I see much more of them now, being older, it fianlly feels as though I am being accepted into the family! After spending so much time isolated from these people, my family, in order to prepare myself for the real world and the responsabilities which come with belonging to a family with such power. I am quickly learning that we, as women, are not allowed to speak our minds we may only sit there and look pretty, provide entertainment to the men whom supposedly love us! As greatful as I am for the life that I am leading I fear that this is not the person I wish to be, however these thoughts can remain only thoughts. It makes me wonder if the isolation as a child was only there to prepare me for the isolation I would feel as the young woman I am today.

I get so cold and I'm so hungry too. We were promised to be well fed and paid, we were going to be made into fine young ladies and gentlemen. This was a lie and a con. It was their way of getting us in and it worked. We all thought that maybe it wasn't going to be so bad and scary coming somewhere like this, maybe we'd get nice, even better lives out of it. It feels like there's no hope of this now, each day is the same, except it gets a little bit worse every day. It's a sad and dull life, I just want to leave.

• Child working in cotton mills

Every day is the same. I wake up, go to work and go home to
my attic and sleep. I get ill from work, cramped into small pollution filled
spaces. I struggle to get up in the morning with the knowledge that I will get
hurled with abuse from the managers for not doing my job well enough. The pay
isn’t even worth it. I get payed not even enough money to eat for the day.
Surely this isn’t fair! I’m putting my life at risk every day at work with all
my colleagues around my dying from accidents or illness. I don’t think I will
last much longer working here. A young child like me should not have to wake up
every morning wondering if I’m going to die at work that day. I will not be
able to support my family anymore if that does happen. And seeing my family
starving will be something not worth losing my life for. I’m losing sleep and I
have no friends thanks to the great load of work in which I am given every day.
I am envious of every child who gets to go to school and make friends. I am
alone.

I am to inherit the family monopoly
following the expiration of my dear father. Although I have not yet visited any
of the mills he has acquired over the course of his life, I hold good
faith that they operate to the upmost efficiency under the wise management of
our lesser employees. I endeavour to liaise with father’s associates, though I fear
they should shun my lack of experience. Despite this, my father’s strong
character, which the Lord doth now protect, may quash their reasoning to see me
as a lesser member of the board – I respectfully pay their wages, so they shall
respectfully accept me into the business. I desire not to leave the estate,
with its bright welcoming airs, as I have been well-informed of the oppressive ashen
complexion of the city sky. Such is the toxicity, our dear Doctor attributes
the decline in my father’s health and his resulting passing to that vile smog
which doth stain the very cloth we produce. I disdainfully consider the
presence of my workers; I bear not their complaining as it is by individual merit
that better conditions for one’s family are achieved – furthermore I consider
it their sordid choice to elope from the Rolling Meadows and fertile fields in
favour of red brick and industrial squalor.

It’s my 5^th birthday tomorrow. Mums been crying a
lot again recently, it’s the same as when my brother turned 5. I heard her
telling my brother he wasn’t allowed to tell me what it’s like to work in the
factories, I don’t think she wants me to be scared. He told me. I’ve heard
about what I have to do, crawling into machines pulling wool out of them or
something. the conditions of the factory, how hot it is and dirty. But that’s not
what I’m worried about. I haven’t seen Tommy in weeks after he went to work in
the factories. I thought I’d see him again if I got to work with him but mum
said I won’t. She told me there’d been an accident and Tommy wasn’t careful
enough. She seems upset about it for some reason but I’ll look out for Tommy,
he’s always messing around.

Dad seems happy though, he says it’s good I’m working and we
need more money. 15p a week will do us good he says. That’s how it works, all
the boys go to work when they turn 5.

My mum keeps telling me to be careful and do as I’m told. She’s
trying to prepare me for something without saying what she’s trying to prepare
me for. But I know what I’m going into. She thinks because I’m young I don’t
remember the days my brother used to come home and cry. I saw the red marks on
his back from the leather strap, the hole in his ear from the time he tried to
leave.

I’m scared. But I have no choice, we need the money.

Today I heard one of the factory owner’s children talking
about playing something called ‘the piano’. I don’t really know what that is,
do you? I tried to stay and listen to him but when his dad saw me he hit me for
‘being an earwig’. I know I shouldn’t have, but I was just curious. Now I have
a lashing across my back and I’m no closer to knowing what this mysterious ‘game’
is all about.

I’ve been at work for 15 hours today, it gets really tiring
running under the cotton machines grabbing the leftover product day in and day
out. Little Johnny from next door lost him arm today. That’s the third arm this
week already! He isn’t very quick you see, you have to be in and out from under
the machine before the arm swings back down…or else. Everyone says I’m really
good at it, but I have been doing it since I was three so I should be by now!
Four years, as soon as I could walk I was in the factory. Soon enough, I’ll be
off to work with my daddy, mining for coal! That should be fun.

I’d soon rather be at school though. I always hear the posh
children saying how they are so fed up of it, but I’d give anything to be able
to go to school. I want to be a lawyer, but I know that won’t ever happen. I
have to be grateful though, my mummy and daddy work very hard. I just wish I could
live in a big house that isn’t shared with four other families. I wish that I could
go to school every day instead of work. I wish I could have a nice hot dinner every
day, instead of the scraps from the night before. I wish…oh what’s the point,
it never comes true anyway! I wished that my little sister would get well soon,
I even prayed to God every night for a whole month! But still, she died. I prayed
and I wished until I couldn’t anymore but they never got answered. They never
do. She was only two. That’s the third sibling of mine that’s passed away.

Today Mary turned 5 but it’s not a day for celebrating. We
were out in the ally and the family we share the house with gave some terrible
news. Their son, Byron lost both his arms at the cotton mill and passed away,
he was 5 also. I’m very hesitant to send Mary there to work with such a high
number of deaths, but we are really struggling to survive at the minute, I have
gone without food for 2 nights running now so that everyone else can eat. I
have no choice but to send her there, this family needs all the helping hands
we can get in order to earn money and survive

School feels drab nowadays.

I remember being ever so excited on the first day, thinking about how Sally
Harper from down the street and I would frolic in the grounds as though no one
was watching, being able to drink our cartons of milk every other Wednesday and
learn in each other’s company . However, those dreams wore away as soon as I
got here. Upon arrival I remember the atmosphere being stiff, the kind of
atmosphere that if you put a foot wrong you knew the consequences wouldn’t be
light. A sea of well covered young girls flooded through a door with “GIRLS”
hung above it. Why only girls? I thought.

Following the swarm I found myself in a deep corridor lined with oak doors and
glossy bricks, the only source of light being a widow at the far end and the
door from which I had entered. I observed everyone’s faces and noted that they
all looked as though their hopes had been dampened too. Reaching into my
satchel I fished out the letter that had been sent to the house. It read:

“Your child has been accepted into
Hethersham’s School for Youths. If you still wish for your child to attend
regular lessons at the academy you must return this slip with the required
details to the school. On the 21th on January your child will be expected to
wear the uniform provided (at a small cost), any further requirements shall be
listed on the back. Upon arrival on this date your child shall arrive at The
Great Hall along with their fellow students and await further instruction.
Regards, Hethersham’s School for Youths.”Finding the information I was looking for I scoured the corridor for some
hint of direction for The Great Hall. Continuing down the hall I noticed a
crowd gathered in front of a pair of ginormous oak doors accompanied by a roar
of voices.

10 minutes later, after being scorned for the noise and lack of organisation,
we were filed into The Great Hall.