The Three O'Clock Ghost

Chapter 5 - The Boy

The next day, at three o'clock, as Charlotte returned after her break, she felt nervous. Was the boy going to be there again? The inquisitive part of her wanted to see him again, but the scared part of her wished that he would not come back.

At home last night, she had said nothing. She didn't know why but Charlotte wanted to keep it to herself. For now, at least. Her Pa, Ma and Grandma had each asked her what the matter was for they thought her unusually quiet. Ma said she must be sickening for something, so Grandma made her have a spoonful of cod liver oil. That had actually made Charlotte feel unwell, but she tried to keep cheerful to stop the concerned questions. She had hardly slept, as she ran through the events in her mind again and again.

But now, as Charlotte approached her mule, slowly, with her eyes downward, she hardly dare to look up.

"Be brave you ninny!" she scolded herself. She held her breath and slowly raised her eyes.

He was there.

Exactly as the day before. Once again, they regarded each other. Once again, the boy raised his right arm and pointed towards the loading door, and then slowly moved to point to some unknown thing. Once again, Charlotte turned to look at the familiar scene, which was just as the day before, only this time Mr Frisker was inspecting one of the machines.

The boy pointed at Charlotte in exactly the same way as yesterday. But this time he did not close his eyes. He put his forefinger to his own chest, and furrowed his brow as he mouthed something.

Charlotte was excellent at lip-reading; she had to be amongst the din of the mill.

"You want my help?" she mouthed back.

The boy nodded.

"Help me!" he mouthed.

"But, but what can I do? Who are you?"

"Help me!" he mouthed again as he closed his eyes and that pleading expression of utter despair took over his face again.

He was gone.

Charlotte was frustrated. "How on earth am I meant to help him if he won't tell me what I'm supposed to do?" she banged her clenched fist down onto her machine and then she realised she had an audience.

The first blow was hard enough but the second made her fall to her knees.

"I am sorry sir! So sorry, I don't know what came over me!"

"I know what'll come over you if you do that again!" mouthed Mr Frisker as he waved the iron stick in front of her face to ensure she understood his meaning.

Charlotte bent over her machine and hurriedly caught up the threads. It was harder now with the throbbing pain in her back.

"I mustn't let him see me cry," she commanded herself, "he cannot get the better of me! I won't allow it!" It was only when he was safely out of sight that she allowed the hot tears to stream down her cheeks.

The rest of the day was like a dream for Charlotte. She was already tired from the lack of sleep, and with the hard work and added pain in her back, she was thoroughly exhausted by the time six o'clock finally arrived.

"You're very quiet sweetheart," said Ma in a concerned voice as they walked home.

"I think I'll go straight to bed Ma, I'm just tired, that's all."

"I'm worried about you Charlotte. Have you got a fever?" and Ma put her cold hand on Charlotte's forehead.

"You seem alright darling but you are pale and quiet, and it's not like you."

"Has Friskers Whiskers been on at you again?" asked Matty. "Because if he has I'll swing for him," and he kicked a stone, doubtless imagining it was aimed at Mr Frisker.

"No, no, it's nothing," Charlotte said softly. She didn't want them to start fussing and see the bruising that had come out on her back.

Charlotte ate her supper to keep everyone from bothering and worrying, and went to bed. She was glad to be alone for once, and when Matty came to bed, she pretended to be asleep. She was tired of questions. She still had so many in her head. She was disturbed and nothing was relieving her.

If the boy was indeed the ghost in Pa's story, then he must have a message.

"And if he does have a message for me, what is it?"