The Factory Girl

by Nancy Carson

  ‘Let’s have a sip of tea first.’ As he slipped into bed beside her she raised herself up, ran her fingers through her hair and turned to adjust her pillow. ‘Did you get a newspaper?’

  ‘Yes, it’s downstairs.’

  She sipped the hot tea. ‘Why didn’t you bring it up? Oh, fetch it for me, please, Will, there’s an angel.’

  He smiled. ‘After…’

  She could tell by the dreamlike look in his eyes what was on his mind, but she did not feel that way inclined this morning. Only if it was going to be worth it. Only if he would relax his irrational, selfish attitude and indulge her in her fondest wish. ‘After what?’ she asked, seeing it as an opportunity to re-open the discussion and, perhaps, even force his hand.

  ‘After we’ve made love.’ He put his hand to her belly and slid it tentatively up to her breasts, cupping one, then kneading it gently.

  She sipped her tea and shrugged, unmoved. ‘What’s the point?’

  ‘The point is, I love you…And I want you.’

  She saw the mulish look around his soft mouth, but stayed silent, her saucer in one hand, her cup held to her mouth with the other.

  ‘Don’t you want me, Henzey?’ he said when he realised he was eliciting no response.

  She shrugged again coolly. Perhaps she should submit. But no. Why should she? Merely submitting to this fleeting lust would not help her cause. It would not help her cause at all. She hardened her resolve.

  ‘I don’t see any point,’ she said decisively, and placing the cup and saucer on her bedside table she slid her legs out of bed.

  ‘Oh, Henzey,’ he sighed, crossly, like a little boy deprived of a toy. ‘What’s the matter? It’s never that time of the month again already?’

  ‘No, it’s not that time of the month, Will. But when you decide to make love to me without wearing those awful rubber things, then I might change my mind. Until then, no more sex. Until you agree to oblige me and start seriously trying for a family we’re having no more sex.’

  He looked at her in disbelief. ‘Henzey, that’s not fair.’

  She turned and looked into his eyes. ‘No? Just think how much more pleasurable it might be, Will. Just imagine how much nicer it would feel without that smelly piece of rubber between us. For me as well as for you.’ She made sure he caught a tantalising glimpse of her naked body before reaching for her dressing-gown to cover herself up.

  At the mere sight, at the mere promise of her smooth, unblemished, young skin, that he knew was warm and firm and accommodating, his desire stirred.

  ‘This is blackmail, Henzey.’

  ‘I know.’

  He sighed, like a punctured bladder of wind. ‘Well, it won’t work. You’ll give in before I do.’

  ‘Do you really think so?’

  ‘I know you.’

  ‘We’ll see.’

  Never before had she refused him. And she refused him now but with deep regret, knowing it would mark a turning point in their relationship. She loved Will and she would be the happiest woman on God’s earth if only he would just say, ‘Yes, it’s time we started a family.’ That’s all it would take. But this conflict of emotions was tearing her apart, levering her away from him. Every time they spoke about it he refused her. And every time they made love, with ever-diminishing ardour these days on her part, she would afterwards seek clues as to whether the French letter had burst and left a drop or two of his semen inside her. And every month, when she saw the first signs of her bleeding, she would weep silently and tell herself perhaps next time. How desperately she wanted his child.

  She stood by the bedroom door and turned to him, her hand on the edge. ‘All I want is our baby, Will.’ Tears welled up in her eyes and she allowed one to trickle down her cheek unchecked. ‘Are you blind? Can’t you see my heart is breaking for want of a child? Can’t you see what this is doing to us? Unless you give me your support, I swear, Will, it’ll ruin our marriage.’

  A narrow shaft of pink sunlight penetrated the room, expanding as the sun’s early morning haste drove it higher into the summer sky. It did not warm her and she shivered. The tick of the clock seemed loud and intrusive as she stood waiting for him to formulate his response.

  ‘Then that would break my heart,’ he said at last, and his voice was strained. ‘You know I couldn’t stand to lose you. And because I couldn’t stand it, you know that’s the reason I don’t want you to have a baby. If you’re not pregnant, then you can’t die giving birth, don’t you see that? I lost Dorothy because of it. I refuse to put you to the same risk.’

  She sighed heavily and wiped her tears with the back of her hand. ‘Is that your last word?’

  His face was a mask of confusion. ‘You don’t know what I went through before, Henzey. You don’t know how I felt – the guilt, how I blamed myself, how I wanted to die…You know my fears for you. I can’t help it.’

  ‘That’s all I hear, Will – your fears, your fears. God, it’s like a damned echo that repeats my every waking second, like some…some hideous howling in a nightmare I can’t escape from, no matter how much I struggle. Oh, Will, I really don’t think you realise what you’re doing to us, do you? How can I make you see? How can I, when all the time you acknowledge only your own fears and desires? For God’s sake, seek some advice. Go and see the doctor. See if he can put your fears to rest.’

  He looked into her eyes earnestly. ‘I don’t need to see a doctor, Henzey. You’re the one who needs to see a doctor.’ His voice was low, even, and, worst of all, rational. ‘This child thing of yours is becoming an obsession. A stupid obsession. I think you’re going mad. You’re getting irrational, illogical, over-emotional. You need to calm down and take stock of things before it drives you completely mad. But for this obsession of yours, Henzey, we have a fine marriage.’

  ‘We had a fine marriage, Will.’

  With tears in her eyes she turned her back on him and went to the bathroom. When she returned ten minutes later he was lying in bed, his eyes closed, apparently asleep. She shed her dressing-gown and dressed herself, as quietly as she could lest she wake him. But he was not asleep. He opened his eyes and watched her. She did not know he was watching her. He saw her eyes, red from crying and, for once, he felt a bitter pang of remorse at his own obstinacy. He saw that his inflexibility was making her grossly unhappy. The last thing in the world he wanted was to make her unhappy. Maybe he should rethink his position. Maybe he, too, was being obsessive; yes, even to the point of ruining their marriage.

  He saw her delve into the wicker washing basket to retrieve the dirty laundry to take downstairs. He watched her pick up and scrutinise with a frown the blue shirt he’d worn for work the night before, unaware of the significance she placed on it.

  But why should he know?

  On Tuesday of the following week Henzey returned home from work to find her meal ready for her. When on the night shift Will slept during the day, but started to get up in plenty of time to prepare their evening meal. It was the only redeeming feature of this unsettling shift work, she thought. Will enjoyed cooking from time to time and was indeed an adept cook; his years looking after himself as a widower had ensured that. That night he had prepared grilled pork chops with carrots, kidney beans, potatoes and gravy; it smelled delicious as she walked into the house.

  Will was trying hard to get back into her good books. His attitude to their starting a family was softening, but he had made no mention of it yet. Sooner or later he would have to acquiesce if they were to maintain their love and affinity, he realised. But it must not appear to be a major capitulation. He had been threatened with celibacy. His masculine pride did not easily tolerate the prospect of such severe intimidation without some show of defiance. So he would tell her, or show her, in his own way, in his own time.

  He led her to the table in the sitting room and brought in their food like a waiter, making a great show of it, which made her laugh. They began to eat.

  ‘Did you sleep well today?’ she enquired.
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br />   ‘On and off. I can’t get used to this change in routine, though. I doubt if I ever shall. It just doesn’t seem right sleeping through the day. I can’t seem to settle.’

  A bluebottle entered by the open door and was exploring the room with great vigour. It swooped low and Will took a swipe at it but missed, and it flew out.

  ‘No, this shift working doesn’t suit me at all,’ he continued, picking his knife up again. ‘My heart goes out to the poor devils who have to do it all the time. ’Tis to be hoped we shall complete Neville Worthington’s work in a month or so.’

  ‘Oh, let’s hope so. Have you seen much of him lately?’

  ‘Nothing. One of his minions has been liaising with us.’

  ‘I hope he’s all right. I was concerned about him after the last time I saw him.’

  ‘Oh, he’ll be all right. We all have a cross to bear, Henzey. Eunice is his, but he married her for better or worse. I wish you’d concern yourself with things nearer home. I haven’t felt well at all today. I expect it’s the change in routine. It can affect people like that, you know. And you’re very offish with me as well. That doesn’t help.’

  ‘I am concerned for you, Will. All this shift working. Maybe you shouldn’t go to work tonight. I can run down to the works and tell them you won’t be in. There’s no sense in working yourself to a standstill.’

  ‘Oh, I’ll be all right.’ He envisaged lying beside her, frustrated at not being allowed to touch her. ‘I have to go, otherwise this work will drag on and on.’

  ‘I don’t want you to be ill.’

  ‘It’s nothing,’ he assured her, shaking his head. ‘Just a stomach-ache. A bit of wind. Maybe I shouldn’t have eaten this.’

  They finished their meal in silence. He helped her with the washing up, and afterwards they sat together wordlessly, Will reading the newspapers, Henzey reading a novel, till it was time for Will to leave for work.

  Henzey went to bed early with her book but, by eleven o’ clock, her concentration was diminishing. It was time for sleep. She doused the light, fluffed up her pillow and settled down, naked because of the heat, under just one sheet. She wondered if Will was feeling better, what it was he’d eaten during the day to give him stomach pains. He said he’d slept most of the day, but she’d noticed that half the pork pie she’d bought the day before was gone. Perhaps it was that. In this heat nothing stayed fresh for long.

  Within minutes she drifted off to sleep. It seemed she had been asleep for hours when a tentative knocking at the front door woke her. At once she sat up in bed, wondering if it had been a trick of her imagination. It was not. She heard it again. It must be Will returned home. But why hadn’t he used his key? She jumped quickly out of bed, threw on her dressing gown and made her way downstairs in the darkness…Of course…She had forgotten to remove the key from the lock, so he couldn’t get his key in from outside. She unlocked the door and opened it. He was standing there sheepishly.

  ‘Oh, Will. Do you still feel poorly?’

  ‘Were you in bed?’

  ‘I was asleep. What time is it?’

  ‘Just after half past eleven.’

  ‘I must have only just dropped off…How do you feel now?’

  ‘I feel fine.’

  He shuffled into the hallway and she sensed he was as taut as a cheese wire.

  ‘What’s wrong?’

  Henzey had not tied her dressing gown in her rush to answer the door and it gaped open, exposing her nakedness in the shadowy darkness.

  He went hot and a lump came to his throat. ‘Nothing. Nothing’s wrong.’ On impulse he thrust his hands inside her dressing gown and held her around the waist but, true to her threat, she pushed him away.

  ‘So what brings you back home?’

  ‘I needed to get away for a while. I…I wanted to be with you…You can’t get any peace down there, there’s just too much going on.’

  ‘Do you want a drink or something? I’ll make you one before I go back to bed.’

  ‘No, it’s all right,’ he answered. ‘I want to come upstairs and lie with you.’

  She shrugged her indifference and turned to go upstairs. Maybe his enforced celibacy was already having the effect she wanted. Maybe he was relenting at last. Dare she hope that he had come round to her way of thinking?

  In the darkness of the bedroom he could just discern her removing her dressing gown and saw her body, a stimulating, erotic silhouette against the weakly back-lit curtains. Fumbling, impatient, he took off his own clothes and left them in a heap on the floor before slipping into bed beside her. It was warm; her warmth. He snuggled up to her, uncertain at first, then slid his leg over her smooth thighs and ran his eager fingers over her breasts, which were rising and falling almost imperceptibly beneath his hands as she breathed.

  ‘I’ve been thinking,’ he whispered.

  ‘Thinking what?’ Her heart pounded with anticipation. Had he changed his stance?

  ‘That maybe it’s time we tried for a baby after all.’

  ‘Oh, Will…Oh, Will.’ He saw the glistening of tears welling up in her eyes. ‘You really mean it?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Oh, Will, thank you. Thank you.’

  He shoved the sheet away with his feet. Her skin seemed to shimmer. The contours of her body were enhanced, dimly highlighted by the scant glow from the curtained window. He strained his eyes to better appreciate the sight. The sweet smell of her soft skin aroused him further and, as his right hand ventured lower than her belly, she turned her face to him and kissed him. He could just discern the smile in her heartbreakingly beautiful eyes. He breathed her name and, hungry for her lips, he pressed his open mouth on hers. She turned submissively towards him in grateful response and her arm came about him. He wanted her so much that he thought she must be able to hear the pounding of his heart. His hands wandered all over her body, savouring the silkiness of her skin and the firmness of her flesh, teasing her, but teasing himself also. They rolled about the bed, first one way, then another, their passion increasing inexorably. He allowed her to take the initiative. As he lay beneath her, her easy weight a delight, she guided herself gently onto him like a butterfly settling on a blossom.

  After they had made love a second time, Henzey whispered: ‘Why can’t you leave your shift every night, Will? It’s almost like having a clandestine affair you creeping here in the middle of the night. Especially when you’re like this. What a change in you.’

  ‘It’s nice to maintain some romance in marriage,’ he said.

  ‘I can’t remember you ever being so passionate.’

  ‘You’ll never know how much I wanted you.’

  ‘I could tell how much. It’s never been like that before. You seemed different tonight. I thought you seemed more…more committed, somehow.’

  ‘Give me another half hour and I’ll be committed again.’

  ‘Lord above!’ She chuckled now. ‘Look, I’ve no wish to set a further limit on your conjugal rights, but can I go to sleep now?’

  He laughed, the tension he’d arrived with gone. ‘I’d better get dressed and go, before I fall asleep.’

  She stretched like a contented cat and sighed, then huddled under the bedclothes. ‘When you get back you’ll most likely find you’ve had the sack for not being on the job.’

  ‘Or for being on it,’ he wisecracked.

  ‘I can see you’re feeling better now,’ she said sleepily.

  ‘Believe me, I haven’t felt this good for years.’

  ‘Goodnight, then, my darling. See you in the morning. Try not to wake me when you come in.’

  Chapter 23

  Assembling headlights for motor cars had become second nature to Henzey. It did not demand excessive concentration and, when she was not chatting to one of her friends sitting on each side of her as she worked, she tended to get lost in her dreams, drifting to heaven knows where. And lost in thoughts, reliving situations and moments, the time flew inordinately fast. So it was, the morning afte
r her heady encounter with Will.

  She had never known such ardour. Even Billy Witts had never elicited responses in her like she’d given last night. Her own wildly passionate caresses reminded her of how she used to join so enthusiastically with him during those warm summer nights in the grass at Enville Common. With hindsight, it always seemed that she was more ready, anxious even, to make love than he ever was. Not so last night, however, with Will. She smiled as she relived it. As she privately blessed every wonderful moment, she experienced again the same feelings of happiness. He had certainly been hiding his light under a bushel.

  So far this morning she’d had no opportunity to sidle up to her husband and whisper how magical last night had been, for Will evidently had to work later than the end of his shift. There’d been no opportunity to thank him for his dramatic change of heart that would put new, much needed zest into their marriage. Nor had he returned home by the time she left for work.

  But one little peculiarity was marring total contentment: the incident over the blue shirt. It was unaccountably odd. If Will knew he had put on a blue shirt that night of the storm, why was he wearing a white one when he popped back home later? Why had he said it was a trick of the light when she’d mentioned it? It was strange. It was very strange. Neither had she seen his raincoat since; not that that was significant; he could have left it at work, of course.

  Florrie Shuker nudged her, rousing her from her daydreams. ‘Ain’t yer gun’ave a break, Henzey,’ she said reaching into her basket for her Thermos flask and an apple. ‘The flippin’ track’s stopped. It’s half past ten.’

  Henzey peered with some surprise at the clock on the far wall of the shop. ‘So it is.’

  ‘You’ve bin miles away this mornin’, Henzey. You’ve hardly spoke since yer sat down. Everythin’ all right?’

  She smiled dreamily, put down her workpiece and reached into her own basket which was at her feet. ‘Yes, I was deep in thought,’ she agreed. ‘…Nice thoughts.’ She smiled again, signifying to Florrie that she did not wish to share them at this precise moment.