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...
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The sunlight poured through the large windows of the long room, at the far end of which sat a man behind a large mahogany desk. He had grey wavy hair and large eyebrows which sat above the saddest pair of eyes Charlotte had ever seen. She thought about Robert's face when he cried and she recognised the same look in this man's face. His skin was pale and as ashen as if he had spent his whole life working in the mill. He looked much older than her own Pa.
The man stood up but remained behind his desk.
"I am George Wilkinson. Hoggarth said you wanted to see me about..." he stopped before saying his son's name and looked down at his desk. Charlotte could feel his suffering and the weight of his grief.
She began the story: "Sir, I do not know how to tell you this but you must believe what I am about to say, even though it will cause you pain and you will not want to believe me."
She paused while Mr Wilkinson sat down again. He asked "Who are you child?"
"My name is Charlotte Hardy sir and I am a piecer at your mill. A little while ago we had our rest time shortened and each time I returned to my mule I saw...something." She paused as she considered how she was going to bring up the ghost.
"Well actually sir, I saw someone."
"Who did you see? Please don't be afraid to tell me." His voice was kind and gave Charlotte confidence.
"Mr Wilkinson, I saw a ghost and at first it said nothing but after a few visits the ghost spoke to me and told me his name was Robert Wilkinson."
"Oh my word! My son! I don't understand!" he put his head in his hands and for a moment Charlotte couldn't see his expression. He seemed to be gasping for air and Charlotte forgot formality and rushed to the other side of the desk, worried he was unwell.
"Are you alright sir?" she asked, putting her hand on his arm.
The touch of this child made him recoil for an instant but as his breathing returned to normal he slowly turned to face Charlotte and looked straight into her eyes. He put his hand on hers and spoke quietly.
"I believe that you are telling me the truth. I can see honesty in you Charlotte. Please, sit down on that chair and continue." He pointed to a chair on the other side of his desk and Charlotte did as he indicated.
"Robert was desperate that I come here to tell you that he has visited the mill every day since..." she hardly dared say the words, "since he died. He said it wasn't an accident sir, but that Mr Frisker was beating a boy and when Robert tried to stop him he pushed him out of the loading door."
"Frisker? Murdered my son? Oh I cannot take this in! There must be an explanation. You must be mistaken." Mr Wilkinson was gasping again.
"I'm afraid not sir. Mr Frisker threatened to throw out the boy and his family if he told the truth. Sir, I have watched Mr Frisker. He is a bad man. He beats us and uses any excuse to fine us. He hits us with billy roller if we work too slowly and he always picks on us children."
"I was unaware of this. I have stayed away from the mill these five years because it is too painful to see the place that took my son's life. My wife died when Robert was a baby and I stay here by myself" He stood up and came around the desk, pulling up a chair to sit closer to Charlotte.
"That's not all Sir. My little brother also works at your mill and Mr Frisker got angry and pushed him under the mule and my poor Matty lost three of his fingers." She stopped as the tears that she had so far managed to keep back, started to fall.
Mr Wilkinson appeared not to know what to do with this upset stranger in his home. Charlotte composed herself and took a couple of deep breaths.
She looked straight into the sad, kind eyes. "Do you believe me Mr Wilkinson?"
He paused before answering quietly, but firmly. "Yes. I do. I do believe you. What happened to your brother?"
"They took him to the infirmary and he is doing well. Ma and Pa and Grandma were worried sick. They don't want to say it but they are fretting about having one less wage coming in, now that Pa cannot work."
"Why can't your father work?" He sounded genuinely concerned.
"He got the mill fever so now he stays at home with Grandma. Only Ma and Matty and me can work now. I know Pa will get better one day. My Pa can do anything."
Mr Wilkinson smiled despite the turmoil of emotions whirling through his mind and body.
"Charlotte¸ I need to go to the mill at once to sort this terrible business. Will you be brave and accompany me? I will need you to stand up and tell others what you have told me."
Mr Wilkinson stood up and pulled a bell that hung behind his desk. Hoggarth entered.
"You rang Sir?"
"Yes. I need the carriage immediately please."
Hoggarth left the room and returned with a long, heavy coat, which he helped Mr Wilkinson to put on. Charlotte said nothing as she watched the two men. The immense relief she felt, that Mr Wilkinson had believed her, was tinged with worry at the thought of what was still to happen.
Even though she would not be alone, she was frightened at the thought of confronting Mr Frisker.
"What will he do?" she wondered. "He might try to kill me too!"
