The Factory Girl

by Nancy Carson

  ‘We?…If you’re very quick…and if you avoid trying to find an excuse to linger.’

  The boy was gone from the window and half a minute later presented himself in his pyjamas in the garden, together with his younger sister.

  ‘I’m Frederic,’ he said confidently to Henzey and held his hand out.

  ‘Yes, I know,’ she said with a smile as she shook it. ‘And I’m Henzey. Pleased to meet you.’

  ‘And this is Kitty.’

  ‘Well, hello, Kitty.’ The child shook Henzey’s hand like her brother had. ‘How nice to meet you.’ Henzey turned to Eunice. ‘She has such lovely golden hair, Eunice.’

  Eunice nodded and smiled.

  Frederic said, ‘I didn’t mean to scare you with the plane. Sorry.’

  ‘It didn’t scare me, Frederic,’ Henzey replied.

  ‘Take it at once and go back to your room, please,’ Eunice instructed. ‘Both of you.’ So Henzey handed him his paper plane and the children withdrew. ‘Sorry about that.’

  ‘Oh, he’s a lovely boy,’ Henzey commented. ‘Very well mannered. Very obedient. My brother would’ve given forty words for one at that age.’

  ‘He is a delightful child,’ Eunice agreed.

  ‘And Kitty,’ Henzey said. ‘She’s absolutely gorgeous. I could munch her.’

  ‘Munch her?’

  ‘Squeeze her – hug her. She’s such a beautiful child.’

  ‘You must visit us again, Henzey, when she’s up and about. Get to know her better.’

  ‘Yes, that would be nice. Does she have a nanny?’ Henzey enquired.

  ‘Oh, yes, she has a nanny. Though she fends for herself very well. I imagine you and Will are contemplating starting a family, Henzey?’

  ‘Oh, if a child came along I wouldn’t mind.’ She sighed heavily, causing Eunice to glance up at her.

  Eunice thought she detected despondency in her companion’s expression. ‘Oh, the truth now, Henzey.’

  ‘All right, Eunice, it’s more than that. I’ve reached the stage now when I’d dearly love a child. I really would. We’ve been married over two years now, but Will’s dead set against the idea. Understandable, I suppose, after what he went through when his first wife died. But I’m working on him, not that it’s done me any good yet.’

  ‘You must not allow wanting a child to become an obsession, you know. It’d be a big mistake. It could make you very miserable. It could make you very unhappy.’

  ‘Well, I try not to let it…But it’s hard, Eunice. Very hard. In every other way Will’s a good husband. He’s loving, and…’

  ‘Be more relaxed about it. I’m sure he’ll come round to your way of thinking eventually. It’ll be worth the wait.’

  Henzey smiled, grateful for Eunice’s concern. ‘And you, Eunice? Are you and Neville likely to have more children, do you think?’

  ‘Oh, very unlikely, I should say, especially in view of my incapacity. No, ours is more a marriage of convenience. Not that it was intended that way, you understand, but that’s the way it’s turned out ultimately…But you don’t want to hear about our problems.’

  They ambled on, through an arbour covered in clematis and wisteria. They stopped to admire it before Eunice said she’d like to sit for a while at the ornamental fish pond. Once there, Henzey sat facing her on a low wall that surrounded it. She turned her head and gazed absently into the water.

  ‘Do you mind if I ask you something, Eunice?’ she said after a few moments silence.

  ‘What, my dear? Ask what you will.’

  ‘Last time I saw you – in 1929 – I don’t remember you being in a wheelchair. I just wondered…well, I just wondered what’s the matter with you, that’s all…Nobody’s mentioned it and it seems so impolite of me to carry on with you as if it wasn’t there, when I’ve already been pushing you along.’

  ‘Thank you for your directness, Henzey. It’s no great secret, so I apologise for not mentioning it. I just assumed you knew. I just assumed that Neville had forewarned Will.’

  ‘Not to my knowledge.’

  ‘I have what the doctors refer to as Cruveilhier’s atrophy, or sclerosis. It’s a muscular disease that gets progressively worse. It developed rather rapidly in me, I’m afraid. I’ve been wheelchair bound for almost two years now. But you’re right. I was not in it when we first met. I was a healthy woman then. Very fit, as I thought.’

  ‘I am sorry, Eunice.’

  ‘Thank you. I’m learning to live with it.’

  ‘But will it get worse?’

  ‘It’s expected to, certainly.’

  ‘Much worse?’

  ‘Oh, much worse. I try not to think about it.’

  ‘I really am sorry.’

  A pause.

  ‘Such a coincidence that both Will and Neville were adopted, don’t you think?’ Eunice said, changing the conversation. ‘And at such an early age.’

  ‘Oh, and that bit about the twin brother, Eunice. It’s an amazing coincidence – that story my friend Clara told me. One of them must be Neville. Shame the other one’s still a mystery, though, isn’t it?’

  ‘Quite,’ Eunice lied, but without conviction. ‘But I have a very strong suspicion he might still turn up.’

  Chapter 19

  There were some exquisite counterpoint harmonies to enrich the melodic passages in the choir’s anthem, ‘How Lovely is Thy Dwelling Place’ from Brahms’s Requiem. The trebles soared almost to the limit of their range, their crystal glass ring echoing hauntingly round the ornate, vaulted roof of St John’s church in Ladywood. Tenor voices, like sterling silver, blended heroically with the smooth ivory of the altos and the dark rich bronze of the basses. It was, along with the organ, a rich, inspirational melding of sounds.

  Canon Gittins then preached a fine sermon from the elaborately carved, stone pulpit, taking as his text a passage from Romans: ‘I had not known sin, but by the law: for I had not known lust, except the law had said, Thou shalt not covet.’

  Neville Worthington, immaculately dressed in a dark grey suit, white shirt and a conservatively patterned tie, listened intently at the back of the church. At appropriate times he nodded, seemingly concurring with the wisdom of the preached word.

  Canon Gittins was noted for his sermons of reasonable length, more direct than rambling, and it was not long before he mumbled his blessing and stepped down. The congregation shuffled, took their Hymns Ancient and Modern and turned to ‘Ye Holy Angels Bright’, ready to present another stirring rendition.

  When the service finished the choir trooped out in slow procession to the vestry where Canon Gittins thanked them for their vocal endeavours. The boys, as ever, were in a rush to remove their cassocks and surplices and tumble boisterously out into the cool Ladywood evening in their Sunday-best jackets. The men, however, were content to take their time and discuss their performance of the anthem, in turn with yesterday’s cricket scores or the state of the beer at dinnertime in The Hyde Arms.

  Lately, Henzey did not accompany Will to church on a Sunday evening, and this evening was no exception. In the days when she did, she was happy to join him and the other choristers afterwards for a drink, usually in The Hyde Arms, but sometimes in The Belle Vue on Icknield Port Road. Will did not intend joining his fellow choristers for a drink tonight, but would make his leisurely way home in due course. There was no rush. He chatted first with Ned and Phoebe Franks, then with Arthur Price, a fine alto. After a while they strolled round to the front of the church and went their separate ways.

  Neville Worthington was standing uncertainly just inside the grounds of the church. When he saw Will, he approached him.

  ‘Excuse me, young man,’ he said, with a twinkle in his eye, ‘are you a regular worshipper here?’

  ‘Neville!’ Will exclaimed. ‘Were you in church? I didn’t see you.’

  ‘Well, I try not to be too conspicuous,’ he said. ‘Splendid anthem. Thoroughly enjoyed it.’

  ‘Good. Actually, we enjoy singing that one.’r />
  ‘You have a splendid choir, Will. I’m very impressed.’

  ‘Nice of you to say so…I take it you’re alone?’

  They stood facing each other, smiling like old friends.

  ‘Oh, yes. Eunice was never one for going to church. Doesn’t mean we shouldn’t send the children though, eh?’

  ‘I’m sure they’d benefit.’

  ‘Doesn’t Henzey come to church with you, Will?’

  ‘Only occasionally. When it’s a religious festival. She came last week actually. It was the Sunday School Anniversary last week. She likes to see the children all done up in their new Sunday best.’ He smiled.

  ‘Then I’m sorry to have missed her this evening. I rather hoped I’d see her after what she told us last night.’

  ‘Thanks again for last night, Neville. We had a smashing time. Henzey really enjoyed herself.’

  ‘I tell you, Will, it was such a shock seeing her again…After all those years. I couldn’t believe it when I beheld her standing at my front door.’

  ‘She thought maybe you wouldn’t recognise her, you know.’

  Neville laughed. ‘Little fear of that. You never forget a face like that, Will. You’re a damn lucky chap, you know.’

  Will thought of Eunice languishing in her wheelchair. ‘You don’t need to remind me. Henzey’s one in a million…Look, I was going straight home but, if you fancy a drink, I’ll stand you a pint in The Belle Vue.’

  ‘No, I’d rather not if you don’t mind, old man. I’ll give you a lift home though, gladly.’

  ‘Fine. Thanks.’

  ‘Car’s here.’ Neville pointed to his black Swallow SSI thirty yards away. ‘Save your legs, eh?’

  They walked towards it and Will waved to two fellow choristers who were crossing the road, before opening the door and sitting in the front passenger seat.

  Neville fired the engine. ‘You’ll have to direct me, Will.’

  ‘Straight on till I tell you to turn right…Chauffeur’s day off today?’

  ‘Part time, old man.’ Neville peered into his rear-view mirror and they sped off up Monument Road. ‘I send for him when I need him. Bit of an extravagance, really. Too costly to employ all the time.’

  ‘He seemed to have found us easily enough last night.’

  Neville was spouting the virtues of his chauffeur when Will signalled him to turn right. Their conversation ceased while Neville concentrated on negotiating the tight corners and narrow roads of Ladywood. In no time they were outside the Parishes’ end of terrace house in Daisy Road.

  ‘If you’re keen to talk to Henzey, Neville, come in and see her now. She’ll like that. You’re welcome to a cup of tea, or even something stronger if you like.’

  Neville, of course, had hoped he would be offered the chance to be close to Henzey, to breathe the same air that she breathed. She was his sole reason for coming out tonight. ‘Thanks, I will. I’m anxious to see this friend’s mother she mentioned.’

  They got out of the car. The usual group of young boys were playing cricket, their wickets chalked on the front of one of the houses at the opposite end of the street.

  ‘That takes me back,’ Will commented, closing the car door. He allowed Neville to go first up the path to the side door. ‘It’s a great way to learn the game.’

  ‘You know, I always envied the kids who played cricket in the streets,’ Neville said. ‘I was never allowed. Only ever played it on the school field.’

  Will opened the door and invited Neville to enter. A wireless was playing softly in the living room. ‘Yoo-hoo, Henzey! A visitor for you,’ he called. ‘Come through, Neville.’

  Henzey opened the living room door, wondering who Will had brought home with him. She was wearing a light, flowery, summer dress that fitted beautifully, sleeveless, with a low neckline. When she saw Neville she gave a little gasp, but smiled and said what a pleasant surprise it was to see him again so soon.

  ‘I’ve been to church.’

  ‘Why? Do you need to be saved?’ she asked flippantly.

  He laughed. ‘Oh, most certainly, but only from myself. That’s not why I went, though.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘Frankly, I hoped I might see you, Henzey. Your husband kindly invited me in when I gave him a lift back. So I’ve accomplished my mission after all.’

  ‘It was the least he could do, after you looked after us so well last night. We had a lovely time. Come and sit down.’

  ‘I wanted to see you about your friend Clara’s mother, actually.’

  ‘I thought so,’ she said with a smile.

  ‘Look, I’ll put the kettle on,’ Will suggested, ‘unless Neville wants something stronger. D’you fancy a scotch or a beer, Neville?’

  ‘Tea will be fine, thanks.’ Neville made himself comfortable on the settee. ‘Lovely day we’ve had again, Henzey. We’ve been so lucky with the weather this summer. I can’t remember it being so gorgeous.’

  ‘I know, it’s beautiful.’ She sat down in an armchair while Will disappeared into the kitchen.

  ‘You’ve been sunbathing, too. I see the sun’s caught your face…’ Neville’s eyes wandered inexorably to the unblemished skin of her neck and her chest, glowing from exposure to the sun, and down to the sensuous curves that formed her silky cleavage. He swallowed hard. ‘…and the soft skin of your bosom, look.’

  Without thinking, she pulled the low neckline away from herself to better see where the sun had caressed her.

  ‘I sat out for a while this afternoon in a new bathing costume I bought. Will was talking about a holiday at the seaside.’

  ‘I bet your legs have caught it as well, then.’

  Henzey hitched her skirt well above her knees to inspect her thighs, then realised she had unwittingly given Neville a peep show.

  ‘You should rub some oil or something into your skin, Henzey…Or get somebody to do it for you…’

  Their eyes met; she smiled and the saucy flicker in his eyes ensured she caught his innuendo. She blushed, taken aback that she found his spicy impropriety so stimulating. Why, she wondered, did Neville have such a wickedly invigorating influence on her? She avoided his eyes then, for it was obvious what he was thinking. She ought to have been scandalised by his intimations, but she was not. Rather she was flattered. Years ago she’d been excited by this same directness. Her inner response to it, she realised, had not altered radically with the change in her situation. She had not grown out of it.

  ‘I…I’ve been watching the birds over the reservoir while Will’s been out,’ she remarked lightly, trying to change the subject. ‘The young ducks and moorhens are practically full grown now…And I saw a heron earlier.’

  ‘A heron, eh? After the fish, I expect.’

  ‘It looked as if it had a rat in its beak. I suppose they’ll eat anything.’

  ‘Yes, I daresay…So tell me – when are you taking this holiday?’

  ‘The holiday? Oh, we would have gone the main holiday weeks – to Eastbourne probably. But since Will has to work while everybody else is away – getting your work ready, Neville – we’ve had to postpone it.’

  He detected a mild chiding in her tone. ‘Sorry about that. Sorry if Worthington’s has mucked up your plans. It’ll be worth the wait, though.’

  ‘ ’Tis to be hoped. Will needs a break. He’s been working ever so hard.’

  ‘He has, Henzey. I know he has. So how long do you hope to be away?’

  ‘We’d planned on two weeks.’

  ‘Two weeks, eh? Wish I could come with you. Look, I own a cottage at a little place on the south coast near Bognor Regis…Middleton-on-Sea. You’re welcome to use it for a couple of weeks if you’d like.’

  ‘Gracious, Neville! That’s good of you. You don’t have to…offer it, I mean.’

  ‘Not at all. There’s a boat there, too, you could use.’

  ‘A boat? Oh, wait till Will knows. Is it a nice cottage?’

  ‘Not bad at all. Quite modern really. All mod cons. I
rather like it down there. Don’t get down there as often as I’d wish, so maybe the garden’s a bit overgrown – although I do pay a man to keep it half decent. It overlooks the sea directly.’

  ‘Oh, it sounds lovely. Thanks. Thanks ever so much. Can we let you know…I mean…if…when we’re likely to want it?’

  ‘It’s there whenever you want. It won’t interfere with me or my family. Not this side of October anyway.’

  ‘You must let us know how much you charge.’

  ‘Oh, piffle! I don’t want money for it.’

  ‘Oh, you must. You must, Neville.’

  ‘Nonsense.’

  ‘Then I’ll do a portrait of you.’

  ‘Hey, now I might hold you to that. Just arrange for me to meet that woman you believe knew my mother. That would be payment enough.’

  She looked at him earnestly. ‘I’ll do that anyway.’

  ‘But we didn’t make any final arrangements. That’s why I’m here. Sorry if I seem persistent. It means a lot to me.’

  The kettle whistled in the scullery and crockery chinked as Will prepared the tea.

  ‘You don’t have to apologise, Neville, I understand. I’ll telephone her from work tomorrow. I’ll get Will to let you know as soon as it’s arranged.’

  ‘Why not phone me yourself? Here. Here’s my number at the office.’ He felt in the top pocket of his jacket and fished out a business card, which he handed to her.

  Will put his head round the door. ‘Anybody fancy a sandwich or anything for supper? I’m feeling a bit peckish myself. I can do it while the tea’s steeping.’

  ‘Oh, yes, Neville. We’ve got some cheese, or some lovely roast pork and stuffing from the joint we had at dinnertime,’ Henzey offered. ‘Or even some boiled ham.’

  ‘I say, I rather fancy roast pork if it’s no trouble. And stuffing, of course.’

  ‘Pork and stuffing then,’ Henzey said, rising from the armchair. ‘I’ll do it, Will.’

  ‘Sit where you are, my flower,’ Will insisted. ‘It’s no trouble. I’m quite capable of cutting a few sandwiches.’

  Henzey sat down again. ‘Will, Neville says he’s got a cottage at the seaside we can borrow for our holidays. Where, did you say it is, Neville?’