He set his pen aside. “Thank you for coming today, Miss Wilson. You will be hearing from our office soon.”
“I will?” Now that she had taken this first step, she required a definitive answer as to whether or not she should make plans.
“Oh yes, Miss Wilson. Most definitely. You have many desirable skills.”
Dot clamped her lips together. She didn’t want to let on that her success made her happier than she’d been in a long time. “Thank you.”
She gathered up Dash’s coat and stepped out once more into the jarring noises of the city, but this time she barely noticed.
So that was it. All done within fifteen minutes. So much dread and second-guessing herself, and she’d breezed through it. He had even been impressed by her. All that fuss had been rather embarrassing, if she thought about it now. This was what confidence felt like, she realized, warmed all the way through. Now if only she could remember this feeling when it came to her next challenge, whatever that might be.
twelveDASH— November 1942 —Toronto, Ontario
Dash rolled out from under the truck, glad to be done with the last oil change of the day. It wasn’t that she minded the job, it’s just that she’d changed the oil in at least a dozen vehicles today, and another dozen yesterday. She wondered how many a man could have done in that same time frame. Probably not as many. A man would be bigger, so he’d have to squeeze under the car, whereas Dash was small enough to simply slide in and out.
It had taken a few days before she could get a read on the men working at the garage, and after that she’d decided not to try too hard. She was here to work, not socialize. The only issue so far was Jim, the boss’s son. She’d learned he was married, but that didn’t seem to matter to him. He couldn’t get it through his thick head that she did not want to go out with him. Nor could he understand that leering at women and touching them without invitation was not acceptable. She’d slapped his hand off her waist the other day. Everyone in the garage had seen him put it there, but not one of the other men had stepped in to help her. If anything, they’d seemed amused by her reaction. She tried not to think about that too much, but she couldn’t help tensing up any time one of them came over to talk.
With a groan, she got to her feet. Friday night was here. Time to get her thoughts out from under the hood so she could enjoy the city.
“Did you remember we’re going to seeHoliday Inntonight?” Ginny called from across the garage, wiping grease off her hands.
“I did,” she replied. “How could I forget, with Mary going on and on about Bing Crosby’s ‘dreamy’ voice?”
Their roommate, Mary, was a lot of fun. She found humour in almost everything, and her laughter cut through the noisiest crowd like a cannon shot in the middle of a church service.
“You brought clothes? Or do we have to go back to the Coop?”
Thank goodness Dash had remembered. “I brought clothes.”
“Mary got off work a half hour ago. She said she’d meet us near the theatre.”
“Where’s the theatre? Can we walk to it?”
“She said it’s playing at the Midtown. Bloor and Bathurst, across from the Dominion Bank. We can take a streetcar if it’s too cold.”
“It’s warm enough,” Dash said, “and I need fresh air.”
That’s when she realized she’d forgotten to pack any money. When her hands were as clean as she could get them, she got changed then dug into the pocket of her navy-blue Wrens’ coat, hoping she wouldn’t have to beg one of her friends for a dime for her ticket. She drew out a speck of lint and a couple of coins, producing twenty-five cents. Perfect. She might even get some popcorn. She lifted her winter coat off its hook and headed into the chill with Ginny.
“How’s your sister?” Ginny asked. “Have you heard from her?”
“Oh! I forgot to tell you! She signed up for the Wrens!” Dash patted her pocket. “I got a letter from her yesterday.”
“Good for her! That must have been tough for her, from what you’ve described. My sister’s the same. Worries about everything. I don’t think she’ll ever sign up. That’s all right, though. My mother is always sick, so she’s a big help.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. Thank goodness your mother can lean on her,” Dash said, picturing her own parents. They’d miss Dot, but they’ddo fine without her. “I really am glad Dot took that step. She’ll do well. She’ll see.”
A couple of blocks from the theatre, Dash spotted a young woman in a bright red beret, hopping on her toes on the sidewalk.
“Mary hardly looks excited at all,” she laughed.
“Hey, hey, hey!” Mary called as she ran up to greet them. “Friday night at last! So?”
“The Midtown?” Dash asked.
“Yes, please! I was counting on that all day. I even brought along three extra nickels so I could buy each of us our own bucket of popcorn. My treat.”
Dash was touched. “That’s swell of you, Mary.”
