14th December

Sorry about the rush off, when Tom finally fell asleep I was already very tired. I’ve heard tale at work that some houses are big enough for one room each! I don’t think it’s true, there’s no way a house could be that big.

Me, Jane and Millie walk to work together, It’s a long trek but we have to make it.

When we get to work, Jane goes over with the other sweeps; they clean the factory chimneys when they’re not being used. She used to tie the threads with me, but, about two months ago, she didn’t get out the way of the machine in time. She didn’t lose her hand like poor Jack Murphy, but it was sufficiently mangled, so she sweeps now.

It’s usually the first few weeks that injuries happen; it’s hard to know the timings of the machine. Luckily, Millie doesn’t need to worry about that, as long as she keeps her head down - and every other part of her body. She goes under the spinning machine, picking up loose bits of wool. Providing she keeps as flat as a shoe sole, she’ll be alright.

When we leave, it’s always dark. I haven’t seen pure daylight in so long. I used to wonder whether Mr. Finnfit keeps us longer than sixteen hours, sometimes, I still do.

          I came home in time to see Charlotte come out of the bath. She and Robert are Mud larks, so they always smell quite bad, since there job is to fish things out of the mud by the Thames. All the sewers empty into the Thames, so...

I wonder what it’s like, having a toilet. We just have a hole in the ground. It smells worse than the twins.

Lulu was crying at the table; she’s fourteen and old enough to work in the matchstick factory and the chemicals give her terrible tooth ache. I hope she doesn’t lose her teeth because she’s such a pretty little thing and the pink gums might keep men’s attention instead of her lovely blue eyes.

Mind you, Ma says you don’t want some types of men looking at you, if that happens, she says, you’ll end up like Maria Wilson down the road. Working on the corners, whatever that means.

I like Maria, she’s not that much older than Polly, eighteen maybe? But she already has two children and is wearing blouses so low it... well I would be embarrassed. When I told her this her grouchy mother stopped muttering in French and said, “She should be too, it’s a disgrace,” in her toady voice, to which Maria replied, “I don’t see you moving your buttocks to help finances,” That’s when Annabella rose out of her seat and jabbed her daughter in the chest, “No, but I know yours is moving far to much.”

Lord knows what they’re talking about.