

were bolted onto the tables at regular intervals.
    ‘For the winter,’ said Arthur Crawford, seeing her glance at them. ‘Good light’s crucial for close work. You’ll find that out for yourself.’
    Kate had been impressed to learn that the plans were photographed. The knowledge that the tracers had electric light to work by when natural light wasn’t good enough impressed her even more. At home they had gas-mantles and still sometimes used the old brass paraffin lamp which had been one of Granny’s wedding presents.
    ‘Donaldson’s employ a lot of tracers then?’ Kate did a quick estimate of the stools. There had to be around sixty. The big room was quiet and echoing today, the tracers too having been paid off when the orders had dried up.
    A tall angular woman dressed in a black overall came forward and was introduced as Miss Nugent, the Chief Tracer. She was the only member of the department to have kept her job during the shut-down. She shook hands with Arthur Crawford, listened unsmiling to what he said, peered over pince-nez spectacles at Kate and fired questions at her. Did she have her Third Year Leaving Certificate? Which subjects was she good at? What were her interests and hobbies? What was her father to trade? Where did she live? Was she punctual? Kate saw the infinitesimal lift of the eyebrows when Miss Nugent learned that her father was an unemployed member of the Black Squad, but she seemed at last to be satisfied, and began rattling out information in her turn.
    ‘It’s a five-year apprenticeship. We’ll pay you five shillings a week to begin with. You’ll be taught on the job and you’ll be expected to work hard. We also encourage our girls to attend evening classes - in any subject. If you do so, you receive an extra sixpence per week in your pay packet. You look neat,’ she went on, scarcely pausing to draw breath, ‘and your showing in the examination was excellent. That’s what’s needed in this job - neatness and intelligence. I understand you have artistic tendencies.’ Miss Nugent’s tone of voice made it crystal clear that this was not a compliment.
    ‘Y-yes...’stammered Kate, taken aback that the woman had finally stopped and seemed to be anticipating some kind of response from her. Five years! That was forever. Especially when it wasn’t what you wanted to do with your life. The beautiful vision of herself at the launch vanished, burst like one of the soap bubbles wee Davie loved to be allowed to blow on wash day. She wanted to learn how to draw and paint, not be under this dragon’s thumb for the next five years.
    The dragon was looking at her over the little gold specs perched on the end of her bony nose. Kate wondered if she really needed them or if they were a prop to help her look at you as though you’d crawled out from under some stone. A father in the Black Squad and artistic tendencies? Dear me. Miss Nugent made them both sound like hanging offences.
    Her next words confirmed Kate’s worst fears.
    ‘Your artistic talent is not necessarily an advantage,’ Miss Nugent was saying sternly. ‘The artistic temperament is certainly not required here.’ She allowed herself a little smile, directing it at Arthur Crawford. Her eyes came back to Kate and the smile faded.
    Any minute now, thought Kate, she’s going to wag her finger at me. This is like being back at school. Worse - Miss Noble would never speak to me like this. Artistic temperament, indeed! What does she think I’m going to do? Dance naked around the room with a rose between my teeth? Her rebellious mouth curved at the thought. Miss Nugent’s eyes narrowed and her mouth pursed.
    ‘All my girls must pull together and it’s hard work, mind! There’s no place here for slackers. Bearing that in mind, are you still interested in being considered for a position at Donaldson’s, Miss.Cameron?’
    Stung, Kate drew herself up to her full height. At five feet four, this wasn’t particularly impressive, but