Page 191 of The Armor of Light

‘Leave your job.’

‘I haven’t had it long!’

‘I figure we can sell this machine for a hundred pounds. We’d split the money, half each, so you’d get fifty pounds for a month or so of work, instead of – what do you earn per month now?’

‘Thirty shillings a week.’

‘So a little more than six pounds a month, whereas I’m offering you fifty. And as soon as one such machine is in use, other clothiers will want one just as quickly as they can get it. I propose that you and I go into business together, producing Jacquard looms, and we share the profits equally.’

And after the first machine was made, and all the snags ironed out, further machines would be made more quickly, Kit knew. The money to be made was unimaginable, but that was not what temptedhim. It was the thought of spending all his working hours with Roger. What a delight that would be.

Seeing his hesitation and misinterpreting it, Roger said: ‘Don’t decide right now. Think it over. Talk to your mother about it.’

‘That’s what I’ll do.’ Kit stood up. He would have liked to spend the rest of the afternoon here with Roger, but he was expected at home. ‘They’ll be waiting for me to arrive for dinner.’

Roger looked awkward. ‘Before you go...’

‘Yes?’

‘I find myself short of cash. Would you mind paying for the drinks?’

This was Roger’s weakness. He gambled his money away then had to cadge until more money came in. Kit was pleased to have a way of helping him. He called for the bill, paid it, and added payment for a second tankard for Roger.

‘Jolly nice of you,’ said Roger.

‘Don’t mention it.’

Kit left and hurried home.

He still lived in the same house with Sal, Jarge and Sue, but the place was looking different. They had new curtains at the windows, glasses instead of wooden tumblers, and plenty of coal – all bought with Kit’s wages. As he walked in he smelled the joint of beef that Sal was turning on a spit over the fire.

They were all getting older – something that should never have been a surprise but always was. Sal and Jarge were in their thirties now. Sal was fit and strong, having fully recovered from her ordeal in the hard labour prison. Jarge had the red nose and watery eyes of a man who never said no to a tankard. Sue was Kit’s age, nineteen. She operated a spinning machine at Amos’s mill. She was quite pretty and would probably marry before long, Kit thought. He hoped she would not move too far away. He would miss her.

They all tucked into the beef, still a great luxury. When they sat back, satisfied, Kit told them about Roger’s proposition.

Sue said: ‘What a disappointment for Amos, after he’s promoted you so young.’

‘On the other hand, he’s desperate to get his hands on a Jacquard loom. I think he’ll be pleased.’

‘How do you know there’ll be more than one?’

‘It’ll be like the spinning jenny,’ Kit said confidently. ‘Once it’s arrived, everybody will have to have one. And when everybody’s using it, there’ll be a new invention.’

Jarge said grimly: ‘It will take work away from weavers.’

‘Machines always do,’ said Kit. ‘But you can’t stop them.’

Sue was always cautious. ‘Is Roger reliable, do you think?’

‘No,’ said Kit. ‘But I am. I’ll make sure the machine is built, and that it works as it should.’

‘It’s uncertain,’ she said. ‘I think you should stick with Amos.’

‘Everything’s uncertain,’ Kit shot back. ‘There’s no guarantee that Amos will stay in business. Sometimes mills close.’

‘You must do what you think right,’ she said, wanting to close down the argument. ‘I just think it’s a shame, just when we’re getting comfortable for the first time in our lives, to put it all at risk again.’

Kit turned to Sal. ‘What do you think, Ma?’