The Factory Girl. Nancy Carson

      ‘Yes, twenty-four, handsome, steady…and well-off…’ Henzey smiled challengingly. ‘Anything else you want to know?’

      ‘I think twenty-four’s a bit old for you.’

      ‘Well I don’t think so, Mom. I like men older than myself. Younger chaps are too stupid. Look at Jack Harper, and he’s twenty-one.’

      ‘Jack Harper,’ Lizzie repeated reflectively. ‘I see what you mean.’ She picked up her cup and sipped her tea, holding it in front of her with both hands, her elbows on the table.

      Henzey said, ‘Anyway, what about Jesse? He’s nine years older than you. You haven’t heard me mention that he’s too old for you.’

      ‘Yes, but that’s different…So is this Billy working?’

      ‘Works for himself. He’s got plenty money, like I told you. And a nice car.’

      ‘Well he must have plenty money to be able to buy you pearl necklaces.’

      Henzey smiled again. ‘You noticed it, then?’

      ‘I could hardly miss that glistening round your neck like I don’t know what. Are you taken with him?’

      ‘I like him a lot,’ she said quietly, looking down at the table cloth. ‘I’ve liked him a long time.’

      ‘Then you’d best let me meet him. When are you supposed to see him?’

      ‘Tomorrow. We’re going for a ride in the country.’

      ‘Well just mind what you’re doing, our Henzey. You’re only just seventeen, remember.’

      That last Sunday in March was a blustery, wet day. The month had come in like the proverbial lion and was going out like one. Once out of Stourbridge and on the road to Kinver, Henzey noticed how the winter-yellowed meadows were taking on their spring greenery, bright even under the dark, rolling clouds. Trees swayed boisterously, and the wind boomed against the canvas hood of Billy’s car. The windscreen wipers struggled to maintain visibility in the squalling rain. It was not ideal weather for a trip into the countryside with a new beau, but one that she had eagerly looked forward to, rain or shine. The weather did not matter; the fact that she was with Billy, did.

      In Kinver, Henzey was still intrigued by the houses hollowed out of a sandstone rock face on the outskirts of the village, though she had seen them before on her Sunday school trips as a child. People still lived in them, and neat they looked too, with nets at the leaded windows and brightly painted front doors. The main street was deserted as they drove through it. Any Sunday afternoon in summer it would be teeming with folk ferried in by the Kinver Light Railway, which was really just a tram that looked like a charabanc on rails. The village was noted for its public houses but, by this time, they were shut for the afternoon, and those who had been supping in them earlier were doubtless all having their after dinner naps by now.

      Once through the village, Billy parked the car under some trees on a patch of ground off a narrow lane overlooking Kinver Edge, a natural beauty spot. Drops of water fell from the bare branches above and drummed intermittently on the motor car’s hood. Henzey wiped the inside of the misted window with her gloved hand and peered out at the landscape, unspoilt, despite the ravages of the wind and the rain.

      ‘Let’s go for a walk,’ she suggested.

      ‘We’ll get soaked.’

      ‘Oh, Billy, we’ve got our hats and coats. Come on, let’s have a look round.’

      She stepped out of the car and pulled the collar of her coat up round her neck, and her pretty cloche hat more firmly on her head. The rain on her face, the tranquillity of the woods, the meadows and the smell of damp grass, were like a tonic. After the constriction of rows and rows of houses, of factory chimneys, of the crowded, jostling town centre where she worked, she allowed herself to wallow in this rural expanse. But, best of all, she found herself walking with Billy’s arm around her waist. She nuzzled her head against his shoulder momentarily and looked up into his eyes as they walked back down the hill they’d just driven up. He caught her glance and smiled.

      ‘Did you go out last night, Henzey?’

      ‘No, I stayed in…I told my mom about you…’

      ‘Oh?’

      ‘She wants to meet you.’

      ‘Honest? What have you told her?’

      ‘Oh, that you’re twenty-four, that you’ve got a car, that you work for yourself in the motor industry…that you’re always smartly dressed…’

      ‘And what did she say to that?’

      ‘She says you’re too old for me.’ She grinned at such a ridiculous notion, and he laughed.

      ‘Oh? And what do you think?’

      ‘I think boys my own age are immature…What about you, Billy? Did you go out last night?’

      ‘I went to the Tower Ballroom at Edgbaston.’

      ‘Not with Nellie, though?’

      ‘No, not with Nellie. With the usual crowd.’

      But Henzey knew that Nellie was part of the usual crowd. ‘Was Nellie there?’

      ‘Oh, yes, she was there.’

      Henzey felt a bitter pang of disappointment, like a stab in the heart, but she tried not to let it show. An image flooded her mind of Billy dancing with Nellie, who was clinging to him. Did he take her home afterwards? Did he kiss her goodnight? She was longing to know, but she tried desperately to let him think she was not particularly concerned. So when did he intend telling Nellie that he was seeing somebody else? The thought of waiting days, weeks, perhaps even months for him to pick his moment, horrified her. She’d assumed he would give up Nellie straightaway. That would be the honourable thing to do. That’s what she would do. But she was judging Billy by her own standards. If she wasn’t careful he would have her dangling on a string like some mindless puppet. He would still be seeing Nellie, and she’d be just a bit on the side. Under no circumstances could she allow that to happen; her self-esteem was far too high. She had to show him she was worthy of more. She had to let him see that she would not be so manipulated. Oh, she wanted Billy desperately, but he had to come to her in his own time, under his own steam, because he wanted to. It must also be on terms that suited her. So, she had to be the stronger attraction.

      At the bottom of the hill they turned right into another quiet lane overhung with trees and ivy. It was steep, narrow and winding, with the village church at the top, its ancient bell-tower overlooking all like a sandstone fortress. Rain was spattering their faces as they walked huddled together.

      ‘Let’s not talk about Nellie,’ Billy said, uncomfortable with the subject.

      ‘I don’t want to talk about her anyway.’

      He detected a note of scorn, of detachment in her voice. He did not wish to alienate her. Best to justify last night’s encounter and be done with it.

      ‘Henzey, I know I told you I’d finish with her, and in my own mind I have already. It’s just that…’

      ‘It’s just that you haven’t told her yet.’

      ‘Right. I haven’t told her yet…I haven’t had the heart to tell her. But I shall. As soon as it’s right.’

      She shrugged dismissively, but her mind was awhirl. ‘It’s up to you, Billy.’

      ‘Last night was arranged ages ago, not just with her, but with the folks who were with us. It was an engagement party, see? Friends…Look, I don’t feel anything for Nellie now. I’d much rather have been with you. Just bear with me, eh?…Can you bear with me?…You’ve got to understand, Henzey, that I feel nothing for her. It’s just that I don’t want her to do anything stupid.’

      ‘Billy,