by Nancy Carson
But not yet. She needed time to contemplate and understand this. It was all so sudden.
Just before noon, a bouquet of red roses arrived. They bore no note but she guessed who had sent them.
These days, thoughts of Billy Witts failed to set her heart thumping. Thank God she was over him. After nearly fifteen months, any remaining hunger for him had long abated and she was acclimatised to celibacy. Perhaps too acclimatised. Oh, what the hell! Perhaps it was time to give her battered emotions an airing again, if only to see if she was still capable of that warmth, that passion, that ecstasy she had known with Billy? At least now she felt some ability, some willingness, to give love.
But for a while she went out of her way to avoid Will Parish, even though she realised it was ungracious in the extreme. Over the last few months she had become familiar with his movements. When she visited the ladies’ toilet on her floor during her mid-morning break, she would invariably bump into Will on his way to some meeting or other. So she visited the ladies’ at the end of her break, rather than at the beginning, thereby eluding him. When it was time to go home, she got lost in the surging crowd leaving the factory, rather than linger around the production line for a few minutes till the crowds had dispersed. Thus she reduced the risk of seeing him. But all she was doing was postponing the inevitable. Sooner or later they were bound to meet and she guessed that, by now, he would be thinking it mighty impolite that he had not seen her since he sent that birthday card.
She managed to avoid Will till 24th April, a Friday. Not only had her conscience got the better of her, but he had been occupying her thoughts far more than normal. That birthday card and its message had seeped through the defensive wall she had erected around herself. He had expressed his feelings so intriguingly, with no gushing admissions of love. The words were typical of him; they had an attractive, yet melancholy ring; a poignancy tinged with hope, understated, relying only on her understanding of the message. It was irresistible now. Having expressed those feelings so subtly, the perceived knowledge that he was in love with her was having a positive, cumulative effect. She could ignore it no longer. Just one thing was troubling her: although they shared many intimate secrets, never once had she intimated that she was not a virgin. He might already have guessed as much, but would he still want her when her knew for certain? To some men virginity meant everything.
Will, on the other hand, hoped that Henzey would weigh up his poetic words, mull them over and eventually come to some sort of a decision. That it would be in her own time he was also aware. The fact that he had not caught sight of her for nearly a month came as no great surprise, though he was somewhat disappointed. Had he wished, he could easily have intercepted her somewhere, but it would have been to no avail. She would come to him one way or the other, without pressure, when she was good and ready.
And he could wait.
So finally, at dinnertime, with butterflies in her stomach, Henzey visited him in his department. Just to say hello. He was where she expected to find him, in his office, but this time he wasn’t reading a newspaper, he was reading a lengthy office memorandum. His door was open, of course, and she tapped on it gently, since he did not see her approach.
‘Good Lord,’ he exclaimed when he saw her, and his face lit up. ‘I thought you’d left the country. You been away ill or something?’
She smiled demurely and he returned the smile with a typical, unwitting scratching of his head. This time there was no sadness in his eyes but she thought she detected him colour up slightly. It moved her to blush too. They were like old friends who had been away so long that they felt almost like strangers again; strangers, too, because there was this new unspoken and unconfirmed intrigue, which transmuted mere rapport into something far more substantial, yet far more fragile. Whether it came to fruition or even failed to take root, she could not tell yet. Either way, they were on the brink of a new kind of relationship.
Still smiling that fabulous smile which made her blue eyes sparkle like fine-cut sapphires, she answered quietly: ‘Will, I haven’t seen you for so long. I thought it was time I came to say hello.’
He laughed self-consciously. ‘And not before time. I thought you’d forgotten me. Sit down, for goodness sake.’ He put down the memorandum he was reading while she sat down, her back elegantly erect, her head set beautifully. ‘So how’ve you been? You look well. In fact you look smashing. But then you always do.’
‘Thanks, Will. I’m fine. Never felt better.’
He made a mental note of that. Maybe it was a euphemism; her way of saying she was prepared to embark on a new relationship. If only…But still he kept the initial conversation to generalities; safe ground, while they fenced conversationally to draw each other out.
‘And how’s everyone at home? Richard well?’
‘Oh, he’s lovely. He’s a bit of a handful these days, walking and getting into everything. Nothing’s sacred any more. Mom has to tie all the cupboard doors and sideboard doors together so he can’t get at anything. He’s a proper little monkey.’ She laughed nervously. ‘He’s been a bit off the hooks the last week or so, though. A bit feverish and a runny nose.’
‘And Alice?’
‘Oh, I’m still worried about her. You remember I told you about what she gets up to with Jack? She still sees him, but she’s not so hostile to me now.’
He nodded sagely. ‘Good…And Maxine?’
‘Still dedicated to her music.’
‘And how’s Herbert?’
‘He’s courting now. Did I tell you that before? I’ve met her. She seems a nice girl, quiet, very plain, the same age as himself. I don’t think she suits him really. He met her on his milk round. Her mother’s one of his customers…So how are your family, Will? Are they well?’
‘Oh, Mother’s not so good on her legs these days. Father’s still managing to do a bit in his allotment, getting it ready for his vegetables and his chrysanths.’
‘I see you aren’t reading your newspaper today.’ She was aware that she was forcing conversation. ‘I thought you liked your paper.’
He picked up the memorandum and held it in front of him. ‘No, I was reading this. It’s an outline of some new American style wages incentive scheme they want to introduce. I’m surprised you haven’t heard about it.’
‘Well if we all get more money out of it so much the better. Are you in favour of it, Will?’
‘From what I can gather, it will do us all a bit of good. It’s supposed to work well in America.’
‘I don’t think their Prohibition would work here, though, do you? Not that I drink, but Jesse likes his pint. So does Herbert now.’
Will smiled, and there was a lull in the conversation. Both were instantly aware of it, but it was Henzey who broke it. She saw it as her chance to get straight to the point.
‘I…er…I never had the chance to thank you for the birthday card and the flowers you sent me.’ She stared self-consciously at her finger nails on her lap. Then she looked up again, more boldly. Their eyes met and held. ‘To be honest, Will, after I received them I kept out of your way…’ Her eyes went to her lap again. ‘Not because I wasn’t happy to get them, I was…and not because I didn’t want to see you either, because I did…But what you wrote was…was sort of unexpected…Oh, this is difficult, Will…It’s just that…I needed time to think…to sort out my own feelings. You know how I’ve been these last fifteen months.’
‘I know exactly.’ His voice was thin with anticipation. ‘That’s why I didn’t do it sooner. I expect it all came as a bit of a shock.’
‘Well, it’s not every day that someone as close as you’ve been, lets me know he’s…in love with me. And since we are such close friends, you deserve…well, you deserve some consideration as to my own feelings about it…I’m not explaining myself very well, am I?’
‘I hope you’re trying to say, Henzey, that you’ve sorted out your own emotions.’ His voice began to tremble and he hoped she hadn’t noticed.
She nodded, still staring into her lap. ‘I think I have.’
‘And?’ He swallowed hard. The next few seconds could realise his dream or shatter it.
She looked up and smiled. ‘“My heart hides timidly behind my dreams, eloquence evading”…Shall I go on?’
He nodded. ‘Please. If you can remember it.’
‘Oh, I can remember it all right. Every word. I’ll never forget it…“My heart hides timidly behind my dreams, eloquence evading. Like beautiful flowers I stop to pick, which at my touch start fading. Yet flowery words, howe’er refined cannot do justice to thee, nor yet to what I feel inside”…’ Her voice became strained with emotion, ‘“persistently…constantly…truly.”’ Again she looked at her lap, but the buttons on her overall seemed to grow misty as tears filled her eyes. She looked up at him. ‘The poem says it all for me as well.’ She bit her bottom lip to stem her weeping.
‘Henzey,’ he breathed, yearning to hold her.
‘Oh, Will.’ Tears streamed down her face.
‘Oh, Henzey. I never…You’ve been on my mind, you know, for such a long time now…I…For a long time I’ve wanted you to…to become a part of me and my life, and I’ve wanted to be a part of your world, your life.’
She took her handkerchief from the pocket of her overall and wiped her eyes. ‘Stop it,’ she said, a laugh bursting through her tears. ‘You’re making me all happy. I’m not used to that.’
‘I want to be with you…always. I want to experience the world with you, talk with you, listen to you. I want to protect you from the world and all its pains, but I also want to share its joys and pleasures with you…I wish I could find the words to say more.’
‘You make it sound so beautiful anyway.’
‘I just crave for the privilege of knowing you better – knowing every single beat of your heart. I want to enjoy every kiss you’re able to give…Sorry. Am I going too fast?’
She cast her eyes down once more. ‘No, no, Will. You’re not going too fast…but before you…There’s just one thing…’
‘What?’
She looked into his eyes earnestly. ‘Billy and me, we…I’m not a virgin, Will. I think it’s only fair you should know.’
‘Well, neither am I,’ he said with a little laugh of relief. For a second he feared she was about to introduce some insurmountable impediment. ‘But I’d assumed you weren’t…after a love affair like yours. Do you think it matters?’
‘It matters to lots of men, they say. I just wanted to tell you before we begin anything.’
‘Henzey, it’s already begun. And the fact that you’re not a virgin is neither here nor there. It doesn’t alter the way I feel. It can’t alter the way I feel.’
Her hand went across his desk and he covered it with his own. ‘Please try not to make me unhappy, Will,’ she breathed. ‘I don’t ever want to be unhappy again.’
‘Nor shall you be. Oh, I just want to take you up in my arms right now.’
Henzey began to laugh through her tears and he laughed too. ‘You daren’t,’ she said. ‘You know you daren’t. Not here.’
In the goldfish bowl of an office in which they sat, such an action, in full view of everyone in the department, would have caused a minor scandal and possibly put their jobs in jeopardy. They both knew it, of course, and it provoked their laughter.
‘Best save it for when we’re alone,’ she said.
‘And when do you suppose that might be?’
One of her shrugs. ‘I’m not doing anything tomorrow night.’
‘Oh, dear God,’ he sighed, frustrated, ‘wouldn’t you just know it! Tomorrow I’m going to Wembley. It’s the Cup Final. West Brom are playing Brum. There’s scores going from Lucas’s. It’ll be a riot. God knows what time I’ll be back. Tell you what – I’ll sell my ticket.’
‘No, Will, I wouldn’t hear of it. You must go to the Cup Final if you’ve got a ticket. It’s your team that’s playing. I’ll still be here when you get back. Another day won’t make any difference. Anyway, now we seem to have got ourselves sorted out another day waiting will make our next meeting all the sweeter.’
‘I don’t know if I want to wait any longer, Henzey. I want to be with you. I don’t think I can wait now I know how you feel. Let’s meet after work and I’ll walk you to the station.’
‘Yes, all right,’ she smiled. ‘Then you can go and enjoy the Cup Final. And I hope Albion win for you.’
‘Well, if they do it’s going to be some double celebration, I can tell you.’
So Henzey and Will met after they finished work that day. They walked hand in hand to the station in Icknield Street. The late April afternoon was cool and the sky was burdened with grey clouds, but occasionally the low sun would sneak through for a few minutes to cast long shadows and a yellow brilliance that was dazzling. The platform was crowded. They sat on a bench and talked, oblivious to anyone else. When the train steamed in Henzey said she didn’t want to leave him yet so they sat and waited till the next one came in, forty minutes later. As its carriages clanked to a halt, they stood and she held her face up to him, poised for a kiss. He lingered when he felt the lush softness of her mouth, and it became a full, probing, hungry kiss. As their arms went about each other some wag gave them a wolf-whistle, reminding them to break off, just in time for Henzey to get on the train.
They had arranged to meet on Sunday afternoon.
Chapter 13
Henzey awoke on the Saturday morning and looked at the clock on her dressing table. It wanted five and twenty minutes to eight. She rubbed her eyes and rolled onto her other side, wondering if Will was on the charabanc to Wembley yet. Herbert and Jesse would be up and working by now. Already they would have collected the milk churns from the railway station and be doling out fresh milk into the jugs of early risers. She heard Richard coughing; still he had a running nose and a high temperature.
At once Henzey’s mind was filled with Will Parish and their new-found love. She pondered how, over the last month, his poem had awakened feelings she had always sub-consciously harboured. It had been like a potent caress, triggering love. She likened herself to the fairy tale princess awakened with a kiss by the handsome prince after sleeping for a hundred years. That was how long it seemed she had been in the wilderness over that rogue Billy Witts. But now, at last, Will’s poem had freed her of all that. It was wonderful to wake up so.
A bedroom door opened and closed, interrupting her thoughts, then the bathroom door. The lavatory seat squeaked as it was lowered. A pause. It was flushed. Over the sound of the cistern refilling, she heard somebody retching. The lavatory was flushed again. Whoever it was had eaten something to upset them. Luckily, she had not been affected herself.
Her thoughts drifted back to Will. Ever since she received that card, inducing her to avoid him, she was lured somehow into thinking about him a great deal more, drawn inescapably like a butterfly to a blossom. It would not have done to just blithely turn him down then, nor even to blindly accept what he was offering without first searching her own heart. So she had diligently searched her heart and found her true emotions. Now she was sure. Not only did she love him as a friend, but she was also in love with him, the man, the widower, twelve years older than herself.
Once more, she heard the sound of retching. While the toilet flushed again she got out of bed. She put on her dressing gown and slippers, ran her fingers through her hair and opened her bedroom door. The aroma of bacon and eggs lingered temptingly from the breakfast Jesse had cooked earlier for himself and Herbert. The bathroom door opened and Alice emerged looking deathly white.
‘Are you all right?’ Henzey asked.
‘I am now. The smell of bacon and eggs made me sick. I think I’ll go back to bed for another ten minutes.’
Henzey visited the bathroom herself and afterwards went downstairs. Maxine was already sitting at the table, her nose in a book.
‘You’re up already, our Maxi.’
‘There’s nothing quite so annoying a
s somebody stating the obvious,’ Maxine replied, feigning disdain.
Henzey laughed. ‘All right, clever clogs. What I should have said was, what brings you up so early?’
‘Oh, Alice woke me, moaning about feeling sick again. She’s like it every morning lately. It must be awful to keep having these bilious attacks.’
‘Bilious attacks?’
‘She’s been getting them for the last two or three weeks. Surely if she went to see the doctor he could give her something? She won’t have any breakfast or anything. You wouldn’t know that, though, Henzey, since you have to leave home so early for work.’
‘Had your breakfast yet, Maxi?’
‘Not yet. I don’t really know what I fancy.’
‘Toast? Bacon and egg? Porridge?’
‘I think I’ll have some porridge.’
‘I’ll have some with you. I’ll make it if you’ll make some fresh tea.’
Maxine considered it a fair deal and they went into the kitchen together. Eventually, Henzey ladled dollops of thick porridge into two bowls, one of which she handed to Maxine.
‘Oh, ta. Pass me the treacle as well, will you?’
Alice, dressed ready for work, appeared at the door looking pale and drawn still. She pulled a face and said, ‘Oh, you’m not having treacle on your porridge again, Maxine? Yuk!’
Henzey took the tin of Lyle’s Golden Syrup from the cupboard above her and handed it to Maxine. Maxine took it, along with her breakfast, to the sitting room, leaving Henzey and Alice together.
‘I take it you don’t want any breakfast, our Alice.’
‘I’ll do without.’ There was still a coolness between them.
‘Are you sure you’re all right?’
Henzey sprinkled a teaspoon of sugar over her own bowl of porridge.
‘ ’Course I am. Have yer made enough tea for me as well?’
‘There’s a pot full.’
Alice reached for a cup.
‘Look, Alice, I know you’re not keen on me poking my nose in, but if there’s something wrong and I can help, you only have to say. I am your sister, after all.’
