Nancy Carson - The Factory Girl

‘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, I’m not making a fuss, you are,’ she said, though there was a hell of a fuss going on inside her head. ‘I’m not worried about Nellie, so you don’t have to account to me for what you did. If you still love her, all well and good. If you don’t, you don’t. I’m looking no further than that. I like you, Billy – a lot – but I don’t intend to compete with her, so don’t expect me to. If you still want her, have her. That’s all right by me.’ Already she had learnt never to declare her true feelings this early in the game.

‘One thing I like about you, Henzey, is that you’ve got your head screwed on good an’ proper. Anybody would think you were as old as me.’ He put his arm round her again and gave her a hug.

Yes, this was the way to handle Billy: pretend to be indifferent, then offer him some bait and keep repeating the process. He was not going to be easy to manage, that much she could already discern, but the challenge made him all the more interesting.

Within a few minutes, warmed and breathing hard after the steep climb, they reached the village church. Some way beyond the church lay the churchyard, and from its high vantage point they could see the countryside laid out before them for miles. Billy suggested they have a look at the inscriptions on the gravestones; they held a fascination for him, he said. As they ambled through, noting the names and the dates, making little comments about them, Henzey conjured up images of those people all those years ago whose names and dates of death she read; images of their homes, their families, habits, fears, loves, heartbreaks. They had lived and breathed, had been flesh and blood, and now they were all but forgotten. How had they lived? What mark had they made on their community? How had their lives affected those who came later? Had they been happy?

This last question was the most important. For to live and be unhappy made living pointless. For a few moments she pondered whether happiness was God given, or whether you have to strive for it. Indeed, she felt she knew the answer. Already she had seen enough of life to know that people often make their own happiness and their own unhappiness. It’s up to each of us to make ourselves and each other happy, she told herself. Nobody can do it for us. And if we turn out to be unhappy, usually we have nobody to blame but ourselves.

She did not communicate these thoughts to Billy. They were deep, and she did not know him well enough to speak of such things. He would probably be inclined to think she was mad. Besides, he was one of those elements likely to influence her future happiness. It all depended on her. It all depended on whether she made the right decisions, when the time came, to ensure her own future happiness.

From inside the church they could hear children’s voices singing.

‘Sunday school,’ Henzey said with a smile. ‘Don’t they sound angelic?’

They moved on, looking at the gravestones. Henzey’s feet were getting colder and wetter all the time. She shivered, and Billy laughed.

‘What’s so funny?’

‘I bet when you agreed to come out with me for a Sunday afternoon spin you didn’t reckon on spending it in a soaking wet churchyard.’

She chuckled. ‘Oh, anything for a lark.’ She looked around her at the rain, still falling, splashing off the graves. She listened to it trickling down the drainpipe of the church and exiting over a drain. ‘I’d like to come here again some time, Billy. You remember I said I like drawing and painting?…Well, I’d love to do some water-colours of this place. Look at the view. Would you bring me back one day when the weather picks up? You know, if…’ If they continued to see each other, was what she wanted to say, but the words would not come out.