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slice of bacon before you go to work? All the hot water’s gone again. That Kate one!’

8. The Dear Old Dole-ites
    Kate and Shirley raced along Royal Avenue, to the government offices where they worked, reading and filing letters from the unemployed. The proper term for the office was the Department of Health and Social Services, or the DHSS. Or the ‘dole’. People who were unemployed were described as being ‘on the dole’ or, as Kate liked to call them, ‘the dear old dole-ites’. She insisted it was a term of endearment, but Shirley thought it was disrespectful. It wasn’t the fault of the dole-ites that there weren’t enough jobs to go round.
    A lorry breaking down had caused traffic jams all over the south of the city.
    ‘We’re going to be late, again. Blast that bus!’ grumbled Kate.
    ‘They can’t help it,’ gasped Shirley, as she tried to keep up with her sister. ‘What’s eating you?’
    ‘Well! That’s four Saturday nights in a row that I never got to talk to Alex. Just when you think that Hollywood Hogan is safely holed up in his office, he appears behind the bar or in the foyer. How can I get close to Alex, with Hogan creeping around the place like some kind of a tiger?’
    ‘Look on the bright side. Louise didn’t get to talk to him, either.’
    ‘Oh, don’t bring up her name, Shirley.’
    ‘Well, if you can’t take the heat, get out of the kitchen, as they say. I told you Louise would find out.’
    ‘I wonder who told her?’
    ‘That Jim, I’ll bet. He’s stirring it, Kate.’
    ‘Why would he bother himself?’
    ‘I don’t know. It must get pretty boring, hanging around the doors all night. Maybe they spread rumours just to pass the time?’
    ‘Oh, no! There’s Bingham going in the main door. She always checks the post table, first thing. Hurry up, Shirley! Take the other lift.’
    The sisters ran straight to the post table in the main office and hid their coats in the stationery cupboard. The other staff in the section were polishing off some breakfast scones and cups of watery coffee, carried to their desks from the staff canteen.
    ‘Old Battleaxe is on her way,’ said Kate. ‘Quick! Get busy. Let’s see how many begging letters we have today from the dear old dole-ites. God bless their ragged little socks!’
    ‘Kate Winters! We don’t use negative words like that any more,’ said the supervisor, coming into the room behind her. ‘I think you’ll find you mean, “Let’s open today’s correspondence from our valued customers.”’
    ‘Yes, Miss Bingham.’
    ‘I hope you can develop a better attitude to those less fortunate than ourselves, Miss Winters. If you don’t like your position here, you know what you can do about it. I’m sure one of the dear old dole-ites would be glad of it.’
    ‘Yes, Miss Bingham.’
    ‘Well, then. Hurry up and open the bag.’
    Kate promptly loosened the string around the neck of the sack, and emptied the huge bundle of letters onto the table. The tight-lipped clerks pulled slithering piles of envelopes towards them, opened them and began to read, sorting the letters into boxes, according to surname. Miss Bingham gave Kate a disapproving stare, and then marched on through to the Fraud department to see if anything interesting had happened on the weekend’s spying operations.
    Shirley opened one rather grubby letter. It was from Alex Stone.
Dear Sir,
I am shocked that you could even think I was doing the double. I declare truthfully that I was not working as a bouncer and claiming benefits at the same time. The person who informed on me must have been my ex-girlfriend; you didn’t say who it was. She has been pestering me and phoning me for weeks now, so I think it was her. She is just trying to get me in trouble because we broke up. You know what women are like. They think they own you. I do not work as a bouncer in Hogan’s or anywhere else. I go there a lot because I am a very sociable person. That is all .
Yours very