Read Online Away With The Fairies by Kerry Greenwood - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Kerry Greenwood
Ads: Link
Mad Elopement” or “The Diary of a Lonesome Girl”? This is real life, Mrs Charlesworth. You can’t expect those girls to read nothing but “The Lives of Noble Women”!’
‘Can’t I?’ asked Mrs Charlesworth gently. Mrs McAlpin picked up another lens and sang a little louder. ‘His chariots of wrath the deep thunderclouds form …’ Miss Phillips concluded her notes on the shattered china and started loading it back into its box. This she tied up with string. Then she stood up and headed for the door, dead-heating Miss Nelson, the office girl, who knew the signs as well as anyone and had discovered an urgent errand at the printer’s. Phryne dumped her Worth dress, took her seat and watched, fascinated. Miss Prout, it appeared, had a minimal sense of self-preservation. Mrs Charlesworth might look cushiony and soft, but she ran a monthly magazine and had done so for some time, which meant she must have a whim of iron.
‘Let’s see what we could put into our Australian magazine to give it popular American appeal, shall we?’ asked Mrs Charlesworth gently. ‘“Her Morning After”? “Dope”? The news that—let me see—the notorious nightclub keeper Kate Meyrick has been jailed for six months? That the Comtesse de Janzé has been put on trial for attempted murder of Mr Raymond de Trafford at Nice? That the Reverend Francis Bacon has been tried for supplying poisonous drugs to women? Nice, very nice. Sin, suffering and sorrow, all with a neat little moral plaited into the end. Don’t behave wildly. Toe the line. Be a good girl and you’ll be happy. Is that what you want us to tell our readers? That old lie?’
‘And dark is his path on the wings of the storm,’ sang Mrs McAlpin.
‘We could have the whole state reading us!’ objected Miss Prout.
‘Poisons are attractive,’ said Mrs Charlesworth. ‘This, this drivel is as attractive as the drug in that story and twice as addictive.’
‘So you agree that I’m right. That readers would eat this stuff up,’ insisted Miss Prout.
‘Oh, yes, they would. And vomit it right back. Read without reflection and forgotten, except for the moral stain. Are we going to produce articles on the lives of flibbertigibbet film “stars” and make our respectable women envy them? Are we going to tell girls that sex is forbidden, and make it doubly attractive? These rags are designed not to inform, but to titillate, and thus to promote the very actions which they pretend to protest against. They are poisonous, evil, corrupt and for the last time, Miss Prout, I will not have it!’
‘But the advertisers—’
‘Oh, yes, I can just see how Ovaltine will react. We might be all right with Tangee lipstick, they’re selling sexual attraction, after all, and perhaps some of the face creams. But Salus? They take at least two half pages every issue for their Nutrax Nerve Food. I can’t see the godly, sober and righteous being impressed with “Her Morning After”, can you?’
‘We could get other advertisements—we could attract a different market,’ said Miss Prout stubbornly.
‘Of course,’ Mrs Charlesworth’s voice was kind. ‘Brothels, gin palaces, movies, there’s a plethora of grubby little industries which would leap at the chance. Why not make up a list of them, Miss Prout? I’m sure that the Board will be interested. The meeting is on Thursday. I’m not trying to crush your enterprising spirit. But the furthest I am willing to go with gossip in Women’s Choice is the riveting news that little Princess Elizabeth has learned how to curtsey. No, Miss Prout. That is enough for today. I still have an editorial to write and someone has to check over “Hilda and the Flower Fairies” and then take it down to the printer. You strike me as needing a little innocent diversion. Get Miss Fisher to help you—she could do with some, too, and a cup of tea, by the look of her. Now, silence, ladies. Complete, utter silence.’
She went back into her office
‘Can’t I?’ asked Mrs Charlesworth gently. Mrs McAlpin picked up another lens and sang a little louder. ‘His chariots of wrath the deep thunderclouds form …’ Miss Phillips concluded her notes on the shattered china and started loading it back into its box. This she tied up with string. Then she stood up and headed for the door, dead-heating Miss Nelson, the office girl, who knew the signs as well as anyone and had discovered an urgent errand at the printer’s. Phryne dumped her Worth dress, took her seat and watched, fascinated. Miss Prout, it appeared, had a minimal sense of self-preservation. Mrs Charlesworth might look cushiony and soft, but she ran a monthly magazine and had done so for some time, which meant she must have a whim of iron.
‘Let’s see what we could put into our Australian magazine to give it popular American appeal, shall we?’ asked Mrs Charlesworth gently. ‘“Her Morning After”? “Dope”? The news that—let me see—the notorious nightclub keeper Kate Meyrick has been jailed for six months? That the Comtesse de Janzé has been put on trial for attempted murder of Mr Raymond de Trafford at Nice? That the Reverend Francis Bacon has been tried for supplying poisonous drugs to women? Nice, very nice. Sin, suffering and sorrow, all with a neat little moral plaited into the end. Don’t behave wildly. Toe the line. Be a good girl and you’ll be happy. Is that what you want us to tell our readers? That old lie?’
‘And dark is his path on the wings of the storm,’ sang Mrs McAlpin.
‘We could have the whole state reading us!’ objected Miss Prout.
‘Poisons are attractive,’ said Mrs Charlesworth. ‘This, this drivel is as attractive as the drug in that story and twice as addictive.’
‘So you agree that I’m right. That readers would eat this stuff up,’ insisted Miss Prout.
‘Oh, yes, they would. And vomit it right back. Read without reflection and forgotten, except for the moral stain. Are we going to produce articles on the lives of flibbertigibbet film “stars” and make our respectable women envy them? Are we going to tell girls that sex is forbidden, and make it doubly attractive? These rags are designed not to inform, but to titillate, and thus to promote the very actions which they pretend to protest against. They are poisonous, evil, corrupt and for the last time, Miss Prout, I will not have it!’
‘But the advertisers—’
‘Oh, yes, I can just see how Ovaltine will react. We might be all right with Tangee lipstick, they’re selling sexual attraction, after all, and perhaps some of the face creams. But Salus? They take at least two half pages every issue for their Nutrax Nerve Food. I can’t see the godly, sober and righteous being impressed with “Her Morning After”, can you?’
‘We could get other advertisements—we could attract a different market,’ said Miss Prout stubbornly.
‘Of course,’ Mrs Charlesworth’s voice was kind. ‘Brothels, gin palaces, movies, there’s a plethora of grubby little industries which would leap at the chance. Why not make up a list of them, Miss Prout? I’m sure that the Board will be interested. The meeting is on Thursday. I’m not trying to crush your enterprising spirit. But the furthest I am willing to go with gossip in Women’s Choice is the riveting news that little Princess Elizabeth has learned how to curtsey. No, Miss Prout. That is enough for today. I still have an editorial to write and someone has to check over “Hilda and the Flower Fairies” and then take it down to the printer. You strike me as needing a little innocent diversion. Get Miss Fisher to help you—she could do with some, too, and a cup of tea, by the look of her. Now, silence, ladies. Complete, utter silence.’
She went back into her office
Similar Books
