Girl of Shadows by Deborah Challinor

be seen staring down from the windows. It was past midday so Sunday services and dinner would be over by now. Neither the matron, Mrs Ann Gordon, nor her assistant, Mrs Letitia Dick, were anywhere to be seen, which was fortunate as Friday and Harrie were smuggling in a large bag of contraband.
    Gladys returned minutes later accompanied by Janie Braine carrying baby Charlotte on her hip and leading her daughter Rosie, a toddler, by the hand. Janie wore the regulation Factory skirt and blouse, plus a bright blue waistcoat, a red kerchief at her throat, black boots and a straw bonnet that made her large pink ears stick out even more than they normally did. Her light brown hair was pulled back in a tidy bun and her good eye was healthy and bright, though the left one, as usual, stared forwards sightlessly. Behind her trailed a tall and very solidly built girl.
    Janie embraced Harrie and Friday and presented both babies for kisses.
    ‘Afternoon, Pearl,’ Friday said to the big girl.
    Pearl nodded pleasantly.
    Gladys said, ‘Visitors’ room’s empty.’
    The group trudged across the yard and settled themselves in the airless visitors’ room, Charlotte on Harrie’s knee and Rosie on Friday’s, though Pearl stayed outside, sitting on the step, smoking her pipe.
    ‘Have they been well?’ Harrie asked. ‘Have you?’
    ‘We been good, haven’t we, chickens?’ Janie smiled fondly at the children. ‘Rosie fell down the other day,’ she said, indicating a scab on the toddler’s knee, ‘but she’ll mend.’
    ‘No coughs or nasty rashes, no runny bottoms?’ Harrie persisted.
    ‘For God’s sake, Harrie,’ Friday said, ‘Janie’s a grown woman. Don’t talk to her like she’s a child. Runny bottoms! It’s called the shits.’
    ‘No, none of that,’ Janie confirmed. ‘They been good. Well, Charlotte had a touch of the runs a week ago but it didn’t last long. Everyone did. Hospital’s full of folk with dysentery at the moment.’
    Friday handed over the cloth bag packed with supplies: Janie opened it and looked inside.
    ‘Oooh, lovely. I’m nearly out of decent clouts.’
    There was also clothing for the girls made by Harrie, and soap and skin cream, and the nipple salve and bottles of tonic Janie had asked for in her letter as she was still breast-feeding both children, plus playing cards and trinkets for trading, plenty of fresh and preserved food, and money. Most of the money was for Pearl, whom Janie paid to look out for her. After Harrie had left the Factory for good it hadn’t taken Janie long to realise she couldn’t watch over two babies and keep an eye on the contraband the others brought in for her. Without Pearl, who was extremely loyal providing she was paid on time, she’d be robbed in a minute.
    Harrie gazed fondly down at Charlotte, and flicked a fat, lazy fly off her arm. ‘She looks more and more like Rachel every day, doesn’t she?’
    ‘Thank God,’ Friday said grimly. ‘Imagine if she favoured her rotten bloody father.’
    Charlotte’s hair had been the colour of wheat when she’d been born and had grown paler since, strands catching the sun and turning silver the way her mother’s had. Her eyes, however, had not lightened and were a very dark brown, clearly inherited from Gabriel Keegan, as Rachel’s eyes had been a startling cornflower blue. In her round baby face there were hints she may grow into a beauty, but this young such a prediction was too early to make with confidence. At least she no longer resembled the scrawny-neckedlittle creature she’d been when born, though even then Harrie had thought she was beautiful.
    Rosie was a sweet child but, based solely on the size and angle of her ears, it was clear who her mother was. She was happy and managing to thrive even in the misery and filthy conditions of the Factory, unlike most of the children there, many of whom died before their first birthday. But then they didn’t have the benefits that Friday, Harry and Sarah made