Nancy Carson - The Factory Girl

While Henzey waited outside the door, wiping away her tears with the back of her hand, Billy Witts appeared at the top of the stairs. ‘Hey, what’s going on?’ he asked. ‘Somebody says there’s trouble up here.’

Henzey burst into tears again.

‘What’s the matter, my flower?’ He sounded genuinely concerned. ‘What happened?’

‘It’s my sister…in there with that…that swine George…I’m taking her home. What time is it, please? We’re supposed to be home by twelve.’

‘It’s about half past eleven. Andrew brought you, didn’t he?’

‘He did, and some use he is, as well. He’s as bad as that George. He’s as drunk as a rat. Look at him in there.’ They both peered through the open door into Andrew’s bedroom. He was sprawled out on the bed, oblivious to the world. ‘If he’s supposed to be a gentleman, give me a rough miner any day of the week.’

At that moment, Alice appeared at the bedroom door bleary-eyed, her best dress crumpled, her hair tousled.

Billy said, ‘I’ll take you home. How far is it?’

‘Not far. But we wouldn’t want you to get into trouble with her ladyship.’

‘I said I’ll take you home.’

Henzey shrugged, feigning indifference, but he took it as her acceptance. Once outside, he led them to his car, which was parked in the street, and they drove off.

‘So what happened back there? I could see there was something wrong. What was all the fuss about?’

Henzey explained more fully what had happened at the hands of Andrew and George.

‘Did George put anything in your drink, Alice?’ she asked.

‘I dunno. Maybe he did,’ she answered. ‘I only had two. I feel all right – I think.’

‘I’m livid at that George, Billy. He must have tried to get her drunk. He took her to that bedroom, and she’s only fourteen. I daren’t begin to think what went on.’

‘Nothin’ went on.’

‘Something went on, Alice. I could tell by the state of you.’

‘Nothin’ went on worth mentionin’ . We was kissin’, that’s all. What’s wrong wi’ kissin’?’

‘You said you were talking. Either way, you look as if you’ve been dragged through a hedge backwards. Your frock looks as if it’s been put through the mangle all crooked and you should see your hair. ’Tis to be hoped Mother doesn’t catch sight of you.’

Billy said, ‘Course, he don’t come from round here, that George. He came up from Windsor with his sister and her young man, just for Andrew’s party. He’s one of his university mates at Oxford.’

‘Well the sooner he clears off back, the better.’

Nobody spoke for a while, till Henzey said, ‘So how long have you been courting Nellie, Billy?’

‘About two years,’ he replied.

‘Mmm…I like her hair. Where does she get it done?’

‘That hairdresser in Union Street, I think.’

Billy smiled to himself. What little he’d seen of this girl he liked. She was not sophisticated like Nellie, but she was no less beautiful. There was something refreshing about her, even in her distressed state. He perceived within her an earthy passion, something indefinably basic, elemental. She had no airs and graces, yet she possessed undeniable self-esteem. She was like him; a born survivor with the potential to be a cut above the rest. There was hidden promise in her clear blue eyes, her red lips, so kissable, and her long, shapely legs. He changed to a lower gear as they turned into the Market Place, and glimpsed the few tantalising inches of her thighs that were visible as her short dress rode up her legs in the seat next to him. Pity she was so young. But with such potential all she needed was the rough edges knocking off her. She could be moulded into something really special.

The town was deserted. Henzey peered through the car window now at George Mason’s shop, and tried to push to the back of her mind all the questions her workmates would ask on Monday about the party. They were expecting her to be practically engaged to this wealthy Andrew Dewsbury she’d told them so much about. Now she would look such a fool. They were expecting a love affair at the very least. They had even called her Cinderella when she told them she had to be home by midnight.

‘I’m not looking forward to work on Monday,’ she said absently.

‘What on earth’s made you think of work?’ Billy asked.

‘ ’Cause we’ve just gone past the place where she works,’ Alice proclaimed, pointing. ‘At George Mason’s just there,’

‘You have to turn right here up Hall Street,’ Henzey said. ‘Anyway, how come you don’t sound like the Dewsburys and all that crowd, Billy? The first time I caught sight of you I thought you’d talk really posh, like them.’

‘I’m just an ordinary chap, who happens to be courting somebody who does talk posh. I can put it on when I have to.’

They travelled on in silence, listening to the thrum of the big Vauxhall engine as it reverberated between the red brick terraces in Kates Hill’s narrow, inclined streets. Eventually they turned into Cromwell Street.

‘Is this where you live?’

Henzey peered out. Iky Bottlebrush was mopping round the floor of his fish and chip shop before he went to bed. ‘Here’s fine, thanks. It’s very nice of you, Billy.’

‘It’s the least I could do. Andrew was in no fit state to bring you back, was he? And I should hate you to think all blokes are the same. By the way – what did you say your name was?’

‘Henzey.’

‘And your surname?’

‘Kite.’

He flashed her a broad smile. ‘See you around sometime, Henzey Kite.’

They clambered out of the car, shut the doors behind them, and crossed the street to walk the last few yards, stepping over the inky puddles that punctuated the pattern of damp cobbles. Smoke was curling into the dark, navy sky from the rows of chimneys that were lined up like soldiers on the slate roofs of the terraced houses. A dog barked in the next street, and a key turned in a lock, shutting out the night for someone. Under the light of the gas street lamp, Henzey stopped to inspect Alice again, and tried to smooth away the creases in her dress with the flat of her hand.

‘Hope and pray Mother’s not back yet,’ she told Alice as they walked on. ‘Hope and pray she’s still out with Jesse.’

‘Oh, I don’t care, Henzey. We din’t do anythin’…More’s the pity.’

‘What do you mean, more’s the pity? You ought to be ashamed. Would you have let him?’

‘I let him kiss me.’ She shrugged. It was of little significance to Alice. ‘We kissed with our mouths open… And he stuck his tongue in me mouth.’

Henzey shook her head in disgust. ‘Yuk!’

‘It was nice…I let ’im feel me Phyllis and Floss as well.’

‘Oh, Alice, you didn’t!’ She stopped walking, both for effect and to allow this alarming piece of information to sink in.

‘Why not? What’s wrong with that?…Come on, slowcoach. What yer stopped for?’

‘It’s just not right, Alice. A girl your age. You should think more of yourself. What if you got into trouble?’

‘We din’t do that , if that’s what you’m thinkin’.’

‘Well, the way you’re talking, nothing would surprise me.’

‘No, I only let ’im feel me Phyllis and Floss – only for a minute or two. Nothin’ else.’

Henzey sighed heavily, more troubled than Alice could appreciate, but resumed walking. ‘I blame myself. I should never have let you out of my sight. I should’ve known they might try to get us drunk…God, my head’s spinning again now…Oh, I hope I’m not going to be sick again.’

‘Mine is a bit now as well, an’ I only had two. Is that how drink makes you feel?’