‘You’re pretty sure of yourself, aren’t you?’ Renshaw said.
His mouth hung down in a sudden sneer.
‘I wouldn’t count too much on that “working with me” angle. I could put you onto anything. I could set you to picking out vats. Ever thought about that? About the way I’ve looked after you? The way you’ve been sitting up with old Merton while the other women have been slaving out their guts carrying rolls and picking out vats?’
‘I came here to help in the office,’ Patty said. ‘To work on the cards.’
‘You came here as a recorder, not a clerk,’ Renshaw said suddenly. ‘I could put you onto anything. Anywhere. I’ve looked after you, Patty. You’ve got it pretty easy.’
He was quiet. So it was the wrong line. He could start again.
‘I don’t want to hurt you, Patty. I don’t know why it is, but whenever we get to talking together lately we end up fighting. Let’s forget the whole affair. Everything I’ve said or done. I don’t want to have to beg. It’s not good for a man to have to beg, Patty. And I don’t want to hurt you. I’ve never posed as a saint. But I’m no worse than a lot of other fellows. There was a lot of gossip about Gwennie, I know that. There’s always gossip. Even when there’s nothing to gossip about, people invent it. But the Gwennie affair is over. Can you understand that? It’s over. Finished, done with. If I could, I’d wipe the whole thing clean. What’s done can’t be undone, it can only be regretted. I can’t undo it. But I wish now that it had never happened.’
Patty stood up. She placed the stock sheet on the stool.
‘I’m not blaming you,’ Patty said. ‘Not really. I was dazzled at the time. It all seemed so glamorous. I was so pleased to have you notice me.’
She looked at him shyly.
‘But now I’ve grown up. I understand a lot more. Things like promises. Things about men. Things I wish now I didn’t know. I wish it could be undone, too.’
‘We could wipe the slate clean. Start again.’
‘Do you remember,’ Patty said suddenly. ‘You asked me to marry you once. I really believed what you said. I didn’t know men could act that way. I know now you didn’t mean it. Lots of girls that strung along with you would understand that, too. But I believed you. I really believed you.’
‘What is this?’ Renshaw said. There was an edge to his voice. ‘You knew as well as I knew. And now you’re another outraged plaster saint. I didn’t hear you objecting at the time. You could have screamed for help. You could have offered some resistance. We weren’t all that far from civilization.’
Renshaw moved suddenly to the end of the fixture.
‘And now you’ve come all over mealy-mouthed. You knew that marriage act was a game. You were as eager to believe it as I was to dish it out. And now you’re Venus torn down and deflowered. You’ve been brutally set upon. I’ve been out with a few dames in my time; I’ve seen a few acts. But I can say this. I don’t remember hearing any protests from you.’
‘I think I’ll go up,’ Patty said unsteadily.
‘You think you’ll go up. Well, before you go I’ve got a few more home truths for you. You can look down your nose at other people. But I’ve been seeing plenty. Do you think I go around with my eyes shut? That I’m not awake-up to you? I’m not as dumb as all that. Sliding down the scale a bit, aren’t you? Not quite so particular. Playing up with the bucks on the vats.
‘You’re a bitch!’ he said suddenly. ‘Do you think I’m going to let you walk out just like this?’
‘I don’t want to talk about it any longer,’ Patty said. ‘It was all different to me. I didn’t think about it like that. I don’t want to talk about it at all; or think about it, ever. I used to think of it like it was a cool fountain, something secret and lovely. It was never anything more than a dirty little pool of scummy water. I wish I could say it had never happened.’
She looked at him quickly.
‘And maybe I was lucky at that. We could have been married and then there would be no escape.’
‘You took the bait pretty well. I’d like to have offered it to you the day you came bleating into the stockroom. You harped pretty well on marriage that day.’
He bent his arm suddenly, and drew her to him. He didn’t believe this. He knew more about women than they knew themselves. They’d rant and roar, but with the right technique they always came good. He bent his head.
It was no use screaming. The stockroom was isolated. The sound would be lost in the clatter of the machinery. She slid suddenly down, out of his arms, tearing loose her brooch and scraping the pin on her cheek. Then she picked herself up and began to run.
It was not far.
She could hear Renshaw. The clatter of his feet. The running flow of obscenity.
She pushed open the door of the chemical storeroom.
Oliver Henery looked up as she ran towards him. She put out her arms as she ran.
Her hair was dishevelled. Her frock was torn. There was blood on the side of her face.
Oliver stood up. He could hear Renshaw’s frustrated bellow.
Well, it had come to this. He would have Renshaw to deal with after all.
He made a quick calculation. It was not yet December. The year was not over yet. But it was too late for a job in the heavy industries. Bosses would think a lot before they put a bloke on at this time of the year.
He looked at Patty and smiled.
CHAPTER FORTY ONE
Collins was working in the lab when he heard the sound of running feet. He left Marj Grigson in charge of the beaker and went into the storeroom to investigate. He was partly hidden by the casks stacked on one side, but he could see Oliver standing near the bags of soda ash and Patty behind him. He heard Renshaw’s steady cursing before he saw him.
Just what I reckoned, Collins said to himself. I knew it wouldn’t last too long. And it looks as though the bust’s going to happen right here in the storeroom. Maybe even in the lab.
Renshaw pushed the door open. He looked like a man who had finally thrown discretion to the wind.
‘Did you want something?’ Oliver asked.
His voice was hard and level. He put out his arm and drew Patty beside him.
‘I could,’ Renshaw said. He said it softly. ‘A bit of something I dropped and thought to pick up again. Little bit shopsoiled, but could still be useful.’ He smiled broadly. ‘It would be safer for you if you decided to get out of the way.’
Oliver bent over and wiped his hands on a piece of sacking. He measured Renshaw with his eye. Six foot one in height, fourteen stone and solid. Gone a few rounds with the gloves. Quick on his feet and handy with his fists.
‘D’you reckon?’
The blood flowed suddenly into Renshaw’s face.
‘I’m staying right where I am,’ Oliver said. ‘You can throw me out if you like.’
‘I don’t need to throw you out,’ Renshaw said. ‘It’s easier than that. I can run you out. Sack you on the spot.’
‘You could,’ Oliver said. ‘But I don’t think you will. Later, when you’ve got time to cook something up. But not over this.’
‘Look,’ Renshaw said. ‘I’ve had enough of this.’
He moved slowly forward. He had a theory. All curs yapped. But a show of force brought them pretty quickly to heel. And Oliver Henery was giving away too much in weight and height to amount to anything. Beside his own bulk, Oliver’s slim, brown, near-naked body looked almost puny.
But he stopped and looked at Oliver, suddenly uncertain.
‘I’m telling you,’ Renshaw said. ‘I want that girl in the office. Now. And your days are up too, Galahad. You’d better start reading the positions-vacant column, pronto. I wouldn’t be looking so bloody sure of myself if I were you.’
‘I’m bloody sure of what I intend doing. This girl gets an escort to the office, and home if necessary. Tommy can take the matter up with the Union and negotiate. You’re going to run into a bit of dirty weather over this job, Renshaw.’
> ‘You bastard,’ Renshaw said. ‘You bloody sneaking, yellow bastard. A man ought to cut you in two.’
He considered the implications. Oliver Henery might back down. If he took a poke at him, he might collapse like a pack of cards. But he might make a fight for it. He might keep going until word got around the factory. Until the men began trooping in from the vats and the presses. It would not be a good thing.
But if he could count on one good knock…if he could flatten him. He stepped forward.
‘You said a mouthful,’ Oliver said.
He thrust Patty behind him.
Renshaw’s weight was behind the punch when it landed. Oliver went down, sprawling over the soda ash. He rolled over and over and came to rest near the jamb of the laboratory door. Collins backed out through the doorway. He had seen the whole thing, and he darted through to the vats to pass the word.
Renshaw had clocked Oliver. They were fighting over Patty Nicholls. It looked as though the fight would move into the lab.
‘Could be bloody murder,’ Barney said. ‘Oliver’s no match for Renshaw. He’s not even in the hunt.’
‘I hope Oliver beats him up so’s his mother wouldn’t even know him.’
The men pushed the door open and drifted in. The steam rushed in with them. Renshaw had torn off his shirt and was fighting in his trousers and cotton singlet. He was taking it easy. His hair was still plastered down, and except for one unlucky hit below the eye he was unmarked. Oliver’s eye was cut and bleeding. The blood flowed down the side of his face onto his throat and chest. Bruises were beginning to show up on his body.
‘You had enough?’ Renshaw said. ‘You know when you’re beaten?’
‘He’s not in the hunt,’ Goodwin said. ‘Must be giving away about three inches and two and a half stone. I think we should get Tommy to stop it.’
Tommy was the shop steward. He was standing in the doorway. He held a large pair of cloth-shears in his hand.
Oliver was down again. His lip was bleeding and dark patches were showing on his ribs and shoulders. His hair was wet and streaked with blood. He got groggily to his feet. He was almost at the end of his string and he knew it. He gathered himself for the final assault.
The blow when it came sent Renshaw reeling back. He slid through the water, struggling to regain an upright position. Oliver hit him again as he fell. He slid down near the experimental vat and lay in a pool of dirty water and spilt dye beside it.
Tommy moved in from the door. The men crowded round. Oliver slumped on an upturned bucket, his arms sagging.
Tommy picked up a bucket. He went leisurely along to the tap and filled it with water. Renshaw still lay on his back in the pool of red dye as if in a sea of blood. Oliver sat on the tin propped against the wall.
‘Better ring through for Miss Merton,’ Tommy said. ‘Tell her to bring some plaster and bandages and a drop of brandy from the medicine chest.’
He dipped out a pannikin of water and threw it in Renshaw’s face. Renshaw struggled to sit up. He shook his head. His jaw was sore and his head ached. He had hit the side of the vat as he went down.
‘The fight’s over,’ Tommy said. He handed Renshaw a pannikin of water.
Renshaw sat up. He fought as Barney and Tommy struggled to restrain him.
‘You’d better clean yourself up,’ Tommy said suddenly. ‘Wouldn’t do for Larcombe to walk in right now.’
But Renshaw was beyond reasoning.
‘We don’t want to have to knock you out again,’ Barney said. ‘Wake up to yourself.’
Miss Merton came in slowly, bearing a heavy tray laden with antiseptic, gauze, medicaments and brandy. Tommy took the brandy and poured some into a pannikin. He offered it to Renshaw and waited while he gulped it down.
Miss Merton moved down the room. She bathed the cut above Oliver’s eye. She began laying on plaster.
‘Well,’ she said. ‘You certainly do look a sight. Are you going to try some of this brandy?’
‘There’ll be more about this,’ Renshaw suddenly yelled.
Oliver stood up slowly. He had swallowed the brandy. He could feel it warm in his stomach.
So he had come to grips with Renshaw, and he had won. Not without luck, but he had won. He had really flattened him.
Across the room he could see Patty standing in the shadows. Something clarified in his mind. Patty!
He walked towards her, slowly.
When he was within two paces of her he stopped. He knew the men were there. Renshaw still struggling on the floor; Barney and Goodwin, Collins, Bluey, Sims, the men from the presses. It was not important.
She raised her head slowly and looked at him.
In her panic she had run unerringly into his arms. And he had not failed her. He had said once that he was a little man. Not big enough to fight giants.
‘It was a pretty brave thing,’ Patty said slowly. ‘He was a lot bigger than you. He could have killed you.’
‘The devil looks after his own,’ Oliver said. ‘And a man can sometimes get a lucky break. Sometimes the luck really goes with him.’
She raised her eyes shyly.
‘I want you,’ Oliver said suddenly. ‘Come over here.’
He put out his arms and drew her to him. Over her head he could see the men standing in the mist near the door. He bent his head until his lips met hers.
Patty closed her eyes. She put her arms around his damp shoulders. He drew back and looked at her.
‘You like me, Patty?’ he asked huskily.
She remembered the day she had met him at the corner of Barrington Terrace, the day he had waited outside the church. All the time she had been thinking of Renshaw, Oliver had been there. Not a giant, he had said. Just a little bloke. Like you’d meet anywhere. Any day, in any factory.
He tilted up her chin, so that he could see into her eyes.
‘You love me, Patty?’
His arm tightened around her.
‘When can we get married? When?’
CHAPTER FORTY TWO
‘You don’t think this is the end of the episode, do you?’ Renshaw asked.
He picked himself up. He smoothed down his hair. He fastened up his shirt. His anger had subsided, but he was casting about in his mind for ways of evening the score.
‘I’m going to clean this place out. And the trouble-makers will be in number-one position, right in the shooting line.’
Barney Monahan waited until Renshaw had finished. There were a few things that had to be said. And he waited, half hoping that Tommy would say them. It was Tommy’s job as shop steward to say them. But Renshaw’s got him in his hand, Barney thought. We want more than a shop steward. We ought to have a shop committee here. A few well balanced blokes that can’t be bought off or intimidated. A bloke like Renshaw should be stopped.
But it wasn’t his pigeon. He had Esther and the boy to think about.
‘He’ll be out of here quicker than it takes to get his money over,’ Renshaw said.
Barney had turned his back. He was walking towards the door. Yes, he had Esther and the boy. But he had something else, too.
‘There should be a ruling against that,’ he said suddenly.
Renshaw turned and looked at him. He looked at him for a long time, ‘You like to go with him—just to show how close cobbers can be?’ he asked finally.
‘There’s a ruling on this,’ Barney said clearly.
Tommy moved in reluctantly. He looked appealingly towards Renshaw.
‘I’ll say there’s a ruling,’ Renshaw said. ‘And it’s this. No cock on these vats rushes in with his fists up and lives to tell the tale. Heads have rolled for less. That’s your ruling.’
Collins looked up. There was a flicker of amusement at the back of his eyes. I’ve got him, he thought.
‘That’s a lie,’ he said slowly. ‘You clocked him first. You came in like a bull on the heels of a heifer. You hit him first. I saw it. So did she.’
‘I think we’d better let sleeping dogs
lie,’ Tommy said.
‘Not till things are straightened out better than this,’ Barney said. ‘There’s a few things want tidying up. I think we should get an organizer out. We ought to find out what steps can be taken to protect the women. Especially the youngsters and particularly the good looking ones. We could get the Union to take the matter up with Cuthbert and Larcombe.’
A crowd had gathered around Renshaw and Barney. Oliver pushed Patty gently aside. He pushed through the crowd until he reached Renshaw.
There were lots of things he wanted to say. Lots of things that had been simmering at the back of his mind for months.
‘I want you to know,’ Oliver said, ‘that I’m not quitting. You’ll have to sack me; and if you do, it will be a matter for the Unions. There’s going to be some changes. We’re going to work for a shop committee. We’re going to have a bit more say in the loads these women are humping about. There’s going to be more negotiation and less fist play.’ He turned and looked at Tommy. ‘There’s no need for you to be so apologetic either, Tommy,’ he said. ‘From now on you’ll be apologizing to us. You’re in the job to watch our interests, and that’s the way it’s going to be.’
‘All right,’ Renshaw said suddenly. ‘Back to work, the lot of you.’
The men drifted back.
Renshaw picked up the dyeing programme for the day. He put the incident at the back of his mind. He wasn’t really that concerned with Oliver Henery or whether he left or stayed on. There were other things to be considered. But his face darkened when he thought of Patty. So she was tied up with Oliver Henery? No doubt the affair had been going on under his nose for months and he had failed to notice it. She had been pretty high and mighty in her time. Well, she was down to her own level now. Down to the likes of Oliver Henery. And he would marry her. The poor sap. No doubt he’d end up marrying her.
CHAPTER FORTY THREE
Some time had elapsed since Renshaw’s clash with Oliver. In the long run Renshaw had decided that it was a chancy issue on which to take a stand. It would do him no good if it reached the ears of Larcombe or Cuthbert.
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