Free The Factory Girl by Maggie Ford

Anthony was asking her how she felt about going to the theatre. She looked up at him with startled eyes. ‘The what?’
    He looked a little concerned. ‘You do like going to the theatre?’
    â€˜Oh, yes.’ Quickly she gathered her wits. ‘I love going.’ She was about to gush, ‘I go all the time,’ but stopped herself. The only time she ever went was to the Queens Theatre in Poplar where they had variety acts, and of course stage acts put on between films at the picture palaces. Occasionally she had gone up to the West End with a couple of friends to line up with those like herself for the cheapest gallery seats, having saved up money for weeks for it. He wouldn’t take her up there in the top gallery of course. More likely the upper circle, where people with just a bit more to spend would go, and definitely more suitable when treating a girl.
    â€˜Good,’ he said. ‘Which one would you like to go to?’
    Fighting confusion, she fought to think clearly and came out with the only name that came to mind. ‘The Hippodrome.’
    He grinned. ‘You like revues then. Okay, the Hippodrome it is. I’ll get tickets for the dress circle.’
    Stunned, she heard him instruct her to meet him here at six-thirty the Saturday after next, and not to worry, he’d take care of everything, getting her there, everything.

Chapter Five
    â€˜See you next Saturday then?’
    Alan’s parting reminder brought Geraldine up sharp. She’d mentioned nothing regarding next Saturday, hanging back in the hope that he himself might decide to let that go. Now he’d referred to it, she’d have to tell him that next Saturday was off – but what excuse to make? There had been so many of them jiggling around inside her head all through the film show that not only had she been unable to concentrate or enjoy what had been showing but she was now spoiled for which one to chose, always the bane of those about to tell lies. She settled on the first one to pop back into her head.
    â€˜We’re going round to me sister’s fer tea.’
    â€˜Oh.’ He looked dismal for a second or two then brightened. ‘What about Saturday after that?’
    Geraldine took a deep breath. ‘I don’t know yet. It’s a long way ter think ahead.’
    He was looking at her keenly, as if trying to judge her thoughts. ‘Are yer sayin’ yer don’t want ter see me any more?’
    â€˜No, Alan.’ She didn’t want to burn her bridges just yet and she did like him very much. ‘If I can let yer know after next Saturday.’
    â€˜â€™Cos if yer don’t want ter see me again, I’d rather yer let me know now, save me ’anging around ’opeful like.’
    She squirmed with guilt. ‘Don’t be silly, Alan!’
    â€˜It’s not silly. I know we’re only friends. Can’t be anythink else the way I’m placed. But even friends ought ter be straight with each uvver. If there’s some uvver bloke yer seeing, I’d sooner yer tell me.’
    â€˜It ain’t anythink like that. It’s just … Look, I’ll drop you a note next week. I’ve got ter go, Alan. It’s gettin’ late, an’ Dad’ll be wondering where I am. I’ll see yer soon. Not next Saturday, maybe the one after. Let’s say goodnight, Alan. I must go now.’
    Tilting her face for his usual goodnight peck, eyes half closed, she was surprised to find him walking swiftly away from her, his parting words, ‘See yer around then,’ coming back to her in a strangled sort of tone.
    Her heart gave a thud of remorse. She was about to chase after him to tell him not to be so silly but instead she just stood there watching him, the circle of fitful yellow glow from a street gas lamp further along lighting up his tall, straight figure for a moment before shadows swallowed it up.
    She was seeing Anthony outside