The Factory Girl (3 page)

Reaching over them to get to the coat hooks on the wall, she heard Mum call to her, ‘While you're there, Gel, call your dad down for 'is tea.'

She hated being called Gel. Her workmates called her Gerry, which wasn't too bad. But Gel! It was East End practice to shorten a long name. You couldn't do much with Fred, but Mavis was Mave and young Evelyn was Evie. Dad called Mum, Hild. But why give someone a decent name if it was going to be shortened to something horrible or ridiculous? Saying Hilda in full wouldn't take all that much more energy, but no, it was Hild. She called him Jack, because not even God Himself could shorten that name any more.

Dutifully she yelled up the stairs to Dad. ‘Mum says your fish 'n chips is ready.' His okay floated down from behind the bedroom door.

Fred adding his plaintive voice to it called, ‘Can I come down too?'

‘I don't know. Better asked Mum.'

‘M … u … m!'

‘You stay where you are, you little bugger,' came the responding yell. ‘I don't want no dirty little devil sittin' at my table.'

Mum, skilfully carrying cutlery, salt, vinegar, a jar of pickled onions and several large, white, somewhat chipped plates passed her on the way from the tiny kitchen where you couldn't swing a cat, let alone feed a family, to the back room. The flap-leaf of the table had been raised to accommodate them all, a cloth spread over it, a loaf waiting to be cut into slices and spread with dollops of margarine.

The back room was where the family ate, despite Fred and Wally's bed in one corner. With just two bedrooms it was the only place for them, the main one being Mum and Dad's, with the girls in the other one, it being unthinkable for them to sleep downstairs and their brothers accidentally seeing them in their nightdresses or worse, in their underclothes. Boys were different – sharing a bed downstairs, it didn't matter them being seen in their vests.

Even upstairs all three sisters shared one bed, it practically taking up the whole room with just enough space for the wardrobe, chest of drawers and a board they called a dressing table that housed a sewing machine belonging to Geraldine, but shared by all three. How families with even more children managed was a mystery to Geraldine, though friends had at times mentioned four or more to a bed. After evening meals, if not going out, everyone would end up in the front room, most of which were spent around the gramophone, allowing the boys to go to bed when they were ready.

‘Mum, let Fred come down,' pleaded Geraldine, following her mother into the back room.

‘It'll do 'im good ter stew up there for a bit,' said Mum, laying out plates. ‘Teach 'im a lesson.' By this, she knew Mum would relent before the meal was finished.

Mum turned to her as Dad came creaking downstairs. Every stair creaked, as did the beds, chairs and cupboard doors. There were no secrets in this house.

‘I didn't get you any fish 'n chips, Gel. Didn't know when you'd be 'ome. I could take a bit off each of ours if you like.'

‘No, I'm fine, Mum. We 'ad a big dinner, remember. I'd much sooner 'ave a sandwich. Fish and chips make you fat.'

Her mother smiled, glancing at her daughter's slim figure, still in the best dress she'd put on for going up West, one she'd made herself in slate grey some while back. Geraldine had more dresses than most, being skilled on the sewing machine, artistic. She was proud of her.

‘I got some in for Evie. She's at 'er friend's 'ouse down the street – should be 'ome any minute now. You could 'ave a bit of 'ers.'

‘No thanks, Mum.'

‘Well if yer don't want any there's some cheese in the larder. Yer could 'ave that. I weren't sure when you'd be 'ome, that's why I didn't get yer any.'

She eyed the parcel Geraldine had put down on a chair on coming in. ‘Is that what yer went up the West End for? Spending yer 'ard-earned money on more stuff ter make. What yer goin' ter make now, as if you ain't got enough?' This at least was a secret. No secret that she'd gone off up the West End – it was a rule of Mum's that her family always said where they were going in case they were needed urgently at home or had an accident out. Though how they'd have contacted each other if there had been any trouble had never been explained. The police coming round, she supposed, or some messenger from a hospital.

But the dress was a secret, at least until she had it all finished or the moment she started treadling away on the machine, the noise rumbling all over the house and Mum coming up to see what it was she was doing. She'd want to know all the ins and outs of what she was making, and in the end when it finally came out, she would inevitably say, ‘Yer'll be wearing a bridesmaid dress, so why make somethink else? Yer'll upset Mavis thinking yer don't like what she got yer.' Though Mavis knew that already. She'd told her so, that she hated rose pink.

‘Did yer go with a friend then?' Mum was asking.

Geraldine shrugged. ‘No, on me own.'

Her mother moved past her to get the food from the oven as Dad went into the back room to seat himself at the table. ‘'Bout time you got yerself a boyfriend,' she said.

‘I've got boyfriends.'

‘I mean a real boyfriend, someone steady. You'll find yourself left on the shelf if you ain't careful.'

‘Mum, I'm only eighteen. I've got time.'

Not bothering to reply to that, Mum hurried off into the back room, each hand now carrying a loaded plate, a tea towel protecting her skin from the oven's heat. ‘Fred!' she called out as she went. ‘Yours is on the table.'

As Fred came thumping down the stairs, all forgiven, the back door burst open to admit Evie. ‘Blimey!' exploded the twelve-year-old. ‘It don't 'alf stink out there!'

Her mother gave her a warning look as she returned to the kitchen to get two more plates from the oven. ‘That's your sweet brother!' she said, her tone sharp. ‘'Cos he's leaving school this summer, he's feeling 'is feet and thinks he can get away with murder. I wish you lot wouldn't keep blaming yer dad for everything.'

‘I never even mentioned Dad,' protested Evie hotly, dropping her coat on a kitchen chair and following her mother into the back room.

Left alone in the kitchen, Geraldine heard her mother call out one more request. ‘You sure yer don't want some of ours divided up for yer?'

‘No, Mum,' she called back. ‘I'm getting meself a sandwich. I'm going out again in a little while.'

In fact she was seeing Eileen Moss, who she worked with. They were going to see the films her parents had seen this afternoon. They'd sit eating peanuts as fast as they could shell them and stare at the silent drama of Gloria Swanson's
Male and Female
and laugh at Charlie Chaplin's slapstick comedy,
Sunnyside
, both of which Mum had said were very good.

Though it was nice going to the pictures, she'd have rather stayed at home this evening to start on her dress, itching to see how it would turn out, but she'd promised to go with Eileen, and anyway, there were too many at home tonight no doubt wanting to know what she was doing, what she was making, and what for.

Sunday was quieter. Dad was down the Working Men's Club with his mates this morning and Fred was off somewhere – God knows where – with mates his own age. Wally, mad keen on football, his team Tottenham Hotspur, was on the other side of the fence this morning coaching a local boys' club team. He'd got involved with them because having stepped in as a temporary coach a couple of months back when the previous one left, he'd noticed that the girl helping with refreshments was very attractive. He was now thinking seriously about asking her out and that meant staying on as coach until she accepted.

Evie was at her friend's house again down the road. Mavis was out somewhere with her Tom, probably enjoying getting all lovey-dovey. Mum was next door having a cup of tea, a biscuit and a chat with Louis Golding, a woman her own age, whose husband always seemed to be away somewhere.

Geraldine had the house to herself. By the time they all came trooping back she'd have had the pattern she'd retained in her head cut out of newspaper, the material shaped and pinned and much of it tacked together ready for stitching.

The garment needed lots of concentration. She started on the dress first. The panels would come later but she was skilled and quick and accurate – a girl on piecework needed to be – and the design was clear enough in her head. She reckoned on two hours for cutting out and tacking and just hoped Mum wouldn't come back to start putting her nose in before she'd got a good way through it.

The two hours slipped by so quickly she hardly noticed the time going; the sleeves fitted in wonderfully and hung well, the back and front panels draping just like the real silk creation in that boutique. She couldn't help smiling every time she recalled that woman's face, all prim and proper and stuck up and suspicious – she ought to know what was going on. She ought to know how that exclusive gown displayed in her shop was being copied in cheap material and looking every bit as expensive as the original. The only thing Geraldine had conceded was to reverse the shades, making the dress in dark blue and the panels in a lighter blue instead of the other way around as she had seen it on the manikin. If anything it was an improvement and she grinned again at the woman's mortification if only she could see it looking even better.

The seams were setting perfectly, pressed under a damp ironing cloth at various stages, being tried on frequently to see how it hung. The loose long sleeves had set into the cuffs a treat. Tomorrow she would start on the panels of the removable tabard-like overbodice and the front and back panels that would fall from the waist to finish off the fashionable barrel line.

Mum came in as she was draping the almost complete gown on a hanger, hooking the hanger on the bedroom picture rail, pleased with the way it had gone together and how quickly it was shaping up.

Mum was in the room before she knew it. ‘Sorry I was a bit delayed, leaving you 'ere all on yer own. Hope you weren't bored. Mrs Golding was telling me about …' She stopped, her eyes on the lovely garment hanging from the rail.

‘What's that? Not something yer bought yesterday? Wasting yer money again.' It was then she noticed the machine and the offcuts and cotton littering the room. ‘Oh, you're
making
it. It's a nice colour. Making it fer going out somewhere special?'

Geraldine suppressed a smile. Mum's idea of
somewhere special
was hopefully a date with a young man – a young man who one day might be
the
one! Mum waiting and hoping, concerned about a daughter coming up to nineteen and still without a regular boyfriend to introduce to the family.

‘It's ter wear for Mavis and Tom's wedding.'

‘But you'll be a bridesmaid.' Mum was engrossed inspecting the gown, turning it this way and that on its hanger and making faces of approval at the workmanship even though there was still a lot to do to it.

‘I don't want ter be a bridesmaid the entire evening,' said Geraldine.

How could she tell her that she abhorred the thing – was going to feel a right idiot in shocking pink? All right for Evie who was looking forward to it all.

‘I 'ope Mave and Tom won't be upset, you wearing something else in the evening.'

‘They won't know. They'll be gone off on their honeymoon by the time I put this on,' said Geraldine firmly and ushered her mother out of the bedroom so she could put everything away before Mavis came home for Sunday dinner and asked her share of questions, and put Geraldine in an awkward position in trying to answer them.

Monday morning – again! Apart from bank holidays, she said this to herself every Monday along with millions of others as she cycled off to work.

This Monday, however, wasn't followed by the word ‘again'. This morning passed in a stir of anticipation and excitement, her eyes fixed on the fast-moving machine needle with its bursts of deep-throated whirring as she thought of where she'd be at lunchtime. Not much time; she'd have to cycle like fury to get to Hanfords and back and have time to look for her necklace. It was no use waiting until after work – he shut at six.

As soon as the buzzer went for the three-quarters of an hour lunch break, she was up and ready to leave, aware of her friend Eileen looking at her. She'd already said she had to go out instead of eating sandwiches at her bench as always.

‘You ain't even said where you're going,' came the complaint. ‘What's so secret?'

‘Tell yer later,' said Geraldine and dashed off to gather up her coat and handbag from the cloakroom before any more questions could be fired at her.

He was serving some woman when she walked in. He looked up casually and smiled. ‘Be with you in a tick.'

Was that smile not quite as formal as he might use for anyone else? Did he recognise her? She hoped so. It had been a couple of months since coming in here at Christmas, but she hoped so.

The woman, having chosen a bargain pendant, was having it wrapped and Geraldine noticed with a little thrill just how skilled his hands were at wrapping the purchase in bright fancy paper. The woman departed, leaving Geraldine to approach the counter displaying a shining array of beautiful things beneath its glass top.

‘Right, can I help you?'

The voice was deep, smooth and brought a delicious shiver to her.

‘Yes please,' she managed.

Quickly she explained what she was after, bringing out two offcuts of the material to show him. He came round the end of the counter to take a closer look at the shades. His head seemed very close to hers as she held the material out for his inspection and the fragrance of brilliantine wafted to her. His hair was dark, very luxuriant and wavy. She'd never been this close to him before. When she'd come into his shop those few times before Christmas he'd always been on the other side of the counter.