The Factory Girl

by Maggie Ford

  He made a face as Mum approached to bend over him to ask how he felt and how serious was his injury and did he need anything.

  ‘I need ter get back ter work, that’s what I need. The quicker yer bleedin’ get me out of ’ere the better. All this bloody muckin’ about with me.’

  Geraldine was sure she detected an ‘f’ rather than an ‘m’ in that word ‘mucking’ and looked hurriedly at the nurse who was with them, but the young woman’s expression remained impassive.

  ‘Mr Glover can go home later today, if you would like to come back to collect him, Mrs Glover.’

  Hilda straightened up in alarm. ‘I can’t go all the way back ’ome and then come all the way back ’ere. I ’ad ter walk all the way—’

  She stopped sharply with a furtive glance at her daughter. Geraldine looked down at the floor, fighting back a retort. This wasn’t the place to start another argument.

  ‘In that case,’ said the bright nurse. ‘I’ll see if he can be discharged while you are here. Where exactly do you live, Mrs Glover?’ On being told, she smiled knowledgeably. ‘Then you could get home by tram. The sixty-five and sixty-seven pass by here and you can change at Commercial Street to take you to Bow Road.’

  ‘I walked ’ere,’ returned Hilda sharply. ‘I can walk ’ome.’

  ‘I think not, Mrs Glover, not with your husband. He has a very nasty cut on that arm and will be in no condition to walk all that way.’

  ‘He looks orright ter me.’ She glanced at her husband who apparently had enough go in him to lean over and with his left hand help himself to a drink from the water glass on the wooden locker beside his bed.

  ‘He would soon feel the strain walking so far,’ said the nurse. ‘We can get him to the hospital gates for you. The tram stop is just outside. That is of course if he is allowed to leave. So if you and your daughter would like to stay with your husband, I’ll go and make enquiries about that. I shan’t be two ticks.’

  Left alone, there seemed little to say. Geraldine sat quiet while her mother asked exactly what had happened, her father answering tersely that she ought to know by now how quick things did happen, that it had and there was nothing else to be said. In the docks accidents were a daily occurrence, men could be injured, men could lose their lives and there was nothing one could do – a whip round among the injured man’s mates if he had to be off from work for any length of time, or if someone was killed a whip round for the widow; in neither case could those putting in the collection afford more than a shilling at the most; these days of short time it was usually even less.

  Few had the means to pay out weekly for sick benefits or any hospital savings cover, and many a man injured just had to rely on what he might get in the way of social help. It was all part of working in the docks and just had to be accepted as such. There had always been heated talk about compensation, even talk of a strike for better conditions, but nothing ever came of it, nor would now with all this unemployment and the chance of being laid off at the slightest whim, with someone always there to leap on any vacancy there was.

  The nurse returned accompanied by a doctor, a grave expression on his face though all doctors seemed to bear grave expressions. Geraldine, sitting beside Dad as the doctor took her mother to one side, tried hard to hear what was being said, but with Dad going on nineteen to the dozen about working conditions in the docks and if unemployment wasn’t as bad as it was they’d strike for better conditions, she couldn’t hear a thing.

  She expected Mum to come back with a face drawn with anxiety by what she’d been told. Instead she was smiling.

  ‘The doctor said you’ve been tiddling the bed while you’ve been ’ere. He wants ter keep you in another day so’s he can take another look at you.’

  Her husband’s eyes widened, glinting with belligerence. ‘Like bloody ’ell ’e does! No one’s keeping me ’ere any longer than I need ter be. I’ve got ter be back at work. I ain’t losin’ any more pay. We can’t live on air.’

  ‘There’s no question,’ the nurse butted in, ‘of your returning to work today or—’

  ‘What d’you know about it, yer silly bitch, with yer reg’lar income an’ nice clean ’ands? Anyway, I ain’t ’aving no one poking around me like I was a bleedin’ guinea pig. Tell ’im ter go and frig ’imself.’ At least he hadn’t come right out with it, thought Geraldine, still wondering at Mum’s smile.

  Mum sat down again, the doctor standing a little apart from them. ‘It’s yer waterworks, Jack. The doctor thinks yer trouble is yer prostrated glan.’

  ‘Prostate gland,’ corrected the doctor, coming forward. ‘I’ll explain it.’

  ‘I don’t need no bleedin’ explanations,’ Jack Glover roared. ‘I ’ave ter get back ter work. I’m losin’ money lyin’ ’ere.’

  ‘I’m afraid you won’t be able to work for at least a week, Mr Glover, not until the wound has had time to heal, if only partially. Working will break the stitches and you’ll be brought back here. It must heal before—’

  ‘Don’t tell me what I can and can’t do,’ Jack belted at him. ‘You ain’t the one what’s goin’ ter lose yer livelihood if yer don’t work.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Mr Glover, work is out of the question.’

  ‘Jack, listen to the doctor,’ urged Hilda. ‘Take advantage of what he’s saying. Let ’im look at you. He might be able ter make you better regarding yer trouble down there, Jack.’

  ‘What we will do,’ went on the doctor in smooth tones and completely unruffled, ‘is examine you to find out what is causing the problem.’

  ‘I know what the perishin’ problem is – I can’t ’old me pee too well.’

  ‘Then we’ll find out the cause and we may be able to remedy that,’ the quiet voice went on. ‘It’s nothing to be scared about—’

  Jack glared up at him. ‘Oo says I’m scared?’

  The doctor ignored the challenge. ‘It may be that your prostate gland has become enlarged. We can sort that out for you quite easily.’

  ‘You mean operate! I ain’t ’aving meself cut open.’ But some of the belligerence had dissipated. ‘What if it turns out ter be somethink else?’

  ‘I doubt it is anything else. As I said, probably the gland is enlarged and has been left unchecked for quite a number of years. It’s a common enough condition in men.’

  ‘But what if it ain’t just that?’

  Geraldine stared at him, ready to forgive his spurning of Tony’s offers of help to tide him and Mum over while in hospital. The truth was, he was terrified of something awful being discovered, would rather not know than find out the worst. It was rather like someone walking a cliff edge, eyes tight shut so they wouldn’t have to see the danger, no matter that they could fall.

  ‘Dad, you’ve got to let him have a look at you,’ she spoke up. Her reward was a baleful glare, but one that was tinged with an animal fear.

  ‘You mind yer own bloody business! I ain’t ’aving you stickin’ yer toffee nose into my concerns. This ain’t nothink ter do with you. Go ’ome.’

  ‘Dad!’

  ‘Go on, sod off!’

  ‘Mr Glover, please!’ intervened the doctor, his command sharp and stern. ‘I insist you listen to what I have to say. We need to have a look at you. And while you are here I think we should.’

  But he too had seen the fear in the man’s eyes. Turning to his wife, he said quietly, ‘I think I need to have another word with you, Mrs Glover – if you would come with me.’

  This was accompanied by a curt nod to her and she was compelled to proceed a little ahead of him. Unable to bring herself to remain with her father, Geraldine followed at a short distance, pausing when the two people stopped some way down the ward.

  What were they saying? She could see the tall doctor bending toward her mother, her mother’s head nodding up and down, her eyes trained on his face, her own expression stiff. Finally he gave a nod of dismissal, touched her arm briefly and gently and returned for another word with her father, passing Geral
dine with a small acknowledging smile and a tilt of the head.

  Mum was moving off towards the exit. Geraldine sprung into action and followed, catching up with her as she went out through the doors and into the corridor.

  ‘What did he say?’

  Mum’s face was still stiff. Her voice was small. ‘He said it could be something more serious, but they ’ad to examine ’im before they could be certain what exactly is causing your dad’s incontinence.’

  She seemed to be talking more to herself, quoting the doctors words, words that would never have come from her own mouth. ‘Until they do that they can’t be sure if it’s only this swollen gland thing. If it is somethink more, and he won’t say until they’ve examined ’im, it could be very serious indeed. But we’re not ter say anythink to yer dad. It might upset ’im. We’ve ter behave as if everythink’s orright. We’ve got ter look cheerful and not let on what we’ve bin told.’

  She pressed her lips together with forced determination, lifted her shoulders and took a deep breath. ‘But then it might not be anythink like that at all.’

  Geraldine couldn’t feel that confident. What had been intimated was that there could be a threat to Dad’s life. What if they did find some sort of growth, a tumour or cancer? Could they cut out something that had been left to go on for years undiscovered, unchecked? Though after all this time wouldn’t he have had some pain? He’d never complained of any. Even so, he was a fool not to have accepted Tony’s help all that time ago just to save his stupid pride – she ignored her earlier surmising of it being fear and not pride that had made Dad spurn the offer. Now it was too late, Dad would have to lose time at work, maybe lose his job, maybe worse. Geraldine shuddered at the thought that refused to become words.

  ‘We’d best go back an’ see yer dad,’ Mum said suddenly.

  Turning, she went back up the ward. All Geraldine could do was to follow but remained a little apart, sitting on a chair near the foot of the bed while Mum sat urging him to take the doctor’s advice. She couldn’t hear all Mum said, speaking so low, but she saw the tension on his angular, work-lined face, the chin begin to jut as Mum slowly convinced him that it was for his own good, nothing else he could do, that things were out of their hands now and he’d be a fool to turn his back on what could no longer be avoided.

  Each in their turn they dropped a kiss on his cheek. He didn’t smile and they came away. Nor did he respond as they turned to wave goodbye. At the far end of the ward he looked a lonely figure. Geraldine could have cried.

  With their view of him finally obstructed by some screens surrounding another bed, they left, and the tram ride home was made in silence.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Two days later Dad had his operation. Declared successful, the next day he was sitting up, his arm still bandaged from the accident but well recovered from the operation on the other thing as he described it to his wife.

  ‘I ain’t all that chuffed at the way they pulled me about though,’ he confided to her when they were alone after a cohort of relations had been to see him to his utter humiliation, they aware of the reason for the operation.

  Hilda looked amused. ‘How’d you know? Under the anaesthetic yer wouldn’t know if yer was pulled about or not.’

  He grimaced. ‘If yer saw the colour of me whatsit under that bandage, yer couldn’t be off seein’ as ’ow I’ve been pulled about. It’s black an’ blue down there. All bloody colours of the rainbow. I told the doctor what came round and ’e took a peek ter check and said it looked orright to ’im – in fact ’e said it looked very nice. Nice! Cheeky bugger! I told ’im, “If yer like that sort of fing, maybe it do look nice ter you but it don’t look too rosy ter me.” Cheeky young sod, just ’cos he’s a doctor, don’t give ’im no call ter stare at me whatsit and tell me it looks nice to ’im.’

  ‘The thing is,’ Hilda said, offering comfort, ‘it ’as done the trick. You won’t ’ave no more trouble down there. And them bruises’ll fade in no time.’

  ‘Yeah, but I don’t want no doctor peeking at me and smirking and saying ’e thinks me lower parts look nice – bloody cheek.’

  ‘It’s what doctors ’ave ter do. Just be glad it weren’t a nurse.’

  ‘I’ve ’ad them gawpin’ at me too. I can’t wait ter get ’ome where I can keep me private parts ter meself. Yer body ain’t yer own in ’ere.’ His averted face peevish, Hilda hastened to soothe him.

  ‘Well thank Gawd it weren’t nothing more serious. An’ you be thankful too. I don’t know what I’d of done if it ’ad been somethink really bad and you’d been … well, you know what I mean.’

  Giving a cough to cover the fluster that had come over her at having nearly revealed her deepest fears of losing him and in that way inadvertently declaring the love that the habit of twenty-five years of marriage had long ago decently buried, she got to her feet and in a crisp tone said she’d see him tomorrow. Asked equally as tersely if there was anything he wanted brought in, he gave a short list of clean socks, a couple more handkerchiefs and a packet of fags for when he was allowed to leave the ward. On this she made a mental note, kissed his cheek and left.

  ‘So we didn’t need your Tony’s ’elp after all,’ said Mum when Geraldine popped in to see her after visiting Dad.

  He had said very much the same thing: ‘So now your Tony can keep ’is money, can’t ’e?’

  All she could say to that was, ‘I’m glad you’re better now, Dad. We were worried for you.’

  ‘No need to’ve been,’ had come his reply. ‘P’raps now I can ’old me ’ead up in front of people like ’im what crows about ’is money in front of people like us.’

  She had been affronted and had shown it. ‘He’s no different to anyone else. All he wanted was to help. He has no intentions of crowing. And what d’you mean by us? There’s no such thing as them and us, Dad. Things are changing. And if he could have helped you out of a spot, why couldn’t you have let him? You might still need some help till you go back to work.’

  Her father had irascibly raised himself up on his pillow, wincing as he did so at the stab of pain at the tightening on the stitches on his still very tender wound. ‘I don’t need no ’elp from no one,’ he’d rumbled, and thus chastened, Geraldine cut short her visit and came away angry.

  Now she was getting the same treatment from Mum. ‘Sometimes I almost feel I’m not wanted here,’ she said, close to sudden tears that made her angrier than ever, against herself as well as Mum.

  Her mother sat solid and dry-eyed, that back of hers as stiff and as proud as ever, impervious to her daughter’s glistening eyes. ‘I don’t know where you get that idea. I’ve never turned you away, ’ave I?’

  ‘You don’t exactly make me feel that welcome.’

  ‘But ’ave I ever turned you away from me door?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘There you are then. Never let it be said that I’d turn a daughter of mine away from me own door. And if that’s what yer implyin’, Gel, then all I can say is, it’s casting aspershuns on yer own mum.’

  ‘I didn’t intend it that way, Mum.’ Tears welled in her eyes, filtering her view of the light from the kitchen window as though seen through the facets of a splinter of glass.

  Her mother busied herself pouring the obligatory cup of tea offered to any visitor to an East End home. ‘Well, be that as it may, ’ow did yer find yer dad when yer went in ter see him?’

  In Victoria Park where they’d gone for a stroll, this part of March remaining warm enough for it, Geraldine told her older sister of the doctor’s findings about her being two months pregnant. She’d said it with all the pent-up joy inside her but Mavis merely pulled a face as she pushed little Simon in his second-hand baby carriage that had certainly seen better days.

  ‘Lucky ter be able ter crow about it. All right fer you. Your old man’s got a business. Yer can afford to be pleased about ’aving a baby.’

  It wasn’t what she’d wanted to hear. ‘His business doesn’t bring in a
ll that much.’

  ‘Enough from what I can see,’ said Mavis, eyeing the dress Geraldine was wearing, shop-bought and certainly not cheap, even if it was the oldest one she had.

  Geraldine always took care in picking her dresses according to whom she was seeing. For Tony’s sister, of course, it was the most expensive day dress she could find. For her family, it was one that wouldn’t put their backs up. She would even take a wander round the market stalls in Roman Road to find something cheap just to wear to visit them. Though contrary to her purpose it had often caused Mavis to remark that surely with her money she could afford better than that. ‘It makes it look like you’re patronising us, pretending yer can’t afford much when we know yer can,’ she’d once said.

  There was no winning either way. Even today. All she’d wanted to do was impart her joy to Mavis at finding herself pregnant, and even that was thwarted with her sister already casting aspersions on her happy news.

  Mavis had looked so dowdy, the carefree young girl gone forever. In her place a housewife, worn by worry over an unemployed husband, a mother stewing how to keep her son properly fed, and now with her son only nine months old she was worried sick that she had missed two full months’ periods.

  ‘I don’t know ’ow we’re goin’ ter manage, Tom out of work an’ all with no money comin’ in.’

  ‘He might not be for long,’ said Geraldine, trying to offer solace, but as she might have expected, Mavis gave her a scathing look.

  ‘You don’t really believe that. You only ’ave ter take a look at the length of them dole queues. My Tom ain’t goin’ ter walk into a job this year nor next as far as I can see. Him with no skills, oo’d want ’im? An’ now me with another kid on the way possibly.’

  ‘It might still be a false alarm – all the worry about Tom.’

  ‘What, an’ me always regular as clockwork? Or used ter be. Not the way he … well, you know, it’s ’is only bit of comfort nowadays. He can just about afford a packet of fags now and again, and an occasional pint to ’elp keep ’is chin up. What else ’as ’e got if he ain’t got me ter give ’im his bit of comfort at night?’