The Factory Girl. Nancy Carson

nodded glumly. It had been more than two weeks since that party; two weeks during which she had all but forgotten Billy Witts, dismissed Andrew Dewsbury and his petulant sister from her mind, and started thinking again about Jack Harper.

      ‘No, we ain’t seen ’im,’ Rosie said. ‘I’d ’ave noticed ’im. I think ’e’s bostin’. I think you’m daft, Henzey, for givin’ ’im up, just for the chance o’ goin’ to a party with some lads you didn’t even know. Just ’cause they was well-to-do.’

      ‘Yes, yer know what well-to-do lads’m like,’ Edie agreed. ‘Just remember the story Clara just told we about that Bessie and her twins. He was a well-to-do chap what got ’er into trouble.’

      Clara bit into an apple, then said, ‘The tea’ll be cold. Who’s going to pour it?’

      ‘I’ll do it,’ Henzey volunteered, and got up from the charabanc seat.

      Henzey had made a sad error of judgement in allowing Andrew Dewsbury to take her to his party. It had been as much to the detriment of Jack Harper too, her regular escort, as to herself. Jack had always mooned over her like a lovesick fool, but she’d been prepared to put up with that, since he was generally pleasant company. Maybe she should make the first move towards reconciliation. His absence was feeding her guilt, and her guilt was clouding her true emotions, like disturbed sediment muddies clear water. She was starting to believe she was in love with Jack. Her mood was cheerless, disconsolate. Evidently he was upset with her, and she could hardly blame him. And she missed him more than she thought possible.

      ‘Yo’ could always goo round to the Midland Shoe shop and try and catch ’is eye,’ Edie suggested. ‘He wun’t ignore yer there. Specially if ’e thought yo’ was gunna buy a pair o’ shoes off ’im.’

      The others laughed at that.

      ‘Never,’ Clara said decisively. ‘Never run after a man, no matter how much your heart might be aching. Promise me you won’t, Henzey.’

      Henzey shrugged, and handed the first cup of tea to Clara. ‘I just think it’s my fault. I think I was rotten to him…I think the first move should come from me.’ She turned away again to serve the second cup to Rosie.

      ‘I’m sure he’ll get over it. In no time he’ll…’

      The door opened unexpectedly, and Arnold Jenning’s face appeared. ‘Henzey, there’s a chap outside askin’ to see yer.’

      At once her heart jumped and she coloured up. ‘To see me?’ It was too much to hope that it might be Jack.

      ‘Talk of the devil…’ Clara said confidently.

      ‘A stroke o’ luck, if yer like,’ Rosie affirmed. ‘Save yer runnin’ after ’im, eh?’

      Henzey put her cup of tea down on the draining board and stood up, smoothing the creases out of her apron. She flicked her hair out of her eyes, and smiled with anticipation at the others, her heart pounding now. It was a God-sent opportunity to make it up with Jack, just as they’d been discussing. She walked through the door and through the stockroom, her heart in her throat. When she entered the shop Phoebe Mantle, one of the other girls, nudged her.

      ‘Here, Henzey. That’s the chap out there.’ She pointed outside to a man who had his back towards them. ‘He came in askin’ for yer. He said he’d wait outside. He’s a bit of all right, I can tell yer. Who is he?’

      Henzey looked up and peered through the window. ‘Good God!’ she exclaimed. Her feelings a mixture of apprehension and delight, she went to the door, suddenly conscious of her working clothes.

      In the street the cold October air clung to her. It was a grey day and threatened rain. The red brick façades of the buildings around her looked shabby under their film of grime, the legacy of more than a century’s emissions from the foundries, forges and ironworks. People were ambling along unhurriedly from store to store, gazing covetously into shop windows; some stood and gossiped; a woman tugged impatiently at the hand of a grizzling, unwilling child, and scolded him.

      ‘Fancy seeing you,’ Henzey said, smiling. ‘This is a surprise. What brings you here?’

      Billy Witts scratched the back of his neck casually. ‘Just passing. I thought I’d call to see if you were all right after your spot of bother at the party the other week.’ His voice was rich and mellow, and his easy drawl, neither broad, nor particularly cultured, sounded attractive to Henzey.

      She felt herself blushing. ‘Oh, don’t remind me.’ She rolled her eyes sheepishly. ‘We were both all right, thanks. It’s nice of you to come and ask, though. Did it go off all right after?’

      ‘I believe so. To tell you the truth I didn’t go back after I dropped you off. I went home. Nellie was in one of her moods and she’s best left alone when she’s like that. I’m not really one for parties meself, specially the sort that Andrew and his mates throw. Course, he’s gone back to Oxford now. And so’s George.’

      ‘God help Oxford, that’s all I can say. So how’s Nellie? Or should I say Helen, since I’m neither close friend, nor family?’

      He smiled at her jibe and shrugged. ‘Oh, she’s all right.’

      ‘You don’t sound too sure.’

      He gave an evasive little laugh. ‘Yes, she’s as all right as she’ll ever be. I was concerned about you and your sister, though. She looked a bit the worse for wear, your sister. You both did, to tell you the truth. Did you get into trouble with your mom and dad?’

      A black and white mongrel appeared and sniffed at her apron. She bent down and stroked its neck, and it trotted away contentedly across the street to the market stalls. ‘We were lucky, Billy. Our mom always goes out on a Saturday night and, by the time she got back, me and Alice were in bed. As far as she was concerned, we had a great night.’

      ‘And your dad? Was he still up?’

      ‘We haven’t got a dad, Billy.’

      ‘Oh. Sorry for mentioning it, Henzey. Trust me to put me foot in it. Really, I’m sorry.’

      ‘Oh, it’s all right. You weren’t to know.’

      ‘Anyway, fancy those two gawbies spiking your drinks. You’re best off without the likes of Andrew and George.’

      She tutted diffidently. ‘I know that now, but when somebody asks you out, you expect them to behave like gentlemen. You expect to be able to trust them a little bit. Or am I just being naïve?’

      ‘I think you were unlucky. Haven’t you got a regular sweetheart, Henzey?’

      ‘Not since the party.’

      ‘Get away with you! I can scarcely believe that. Somebody as lovely as you? Men must be falling at your feet.’

      She gave a dispirited little laugh. ‘Flattery will get you everywhere, Billy. I was going out with somebody but, because I wouldn’t go to the Palais with him on the night of that party, I haven’t seen him since. Shame really. I wish I’d gone with him now. I expect he thought I was mucking him about.’

      ‘Never mind, Henzey. Just keep smiling. You’ve got a lovely smile, you know. It’s your fortune, believe me.’ His eyes lingered on her face for a second or two. ‘Ah well, I’d best be off. Give me regards to your Alice, will you? You never know, I might pop and see you again sometime.’

      ‘Oh, anytime, Billy. Any time you’re passing. It’s grand to see you again.’

      Henzey could hardly believe Billy Witts had actually called on her. She could hardly believe he remembered her at all. Her heart danced, wondering why. Could he be interested in her? If not, why had he called? As he walked away, she admired his physique. He was tall, slim and athletic-looking. Henzey liked tall men. At five feet six in her stockings, an inch or two taller in her heels, she was bound to. She especially liked tall men who were clean