When the Lights Come on Again Read Online Free PDF Page B

cheerfully asked when she could attend for interview. They reminded her to be sure to bring a reference from her current employer when she came.
    ‘Oh,’ said Liz, her face falling. ‘Maybe I’d better think about it a bit more. I’ll let you know if I’m interested. Thanks all the same.’
    Only ever having been in one job since leaving school, she had forgotten those two important facts. She would need time off to attend an interview, and she would need to get a reference.
    Asking for time off meant explanations. She imagined that looking for a new job wasn’t going to go down too well as an excuse. Miss Gilchrist might even contact her father to ask if he approved of his daughter making a move. Liz wouldn’t put it past her.
    Murray’s might also refuse to give her a reference. No other firm was going to take her on without one, or perhaps even with one. Liz had few illusions about her abilities as a shorthand-typist. Any reference she received wasn’t going to be a glowing one. She’d get herself into extremely hot water, with no guarantee of a new job at the end of it.
    Trudging up the stairs of the railway station on Friday evening, Liz walked out on to the pavement. There was a man standing in front of her, barring her way. She glanced up.
    ‘Grandad! What on earth are you doing here?’
    The station was only a few hundred yards from her home. By tacit agreement, she and Eddie never met Peter MacMillan except at his house.
    So far, their father continued to tolerate the visits. It was one of the few things about which Sadie had dug her heels in. It had been an enormous effort for her to stand up to her husband, but she had won. Eddie and Liz were not to be prevented from seeing their grandfather.
    Valuing each other’s friendship and company as they did, none of the three of them wanted to put that in jeopardy. Appearing so close to his son’s house might be sufficient annoyance to make William ban the visits - which meant that her grandfather had to have a very good reason indeed for coming to meet Liz off the train.
    ‘Read that,’ he said, thrusting a crumpled Glasgow Herald into her hand. ‘Page twelve. Under “ Women’s Topics ”. You get some real good articles on that page, you know.’ He gave her an outrageous wink. Curious, Liz scanned the article. He had folded the newspaper open for her at the right spot.
    The piece was about the Red Cross. With international tension rising, the reporter wrote, recruitment to the Voluntary Aid Detachment of the organization was being stepped up. Public-spirited citizens prepared to volunteer would receive training in the various skills required. The Red Cross was particularly keen to hear from men or women who could drive and from women prepared to train as nursing auxiliaries. It would be remembered, of course, that VAD nurses had given sterling service during the Great War.
    Liz looked up. She said the words out loud, her voice high and breathless.
    ‘Nursing auxiliaries?’
    Peter MacMillan gestured excitedly towards the newspaper. ‘Read on,’ he said. ‘You haven’t got to the best bit yet.’
    Impatient, he snatched it from her hands and read the article out loud to her.
    ‘While VAD nursing assistants may be sought on a full-time basis if the crisis continues to worsen, the organization will also be happy to hear from girls and women who would be able to make their contribution on a weekend or evening basis, thus combining this valuable work with their domestic duties or existing employment responsibilities. The Red Cross will shortly be establishing an intensive programme of first-aid classes to which both sexes will be warmly welcomed. Initially, all those interested in becoming nursing auxiliaries should enrol for these classes.
    ‘There,’ he said triumphantly, folding the newspaper and tucking it under his arm. ‘What do you think of that?’
    ‘I think it’s the answer to a prayer,’ breathed Liz, hardly daring to believe her eyes