It wasn't a huge surprise but Harriet was still in shock as she reread the dismissal email in her hand.
 

Dear Ms Deane
 
As know, Granchester Radio has been bought by the Lovin' Radio Group and
our shows are being amalgamated with our sister stations in the North West.
 
We have secured a continuation for our Breakfast show and many of our other
presenters will be transferred to the regional base. There is, however, no
scope for a vinyl show in the new Digital Lovin' brand.
 
Your last show is this Saturday evening, I would ask that you clear your
personal effects from the station by the end of the weekend.
 
I personally appreciate your input into the station over the past six years
and I wish you well for the future.
 
Yours,
 
Richard Teter
Interim Programme Director

Harriet had been hired nearly ten years earlier by the enigmatic programme director Charlie Walters but had taken a career break after three years before returning to the station. Charlie had been great but he'd also been the first one out of the door when Lovin' Radio Group had signed the deal. Unfortunately, Charlie had also been Harriet's producer so her show was going to axed, regardless.

The former chairman on Granchester Radio was now an even wealthier man, although no-one could remember the last time he'd set foot in the building.

All the of the UK's independent radio groups were currently involved in mergers and buyouts, centralising programming and automating much of the output. Regional, rather than local, breakfast shows had largely survived but almost all other programming was now being delivered nationally by presenters with a script, a computer generated playlist and no personality.

All that meant was that presenters such as Harriet Deane, the Queen of Vinyl, was surplus to their requirements. This was a great shame because she really knew how to engage an audience, and could turn a niche weekend show into an essential pre-clubbing experience.

What were they going to replace her with? Harriet had done her research and her slot, at seven on a Saturday evening, would now be a review of the week's news. She'd listened to another of the group's stations the previous week, whilst playing a very long King Crimson track, and it was a very slanted review of the week, highly politicised.

Originally her little station had resisted the take-over, even if the Chairman had sold out immediately. A few words in the right ear and the regulators, Ofcom, had decided that this was one station too many for the Lovin' group. It took three months to approve the buyout after political pressure was used and now the end was nigh.

What was strange was that the hourly news bulletins hadn't broadcast any mention of the station's own news, that had been blocked by Richard Teter and his team. The station was to carry on as normal until Monday's breakfast show and then the new branding would start. Apparently this was to minimise the impact on the listeners, or rather to try to stop them changing channel in their droves.

Harriet put out a tweet with the news, although she wasn't sure how many would still be listening come Saturday.
 

 
A phone call from Charlie Walters came in almost immediately.

"Have you changed your twitter password?"

"No, Charlie, why?"

"Remember I had it so I could put stuff out during your show?"

"Yes."

"Well, all the producers had access to those accounts, in case we deputised on someone's show."

"Oh, and the new lot have access to the passwords?"

"Yes."

She hurriedly changed her password.

"Done, oh I have another call."

"Okay, take care."

She answered the incoming call.

"Ms Deane?"

Harriet hit the record button. "Yes, who is this?"

"I'm calling from legal services at Lovin' Group. My name is Gina,"

"And what can I do for you?"

"You are to delete that tweet you put out."

"No, and why should I?"

"Firstly, you were given clear instructions not to refer to the station transfer."

"I had nothing in writing from you and, in any case, it's my last show. That doesn't infer anything about the station."

"In our opinion it does."

"Well, I couldn't give a toss."

"Well it puts you in breach of contract."

"It does? I'm a freelancer, not an employee, and I haven't signed a new contract."

"We're terminating your contract."

"It's with Granchester Radio and as far as I know, that company ceases to exist at midnight on Sunday night. That means my contract is secure."

"You won't be doing your show."

"I'll still have to be paid for it, or I'll see you in court."

"If you do that, we'll make sure you never work in media again."

"Oh, you want to threaten me? My solicitor will be in touch, goodbye."

She hung up and shut off the recording. Right now she still needed to prepare her show, despite what had just been said on the phone.

As she put her phone down she could see notifications, already there were twenty replies so her tweet. Some had suggestions, and a theme was developing, whereas others just wanted to know why the show was over. Harriet put another message out, to try and answer the questions.
 

 
That didn't help and the commenters were now questioning how they'd been kept in the dark? How could their favourite DJ just be dropped? What was going to happen to the station? Harriet couldn't answer all of these and had a feeling she'd be subsumed by the replies and private messages all day. She made a decision and put a final, for now, tweet out to the masses.
 

 
Her house phone started to ring, as did her mobile, she ignored all and closed the door as she walked into her home studio, it took just a few throws of switches to fire up the equipment. Within a minute her theme tune was being streamed through her website. She reached for the pile of vinyl that she'd already picked for Saturday's show and put it on one of her turntables.

"Well, good morning everyone. I wasn't expecting to be on the air today, but, hey, let's just go with the flow. This is going to be hit and miss, but, whatever, let's do it. First up, "Picture This" by Blondie off the original 45."

She quickly cued "Germfree Adolescents" by X-Ray Spex. Picking up on a theme she rapidly went looking for female punk acts in her collection. After playing Suzi Quatro's "Tear Me Apart" she opened the mic.

"Well that took me back! I remember watching all those girls on Top Of The Pops wishing I was up on that stage! As you'll have heard we had a wander through the girls of punk then I opened it up to the rock acts of the late seventies. Sticking to an all girl playlist for now, up next is Donna Summer with Love's Unkind."

After an hour she put a few longer album tracks on so she could read the messages. In her emails was a threat of a writ, she ignored it. She also had messages from local journalists asking for information and pleas from her audience not to leave the station. Her laptop wouldn't now connect to the station's email server and she doubted any of her accounts for the station still worked. She waited for Stevie Nicks to finish.

"I'm sorry I can't reply to all of you, and I don't think I can do more than another hour as I need to go shopping! Anyway, here's the background - Granchester Radio has been sold to one of the big boys in media, the Lovin' Group. Just about everyone you know at Granchester is leaving, or being kicked out, and my guess is that the studios will be closed straight after the weekend. I'll still do my show on Saturday but it'll be here, streamed from my website, and not on FM. Keep an eye on my personal social media for updates! Anyway, back to the music ....."

The female monopoly was over, for now, as Echoes by Pink Floyd began gently. She had spent a small fortunate building this studio but, it had made her transition easier to handle as she hadn't needed to go to the radio station to do her shows, just as well considering she really couldn't transport all the vinyl for a three hour show, let alone handle random requests.

She thought back to those music shows, when she'd seen the girls playing guitars and not just the token singer, and she so desperately had wanted to be there. When she'd said this out loud one Thursday evening, her father had hit her.

"Harry, forget those stupid ideas."

He hadn't, but this was the late 70s and his aspirations were going nowhere, not that he could even quantify them. Harry had been relentlessly bullied at primary school but was bright so escaped to an all boys secondary school where academic prowess was more important than physical attributes or ego.

Somehow Harry had come out of schooling intact but had no wish to remain living at home so had moved away to Granchester for a place at the art college, studying music and this gave him some artistic freedoms Since graduating he'd worked at local recording studios for several years before being asked to take a mobile studio on a UK tour with one of the ageing rock dinosaur bands. That had led to at least one long tour every year, with world tours taking nine months of his life. Eventually the toll meant he wanted an easier existence and settled back at home, doing one-off jobs in his home studio for select artists and being paid appropriately.

Back at home he could also become Harriet more frequently, visitors weren't welcome and, as far as the neighbours were concerned, Harry could have been away again. A comment had been made to one neighbour, several years earlier, that his sister occasionally looked after the property when he was away. That neighbour had been known to natter across the fence with the others in the small close and the message was passed around in a few days, if Harriet was seen in the garden.

But at times those one-off jobs could be a month apart and boredom can lead one astray so Harry volunteered with hospital radio at the nearby General Hospital. He had started with a Sunday evening show and was in the small studio alone for three hours a week before switching the feed to a national station for overnight.

Echoes was just ending so she segued into Dire Straits with Telegraph Road.

Harry never saw anyone, anyone at all, between arriving at six thirty and leaving just after ten, so after a few months would leave home as Harriet, saving time changing. The six to seven show was prerecrded so no-one was in the studio when Harriet arrived each week.

It was near Christmas when the chairwoman of the hospital radio association, Corrine, arrived one Sunday evening, once the show was under way.

"Hello dear, how are you?"

"Ummmmm, I can explain."

"Why should you? You are doing a wonderful job here, the patients and the staff like the music you play and the tales that you tell. What do you call yourself?"

"Harriet."

"Well, Harriet, I was coming here to drop your Christmas card off but also to make a request, although it's up to you if you want to do it."

"What is it?"

"I'd like you to visit the wards, especially the long stay wards, and let them meet you. Perhaps you could take messages, dedications and some music requests?"

"In a dress?"

"If that's what you want to wear, why not?"

"I'm not sure, Corinne?"

"It is up to you, of course, but the weekday evening presenters manage it once or twice a week. Your show has a great music choice, where do you find it?"

"I have a room full of vinyl at home, I bring a selection in each week. I could play more vinyl if I did the show from home."

"But we don't have the ability to take remote shows and, then you wouldn't see the messages that are left for you, or answer the phone."

The following week, Christmas Eve, Harriet found a new staff ID card waiting for her.
 

 
It was early in the new year when Harriet made her first visit to the wards. She arrived half an hour earlier for her show and made a point of visiting one ward or unit each week, starting with the paediatric unit. By the third week she was spending an hour visiting the wards and barely making it into the tiny studio for seven pm.

It was on one of those ward visits when she'd come across Charlie Walters, he was in for his appendix and asked for an obscure track by Gordon Giltrap, "Heartsong if you have it?"

"I know it's not in the record library here."

"Oh well?"

"But I do have it at home."

"You collect music?"

"No, I collect vinyl."

"Can I come round sometime?"

"Sorry, I'm not interested."

"My apologies, I run a radio station, Granchester Radio."

"You own it?"

"No, I run it. The owner gave away all our vinyl when we moved into the new studios last year, said it was digital only from now. Big mistake."

"I think I bought a fair bit of that vinyl."

"So, can I come round? I might have a proposal for you."

"Wednesday morning? I'm at 22 Long Hall Close."

"I'm not out of here until Wednesday morning, how about Friday evening?"

"Sure."

She had a thirty minute mix made for circumstances like this so dashed home and found the Gordon Giltrap track, she played it at the top of her second hour.

Charlie's visit had led to the proposal to do a weekly vinyl show, and for that Harriet could present it from home.

She'd been living as Harriet full time for six months when eventually she found the confidence to speak to her GP. That led to a referral to the local TG gatekeeper - a consultant psychologist in Harriet's case. Of course, someone should have declared a conflict of interest when Harriet walked into Corrine's room at Granchester Hospital.

"That's a lovely frock, Harriet, where did you get it?"

"A tiny boutique called Chocodolly, do you know it?"

"Oh yes, how about we meet for coffee tomorrow?"

"Of course."

A few years later, she went under the knife and took a break from the radio station. She was back a few months later and hadn't missed a show since then, until now.

She closed down her broadcast and went shopping, finding an officious hand delivered letter on the door mat when she returned. She scanned it and emailed to her solicitor with a covering letter, let him sort it out.

Charlie came round for a meal on Friday evening and they worked together getting her Saturday show together, just as they had done for the past decade. It seemed as if Charlie knew the record library, previously a bedroom, better than Harriet did herself.

Harriet always made it clear that she couldn't do the Granchester FM show on her own, it was too much for one person and, so Charlie always had a name check during the show. Unfortunately, under the previous arrangements, whilst she'd been at home he had been in the studio handling the adverts and acting as engineer.

This week, for the first time, Charlie would engineer the show from Harriet's home studio. As it was set up for solo operation that had meant making a few alterations. They tested the new setup by doing an hour of Charlie's choices, which turned out to be a whole load of 1970s prog.

With a second microphone, it was also one of those very rare occasions when Charlie's voice was heard.

Satisfied the studio worked, they shut it down for the night.

Her Saturday show had a good listener base but this weekend, the local newspaper website had a link to her website, and had a scathing article directed at the radio stations new owners, and the former chairman.

Harriet's website log showed that hits were up five fold on the week and she wondered if she had enough capacity for all the listeners, on a whim she paid for five thousand listener slots from her streaming service, instead of the usual two hundred.

More journalists had tried to get hold of her, including the trade press, but Harriet went "no comment" on all of them, she wasn't interested in playing politics as only the music mattered.

BY five on Saturday evening the studio was ready, although the last hour was all requests so that was often a last minute affair. Harriet had her own jingles that didn't mention the radio station so she intended to make good use of them, a few friends in the music industry had recording snippets for her and she'd mixed these into unique idents.

With ten minutes to go there was a loud noise from the front door, even with the sound proofing that would still have been heard so she went to the door.

"Ms Deane, I'm serving you with a cease and desist order. You are not to call your show 'Harriet The Vinyl Queen', that is now a trademark of the Loving' Group."

"Strange that, seeing as my solicitor lodged my own trademark application ten years ago? I think you'll find that I allowed Granchester Radio to use it in order to promote my show? How, run along, I have a show to do."

She firmly shut the door and hadn't taken the proffered legal document, although that came through the letterbox. She'd have to send the CCTV video to her solicitor when she had a few spare minutes.

"Harriet!"

"Coming!"

The show started a few minutes later, she'd exceeded five thousand listeners in the first twenty minutes so rapidly showed Charlie how to increase it, choosing the unlimited option, if only she had a way to claw back the extra expense.

Charlie played a jingle, followed by an advert for the local curry house.

"What?"

"Play the next record, I'll explain."

Charlie explained, the curry house, Bombay Garden, had only advertised on her show. They hadn't been told that her show was being cancelled but had received an invoice doubling their advertising costs. The managers at the Indian restaurant had called Charlie and he'd agreed to hold the price if they wanted to advertise with the online show. That income would, indeed, cover the cost of the streaming.

By eight o'clock they had organised the request hour. The last half an hour would also be uninterrupted. Charlie updated Harriet's website, and gave his email address as advertising contact.

As the show ended, Charlie checked his emails, there was one from the local BBC Radio editor.

"He wants to speak to you, now."

"I need a drink!"

"Well, get one while I call him."

Charlie dialled the number for Stuart Mackenzie, based at the BBC's Salford centre.

"Thanks for getting back to me Charlie, is Harriet there?"

She'd just made it back into the studio. "Here now."

"Good. I loved the show, by the way."

"Thanks."

"Now, we don't have a vinyl show on BBC Radio NW, and I would like to start one. I understand you're available?"

"When?"

"Friday nights."

"Live or prerecord?"

"Live if possible, and you can run it from home if you like."

"I still want to do my Saturday night show, and my hospital radio slot on a Sunday."

"Not a problem."

"Charlie is my producer, that's non-negotiable."

"We'll work around that, but I can't see it as a problem."

"Can you put it in writing?"

"Sure, we're looking to start the show with the new schedule in four weeks time. Welcome to the BBC."

So maybe being sacked by the station wasn't such a bad loss?