Cat's Cradle by Julia Golding Page A

interrogation.
    â€˜What’s your name?’ she asked, deftly diverting him from our little quarrel.
    He seemed to respond well to her quietly spoken question and gave her a smile. ‘Jamie Kelly, miss. And yers?’
    Bridgit swiftly introduced us.
    â€˜Pleased to meet ye, Miss O’Riley.’ He removed his cap then clamped it back on his head. ‘I’m always happy to be o’ service to a bonny lass.’
    â€˜Why, thank you, Mr Kelly.’ Bridgit laughed at his compliment. He blushed, the redness creeping up his cheeks to the roots of his dark copper hair. ‘And what do you do at the mill?’
    â€˜Faither’s a mechanic; he looks after MillNumber Two. It’s a very important position.’ He tucked his thumbs in the pocket of his waistcoat and swaggered a little. I hid a smile.
    â€˜I do not doubt it,’ Bridgit assured him. ‘And you? Do you work in the mill?’
    He shook his head. ‘Nae, I go to the mill day-school. Faither wants me to be a mechanic wi’ him so I need schooling, he says.’
    I wrinkled my nose in doubt. ‘So why aren’t you there now, Master Kelly?’
    â€˜We had a test so I decided to troon school the day.’ He met my eye in a challenge, daring me to criticize. ‘And if ye tell my faither or the dominie I’ll never forgive ye.’ Perhaps he wasn’t as devoted a scholar as his appearance suggested.
    I waved his threat away. ‘If you play truant, Jamie Kelly, that’s your affair. Miss O’Riley and I couldn’t care less.’
    We walked on for at least a mile until we reached the top of a hill overlooking a wooded river valley. The air was soft with misty rain, like a gauze curtain over a stage backdrop.
    â€˜Take a keek o’ that, Miss O’Riley.’ Jamieaddressed himself to my companion; it appeared he had given me up as a bad lot. ‘That’s what ye came all this way to see.’
    â€˜Keek?’ I snorted.
    â€˜That means “look”, Miss Priss,’ Jamie sneered.
    Down below we could make out the dark slate roofs of buildings snaking along the edge of the riverbank, somewhat like the warehouses on the Thames. Nearest the water stood a vast manufactory, walls pierced by many windows in six rows. It struck me as outlandish to see such a modern building of regular lines set down in this once Arcadian spot, like a giant child’s playbricks dropped out of the sky. Even from our bird’s-eye view, I could hear the rumble and clank of machinery. Set a little higher up the slope were a couple of fine houses and several long rows of cottages. I could just glimpse the gardens, bright with autumn flowers and vegetables, behind the workers’ homes. Everything looked neat and gave the impression of a well-ordered enterprise, but for the moment I could see no workers.
    â€˜Where is everyone?’ Bridgit asked, herthoughts travelling a similar path to mine.
    â€˜They willna be out till seven. Then ye’ll see them.’
    As the working day was far from over, it seemed that we would have a chance to apply to the owner today. I fingered my letter of recommendation tucked in my pocket.
    â€˜Where might I find Mr Dale?’ I asked Jamie.
    â€˜Mr Dale, is it?’ Jamie laughed. ‘The maister doesna want to be fashed wi’ the likes of ye. Ye go see the overseer if ye want work.’
    â€˜No, I want to see Mr Dale himself. I have a letter for him.’
    â€˜Ye think me a gowk? A snippie lass wi’ a letter for the maister – what clamjamphry is that!’
    I was beginning rather to enjoy his colourful words, particularly since I knew he would have to eat them all when I produced the lawyer’s recommendation.
    â€˜Well, Master Kelly, this snippie lass intends to see the maister, gowk-laddie or no. Where is he?’
    Jamie bristled at my turning of his own insultsback on him. ‘This is something I must see. This