She’d made sure to wear Dash’s lucky green coat today, figuring she needed all the help she could get, but the closer she got to her destination, the more doubts popped into her head. What if they didn’t want her? How could she ever face anyone ever again if that happened? Or worse, what if she walked into the recruiting office and they offered her a position right then and there? Panic fluttered briefly in her chest, but she dismissed the thought. She hadn’t packed a suitcase, so she reasoned they couldn’t send her away today. But what should she say to them? What would Dash do?
As the streetcar approached the recruiting office, Dot pulled the string for the bell then climbed off. Swallowing a knot of nerves, she tiptoed into a quiet room decorated with recruitment posters and staffed by a couple of men in uniform. Three women, also in uniform, sat behind them at desks, typing.
Dot grabbed a pamphlet off a nearby table then presented it to the man at the counter as if it were her ticket in.
“May I help you?” he asked cordially.
“I hope so. I hope I am at the correct place. I have never been here before. Never been to any recruitment office, actually.” Her cheeks blazed. She was aware that she was speaking quickly, but she also knew from experience that she couldn’t slow the waterfall of nerves until she’d finished her thought. “I suppose that makes sense, doesn’t it? If one needs a recruitment office, they certainly don’t need two, do they? I wonder how many of these offices there are in the city. Has this one been here long? My sister was here before, though that was a while ago. Her name was Margaret, but everyone calls her Dash. Dash Wilson. Did you meet her? She’s a Wren now. We’re all so proud of her. And so I was thinking it might be a good idea for me to see if I could join as well.”
“I beg your pardon?”
Slow down, you idiot.She tapped the pamphlet with her finger. “I would like to join the Wrens.”
“Excellent. You are in the right place.”
He thanked her for coming, then he reached behind the counter and handed her a form to fill in. She carried it to an empty table, planning to treat the task as seriously as if it were an examination, but it asked for little more than her name, birth date, and address.
“Thank you,” he said, taking the completed form from her. “Now, if you don’t mind, I will bring over a couple of items for your attention. The Women’s Royal Canadian Naval Service believes in helping each woman reach her fullest potential, and we begin with a simple test to establish the best fit. One is mechanical, and one is administrative. If there is something with which you are uncomfortable, simply go on to what you feel are your strengths.”
She watched him disappear into a back room, her nerves jumping. A test? Dash hadn’t mentioned a test. Dot was unprepared. She hadn’t studied. She watched with trepidation as the man returned with a box, which he placed before her.
“The first is a mechanical challenge. We ask you to assemble Meccano parts to resemble this finished example.” He extracted various steel bits from the box and set them on the table. Beside them, he placed acompleted model of a building. “I will be right back with the other item.”
Dot’s stomach dropped. She stared at the little box, completely at a loss. Dash would have put this together in no time flat, but there was no hope for Dot. Coming here had been a big mistake, she realized. She’d gone and done exactly what she’d most hoped to avoid: she’d made a fool of herself. Heat radiated off her face, and she was sure everyone in the office could see the sweat on her brow. She glanced at the door, wondering if she could somehow escape the rest of this appointment without anyone noticing, but the man was already returning.
Right beside the Meccano pieces, he set down a typewriter and a handwritten letter. “This one has to do with administrative work,” he said. “We ask you to transcribe this handwritten letter, and I will time you. Any questions?”
Dot almost burst into tears with relief. She pushed the first box aside. “I’m afraid I am completely useless at mechanics, but I am ready to type anytime.”
“All right. Turn the page over.” He pulled out a watch. “Begin now.”
She didn’t bother to read through the messy print, just got right to the typing.
Dear Mrs. Sandring,
It is with great sadness that I send my personal condolences regarding your terrible loss. Harold was a leader in our battalion, both in the heat of battle and after. If someone was in need of advice, it was to Harold that we turned…
In the back of her mind, she was vaguely aware of the content of the letter, which went on for three more paragraphs, but she said nothing. She was not being tested on comprehension. When she was done, she pulled the letter swiftly from the roller and handed it over.
He wrote her typing speed on the bottom then checked the page for accuracy. “Very impressive,” he said. “Now that’s out of the way, do you have any other skills you’d like me to include? Do you drive? Cook?”
Her face warmed. “I’m not particularly good at either.”
“Do you speak any languages other than English?”
“Mais oui.I write, read, and speakle Français, und auch Deutsch.I am also fluent in Morse code.”
“Even more impressive than your typing speed, Miss Wilson.” He made a note on her form and drew a star beside it. “Anything else?”
She leaned forward, curious about the star. That seemed to be a positive sign. Perhaps it hadn’t been a mistake to come here after all.
“Miss Wilson? Anything else?”
“I don’t believe so, I’m afraid.” On impulse, she gifted him her approximation of Dash’s winning smile. She felt a sudden need to convince this man that she belonged with the Wrens, and she was aware that her own thin smile didn’t turn heads like her sister’s could. She even gave her eyelashes a little flutter, though it felt silly. “Not unless you count crossword puzzles and mystery novels as a skill.”
His eyebrows lifted. “I see.”
She was interested to see him print the words “crossword puzzles” beside her name and the star. What odd observations to record.
