She walked off, clearly expecting them to follow, up a stone staircase and into a long upper corridor which echoed with the sound of many women hurrying along it. Through its high, arched windows, Annie could see that this factory, one of the bigger ones in the area, occupied three sides of a rectangle. In the yard enclosed by its walls was a small building with a clock facing her, which now said five to eight. Close to it soared a brick chimney, a flag of smoke coming from it; beyond, other chimneys of the nearby works were belching out thick swirls of filth. She remembered their train journey into Birmingham, the way the countryside had died away, built over by a seemingly endless vista of factories and smoking chimneys until the train was so shut in between them that all they could see was blackened walls and, occasionally, a glimpse, for a second, of a ribbon of canal winding between them.

A moment later they entered a long room, beams arching across the ceiling and windows all along one wall through which fell the morning’s dull light. There were benches down both sides with rows of cast-iron machines, each with a handle on one side and a ball counterweight at the other, similar to the ones she had seen in Uncle Eb’s workshop. Each had a stool positioned by it, on which the women were in the process of settling themselves in front of their machines.

‘Come along here,’ Miss Hinks instructed.

Annie could sense heads turning to stare at them but she did not meet anyone’s eyes to see if they looked friendly or hostile. She heard one woman whisper, ‘Hello, Lizzie – how’s your mother?’ Lizzie was slightly behind her and Annie did not hear the reply.

‘Here you are – you can work here.’ There were two machines, side by side, with no one seated at them.

A moment later, the clock struck eight and a bell rang. Annie was aware of movement, like a sudden rustling of trees, followed by a metallic clatter, then thumps and bangs as the women around them started working the presses. She only had a second to glance, because Miss Hinks was starting to tell her and Lizzie what to do. But in that second her confidence that she would learn easily, that she would certainly be better at the job than this little worn-out rag of a girl Lizzie, began to slip.

The women were pushing something into the press, stamping it, spitting it out and starting on another at such speed that it was as if the work was a natural part of the movement of their bodies, like breathing or walking, which could be done without thought or effort.

Dear Lord, Annie thought, a knot of dread tightening in her belly. How on earth do they do that so quickly?