The Three O'Clock Ghost

Chapter 1 - Billy Roller

"Do that again and you'll be in for a hiding".

Charlotte turned to see Mr Frisker's face looming into hers, his voice booming just loudly enough to be heard over the crashing machinery. He was so close that she felt his hot breath spatter her face.

"I'm sorry sir," she mouthed. It was pointless trying to talk. She wouldn't be heard even if he was listening. She didn't dare argue; it was best to keep your head down and get on with your work. That way saved the anger.

To finish his sentence, he banged the side of Charlotte's head with his hand, and for a few moments the numbness in her head drowned out the deafening noise around her.

"Get on with your work you little beggar, or you'll be saying hello to my friend billy roller here!" He pushed the heavy iron stick into her stomach and raised his other hand as if to strike her again.

Charlotte quickly crawled under the machine to retrieve her dropped canvas cloth. She bent double to avoid catching her hair in the fast flying gears, belts and chains. Her friend Sally had been scalped last month and that made Charlotte more cautious than ever.

Sometimes it was hard to remember to stay low, when her exhausted body felt like she had been fed through the spinning mule itself, and she was so hungry that she would have been sick, if she had any food inside her to vomit. She was hot and dirty and wanted to sleep, but didn't dare. She was afraid of Mr Frisker.

Everyone was afraid of Mr Frisker. "Friskers Whiskers" the children called him. Behind his back of course. He was the overseer for Charlotte's floor of the mill and he was treacherous, with his untidy grey moustache and side burns. He still believed in the old ways. Mr Frisker continued to use punishment to control the workers and took every opportunity to fine them for the smallest thing. Anything to save money.

"He enjoys it. He's vicious and cruel and I hate him!" Charlotte's chest was tight as she held in her frustration and tears. She usually talked to herself, it was the only company she had while she worked, and break times were too short to really talk to anybody. "I wish I was at home with Pa."

She looked right and left to see if she could see her little brother. Charlotte was a piecer and Matthew was a scavenger, crawling under machines to collect all the dust and clean oil from the moving mechanisms, and so spent most of his day under the machinery, unlike Charlotte, who bent over the machine tying thousands of threads together until her fingers bled with the friction.

"Matty, where are you?" she was becoming more aggravated. She felt alone despite the other hundreds of people in the room. But they were like ghosts. Empty shells automatically performing the hellish daily routine; tired, hungry, dirty and stunted both in body and mind. They tried not to think as that only served as a reminder of the horror.

And then she saw the familiar flash of his red neckerchief as he emerged from a mule further down the row. She made a quick search for Mr Frisker and could see him threatening one of the women several rows over. She smiled at her brother and mouthed "Friskers Whiskers has just had a go at me." Matthew stood as straight as he could for few seconds, pulled a funny angry face, striking a pose like a boxer ready to knock out Mr Frisker in an instant. Then he grinned and jumped back below the mule as it returned.

"Dear Matty," she sighed. The tension in her chest had gone as she thought about his silly play acting. She didn't know what she would do in this nightmare of a place without him.

* * *

It was six o'clock at long last and as the stream of people trudged passed the clocking machine and spilled out into the freezing November evening, coughing, wheezing, spitting, Charlotte looked for Matty. She could see the clouds of hot breath and heard the low moans as people tried to straighten up and carry their tired empty bodies back home.

Charlotte stood by the mill gates, tapping her clogs to try to keep warm. It was like going out of fire and into ice. She blew her nose to try to clear the dust and plunged her sore hands into her pockets. She knew that in the old days she might have been there four hours longer, and that she would have already spent half of her ten years in this forsaken place.

Eventually Matty appeared with their mother beside him. Ma looked tired and pale as she pulled her shawl over her head and shoulders and folded her arms tightly over her chest. Some of her dark brown hair had come free of the hairpins and straggled loosely beside her frowning face.

"Oh there you are Charlotte. Let's get back to Pa, its too cold to linger here." She gently touched Charlotte's cheek with the back of her hand, and Charlotte could feel the roughness of her dry skin. She watched her frown soften as her brown eyes fixed her gaze for a few moments.

"Did you have a good day Matty?" asked Charlotte.

Matty put on a snooty voice. "Oh yes, a lady of the most noble birth visited my mule and was so impressed by my fine handiwork that she gave me ten pounds, and invited me for cakes and tea at her mansion on Saturday, but I said I couldn't possibly because I would be out riding."

"Matty you really are a tease!" said Ma.

"And then what happened" asked Charlotte excitedly.

"Well, she sobbed at my refusal and made me promise to dine with her on Sunday, so being a gentleman, I said I would!" he held his nose in the air and strutted around like a rich lord, pretending to carry a cane.

Ma and Charlotte laughed. Matty was good at stories, just like Pa. It made the mile or so walk back home pass more quickly and they could almost forget how low they felt.

"And what about you Charlotte?" asked Ma.

"Me? I found an emerald as big as my hand in the corner and I'm having it made into a necklace for you Ma."

"Thank you, I will wear it with my new velvet gown that my dress maker is working on!" laughed Ma, catching her skirt and swishing it as if she was about to dance.