Page 129 of The Armor of Light

‘You can’t see anything, the place is shut up.’

‘Then why are you going?’

Sal sighed the way she always did when he was right and she was wrong. ‘Do as you’re told and go to Sunday school.’

He and Sue left, but as soon as they were out of sight of the house Kit said: ‘Let’s follow them.’

Sue was not as bold as Kit. ‘We’d get into trouble.’

‘I don’t care.’

‘Well, I’m going to Sunday school.’

‘Goodbye, then.’

He watched the house from the corner, hid when the adults came out, and then walked a long way behind them, knowing roughly where they were headed. Many families strolled out into the countryside for fresh air on Sunday afternoons, so he was not conspicuous. The weather was cool, but the sun broke cheerfully through the clouds now and again, a reminder that summer was on the way.

The mills were silent, and in the Sunday quiet Kit could hear birdsong, the wind in the trees, and even the rush of the river.

On the site of the old piggery some builders were playing a football match with improvised goals, while others looked on. Kit saw Sal speak to one with a friendly face. He guessed she was telling him she just wanted to look around. The man shrugged, as if it did not matter.

The new mill was long and narrow, and made of the same stone as the cathedral. Kit watched from a distance as the grown-ups walked all the way around the building, looking in through the windows.

Kit guessed they wanted to go inside. So did he. But it seemed the doors were locked, and the ground-floor windows were shut. They all looked up: there were windows open on the upstairs floor. Kit heard Jarge say: ‘I think I saw a ladder at the back.’

They went around the building to the side farthest from the football game. A ladder lay on the ground, its rungs stained withwhitewash. Jarge picked it up and leaned it against the wall. It reached to the upstairs windows. He climbed up, and Sal stood on the bottom rung to steady the ladder.

Jarge peered through the window for a few moments, then said: ‘Well, I’m damned.’

Sal said impatiently: ‘What can you see?’

‘Looms. So many, I can’t count them.’

‘Can you get inside?’

‘The window opening is too small – I can’t get through there.’

Kit stepped out from behind a stack of timber. ‘I could squeeze through,’ he said.

Sal said: ‘You naughty boy! You’re supposed to be at Sunday school!’

Jarge said: ‘He could get in, though. Then he could open a door for us.’

‘I should spank him,’ she said.

Jarge came down. ‘Go on, then, Kit,’ he said. ‘I’ll steady the ladder.’

Kit went up and scrambled through the window. Inside he stood upright and looked around in amazement. He had never seen so many looms in one place. He wanted to figure out how they worked, but he knew he should let the grown-ups in first. He ran down the stairs and found a door that was bolted on the inside but not locked with a key. He opened up, stood aside for Jarge and Sal to come in, then closed the door quickly as soon as they were inside.

The steam engine was here on the ground floor.

Kit studied it, awestruck by its size and evident power. He identified the enormous furnace, and the boiler on top where the water would be turned to steam. A pipe took the hot steam into a cylinder. Obviously something inside the cylinder went up and down, for the top of the cylinder was connected to one end of a beam that looked like a giant scale for weighing things. As this end of the beam rose and fell, the other end would fall and rise, and in doing so turn a giant wheel.

From then on it worked like a waterwheel, he supposed.

The amazing part was that the steam was strong enough to move the heavy metal-and-wood mechanism.

Sal and Jarge went up the stairs, and Kit followed. There were four rows of looms on the upper floor, all gleaming new, with no yarn loaded yet. The steam engine must spin the big shaft on the ceiling, Kit figured; and the shaft was connected to each loom by drive belts.