take away the plates; then she waited while Father got more coffee. Finally there was nothing left to wait for.
She moved to the middle seat of the divan, next to Mother and almost opposite Father. She took a deep breath and began. “I’ve got something to tell you, Father, and I hope you won’t be cross.”
Mother murmured: “Oh, no ...”
Father said: “What now?”
“I’m nineteen years old and I’ve never done a stroke of work in my life. It’s time I began.”
Mother said: “For heaven’s sake, why?”
“I would like to be independent.”
Mother said: “There are millions of girls working in factories and offices who would give their eyes to be in your position.”
“I realize that, Mother.” Margaret also realized that Mother was arguing with her in an attempt to keep Father out of it. However, it would not work for long.
Mother surprised her by capitulating almost immediately. “Well, I suppose if you’re determined to do it, your grandfather may be able to get you a place with someone he knows—”
“I already have a job.”
That took her by surprise. “In America? How can you?”
Margaret decided not to tell them about Nancy Lenehan: they might talk to her and try to spoil everything. “It’s all arranged,” she said blandly.
“What sort of a job?”
“An assistant in the sales department of a shoe factory.”
“Oh, for goodness’ sake, don’t be ridiculous.”
Margaret bit her lip. Why did Mother have to be so scornful? “It’s not ridiculous. I’m rather proud of myself. I got a job, all on my own, without help from you or Father or Grandfather, just on my merits.” Perhaps that was not exactly the way it happened, but Margaret was beginning to feel defensive.
“Where is this factory?” Mother said.
Father spoke for the first time. “She can’t work in a factory, and that’s that.”
Margaret said: “I’ll be working in the sales office, not the factory. And it’s in Boston.”
“That settles it, then,” Mother said. “You’ll be living in Stamford, not Boston.”
“No, Mother, I won’t. I’ll be living in Boston.”
Mother opened her mouth to speak, then closed it again, realizing at last that she was confronted with something she could not easily dismiss. She was silent for a moment; then she said: “What are you telling us?”
“Just that I’m going to leave you and go to Boston, and live in lodgings and go to work.”
“Oh, this is too stupid.”
Margaret flared: “Don’t be so dismissive.” Mother flinched at her angry tone, and Margaret immediately regretted it. She said more quietly: “I’m only doing what most girls of my age do.”
“Girls of your age, perhaps, but not girls of your class.”
“Why should that make a difference?”
“Because there’s no point in your working at a silly job for five dollars a week and living in an apartment that costs your father a hundred dollars a month.”
“I don’t want Father to pay for my apartment.”
“Then where will you live?”
“I’ve told you, in lodgings.”
“In squalor! But what is the point?”
“I shall save money until I’ve got enough for a ticket home. Then I’ll go back and join the A.T.S.”
Father spoke again. “You’ve no idea what you’re talking about.”
Margaret was stung. “What don’t I know, Father?”
Mother, trying to interrupt, said: “No, don’t—”
Margaret overrode her. “I know I shall have to run errands and make coffee and answer the phone in the office. I know I shall live in a single room with a gas ring, and share the bathroom with other lodgers. I know I shan’t like being poor—but I shall love being free.”
“You don’t know anything,” he said scornfully. “Free? You? You’ll be like a pet rabbit released in a kennel. I’ll tell you what you don’t know, my girl: you don’t know that you’ve been pampered and spoiled all your life. You’ve never even been to school—”
The injustice of that brought tears to her eyes and provoked her into a rejoinder. “I wanted to go to school,” she protested. “You wouldn’t let me!”
He ignored the interruption. “You’ve had your clothes washed and your food prepared. You’ve been chauffeured everywhere you ever wanted to go. You’ve had children brought to the house to play with you. And you’ve never given a thought to how all of it was provided—”
“But I have!”
“And now you want to live on your own! You don’t know the price of a loaf of bread, do you?”
“I’ll soon find out—”
“You don’t know how to wash your own underwear. You’ve never ridden on a bus. You’ve never slept in a house alone. You don’t know how to set an alarm clock, bait a mousetrap, wash dishes, boil an egg—could you boil an egg? Do you know how?”
“Whose fault is it if I don’t?” Margaret said tearfully.
He pressed on remorselessly, his face a mask of contempt and anger. “What use will you be in an office? You can’t make the tea—you don’t know how! You’ve never seen a filing cabinet. You’ve never had to stay in one place from nine in the morning until five in the afternoon. You’ll get bored and wander off. You won’t last a week.”
He was giving expression to Margaret’s own secret worries, and that was why she was getting so upset. In her heart she was terrified that he might be right: she would be hopeless at living alone; she would get fired from her job. His mercilessly derisive voice, confidently predicting that her worst fears would come true, was destroying her dream like the sea washing away a sand castle. She cried openly, tears streaming down her face.
She heard Harry say: “This is too much—”
“Let him go on,” she said. This was one battle Harry could not fight for her: it was between her and Father.
Red in the face, wagging his finger, speaking more and more loudly, Father raved on. “Boston isn’t like Oxenford village, you know. People don’t help one another there. You’ll fall ill and get poisoned by half-breed doctors. You’ll be robbed by Jew landlords and raped by street niggers. And as for your joining the army ... !”
“Thousands of girls have joined the A.T.S.,” Margaret said, but her voice was a feeble whisper.
“Not girls like you,” he said. “Tough girls, perhaps, who are used to getting up early in the morning and scrubbing floors, but not pampered debutantes. And God forbid that you should find yourself in any kind of danger —you’d turn to jelly!”
She remembered how incapable she had been in the blackout—scared and helpless and panicky—and she burned with shame. He was right—she had turned to jelly. But she would not always be frightened and defenseless. He had done his utmost to make her powerless and dependent, but she was fiercely determined to be her own person, and she kept that flame of hope flickering even as she cringed under his onslaught.
He pointed his finger at her and his eyes bulged so much they looked as if they would burst. “You won’t last a week in an office, and you wouldn’t last a day in the A.T.S.,” he said malevolently. “You’re just too soft.” He sat back, looking self-satisfied.
Harry came and sat beside Margaret. Taking out a crisp linen handkerchief, he dabbed her wet cheeks gently.
Father said: “And as for you, young fellow-me-lad—”
Harry got up out of his seat in a flash and rounded on Father. Margaret gasped, thinking there was going to be a fight. Harry said: “Don’t dare to speak to me that way. I’m not a girl. I’m a grown man, and if you insult me I’ll punch your fat head.”
Father subsided into silence.
Harry turned his back on Father and sat down beside Margaret again.
Margaret was upset, but in her heart she felt a sense of triumph. She had told him that she was leaving. He
