proper money of your own.’
Hannah pulled a face. ‘Well, Nell might. She’s older than me, but I’ve a long way to go before I’m out of my indenture.’
Dorothy laughed. ‘Don’t you worry about that, luv. Our Ernest has ways and means of getting round that if he finds a really good worker amongst the apprentices.’ She tapped the
side of her nose knowingly. ‘You mark my words.’
The two girls were to find that Dorothy Riley was even more generous in sharing her knowledge and experience with her two young piecers. When the machine was running smoothly, she made them
watch her every move and explained everything she did and everything that happened. Before long, Hannah was working with another woman, Mrs Martin, who was as generous as Dorothy Riley.
‘And when we get a machine of our own,’ Hannah asked Dorothy, ‘might we get paid then?’
‘You should do, but now he’s running the mill, he’s put a stop to all that. Ernest told me himself. He’s mad about it an’ all, but there’s nowt he can
do. Sorry, luv.’ Hannah pulled a face, knowing Dorothy was referring to Mr Edmund. ‘Ah well, what you never have, you never miss, eh?’
Dorothy laughed. ‘So they say, but I’ve never quite believed it myself.’
Hannah had settled in quickly to her new work and, whilst she still sang, no one else could hear her now above the noise of the machinery. Hannah sang on, hopeful every day
that word would come from her mother. But the days and weeks turned into months, and still no answer came to her letters. At last, worried out of her mind and longing to see Rebecca, Hannah made up
her mind to go back to Macclesfield to the workhouse and find out for herself.
‘Oh no, Hannah, don’t do that. You’ll get into such trouble.’ Jane’s eyes filled with tears and she clutched Hannah’s hand. ‘They put children who run
away into that awful room for a week. And they might beat you.’
Hannah wished she had not confided in the younger girl.
‘I know you must want to see your mam,’ Jane went on. ‘But she wouldn’t want you to get into such trouble. You know she wouldn’t.’
Hannah bit her lip. That much was true, but she was so worried about her mother now. Why had she not heard from her? Something must be wrong. After the conversation with Mr Edmund three months
ago now, she’d written four letters, dutifully taking each one to the office and handing it to Mr Roper. She was not to know that, as with the first, moments after she’d left the room
her loving letter lay in shreds in the bottom of Mr Roper’s waste paper basket.
‘I have to go,’ was Hannah’s simple answer to Jane. ‘But forget I ever told you. And don’t tell anyone else. If they ask, you mustn’t tell them
anything.’
Miserably the younger girl nodded. ‘I wish you hadn’t told me,’ she whispered.
So do I , Hannah thought, and vowed not to tell anyone else.
Eleven
‘Coming for a walk this afternoon?’ Luke asked her as the apprentices trooped back from the schoolroom one Sunday morning. The service was not just for the
apprentices, but for the whole village. Sometimes a man who lived in the village led the worship, and sometimes they had a visiting preacher. Hannah’s favourite was the local doctor who lived
in the next village. Dr Barnes was a portly figure with a round, red, beaming face and bushy side-whiskers. He was a benevolent preacher, gently exhorting his congregation to try to lead a
blameless life. He didn’t make Hannah feel sinful by just being alive like some of the other preachers did, thumping poor Mr Jessop’s desk and shouting at the cowering youngsters in a
thunderous voice that echoed to the rafters.
‘I’d like to, Luke,’ Hannah said, ‘but I’ve got something else I have to do this afternoon.’
‘What?’
She grinned at him. ‘Never you mind.’
‘I do mind. I thought you was my girl. You meeting some other feller, then? It’s that Joe, I bet.’ His
Hannah pulled a face. ‘Well, Nell might. She’s older than me, but I’ve a long way to go before I’m out of my indenture.’
Dorothy laughed. ‘Don’t you worry about that, luv. Our Ernest has ways and means of getting round that if he finds a really good worker amongst the apprentices.’ She tapped the
side of her nose knowingly. ‘You mark my words.’
The two girls were to find that Dorothy Riley was even more generous in sharing her knowledge and experience with her two young piecers. When the machine was running smoothly, she made them
watch her every move and explained everything she did and everything that happened. Before long, Hannah was working with another woman, Mrs Martin, who was as generous as Dorothy Riley.
‘And when we get a machine of our own,’ Hannah asked Dorothy, ‘might we get paid then?’
‘You should do, but now he’s running the mill, he’s put a stop to all that. Ernest told me himself. He’s mad about it an’ all, but there’s nowt he can
do. Sorry, luv.’ Hannah pulled a face, knowing Dorothy was referring to Mr Edmund. ‘Ah well, what you never have, you never miss, eh?’
Dorothy laughed. ‘So they say, but I’ve never quite believed it myself.’
Hannah had settled in quickly to her new work and, whilst she still sang, no one else could hear her now above the noise of the machinery. Hannah sang on, hopeful every day
that word would come from her mother. But the days and weeks turned into months, and still no answer came to her letters. At last, worried out of her mind and longing to see Rebecca, Hannah made up
her mind to go back to Macclesfield to the workhouse and find out for herself.
‘Oh no, Hannah, don’t do that. You’ll get into such trouble.’ Jane’s eyes filled with tears and she clutched Hannah’s hand. ‘They put children who run
away into that awful room for a week. And they might beat you.’
Hannah wished she had not confided in the younger girl.
‘I know you must want to see your mam,’ Jane went on. ‘But she wouldn’t want you to get into such trouble. You know she wouldn’t.’
Hannah bit her lip. That much was true, but she was so worried about her mother now. Why had she not heard from her? Something must be wrong. After the conversation with Mr Edmund three months
ago now, she’d written four letters, dutifully taking each one to the office and handing it to Mr Roper. She was not to know that, as with the first, moments after she’d left the room
her loving letter lay in shreds in the bottom of Mr Roper’s waste paper basket.
‘I have to go,’ was Hannah’s simple answer to Jane. ‘But forget I ever told you. And don’t tell anyone else. If they ask, you mustn’t tell them
anything.’
Miserably the younger girl nodded. ‘I wish you hadn’t told me,’ she whispered.
So do I , Hannah thought, and vowed not to tell anyone else.
Eleven
‘Coming for a walk this afternoon?’ Luke asked her as the apprentices trooped back from the schoolroom one Sunday morning. The service was not just for the
apprentices, but for the whole village. Sometimes a man who lived in the village led the worship, and sometimes they had a visiting preacher. Hannah’s favourite was the local doctor who lived
in the next village. Dr Barnes was a portly figure with a round, red, beaming face and bushy side-whiskers. He was a benevolent preacher, gently exhorting his congregation to try to lead a
blameless life. He didn’t make Hannah feel sinful by just being alive like some of the other preachers did, thumping poor Mr Jessop’s desk and shouting at the cowering youngsters in a
thunderous voice that echoed to the rafters.
‘I’d like to, Luke,’ Hannah said, ‘but I’ve got something else I have to do this afternoon.’
‘What?’
She grinned at him. ‘Never you mind.’
‘I do mind. I thought you was my girl. You meeting some other feller, then? It’s that Joe, I bet.’ His
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