The Fancy by Monica Dickens Read Free Book Online Page A

George Dove in the Dishmantling Shop.”
    “Righto,” said Edward, wondering who George Dove was and following round the end of the bench to where the rabbit-girl sat, smaller than ever, counting bolts.
    “This is Wendy Holt,” said Bob. “She’s just been put on to the camshafts and rockers. She’ll be all right, but she doesn’t know much about it yet, do you, Wendy?”
    “I’m afraid not,” she whispered shyly.
    Well that was all right. Edward could teach her a lot about rockers. She wore her pale hair drawn back and tied in her neck with a ribbon. She had long, scared-looking eyes, just like the does when a cat got into the garden and pretended it could get into the hutches if it wanted to. He wondered how Queenie was getting on. Wendy got back on to her stool and went on counting bolts attentively.
    Bob had told Edward about the girl next to Wendy. “Ivy Larter. You want to watch out for her ; she’s a trouble-maker.” Edward vaguely remembered having heard some gossip about her and one of the labourers, but he hadn’t listened at the time. He looked at her now, with a sinking heart and hoped she wasn’t going to make trouble with him because he would never know how to deal with it. She was a thin girl, with dry, dyed hair and a spiteful mouth, distorted by the stridence of her cockney accent. Her eyes calculated Edward and found him contemptible.
    Dinah was working just beyond the next girl and she leaned over and said : “Hullo, this is Reenie. She’s not as dumb as she looks.” She couldn’t be, thought Edward.
    Reenie giggled. “Oh, Di-
ner
, you are awful!”
    n Fridays and Tuesdays, . b“How do you do,” said Edward kindly.
    “How do,” said Reenie, goggling.
    “Mrs. Streeter does the nuts and bolts and the controlsh,” said Bob Condor, watching Dinah.
    “That’s right,” said Reenie. Every time she finished speaking, she let her mouth fall open, because she couldn’t breathe through her nose.
    “Dinah you know,” said Bob, going on past her. “She does the shlipper gears.” Thank goodness for that, thought Edward, because she’ll know all about them. She’ll be able to teach me something. Dinah winked at him. The last girl was the mannish one he had seen yesterday. She was standing up, running her eye down a line of studs on the carburettor. She put a dirty hand into Edward’s and shook it frankly.
    “Freda does the shuper and carburettor,” said Bob, which was obvious, Edward thought. Come to think of it, the whole round of introductions had been rather silly. He could perfectly well see for himself what units the girls were on. He could have trickled in among them, without this pompous business of having to think of something to say to each.
    “Yes,” said Freda, “I’m the blower wallah. Been on it a year now.” Edward knew quite a lot about the blower too and was prepared to assert himself on any question that cropped up. Freda looked as though she were prepared to assert herself too, but hedidn’t mind. He could deal with girls with moustaches and weather-beaten skins. It was the ones that smelt like flowers who put him off.
    There was a Trade Union monthly general meeting after work, but although Edward usually liked to go and listen to the talk, Jack Tanner himself could not have kept him from Queenie tonight. He always walked home briskly, shooting out his legs to give each one the maximum amount of exercise, but tonight he went like a man making the record to Brighton, heel and toe, elbows working. On the little hill that curved down to Church Avenue and the Lipmanns’ corner, he broke into a trot, jogging springily on the balls of his feet, head up and breathing through his nose. Behind the dominating thought of Queenie, which drove him forward, a jumble of impressions of his bewildering day surged in his head. Faces, odd remarks, isolated pictures kept coming to the surface like bubbles in a simmering pan, but he paid little heed to them, concentrating only