The Factory Girls – Episode 46

It was quiet in the caf, which was a good job as Shelley took for ever to choose her cake.“How do you make these lemon things?” she asked the lady, pointing to some pretty buns with buttercup-yellow icing.“Secret recipe,” came the reply with a wink.“I’ll work it out,” Shelley retorted. “One of those, please.”“How will you work it out?” Dana asked when they were sat down.“Taste it. Muck about with ingredients. Make some yucky ones first. Trial and error!”“You can do that?”“Don’t know. Only one way to find out. I made some good cinnamon buns the other day.”“Really?”“Yep. Well, I have got to do something to keep busy, now you’re off with your boyfriend all day, haven’t I? Besides, I love that ‘Masterchef’ programme. I wish I could go on it. Or the ‘Bake It’ one. I could watch that all day. There’s ‘Your Restaurant’, too. Imagine having your own restaurant, Dana. It would be amazing!” Shelley looked dreamily out of the window, then she shook her head. “I’d never get picked to go on shows like that, though.”“You might,” Dana retorted. “You won’t know if you don’t try. Just like my blinking skirt!” She shook the bag. Shelley smiled. “But I’d be terrified!” she fretted.“You, terrified? Hardly! You’d be fab. Besides, you don’t have to go on TV to be a chef. Why not just do a course?”“A course! You mean, go to college? Me?”“I am.” It was out before Dana could stop herself this confessing thing was addictive! Shelley gaped at her. “I’m doing accountancy, Shell. I thought, once I qualified, I could sort out the garage’s books and, you know, anyone else’s that needed it. Mad idea, eh?”Shelley picked at her bun for a while but then she looked up again.“No madder than making cakes for a living, I’d say. Certainly no madder than making everyone wear stupid T-shirts. How was that ever going to save the factory?”“At least we tried.”“We did that. But now what?”Dana reached across and pinched a bit of her friend’s lemon cake.“Catering college!”


Carol sat in the garden nursing her cup of tea. Tomorrow she would have to turn off the machines at Cardill’s for the last time ever, and she was dreading it. After nearly 50 years as a specialist sewing unit 16 of them with herself at the helm the dear place would fall silent. It just felt so wrong. She stared into her tea, waiting for the tears, but they didn’t come. Maybe losing Eddie had wrung her dry, or maybe it all just didn’t feel real yet. It would tomorrow, however, that was for sure.She’d been on the Facebook page again tonight. Messages were still flooding in; photos, too. Carol had spent some time reading amazing stories of other people’s experiences. One woman had talked about how losing her biscuit factory had been like having her own home repossessed. Carol could relate to that, though it had been something else the woman had said that had really grabbed her attention. Something about it being “a good thing for me in the long-run”. It had left Carol gritting her teeth and turning on the home computer to try to set up her own Facebook page.


Used to make posts more anonymous, eg a criminal case where you don’t want to expose the actual journalist.