The Factory Girl

by Nancy Carson

She heard lowered voices upstairs, and called out, ‘Yoo-hoo!’

  Lizzie answered. ‘Henzey? Is that you?’ She came to the head of the stairs, looking anxious. ‘Thank God. Is Billy with you?’

  ‘No, he’s gone.’

  ‘Damn. We could have done with him to fetch the doctor. Looks like Ezme’s had another stroke.’ She walked downstairs towards Henzey, her voice still low. ‘She’s in a bad way, Henzey.’

  ‘I can fetch Donald. It’s only five to ten. I’ll be all right.’

  ‘Let’s hope he’s still sober. I’d ask our Herbert to go, but he’s out God knows where. Alice and Maxine should be back any minute. You’d better go, our Henzey. But be quick. And be careful. You know what they’re like on election night. If you see any fights walk on the other side of the horse road.’

  So Henzey went out again. As she rushed down Cromwell Street, she saw Alice and Maxine coming the other way with two boys. She explained what had happened, that she was on her way to fetch the doctor. Seeing it as a way of staying out later, Alice agreed to accompany Henzey. Maxine said she would let their mother know where Alice was.

  ‘How come you’m ’ome so early?’ Alice enquired.

  ‘Billy had to go early to fetch his father from the pub.’ Henzey tried not to sound concerned.

  ‘Oh…An’ ’ave a drink ’imself, I daresay.’ Alice’s tone was tinged with cynicism.

  ‘I daresay. That’s up to him. I can’t dictate what he should or shouldn’t do.’

  ‘Yer can try. I would. If he tried to get rid o’ me early I’d play hell up. You’m too soft with ’im, Henzey. Yer let ’im boss yer about an’ everythin’.’

  ‘No, I don’t.’

  ‘Yes, yer do. Just ’cause he’s got a motor and a pocketful o’ money. He thinks he’s everybody.’

  ‘I think you’ve got a tainted view, Alice,’ Henzey said, ruffled by Alice’s observations, even though she recognised that there was an element of truth in what she said. ‘He doesn’t think he’s everybody at all, and he certainly doesn’t own me.’

  ‘Have yer slept with ’im yet?’

  ‘Alice! ’Course I haven’t slept with him. What do you think I am?’

  ‘Nor let ’im do anythin’ to yer?’

  ‘Course not!’

  ‘Huh! You’m a bit slow. I thought you was potty about ’im…Or is it ’im what’s slow? Mind yer, I’d want ’im slow. I wun’t want ’im to touch me. I think he’s a smarmy sod. He gives me the creeps.’

  ‘Good,’ Henzey replied indignantly. ‘For goodness sake, Alice, if you can’t say anything nice about him don’t say anything at all. Keep your opinions to yourself…Quick – let’s cross over the road…’

  Two grown men, the worse for drink, tumbled out of The Fountain public house fighting. Had they been sober they would merely have agreed to differ. As fists flew the pub emptied as all the patrons followed the men outside, cheering and jeering, inflaming the situation. Somebody smashed a glass, and in an instant, most of the other men seemed to be involved, flailing their arms like persons drowning.

  ‘Quick, let’s get out of the way,’ Henzey said to Alice, and they both ran, diffusing their argument.

  Soon, they were back home, riding into the yard in Dr Donald Clark’s Morris. Henzey could smell drink on him. Even she could tell that it was a bad time to call Donald Clark out when he’d had three or more hours of solo drinking. Yet his brain and his body seemed immune to the effects of whisky. He drove his car capably enough and his speech, though limited to just a few monosyllables, did not sound slurred. Henzey felt sorry for him. Why should a man so patently intelligent try and dissolve his brain in alcohol? What was it that drove him to it? What demons lurked inside his head provoking him to consume the stuff at every opportunity? From what was he trying to escape? What was he trying to blot out from his mind?

  They entered the house and Donald stumbled on the first step as he went to climb the stairs. Quickly he righted himself and went on up with his bag while Henzey remained downstairs with Alice and Maxine.

  Henzey heard hushed voices upstairs again. Soon, Donald came down with Lizzie and Jesse. After a few minutes they heard him saying good night and Jesse thanked him over and over for coming out to his mother. Then they walked into the sitting room where the three girls were already sitting, waiting for news. They heard Donald’s motor car start up and move off.

  ‘How is she?’ Henzey asked.

  ‘She’s bad, poor soul,’ Jesse replied quietly. ‘She’s sleeping. Somehow, I don’t think she’ll pull through this as easy as she did the last one.’

  Lizzie said, ‘You can never tell with a stroke, Jesse. She might be as right as rain tomorrow.’

  Jesse shook his head. ‘But then again she might not.’ He sat down on the sofa and sighed heavily. ‘Fetch us a bottle o’ Guinness in, Lizzie. I could murder a drink.’

  ‘I’ll get it,’ Maxine said. ‘Mom, would you like one?’

  ‘Yes, go on then, our Maxi. It’ll help me sleep.’ She looked at Jesse. ‘This means we won’t be able to go to the Masonic do on Saturday. Had you forgotten it?’

  ‘Bugger me! You’m right, Lizzie. And I’ve really been looking forward to that. I don’t suppose they’ll be in a rush to ask me again if we don’t show up at this one.’

  ‘Oh, ’course they will,’ Lizzie consoled. ‘It can’t be helped, your mother being poorly. Anyway, you can always go without me.’

  ‘Don’t be daft, Lizzie. I couldn’t go there without you. Not on Ladies’ Night.’

  ‘There’s nothing to stop you both going, Jesse,’ Henzey said. ‘Billy and me could stay in and keep an eye on Ezme while you went out. If anything were to go wrong Billy could always drive down to Donald’s and fetch him.’

  Jesse and Lizzie looked at each other seeking consensus. Lizzie knew how much going to the Masonic Lodge on Saturday meant to him. He did not want to miss it, and if there was a way they could both attend he would take it gladly. Lizzie nodded and Jesse shrugged his consent.

  ‘I imagined you’d want to go dancing,’ Lizzie said.

  ‘Well we would normally, but it’s not important. Billy won’t mind.’

  In any case, after giving precedence to his family tonight, he could hardly complain if she made a similar appeal on Saturday. She was not motivated by vindictiveness, since she felt not one ounce of malice, but she thought that she could help Jesse and, in so doing, might feasibly make Billy realise that he had hurt her by dumping her at home so early. Perhaps he should be made to realise that.

  ‘Henzey, you’re a treasure,’ Jesse declared.

  ‘Well…as I’m such a treasure…can I go to the Town Hall and wait for the election result?’

  ‘Not on your own you won’t, madam,’ Lizzie answered. ‘And neither Jesse nor me can go now, on account of Ezme.’

  Jesse said, ‘Didn’t her Uncle Joe and Aunt May say they were going? She could go with them.’

  ‘She could, but then she won’t want to get up for work in the morning.’

  ‘I shall be up like a lark.’

  ‘As long as that’s a promise. If they’re not still at home, they’ll be up The Junction. Put your hat and coat back on.’

  Uncle Joe and Aunty May lived next door to number 48, where the Kites used to live before moving across the road to the dairy house. Henzey found them in The Junction as her mother had suggested. They were about to go to the Town Hall with Tom the Tatter, who had his best suit on with a grubby old cap and a dirty, white muffler. Phyllis Fat and her husband, Hartwell Dabbs, had decided to go too, as had Colonel Bradley, who was a woman, but cursed and drank like a navvy.

  ‘Ain’t yer courtin’ tonight, our Henzey?’ May asked.

  ‘I’ve done my courting tonight, Aunty May. Now I’m going out to enjoy myself.’

  May chuckled at Henzey’s apparent indifference to courtship.

  They walked steadily to the town, through the Market Place, where one or two revellers were sitting on the em
pty market stall trestles, some with their heads in their hands, the worse for drink. Others were singing noisily.

  By the time they reached the new Town Hall, all lit up with electric lights, a sizeable crowd had gathered. There were intense debates between some on the vices and virtues of the three main parties. Half a dozen constables broke up a brawl between a Labour supporter and a Conservative supporter and then their truculent wives, who were pulling each other’s hair out in handfuls. Others laughed at the political fervour of some of their fellow citizens.

  ‘Just look at them daft buggers,’ Tom the Tatter said from under his cap and unkempt hair, which always seemed as one single unit.

  ‘What they arguin’ about, I wonder?’ May said.

  Hartwell replied, ‘I ’eared ’em. The Labour chap was on about gettin’ rid o’ the peers.’

  ‘From Dudley?’ Phyllis asked.

  He shrugged. ‘From anywhere, I reckon.’

  ‘Why, the saft sod. There’s ne’er a pier in Dudley. Where’s ’e think ’e is? Soddin’ Blackpool? Yo’ can tell ’e ai’ a local mon.’

  The Town Hall clock struck midnight.

  ‘Shouldn’t be long now,’ Colonel Bradley commented, looking up at the sky as if the darkness might yield a clue as to any likely change in the weather. She took a hip flask out of her jacket pocket and took a slug of whisky. ‘Come and stand by me, young Henzey. You’ll get a better view here.’

  Henzey did as she was invited.

  ‘I shun’t get too excited yet,’ Phyllis Fat crowed. ‘There’s still some more dignit’ries what ai’ in yet. ’Ere’s some more on ’em now by the looks o’ things.’

  Three limousines pulled up. Henzey, standing on the steps of the art gallery opposite with Colonel Bradley, noticed the Mayor and his family alight from the first car. The second one disgorged Councillor Walter Dewsbury and his wife. Next out of the same car, to her surprise, came Andrew Dewsbury and she shuddered as she recalled his birthday party. She waited and craned her neck to get a look at Nellie, but Andrew was the last person to get out of the second motor car. Nellie obviously had better things to do. The third vehicle deposited somebody Joe maintained was Alderman Hickinbottom, and his wife.

  Another quarter of an hour passed before the Mayor, with Councillor Dewsbury, Alderman Hickinbottom and half a dozen others, stepped out onto the balcony above the Town Hall entrance. One man started to blow into the huge microphone in front of him. After they’d all shuffled into suitable positions, the returning officer looked round, nodded, blew into the microphone again, then announced the count. Oliver Baldwin had taken the Dudley seat for Labour and there was raucous cheering.

  Next day revealed how the general election had ended in stalemate. Labour had won most seats but the Conservatives had polled most votes. Stanley Baldwin remained at 10 Downing Street and it was hinted that he would reshuffle his cabinet. Because it was up to the Liberals to decide who should govern, it was far from over yet. Many reckoned that the lowering of the voting age for women from thirty to twenty-one, the ‘flapper vote’, had helped Labour.

  On Saturday evening, Billy arrived at the dairy house to collect Henzey. He wore a navy blue three piece suit, white shirt and Paisley tie. As Henzey opened the door to him he handed her a bouquet of roses and kissed her.

  ‘To say sorry for last Thursday night. Am I forgiven?’

  ‘You didn’t have to bring me flowers, Billy. They are beautiful, though. Thank you.’ He stepped inside. ‘Before you say anything else, I’ve got a confession to make – I went to watch the election results after with Aunty May and Uncle Joe.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘At least I’ve got an idea what our new MP looks like. I wish you’d been there, though. I saw the Dewsbury family, but Nellie wasn’t with them.’

  ‘Wasn’t she?’ he grunted evasively, then followed her into the sitting room. He sat down next to Alice, who had her nose in a book. She greeted him summarily. ‘Aren’t you ready yet, Henzey?’

  She shook her head.

  ‘How long shall you be?’

  ‘We’re not going anywhere, Billy. Leastwise I’m not. Mom and Jesse have already gone out and I have to look after Ezme. I don’t mind if you still want to go out without me, though. Let me just go and put these roses into a vase, then I’ll explain.’

  Herbert was out with Edgar Hodgetts, his pal, and Alice and Maxine both said they had arranged to meet a gang from Oldbury at the roller skating rink. Henzey returned with her blooms in an earthenware vase, which she put on the table. She sat down beside Billy on the sofa and explained more fully what had happened.

  ‘You don’t mind do you, Billy?’

  ‘Oh, I can hardly mind after what happened on Thursday. So how is the old duch?’

  ‘She’s ever so poorly. Doctor’s been again today. Anyway, how was your dad on Thursday? Was he drunk, like you said he’d be?’

  ‘As a bobowler. It’s a good job I went to fetch him. Mind you, he’s been drunk ever since he heard the result.’

  ‘Would you like a drink? I’ll get you a bottle of beer from the kitchen if you like.’

  He said he would, so she fetched a bottle and glass and poured it for him. He took a long drink, then put his glass on the floor at the side of the sofa while she took the empty bottle out. She came back sipping a glass of sherry.

  ‘Might as well have a drink myself, even if we are stopping in.’

  She sat beside him again. He stood up, took off his jacket, threw it over one of the armchairs and sat beside her again companionably.

  ‘I’ve missed you this last couple of days, Henzey. I really have.’

  She snuggled up to him. ‘Ooh, tell me again.’

  He chuckled. ‘I have, honest. I’ve really missed you. I’ve been thinking about you all the time. I don’t mind that we’re stopping in tonight. At least I’ll have you to myself.’ He took another quaff of beer.

  Henzey took a sip of her sherry and smiled contentedly. ‘You know, I like this house,’ she commented, looking round her. ‘It’s so much bigger than the one we lived in over the road, isn’t it?’

  ‘Your mother’s got it nice.’

  ‘Oh, it’ll be even nicer in time. You should see upstairs now.’

  ‘I’ve seen upstairs. Well, I’ve seen the new bathroom.’

  ‘You should see the difference now. Come up with me and have a look. I’ve got to go up and check on Ezme again, anyway.’ She took another sip of sherry and put it on the table as she arose from the sofa. Billy followed her upstairs.

  Henzey gently opened the door into Ezme’s room and walked over to where she lay. The old lady seemed to be sleeping soundly enough, but grunted once.

  ‘God, she looks pale,’ Billy whispered.

  ‘Poor old soul. If I ever get like that I hope they’ll put me down. I never want to suffer. I’m too much of a coward. I remember my dad…’

  Billy took her hand. He led her out of the room and out of the mood. ‘Nice, big landing,’ he said brightly. ‘Now show me your room. I’ve never seen your room.’

  She feigned primness. ‘My room? Hey, I’m not sure that’s quite the proper thing for a young lady to do,’

  ‘Oh, it’ll be all right, Henzey. I shan’t disgrace you by being indiscreet.’

  She laughed and, still with her hand in his, she led him along the landing to the room at the end, overlooking the back of the house. It was small and, in it, was a new single bed with a pale blue bedspread, a dressing table, covered with an assortment of make-up and bottles of perfume, and a tall cane whatnot standing in a corner bearing a cyclamen in flower. The walls were painted in a cool, pale blue and the woodwork was white. A photograph of her father as a very handsome young man hung on the wall opposite her bed.

  ‘I say, this is really nice,’ Billy enthused. ‘Did you pick the colours yourself?’

  She sat on the bed, looked around her, and nodded. ‘I like it. It’s all my own. A whole room to myself. I can still hardly believe it.’


  He sat beside her. ‘It’s cool, like you.’

  ‘What is?’

  ‘Blue. It suits you. Reflects your personality…and it matches your eyes.’

  She flashed a smile at him for the compliment. ‘Think I’m cool, do you? D’you mean cold?’

  ‘No. Definitely not cold, Henzey. Not you. Cool. Sometimes a bit aloof. Like when I got here and you said I could still go out by myself if I wanted. As if you didn’t care.’

  ‘Oh, Billy, is that how I seem?’ She looked at him earnestly, and she wrapped her arms around him. ‘Billy, I do care. Maybe more than it shows. Maybe more than is good for me.’

  He saw the love shining unmistakably at him through her soft, sincere eyes, and he kissed her. His lips felt so good. It would be forever impossible to have a surfeit of his kisses. She could happily kiss him till eternity. She offered no resistance when he pressed her backwards so that she was lying on the bed; no resistance at all. Gently he rolled on top of her, their lips still touching, and she realised the joy of having his weight upon her. After a while they broke off their kiss and his lips brushed her throat and her neck, as light as the touch of a feather, then lingered at her ear. As she felt his warm breath she experienced sensations up and down her spine that she could not control. She could feel him pressing against her, urgently, and her heart beat faster at the pleasure of it all. They kissed more, lingering, savouring each other’s lips. He rolled on to his side and she shuffled to face him, smiling trustingly. His knee slid between her thighs and she liked the feel of it. But the familiar mental barriers arose inside her head like intruding demons.

  With no hesitation Billy unfastened the buttons at the front of her blouse and she knew that from this moment, unless she stopped him, there would be no turning back. The familiar fear of getting into trouble taunted her, though she desperately wished to fight it. Now Billy’s hands, so smooth, so caring, were inside her brassiere, gently fondling her breasts. It was such bewildering pleasure. As she felt his mouth on hers again she thought of her mother, and what would happen if she allowed herself to give in to her physical desires and got into trouble as a result. While she desperately wanted to be whisked along on this tide of passion, she wrestled with the years of indoctrination. She was being pulled one way by apprehension, the other way by yearning. It was like a tug of war.