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Authors: Margaret Dickinson
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lies about me again. I don’t tell
tales on others and I always tell the truth about meself. If it’d been me that’d sorted that cotton, I’d’ve owned up.’
Fear flickered in Millie’s eyes. ‘Le’ go, you’re hurting my arm. I’ll tell—’
‘No, you won’t. You hear me. You won’t tell any more tales about me – or anyone else – and if I hear you have . . .’ Her grip tightened until the girl cried
out in pain. Then Hannah released her grasp, flinging Millie away from her. ‘If it’s anyone slacking around here, then it’s you.’
Hannah returned to her work. Not another word passed between them for the rest of the day. And Hannah was too angry to sing.
Sunday was the only day of the week when the mill workers were allowed any time off. The adults who worked there mostly lived locally and had the day to be with their families.
They were expected to attend the Methodist service held in the schoolroom at the mill, but afterwards there was time for the younger men and women to go courting.
The apprentices, though, were still under Mr and Mrs Bramwell’s authority. They too had to attend the morning service, but afterwards there was more schooling and household tasks for them.
Pauper apprentices, it seemed, had no free time at all. Even in the workhouse, Hannah thought truculently, there had been exercise time. Though they were not allowed outside the confines of the
workhouse walls without permission from the master or the matron, at least all the inmates went out each day into the fresh air to walk, to chat or just to sit in the sun on warm days.
‘You know you asked me to go walking with you on Sunday afternoon?’ Hannah said to Joe as they fell into step on their way to work the following morning.
Joe grinned at her. ‘Yeah.’
‘Well – how? Or when? We don’t seem to be given any time off.’
Joe shrugged. ‘We just go.’
‘And end up in the punishment room when we get back, I suppose?’ Hannah had spent an uncomfortable night there. Given no supper, she had lain on the bare floor with only one blanket
to wrap herself in. She had hardly slept and this morning she was both tired and ravenously hungry.
‘We can either sneak off after the service – there’s an hour or so before dinner – or we can go after.’
Hannah pulled a face. ‘Mrs Bramwell says she teaches the girls sewing on a Sunday afternoon.’
He grinned. ‘And that’s going to stop you?’
Hannah laughed. ‘Not really, no. I’ll risk it.’
‘Tell you what, we’ll just have a short walk between chapel and dinner.’ He winked at her. ‘Don’t want you moving into the punishment room permanently.’
Hannah pulled a face. ‘Me neither.’
Eight
‘I don’t want to come, Hannah,’ Jane said, when told of the proposed outing with Joe Hughes as they came out of the schoolroom after the service on the
first Sunday morning. ‘I’m so tired I could cry.’ Indeed, tears of exhaustion filled the young girl’s eyes. ‘I just want to go home and sleep.’
‘I know.’ Hannah hugged her. ‘You go on then. I’ll wake you up for dinner when I get back.’
‘Where are you going?’ Jane asked worriedly. ‘You’ll be in trouble again.’
‘Only for a little walk. Joe’s promised to show me the waterfall behind the mill.’
Jane returned her hug fiercely. ‘You don’t mind me not coming,’ she said, her voice muffled against Hannah’s shoulder.
‘’Course not.’
They pulled apart and smiled at each other. ‘Besides,’ Jane said, coyly, ‘I think that Joe Hughes wants you to himself.’
‘Eh?’ Hannah was startled, then she laughed. ‘Don’t be silly.’
‘I’m not.’ Jane yawned, already thinking of their bed in the dormitory with longing. ‘I reckon he likes you.’
‘Don’t be daft, he . . .’ Hannah started to say, but Jane was already walking away from her, too tired to stand talking any longer.
‘There you are!’ Joe came towards her, walking with a
tales on others and I always tell the truth about meself. If it’d been me that’d sorted that cotton, I’d’ve owned up.’
Fear flickered in Millie’s eyes. ‘Le’ go, you’re hurting my arm. I’ll tell—’
‘No, you won’t. You hear me. You won’t tell any more tales about me – or anyone else – and if I hear you have . . .’ Her grip tightened until the girl cried
out in pain. Then Hannah released her grasp, flinging Millie away from her. ‘If it’s anyone slacking around here, then it’s you.’
Hannah returned to her work. Not another word passed between them for the rest of the day. And Hannah was too angry to sing.
Sunday was the only day of the week when the mill workers were allowed any time off. The adults who worked there mostly lived locally and had the day to be with their families.
They were expected to attend the Methodist service held in the schoolroom at the mill, but afterwards there was time for the younger men and women to go courting.
The apprentices, though, were still under Mr and Mrs Bramwell’s authority. They too had to attend the morning service, but afterwards there was more schooling and household tasks for them.
Pauper apprentices, it seemed, had no free time at all. Even in the workhouse, Hannah thought truculently, there had been exercise time. Though they were not allowed outside the confines of the
workhouse walls without permission from the master or the matron, at least all the inmates went out each day into the fresh air to walk, to chat or just to sit in the sun on warm days.
‘You know you asked me to go walking with you on Sunday afternoon?’ Hannah said to Joe as they fell into step on their way to work the following morning.
Joe grinned at her. ‘Yeah.’
‘Well – how? Or when? We don’t seem to be given any time off.’
Joe shrugged. ‘We just go.’
‘And end up in the punishment room when we get back, I suppose?’ Hannah had spent an uncomfortable night there. Given no supper, she had lain on the bare floor with only one blanket
to wrap herself in. She had hardly slept and this morning she was both tired and ravenously hungry.
‘We can either sneak off after the service – there’s an hour or so before dinner – or we can go after.’
Hannah pulled a face. ‘Mrs Bramwell says she teaches the girls sewing on a Sunday afternoon.’
He grinned. ‘And that’s going to stop you?’
Hannah laughed. ‘Not really, no. I’ll risk it.’
‘Tell you what, we’ll just have a short walk between chapel and dinner.’ He winked at her. ‘Don’t want you moving into the punishment room permanently.’
Hannah pulled a face. ‘Me neither.’
Eight
‘I don’t want to come, Hannah,’ Jane said, when told of the proposed outing with Joe Hughes as they came out of the schoolroom after the service on the
first Sunday morning. ‘I’m so tired I could cry.’ Indeed, tears of exhaustion filled the young girl’s eyes. ‘I just want to go home and sleep.’
‘I know.’ Hannah hugged her. ‘You go on then. I’ll wake you up for dinner when I get back.’
‘Where are you going?’ Jane asked worriedly. ‘You’ll be in trouble again.’
‘Only for a little walk. Joe’s promised to show me the waterfall behind the mill.’
Jane returned her hug fiercely. ‘You don’t mind me not coming,’ she said, her voice muffled against Hannah’s shoulder.
‘’Course not.’
They pulled apart and smiled at each other. ‘Besides,’ Jane said, coyly, ‘I think that Joe Hughes wants you to himself.’
‘Eh?’ Hannah was startled, then she laughed. ‘Don’t be silly.’
‘I’m not.’ Jane yawned, already thinking of their bed in the dormitory with longing. ‘I reckon he likes you.’
‘Don’t be daft, he . . .’ Hannah started to say, but Jane was already walking away from her, too tired to stand talking any longer.
‘There you are!’ Joe came towards her, walking with a
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