Nancy Carson - The Factory Girl

Henzey shrugged. ‘He works for himself.’

‘Not as a chimdey sweep,’ Rosie said.

‘Nor as an iron puddler,’ Phoebe Mantle offered.

‘He’s an agent,’ Henzey informed them nonchalantly. ‘He sells things. To the motor car factories. Things like electric motors for windscreen wipers…and things with adenoids in…’

‘You mean solenoids?’ corrected Wally Bibb with a chuckle. Wally was the manager and, while trade was quiet, he had no objection to their chatter.

Henzey laughed with the others at her mistake. ‘Oh, all right. Solenoids…He sells things with solenoids in to the car firms, like Morris and Austin and Clyno…and Vauxhall.’ Henzey thought the list sounded impressive.

‘He must make a tidy penny,’ Clara said.

‘I think he’s quite well-off,’ Henzey remarked with satisfaction. ‘He told me once he’d got a fortune put by in stocks and shares.’

‘Trying to impress you, was he?’ Wally suggested cynically, sharpening the blade of his carving knife.

‘I don’t think so, Mister Bibb. Why should he want to impress me? I’m nothing to him.’

‘He’s got no side on him, I’ll grant you that,’ Clara said. ‘He’s not one of those snooty toffs.’

‘He’s not a toff, Clara. Well not born a toff, at any rate. He comes from one of those terraced houses in Abberley Street up by Top Church. His family are just ordinary folk. But he’s done well for himself in the motor industry from what I hear of it.’

‘And the best of luck to him,’ said Clara. ‘How old is he? Twenty-five?’

‘Twenty-four.’

‘Young to have done so well. He’ll end up a millionaire at that rate.’

‘Or a bleedin’ pauper,’ Wally muttered cynically. ‘Anyway, I thought you said he’d got a fancy bit. I thought you said he was knockin’ off Councillor Dewsbury’s daughter.’

‘Oh, her,’ Henzey replied with disdain. ‘He’s courting her for the time being, yes. But I don’t think it’ll be for much longer. He doesn’t seem that taken with her.’

Wally scoffed. ‘That’s what he tells you, Henzey. Whatever he tells you, take it with a pinch of salt.’

Wally annoyed her sometimes. It seemed as if he was jealous of any man she was interested in. Adding fuel to these beliefs, she often caught him staring at her, which made her feel uncomfortable. Sometimes she could sense he was looking at her; at her breasts, at her hips, her legs, her waist. It was most disconcerting. But she could never be interested in Wally. He was in his mid-thirties, married, with several children; she wasn’t sure how many. He had short, stubby fingers, a big droopy moustache and greasy hair that smelled of rancid lard; and the hem of his long apron dusted his shoes when he walked. He was interested in photography and, once, he had asked Henzey if he could take some pictures of her on the Clent Hills, but she refused. The idea of him gawping at her through the back plate of his field camera while she posed, not knowing what dirty thoughts he might be thinking, did not appeal.

‘Well, I don’t really expect anything, Mister Bibb,’ Henzey replied, trying not to show her indignation. ‘I can never expect to have the likes of him, so I don’t suppose I’ll be too disappointed.’

‘But you can dream, Henzey,’ Clara encouraged. ‘You can certainly dream.’

Billy Witts was no academic, and his repartee was rarely sparkling, but he exuded a presence that was sufficient to compensate. This was especially so in business, where he proved to himself that it was no detriment to be endowed with more brawn than brain. As a freelance sales agent for manufacturers of motor car parts and accessories, he had nurtured many contacts in the trade and had fared remarkably well. Recently he had obtained contracts for all his agencies. Morris Motors had contracted to buy a new American type of window-winding mechanism, and Austin a new headlight that used a solenoid to dip the reflector. Vauxhall were fitting a high-frequency electric horn from a continental firm he represented, instead of the usual hand-operated bulb horns. A company from Birmingham with whom he had connections, called Worthington Commercials, which had recently gone into the business of producing three-wheeled vans, were promising to place orders. All this business netted him a tidy sum and would continue to do so for as long as the equipment was purchased. The motor trade was thriving, he told Henzey and, judging by the ever-increasing numbers of cars on the roads, she reckoned it must be true. Billy still lived with his mother and father but he had notions of changing all that soon enough.

Billy Witts was quietly taken with Henzey. She was an enigma; different to all the others. Whenever he saw her he couldn’t take his eyes off her lovely face. It was amazing that a girl so young, and with such exquisite looks, was so modest; she was not in the least conceited. If anything she underestimated her potential, yet at the same time she possessed tremendous self-esteem. Every time he saw her he expected her to say that she had started courting and he knew that, when that day arrived, he would kick himself for not being the lucky one to have snapped her up.

Just yet, though, he could not quite fit her in. Ideally, he would need to sever relations with Nellie and, even though things with her were at a critical stage, he was loath to do it just yet. Nellie was sullen, self-centred and demanding, and Billy was finding her possessiveness increasingly stifling, for he enjoyed other women besides her from time to time; but her family was rich. At first, of course, he found it flattering that the lovely daughter of a wealthy industrialist and town councillor was head over heels in love with him. Gradually, however, her shortcomings were eclipsing her virtues. Compared to Henzey, she had no virtues at all.

But one thing ensured his continuing interest in Nellie, and that was sex. It had become their mutual obsession; an art form; the only enduring feature of their liaison. It was like a drug, and his other women paled in comparison. Such a situation was not unique in the liberal atmosphere following the Great War, when torrid affairs were more readily accepted, especially among the wealthy. But he was actually growing to dislike Nellie, and yet he could not keep his hands off her. The relationship was thus rendered tolerable, but as unstable as nitro-glycerine.

His heart, however, was with Henzey. But, because she had to be lacking in sexual experience, he hesitated to involve himself. Whenever he encountered her he was entirely confused: he would behold her girlish innocence, study her striking face, her youthful figure, her wholesome demeanour and end up telling himself that she was as close to perfection as he would ever find. So after weeks of soul-searching, convincing himself that there was no future with Nellie, he finally made up his mind that somebody in his position really ought to have a girl as lovely and unspoiled as Henzey Kite on his arm, for all to admire.

On Wednesday the 27th of March Henzey waited eagerly for early closing. Billy Witts had arranged to meet her at last, and promised to take her to The Station Hotel to celebrate her seventeenth birthday, which was tomorrow. She was wearing her best coat, and had taken a new skirt and blouse to work to change into. When the shop closed, she had duly changed, made up her face and gone out eagerly to meet him.

The fact that he continued to call on her – always during working hours – had been tormenting her. He was patently interested in her, and it had spawned her greater interest in him. Every time he appeared she would think that this must certainly be the day he would ask her out, but every time he left her, saying: ‘See you soon, then, Henzey.’ This relentless teasing was driving her mad and fuelling her fixation. She cared deeply for him now; her infatuation and curiosity had matured into love; but that love remained frustrated, unexpressed, because he’d allowed no outlet for it. It was unthinkable that love of such intensity as hers might be ignored. So she dared to hope that this one occasion – this sole dinnertime tryst – might just be the trigger to fire him into romance. He was so cool and collected, self-confident