The Factory Girl

by Maggie Ford

  They wrote back by return, their reply cold as she had half expected it to be, though at least she had thought they’d have thawed a little towards her in their combined hour of grief. But no, it was formal, stating they were sorry and also their sorrow at Tony cutting himself off as he had on marrying her. As if they blamed her entirely. They’d attend the funeral, would have preferred to arrange it themselves but of course she was his widow. The letter had tailed off there, that in itself sounding like an accusation, the brief letter being signed merely with his father’s quite unreadable signature.

  Fenella was far more genuine. Geraldine couldn’t bring herself just to write or even phone her. So the very same afternoon of being told herself of Tony’s death, she went to see her. Alan had offered to go along with her but she insisted on going alone. Tony concerned only herself and his sister. It had been hard enough telling her without someone who was a stranger to her looking on. She’d been the first one Geraldine had told about Tony’s affair.

  Her advice had been to give like for like, let him see what he was losing. ‘Might even make him jealous enough to come back to you,’ she’d offered. It hadn’t been the brightest of advice but the best she’d been able to give, but just having her take her side was in itself a help.

  When Geraldine finally told her about Alan, she her most loyal confidante, Fenella had cuddled her with something like triumph and said, ‘Good for you, darling, you took my advice, how wonderful! That’ll show him, the crazy man. I know he’s my brother but he can be quite stupid. Now he’ll maybe see you’re not to be done down and come back, tail between his legs.’

  Of course he hadn’t, but she wondered if he might have done if this thing hadn’t happened.

  As Fenella had been the one Geraldine had turned to from the very start, in some way making up for his cold-hearted parents, Geraldine now felt she must support her, Tony’s only sister. It was hard going there in person: the trauma of telling her, the awfulness of seeing Fenella’s expression of shocked disbelief, then grief, the two of them holding each other, each in their separate kind of sorrow and misgivings, the self-condemnation that a death always brings, sorrowing after the things left undone and those things done that shouldn’t have, each nursing their own trivial personal guilts, neither voicing them to the other.

  On the day of the funeral Fenella and her husband arrived at the house early, bringing neighbours out to gawk as Geraldine saw her and her husband alight from their large, cream-coloured Renault – not exactly a funereal colour, Geraldine had to admit, but with a smirk for Fenella, ever the flamboyant one. She showed no distaste for Mum and Dad’s ordinary home and cuddled Mum to her as though she were a true relative, as she did Alan on being introduced to him, whispering in his ear, Alan told her later, ‘Look after her, Alan, my dear, she deserves some happiness.’

  She merely shook hands with Dad, but the handshake was warm and genuinely friendly.

  Cuddling Geraldine to her, she gushed, ‘Darling, such an awful time for you, even though … well, you know. But he was my brother and it’s such a terrible thing to have happened. I’ve been so down in the mouth ever since you told me, and I keep crying.’

  Later she said, ‘I’ve spoke to Mother and she and Father will be at the cemetery, and afterwards will go straight back home. They said that they thought it would be too much for them to come back to the house. After all, they lost Tony’s brother in the war and now they’ve lost their other son.’

  One would have thought they’d have made more of their other son when he was alive, being as he was the only one left, thought Geraldine as she agreed it would be too traumatic for them to prolong their day of mourning. She was glad she did not have to face them, and indeed found herself totally ignored as they established themselves on one side of the aisle and then on the other side of the grave. Mrs Hanford did give her a wan smile and bent her head briefly before following her husband to his Rolls-Royce parked in the cemetery roadway.

  Geraldine returned the smile but looked away immediately. She had married their son but she was nothing to these people. She would be even less now if that were possible, gratefully forgotten.

  It was November and still Tony’s affairs hadn’t been settled. Without a will, intestacy took far longer than if there’d been one. On top of that were all the debts of the business to be settled. If anything came to her as his widow, Geraldine knew it would be precious little and she had only herself to blame.

  ‘How could I have been such a fool?’ She stared glumly at Alan’s back as he gazed from his living-room window to the houses opposite through a November drizzle. ‘But it was the only way I could get back at him.’

  He’d weathered her anger with herself this Sunday afternoon rather well, she thought. He must be weary of hearing it from her, yet she couldn’t stop herself. There were days when she felt quite normal, others when guilt would rip through her, she blaming herself for Tony’s death and, a much more self-seeking regret, the way she had worked towards that wish to see him bankrupt. His death had put a stop to that but not before a great deal of harm had been done. Now, on top of all else she was in a quandary about what to do with the rapidly sinking business, and for the last half-hour had been leaping from the one to the other in this verbal soul-searching.

  ‘After what he did, of course I’d want to get back at him. It was only natural. But it’s what I did going to the police that upsets me.’

  Alan turned slowly, but his expression was mild. ‘Yer can’t go on blaming yerself, Gerry. Yer’ve got ter stop it.’

  ‘But I do blame myself. I should never have gone to the police like I did. If it hadn’t been for me, he might’ve been alive today.’

  ‘Yer can’t be sure of that.’ Alan strode over to her and took her by the shoulders forcing her to look at him. She now saw exasperation on his face. There was only so much even a mild-mannered man could take.

  ‘Gel, yer’ve been goin’ over this lark time and time again, on an’ off ever since yer ’usband went. Sooner or later yer’ve got ter get over it or yer’ll put yerself in an early grave in the end.’

  Easy to say, but he wasn’t her. ‘I don’t think I’ll ever be able to get over it, ever forgive myself. In a way I’ve got what I deserve, haven’t I, by doing what I did about his business and having that come back on me. I’ve made a rod for my own back there, haven’t I? It’s almost as if he’s got his revenge on me.’

  ‘Don’t be silly.’

  ‘Well, it’s true. If I hadn’t led him into such debt I wouldn’t have a failing business around my neck now. I inherit everything he had, including his business rapidly going down the pan because of me. I’ve got my deserts.’

  His hands on her shoulders tightened in an effort to stop her ranting. ‘Look, I can understand that business worrying the life out of yer, but yer’ve got ter stop blamin’ yerself for the other thing. He could of slipped and fallen in.’

  ‘How?’ she challenged. ‘People don’t just fall into the Thames by accident.’ How many times had she said this? ‘You can’t unless it’s from a boat. Bridges have parapets and railings. Places like the Embankment have parapets and railings. Unless you stand on one and that’s only to commit suicide. I don’t believe he would have done that. No, Alan, it was them thugs. They found out what I did and got rid of him before he blabbed as well, I’m sure of it.’ Nothing would ever change her mind about that.

  She knew what she was doing was frightening Alan, he seeing their wedding never happening. Sometimes she frightened even herself. She so wanted to marry him. Two months ago he had proposed, she’d responded with an immediate yes, at the time able to put her past behind her. But like all shadows it persisted in creeping up behind her, catching her up and running ahead to loom back at her. Now she was in danger of pushing him from her. But it was so hard to stop what kept going through her head. Oddly enough she had no nightmares, just this daytime remorse that she ought to be controlling by now.

  Alan was talking to her a
s he’d never spoken before. Easing her down onto the settee, he put an arm around her shoulders and held her close. His tone was low and even. ‘No matter how much yer blame yerself, yer can’t do nothink about it, yer know that?’ She nodded, and he went on in the same even, gentle tone. ‘Now, we’re goin’ ter get married, yes?’ Again she nodded. ‘But what sort of marriage are yer condemning me to? I want us ter be ’appy and how can we if you’re going ter dig up the past for the rest of our lives? Think about that, Gel, yer not only making yerself miserable, yer making me too, and if yer love me, why do yer want ter do that?’ She shook her head. ‘Right then, I ain’t sayin’ no more. You ’ave ter make up yer own mind. Remember, Gel, I love yer. But I ain’t prepared ter be made miserable fer the rest of me life. It’s up ter you.’

  Letting go of her, he got up and went to stand at the window again to stare out into what was developing into a downpour of rain, misting the houses opposite.

  Seeing his strong back, his broad shoulders, it was as if everything was clicking into place, her jangled thoughts calming. If those so-called friends of Tony’s had done away with him it would have been before giving him a chance to smelt down that gold. He wouldn’t have got a share of the gains. He wouldn’t have gone off with Di Manners either. With no reason for her to know what had happened to him, Di Manners might be thinking at this very minute that he’d forsaken her, just as he’d forsaken his wife.

  At that thought all guilt, all sorrow, all self-pity departed as though a skin had been sloughed. She even felt her lips twist into a satisfied grimace.

  But what about Tony’s business? Nothing to smile about there. So eager to see him bankrupted by a horde of creditors, she was now saddled with a business in deep trouble. All Tony’s money had been tied up in that and would now come back on her. Would she end up totally penniless?

  Alan turned as she voiced her concern in some panic, and retraced his steps to her.

  ‘Then we’d best start getting our house in order, hadn’t we?’ he said quietly, almost a note of relief in his voice. He sounded almost glad that she would be broke. It was at that moment she knew she’d never again refer to Tony in the light of revenge or mention the manner of his death. She would rely on Alan to sort out her creditors and be grateful. They would take everything, the shop, the contents, every stick of furniture in the flat. She felt no regret. It would be starting with a clean sheet, like being baptised again.

  It was well after Christmas, in fact two weeks into 1926, that they finally heard from the authorities dealing with Tony’s affairs. Geraldine was at home with Mum and Dad that Saturday at breakfast when it came, Dad’s work in the docks always uncertain, having nothing until Monday. Glancing up from reading what had been sent, she met their anxious stares with a grin that was faintly wry. ‘Not a bean. All gone to pay debts. Nothing left. A few personal bits, that’s all.’

  She did have what was left in her own bank account, plenty of lovely clothes still, a bit of her own jewellery, and of course memories, some nice, some she would rather not have. The shop and its stock had gone to pay creditors. The flat too, and all the furniture she’d bought to help sink Tony into even deeper debt.

  She’d worked so hard towards that, and all the time he had been at the bottom of the Thames, washed up on the bank by an outgoing tide only when that capricious river decided it had had enough of him.

  She couldn’t help it, she let out a slightly insane giggle. ‘Guess what, Mum, after all the lovely things I had, all the holidays and all those society friends, I’m back where I started.’

  Mum didn’t laugh. Busy setting the breakfast table, she shot a look at Dad as a small explosive sound of contempt hissed between his teeth so that he shut up instantly, then she turned back to her daughter, her tone as ever sharp and to the point.

  ‘Not exactly. Yer’ve got your Alan now. Yes, ’e’s your Alan,’ she went on as Geraldine made a half-negative gesture. ‘He’s asked yer ter marry ’im an’ you’ve told ’im yer would, ain’t yer? Well then,’ she continued as there came a half nod, ‘yer ain’t quite back where yer started. He’s got a decent business. Yer won’t exactly be broke. Not yer ’igh an’ mighty life yer thought was the be-all-and-end-all of everythink, but comfortable enough.’

  Geraldine bit her lip in a surge of uncertainty. Was this the time to tell Mum what she’d known for the past six weeks? Alan should be the one to be told before anyone else. It concerned him the most and would be a shock enough without being told second-hand. Mum would be shocked too, she with her old-fashioned principles, but she could keep it to herself no longer.

  ‘Mum, I’ve somethink to tell yer.’ Already she had reverted to her old way of speaking, no longer any need to watch every word she spoke. Yet a faint trace of that laboured effort to adopt an accent that had never been hers still lingered. ‘I’m going to have a baby.’ There, she’d said it. But Mum gave no sign of surprise, somewhat angering her. Things hadn’t changed.

  ‘I thought there was a look about yer. A woman looks diff’rent when she’s carryin’ a baby. How far are yer?’

  ‘Only about six weeks.’

  ‘Then yer’d best get married a bit sharp or the neighbours’ll start ter gossip.’

  Just like Mum to worry about neighbours, not about her but what people might think. ‘I can take care of myself,’ she returned huffily. Mum shook her head.

  ‘Ain’t made a good job of it so far, ’ave yer?’ She turned sharply on Geraldine’s father as he started to speak. ‘This is woman’s talk, Jack. You go an’ look at yer pigeons for a bit.’ It didn’t seem to concern her that it was freezing outside in the yard and even trying to snow, but her husband, with a heavy sigh, moved to obey. She turned to Geraldine as he disappeared.

  ‘Alan said you two was planning on a July weddin’. Well, I think you ought ter bring it forward ter March at the very latest. You tell ’im I said so. Then no one’ll be bothered.’

  She was interrupted by Dad coming back in. ‘I told you …’ began Mum, but stopped as Alan was observed following close behind, having come around the back, no doubt popping in between jobs to see Geraldine. Both men were all smiles.

  ‘I’ve just told ’im about yer, Gel,’ Dad burst out. ‘An’ look at ’im, ’e’s as pleased as punch, even if you two ain’t married yet.’

  Despite a sudden rush of irritation at her father which was also reflected on his wife’s face, Geraldine couldn’t be annoyed seeing the joy wreathing itself around Alan’s huge grin. Even so, she wasn’t pleased with her father.

  ‘Dad, it was my place to tell him!’

  It was almost funny, the way Dad’s face fell, but Alan had her in his arms. ‘I think we’re goin’ to ’ave ter get married a bit earlier than expected,’ he said.

  That in itself made her happy, Mum done out of giving the order. The old rift was still there, wasn’t it? That was until the woman came over, almost forcibly parting the two, and to Geraldine’s surprise, ready with an angry retort thinking her mother about to interfere, put her arms about her in the first cuddle that in many an age had genuine emotion.

  Seconds later Mum had broken away as though embarrassed by her uncharacteristic show of affection.

  ‘If I don’t get this breakfast ready, we’ll be eatin’ dinner! And you, Jack …’ she turned to him. ‘If yer don’t put that top back on that tomato sauce bottle after yer’ve used it, I ain’t goin’ ter buy any more.’

  She turned to Geraldine. ‘Honest, he always forgets ter put the lid back on prop’ly and last week when I shook it ter use it, we ’ad red sauce all over me clean tablecloth. But that’s men for yer. Never think, do they?’

  Geraldine stared at her, amazed at being confided in in this way. This was how it had been before she had married and had gone off, thinking of herself as made.

  Suddenly she was home. Come March, she and Alan would marry, a simple, rather hasty wedding, nothing elaborate. But more than anything else, she carried his baby, she who’d thought herself u
nable to have any more children after losing her first one and had assumed herself damaged.

  This time there would be no such slip-ups. This time Mum would be on hand to tend her and it seemed Mum knew it as she came to stand even closer. She would look after her, make sure she came to no harm, make sure this baby, Alan’s baby, would be born whole and healthy and strong.

  As Alan began to laugh at what Mum had said, Geraldine took her cue and turned on him in mock severity. ‘And if you do that, I’ll do the same as Mum and stop buying any.’

  Mum’s hand laid itself on her arm. ‘That’s right, you tell ’im,’ she said in a quiet tone.

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