Charlotte Hardy is an apparently ordinary ten year old girl, working in a cotton mill in Victorian Britain.
But after a mysterious visitor appears at her machine, she soon proves that she is no ordinary ten year old.
Charlotte is about to be throw...
By now the mornings were a little lighter and the mill a little less gloomy with the crisp spring light. The days were still as long and hard, and Mr Frisker's attitude was certainly not lightened by the watery sunshine outside.
That morning, as each worker clocked in for their shift, one of the overseers told them that the afternoon break would now be shortened to fifteen minutes instead of twenty as they had extra orders to fulfil. Mr Frisker stood by, like a guard dog waiting to snarl and bite at anyone who questioned the new rule.
No-one dared to complain or they would be fined for something even if they hadn't done it, like wasting oil or working too slowly, as a way of getting back at them. Even worse, they would get a beating for their protest. Consequently, the new rule was adopted, uncomplainingly by everyone, as they silently gave up five minutes of their respite each day.
So it was that Charlotte saw him. As the workers shuffled back after their break at three o'clock instead of five past, something caught her eye.
In the dim corner behind Charlotte's mule at the far end of the room, something moved.
Charlotte slowly turned, expecting to see mice, or pigeons, but she saw a figure.
Her stomach leapt and she sharply turned her body back round to face her machine. Her pulse had quickened and she felt a lump in her throat.
"Charlotte. Calm yourself. Silly girl. Take control" and she slowly twisted herself back around to face the corner, hoping to see nothing.
The figure was still there. Charlotte gulped. No-one else seemed to have noticed and everything carried on about her as usual.
It was a boy. Shorter than Charlotte, and grey. Faint and grey. But his clothes were not dirty and torn, nor did he have clogs. As Charlotte took in this apparition, she noticed his fine woollen cap and jacket, his short trousers and his leather shoes. He wasn't solid and he wasn't transparent. He was still but not frozen. His face held no expression. His eyes looked empty.
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Each stood silently, still, eyeing the other. Then the boy lifted his right arm, pointed towards the loading door at the far end of the room, slowly moved his raised arm back towards Charlotte, stopping part of the way to point at something else. Charlotte turned but saw only the usual scene: row upon row of machines, stooping workers, and Mr Frisker doing his regular routine of threatening some unfortunate person.
Charlotte turned back towards the boy and by now he was pointing at her. This made Charlotte's stomach leap again. "Me?" she mouthed. "I don't understand," and then the boy put down his arm and stood motionless again. He closed his eyes and Charlotte saw a look of utter sadness and pain that made her stomach groan with his agony.
"Oh you poor thing! What is it?" She stepped forward to comfort the poor creature, as she would have done if Matty had been standing there, but the boy was gone. He just disappeared like a flame being blown out.
Charlotte turned back to her machine and carried on her work, pretending that nothing had happened. But inside her mind was racing with a thousand questions, her pulse was hammering her head and, as her fingers worked automatically, she blindly carried on her labour as she searched for an explanation.
"Who is he? Is it Pa's ghost? What does he want? Why did he look so sad? Why did he come to me and why on earth was he pointing at me? Oh and will he come back!"
She tried to get a glimpse of Matty for reassurance but he was out of sight. So Charlotte had to keep on going, alone with her questions.
