The Factory Girl

by Nancy Carson

  ‘What could be wrong?’

  Henzey took a spoon out of the cutlery drawer. ‘I’m not sure. But if I was being sick every morning after doing what you seem to do every night, I’d be worried.’

  Alice shrugged.

  There was another pause while Henzey began eating her breakfast, leaning casually against the kitchen cabinet. ‘Have you told Jack?’

  Alice turned away.

  Henzey knew she’d struck a chord. ‘Have you told Jack?’ she asked again.

  Alice shook her head. She was looking into her teacup, her back towards Henzey.

  ‘Then don’t you think you should?’ Henzey put her breakfast down on the small kitchen table.

  Alice turned towards her. A tear trembled on her dark lashes. Henzey thought how pathetic and lost her sister looked. Her petiteness made her seem frail and vulnerable, while her prettiness was marred by the anxiety in her face. Still only sixteen years old and sexually experienced; but not sufficiently so to have insisted that Jack took the requisite precautions to have prevented this. He should have had more thought, but carelessness was typical of him. Alice rushed into Henzey’s arms. As Henzey held her tight Alice broke down, heaving, sobbing. Henzey stroked her hair and uttered soothing words, but it only seemed to make her worse. For some minutes she wept.

  Then she heaved a great sigh of self pity. ‘What should I do, Henzey? I never thought it would ’appen to me.’

  Henzey answered quietly, consolingly. ‘Well, first thing, I should have thought, would be to tell Jack. You’ve got to tell him, Alice…Does he love you?’

  Alice nodded.

  ‘Then, you’ll have to start thinking about getting married, provided he’ll marry you. You’ll have to go and see the doctor to get it confirmed. Then you’ll have to tell Mom and Jesse.’

  ‘Tell Mom and Jesse what?’ It was their mother standing at the kitchen door in her dressing gown.

  Henzey looked at Alice with an expression that suggested she should tell the truth and get it over with. They let go of each other and Alice looked at the floor, trying to hide her tears from Lizzie. But Lizzie had picked up the signals as if they had been broadcast over the wireless.

  She looked first at Alice, apprehensively, then at Henzey. ‘What’s the matter?’

  ‘You might as well say now,’ Henzey advised.

  ‘I think I’m pregnant, Mom…I think I’m pregnant.’ Alice broke down again, and Henzey felt profoundly sorry for her. Once more she put her arms around her to comfort her.

  Lizzie’s face was a portrait of anxiety. ‘How many times have you missed?’

  ‘Twice.’

  ‘And what does he say about it?’

  ‘He don’t know yet,’ Alice sobbed.

  ‘Well, I reckon you’d best tell him, and quick. Have you had it confirmed?’

  Alice shook her head.

  ‘Then you’d better get to Donald Clark’s.’

  ‘Will he be able to get rid of it for me?’

  ‘Get rid of it? It’s a fine time to talk about getting rid of it, our Alice. It should never have got there in the first place at your age. You’ve made your bed, you can damn-well lie in it, same as everybody else. If he’ll marry you there’ll be no need for thinking about getting rid of it. You should’ve thought about all this before you let him have his way.’

  Lizzie was angry with Alice for being so stupid, but she recalled the time, not so long ago, when she herself had been caught out with Richard. She had been ashamed and angry with herself then but, most of all, she had needed the support of the people she loved. She was lucky: she had got support immediately. But she remembered the desolation over Henzey’s resentment. There was nothing to suppose Alice would feel any different. Being so young she would need even more support.

  ‘You don’t have to make it sound so dirty, Mom,’ Alice said defiantly. ‘I love Jack. With all my heart an’ soul I love him. I did it out of love for him. I ain’t ashamed o’ that, neither. I’m just worried what’ll ’appen. I’m worried about what you all think.’

  ‘Oh, our Alice,’ Lizzie said, tears welling up in her own eyes. She held her arms out and Alice left Henzey’s embrace in favour of her mother’s. ‘You’re no more than a child yourself. God, as if one daughter ain’t enough to worry about, I’m blessed with three. I’ll be grey before I’m much older.’ Then, she spoke more quietly. ‘Listen. You tell that Jack Harper about it as soon as you can. When we know how he feels, we’ll know better what we’ve got to do. Are you supposed to see him tonight?’

  ‘Yes. He wants to marry me, Mom. I know that already. He’s said as much.’

  ‘Then let’s hope he’ll still want to marry you now you’re carrying his child. It tends to put a different slant on things. If he does, all you need worry about is where you’re going to live.’

  Maxine appeared at the door. She said, ‘I thought I heard a fuss. What’s up?’

  When Alice had finally left for work, Lizzie, Henzey and Maxine stood in the kitchen talking, wondering what Jesse and Herbert were likely to say about Alice and her predicament. Henzey had become vacant, not really listening to what the other two were saying. She was again in her own private world of new love.

  Out of the blue, she said, ‘I wonder if the Cup Final’s on the wireless this afternoon.’

  Lizzie looked at Maxine incredulously. ‘How the hell you can think about the Cup Final when there’s our Alice to worry about beats me.’

  ‘Since when have you been interested in football?’ Maxine asked.

  ‘Since yesterday.’ Henzey turned toward the kitchen table. ‘I might as well throw this porridge away now. It’s as cold as charity.’

  ‘How come you’re so interested in the Cup Final all of a sudden?’

  Henzey placed the bowl of porridge on the draining board. ‘Will’s gone to see it with a crowd from work.’

  Lizzie and Maxine looked at each other again. ‘Oh? Who’s Will, then?’ Lizzie enquired, still reeling from Alice’s confession and perceiving further cause for concern.

  ‘A fellow from Lucas’s. I’m seeing him tomorrow afternoon.’

  ‘Is he the one who sent you the flowers? I thought there was something in the wind. Was that him you did a picture of a while ago?’

  Henzey nodded. This was not the best moment to have chosen to talk about Will.

  ‘I thought he was married.’

  ‘He’s a widower, mom. Lost his wife nearly six years ago.’

  ‘A widower? Well, I hope you know what you’re doing, our Henzey.’

  Henzey looked challengingly into her mother’s eyes. ‘Didn’t Jesse know what he was doing when he married a widow?’

  Lizzie conceded that Henzey had made a relevant point. ‘All right, all right. But he’s a lot older than you, isn’t he?’

  ‘He’s thirty-one next month. All right, so he’s twelve years older than me. I’ve always said the women of this family like their men more mature.’

  ‘Yes, and our men will be our damned downfall from what I can see of it.’ They remained quiet for a while. Lizzie filled the enamel bowl with hot water from the geyser to start the washing-up. She sighed pensively. ‘I don’t really think any of us intend to bring trouble. But when you fall in love it’s so hard to deny yourself the pleasure that loving can bring. I don’t think many women can, although they mean to…and they generally pretend they can. So it’s even more important that you’re careful…Are you listening? I mean, look at our Alice. Ooh, I could brain her, I really could. As if she’d got no more sense. It wouldn’t be so bad but she’s had no life. She’ll be just seventeen and a mother at that.’

  ‘Well at least Jack Harper’s in work, Mom,’ Henzey remarked. ‘The best thing they could do would be to get married and try and rent a house somewhere. She’ll be able to work for a while yet. I daresay they’ll be happy enough.’

  They all heard Richard coughing upstairs, and Lizzie went up.

  Dresses were tending to get longer but Henzey
was doing her best to resist the dictates of fashion, still preferring to wear her skirts and dresses short. She had slim, shapely legs and was not averse to showing them; her neatly turned ankles drew many a second glance. But it was becoming increasingly difficult to find new clothes that were not appreciably longer. True, she thought, the higher waistline, the bust nobody had to flatten any more, the longer skirt and the more complex cut produced a shape more natural, more feminine and infinitely more sensual than the boyish look of previous years. But she would be sorry to see the demise of the short skirt. So it was with mixed feelings that, on Saturday afternoon while the Cup Final was being played, she bought a new, sky-blue, day dress in rayon for tomorrow. The hem was a mere twelve inches above the ground, but the skirt was cut on the bias, which gave some moulding from her waist to her feminine hips and her prettily protruding bottom.

  She wore it when she met Will on Sunday afternoon, well teamed with short jacket, matching shoes and gloves and flesh coloured silk stockings. She looked and felt good.

  The weather was fair with a light breeze. White clouds scudded briskly across a sunshine sky. They had arranged to meet at three o’clock at the tram stop at the railway station. Will was already waiting when she arrived. He took both her hands, then, keeping her at arms’ length for a moment, looked her up and down.

  He smiled. ‘Oh, very elegant. Brings out the colour of your eyes. Nice change from your overall.’

  ‘Thank you. And look at you. Grey flannels and navy blue blazer – you look very smart yourself.’

  ‘Thank you. Well, the weather’s good. Shall we walk round the castle grounds?’

  ‘If you like.’

  Hand in hand they strolled up Castle Hill, past the Opera House, to the castle’s entrance close to where the statue of the Earl of Dudley stood. Will told Henzey of his trip to Wembley and how pleased he was that Albion had won the cup. They’d celebrated the victory with some enthusiasm and hadn’t arrived home till past two o’ clock that morning.

  ‘And did you go to church this morning?’

  ‘Yes,’ he replied, ‘and I told them I wouldn’t be there tonight.’

  ‘So will the other tenors be able to manage without you?’

  ‘I doubt it,’ he jested, ‘but I won’t be there to worry about it.’

  ‘How come you’re not religious, going to church that often?’

  He gave a little grunt of a laugh. ‘I go to sing, Henzey. I love singing with other people. There’s nothing quite like it.’

  ‘But you said your family were religious. You said they’re Methodists.’

  ‘They are. But their fanaticism drove me from it. My father always used to be spouting from the Bible. I think he knew it by heart.’

  ‘But if they were Methodists, how come you sing in a Church of England choir?’

  ‘Rebellion, I reckon – against Methodist fundamentalism.’

  They reached the entrance to the castle grounds and went in. The steep, winding pathways were shaded by tall trees swaying gracefully in the breeze, their green foliage well forward for April due to a spell of fine weather. They took a route which meandered to and fro across the side of the hill. It would eventually lead them over a wide ditch that was once the moat, and into the castle courtyard.

  ‘There’s some trouble at home,’ Henzey said.

  ‘Oh?’

  The sun shining through the new foliage of the elm trees cast a mobile, dappled shadow across her lovely face. Will watched, fascinated, as it seemed to caress her skin.

  ‘Our Alice is pregnant.’

  ‘Oh, no. Poor kid.’

  ‘Oh, I do feel sorry for her, Will, but she was warned. I’ve told you before how I came across them once, didn’t I?’ Henzey explained how Alice had confessed and how her mother had reacted. ‘She told Jack last night and he’s told her he wants to marry her, so they’re going to as soon as they can. This morning she was sick again, but she seemed much happier. Relieved that it’s out in the open, I expect.’

  ‘In many ways she’s lucky,’ Will commented. ‘Not everybody relishes the thought of having to get married, but if she’s going to…Well, there’s a good many who wish they were in a similar position, I daresay.’

  They stopped while Will watched the rooks squawking and flapping between their nests, high in the elms. Henzey was glad of the brief rest.

  ‘Well, I’m blowed,’ he said. ‘Haven’t seen a red squirrel for years. There. See? Bet there’s a few more round here.’

  ‘Oh, isn’t he lovely? Just look at him. Will you catch him for me, Will, so’s I can take him home?’

  He laughed. ‘Yes, ’course. Just hang on while I shin up this tree.’

  They started walking again.

  Henzey said, ‘There are two things I’m really daft about – animals and babies.’

  ‘Well there’ll soon be another baby in the family to drool over when Alice has hers.’ He looked into her eyes for her response.

  ‘How do you feel about children now, Will?’ she asked, turning to look at him. ‘If you were ever to get married again, I mean. You know? After what happened to Dorothy.’

  He took a moment to formulate his answer. He felt he should choose his words with care. ‘I’d be loath to put any woman’s life at risk again, Henzey. I’m certainly not against having a family in the generally accepted sense. But, frankly, I think I’d be scared to death to knowingly start one. The spectre of what can happen – what’s already happened to me – still haunts me. Graveyards are full of women who died having babies.’

  The path turned sharply and steeply, almost in the opposite direction.

  Their eyes met again and Henzey squeezed his hand. ‘I think I can understand how you feel. But not every woman dies giving birth, do they? My own mother had all us children and who’s to say she won’t have more? Like shelling peas, she says it is.’ She laughed. ‘Actually, I’ve heard her put it a sight more earthily than that. But most women accept the risk, such as it is.’

  ‘Maybe they do, but I doubt if I’d be prepared to take that risk again. If it happened that my wife became pregnant, by accident say, that would be different, I suppose. But I’d be on tenterhooks till it was all safely over.’

  ‘So would most men with any care in their hearts, I should think.’ She was reminded of Billy Witts putting Nellie Dewsbury in the family way. Had such a caring thought crossed his mind? ‘But if you were ever to get that far, would that be a sticking point between you and your new wife?’ She laughed, half-teasing, half-serious, hoping it would not sound presumptuous.

  He smiled. ‘Who knows?’

  ‘Whoever she might be, she’d have to convince you somehow that you were taking a very negative point of view. If I ever get married I’d certainly want children, though I admit, not necessarily straight away. I suppose it would depend how old I was. You must admit, Will, that if everyone took your view the whole human race would be extinct in no time.’

  ‘And who’s to say that would be a bad thing?’

  They were climbing higher. Through the trees, they could see the red brick tower of St Edmund’s church way below and, on the ridge beyond, the smoke-blackened granite spire of St Thomas’s, or Top Church as it was known locally, dominating the far end of the town and the horizon. They stopped to look at the view. When they continued walking she linked her arm through his as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

  ‘Besides, your mother lived through childbirth,’ Henzey said, persisting with the topic.

  ‘Presumably. Actually, I don’t know that for certain.’

  Henzey looked at him, puzzled. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I don’t know if I ever knew my real mother. Nor my real father. Didn’t I tell you? I was a foster child. I thought I’d told you.’

  ‘No, you never said. I’d have remembered that.’

  ‘I could have sworn I’d told you…Well, I have no idea who my real parents were. They might be still alive for all I know. I don’t know, I n
ever asked about them.’

  ‘And you were never told?’

  ‘Not that I can remember.’

  ‘Aren’t you interested in finding out?’

  ‘I’ve thought about them, Henzey. But when I was a lad in my early teens, I remember thinking that they must have thought little or nothing of me to have deserted me, or given me away. Either way, it amounts to the same thing. So, in my youthful arrogance, I thought, why should I concern myself with them? So I didn’t…Maybe I was illegitimate, Henzey.’

  ‘Don’t, Will.’

  ‘Would that bother you?’

  She squeezed his arm. ‘No, it wouldn’t. But it doesn’t have to be so. It’s just as likely your parents were married. Maybe your father was a soldier and got killed in the Boer War or something. If so, maybe your mother couldn’t cope. Maybe she died, even – I’ve heard of such things. It might be any one of a thousand reasons why you were fostered. You mustn’t judge them too harshly if you don’t know.’

  ‘But there’s another reason I never bothered to ask about them…I was loved anyway, secure in the Parish family. I always felt that, if I asked my foster parents anything about my real parents, they would interpret that as dissatisfaction. I know how sensitive they’ve always been and it would’ve grieved me to upset them, because I’ve always loved them dearly.’

  ‘I’m sure they would’ve understood.’

  ‘Maybe they would, but I was never prepared to take the risk. Even now, I couldn’t bring myself to ask them.’

  ‘But you had a happy childhood?’

  ‘I had a very happy childhood. And that’s the point.’

  They arrived at the stone bridge over the dry moat and strolled under the four-centred, Tudor arch of the barbican, through the Triple Gateway of the gatehouse. All was in ruins, but the pale, limestone walls were glowing bright in the sunshine.

  ‘Mom said I was to take you home for tea,’ Henzey remarked.

  ‘That’s nice of her.’

  ‘She wants to inspect you. I didn’t promise, though. I said I’d suggest it to you. Richard’s got whooping cough, you see, poor little thing. I didn’t really think you’d want your first visit to our house to be memorable because of him coughing all the while, bless his heart. It’s terrible for him, but I know how upsetting it can be for everybody else.’