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"That's very kind of you to say, Mr. Hayes."

"Yes, we have found that the more creative types—the men—can be somewhat hotheaded and demanding. But you women? It's something to do with your natural tact, your patience, and your overall diplomacy that makes you excellent workers. You're so well suited to managing the men and transcribing their words, as typing at speed does seem to come naturally to you all. And, of course, we find that because women have helped their mothers with the household chores and with the task of looking after the men of the household, they develop a natural tendency to look after their bosses too." He narrowed his eyes at Martha and cocked his head to the side. "You've worked here many years, haven't you, Miss Berry?"

"Yes, Mr. Hayes." 

"How many exactly?"

"From the beginning—1932."

"Goodness. The very year we began broadcasting." He picked up his pipe, made a huge fuss of lighting it, and puffed it back to life. "You must be thinking about retiring then."

"No thoughts in that direction, Mr. Hayes." Thoughts of retirement? She was younger than Mr. Hayes, and he still occupied his comfortable leather chair.

"No grandchildren to look after, then? No...knitting for them? Or baking biscuits, that kind of thing?" Wasn't the fact that she was still "Miss" any kind of clue to him? If she were married, she would not legally be allowed to work in the Commonwealth Public Service and many other places. She wasn't Mrs. Meredith, after all. No, she was the perfect working woman. She was husbandless. Childless.

"No grandchildren, Mr. Hayes. And I don't bake." 

"You don't bake?"

"No. I'm terrible at it. Whatever I attempt I always seem to burn. I blame my oven."

"I see." The conversation had strayed uncomfortably into the personal, and Mr. Hayes's cheeks reddened in response to the transgression.

"When does Mr. Quinn begin?" Martha asked.

"Next week." He paused. "You've moved from place to place quite a lot, as I recall. Filling in for others, working on new programs, that sort of thing."

"Yes, Mr. Hayes." 

"Why is that?"

Martha was far too polite to point out that despite all the assistance she'd provided to her male bosses over the years, she'd never been offered a permanent position with any of them. Perhaps she had been too hesitant to ask for one. Perhaps she had rubbed people the wrong way. She had never been able to figure it out.

"Moving from department to department has certainly kept me on my toes. No day is ever the same," Martha replied. "If there's nothing else, Mr. Hayes?"

"No, that is all."

"Thank you, Mr. Hayes." Martha stood to go, nodding ever so slightly in deference to her boss.

"There is one thing before you go, Miss Berry." 

She waited.

"We have high hopes for As the Sun Sets." 

"That's the title of the new drama serial?" 

"Yes. Spot on, don't you think?"

"Yes, very catchy indeed." Martha paused. "Can I fetch you another cup of tea?"

"Why yes, that would be lovely. Thank you, Miss Berry." Martha closed his office door as she left.

CHAPTER TWO

In which Martha Berry shares her news about As the Sun Sets and receives surprising advice from her mother, Violet.

"Hello, Mum. Good evening, Mrs. Tilley. Mrs. Ward."

The three gray-haired women sat on Mrs. Tilley's front veranda in three identical wicker chairs sipping tea from bone china cups that were as old as they were. On a low table in front of them sat an empty plate with a scattering of telltale crumbs.