Saturday 21st May 1842 Something terrible has happened. I can scarcely bring myself to write the words. I AM TO START AT THE MILL ON MONDAY. You said never, I cried to Mother. Her face was white. Oh Eliza, she said. I'm so sorry. If there was anything I could have done... Where am I to work? I demanded. The room was so quiet that I could hear myself breathe. In the carding room. Sickness. They need more hands. I wasn't Eliza any more, just a pair of hands. Factory hands.