The Happy Days of Being a Factory Owner in London – Chapter 11

Driving the Carriage

Death-Defying Speed Demon!

Once the first applicant was accepted, the other children stopped gawking and focused on their work.

            

Oliver’s fingers trembled, but he soon became engrossed in assembling the parts and raised his hand.

Soon, ten children had completed the task.

Besides Oliver, all his companions were hired as well; not one of Fagin’s five children was left out. The remaining spots were filled by other ordinary East End children who had heard the story, including Little Bella, the storyteller.

            

Arna announced the results and led the newly hired children up to the second floor, pushing open the door to their dormitory.

Oliver’s mouth fell open at the sight of the room.

Inside were five bunk beds, all of which looked brand new. Each was spread with clean straw, and beside them stood a small brazier for warmth.

            

“You’ll live here,” Arna said, handing a key to Lucy, the oldest of the group. “As group leader, you are responsible for supervising everyone and keeping the room clean. Be careful with the fire.”

Lucy, the new group leader, nodded and took the key.

The children quickly grew accustomed to the factory, and all of them agreed that their factory owner, young Mr. Aisas, was an enigma.

            

He wasn’t like other factory owners who sent down foremen to punish them or find fault. Instead, he was always rushing about, either inside the factory or out.

On a rare clear day, the morning sun streamed through the newly repaired windows, casting a golden patch on the dormitory floor. Though the air still carried the faint smell of fresh paint, it was far cleaner than the alleys these children had once called home. A gentle breeze drifted through the open window, causing the lavender hanging on the wall to sway and release its crisp fragrance.

It seemed that ever since arriving, everyone had been trying to protect this hard-won environment—even Charley Bates, who had complained nonstop at the beginning.

            

Meals were served on time. A kind soul had sent over warm, clean old blankets. No one cursed at them for misspeaking, and no one stole their share of food while they slept. Just yesterday, they had even seen meat in their meal—a whole piece of meat, not some pretense of a meat soup, watered down to tastelessness. Even if each person only got a small piece, it was precious.

Oliver woke early, but someone else was up even earlier.

Lucy, the group’s leader, was already outside the door. She must have already washed up, for she had a basin of water and was diligently scrubbing the steps.

            

Oliver rolled out of bed and began to busy himself cleaning the room and sweeping the factory floor. Only then did he kneel and begin placing yesterday’s assembled parts into a box, one by one. He handled them gently, arranging them with great care.

Oliver had never seen the things inside. They were different from the small objects Mr. Aisas had the apprentices make during the test. Many people, upon hearing that the factory no longer produced textiles and had abandoned its original suppliers and distributors to process some miscellaneous parts, thought Mr. Aisas must have gone mad.

But… but Oliver felt that Lucy, the group leader, knew what they were for. At least, she knew a little more than the rest of them. He had once seen the older girl holding a part, lost in thought, lifting it to the light to examine it from all angles as if mesmerized.

            

Oliver liked to let his mind wander while he worked. But unlike the painful, angry thoughts of revenge that came after a beating, the things he could think about now were completely different.

He recalled the sunlight from his dreams, the scent of sun-dried straw that reminded him of a summer field he had once seen. He thought of that kind of clear day, with a light breeze rustling through the grass, far from the damp, the fleas, and the lice.

Someone patted him on the back.

            

“What are you thinking about, Oliver?” his friend, the Artful Dodger, asked. “Time for breakfast, my friend. You don’t want to miss breakfast time.”

The nearby Mrs. Laura had gloriously accepted the job from Mr. Aisas. She cooked for the children every day, filling their hungry mouths to the brim. Although she was a bit of a chatterbox, a nag, and a complainer, and kept the amount of her pay a closely guarded secret, her cooking tasted quite good.

“I was thinking,” Oliver’s hands paused. “Um, just thinking.” He seemed to be muttering to himself more than speaking to the Dodger. “…Do you think the boss knows about that?”

            

The former master thief looked down at him. “Knows what? What’s ‘that’?”

“About… the things we’ve done…” Oliver said hesitantly. “Other things?”

He instinctively glanced toward the door to make sure no one was eavesdropping.

            

The grin on the Dodger’s face froze. After a moment, he forced a smile.

“Of course he doesn’t know!” he said, though it was unclear if he was trying to reassure himself. “You think a rich man pays attention to things like that? He’s as soft as fresh bread. People like that tend to look on the bright side of things.”

The breakfast bell rang out, jingle-jangle.

            

The Dodger leaped to his feet, shouting as he ran for the kitchen, proclaiming he would beat everyone in today’s breakfast speed-eating contest and take first place.

Oliver, however, carefully sealed the box before standing up to go eat.

The thought that Fagin could mercilessly destroy these days caused an idea to spark in his mind. It flickered like a faint little flame, making him involuntarily look forward to the factory owner, Mr. Aisas, showing up again.

            

The subject of his thoughts, Arna, was currently adjusting the reins, making the horse and carriage look a bit more presentable.

She had rented a carriage. For a fixed monthly fee, she had the right to use it every day, while the carriage company was responsible for feeding and cleaning the horse, as well as storing it when she wasn’t using it. This was much cheaper than buying a horse and carriage outright, and more economical than hailing a cab every day.

Best of all, driving it herself meant she could control the speed. That was even better and more interesting!

            

…She just had to pay a little attention to the horse’s wear and tear.

But that wasn’t a problem. There was no problem that feeding the horse couldn’t solve!

Just then, Watson came downstairs, his small medical bag tucked under his arm, not forgetting to adjust his gloves. He was just thinking of hailing a carriage when he saw Arna sitting on the driver’s seat.

            

He looked at her curiously. “Aisas, are you off to the factory again? Are you driving yourself?”

Arna patted the rail beside her.

“That’s right, Doctor,” she said with a grin. “I’m heading out now. Care for a lift?”

            

Watson had waived her consultation fee last time, so she didn’t mind being generous and using up a bit of the carriage’s durability to give him a ride.

Watson hesitated for only a second before smiling.

“Ah, how generous of you,” he said cheerfully, lifting his small bag and climbing aboard to find a seat. “I happen to be going near Whitechapel. A patient there needs a follow-up visit. This saves me the trouble of calling a cab.”

            

He added casually, “Did you learn to drive before? In Yorkshire?”

“Not exactly,” Arna thought. She had only learned to ride horses and tame oxen on the farm in the main game, nothing as advanced as driving in the city. “I just learned recently.”

She was very confident. “It’s very simple. You just watch and you’ll get it.”

            

“It seems you’re a genius at this,” Watson joked. “You know, many people would rather spend their time finding other amusements than driving themselves.”

He shifted to get more comfortable. “If I have the chance, I’d like to visit your factory…”

Arna wasn’t listening to a word he was saying.

            

With the reins in hand, she said merrily, “Hold on tight, Dr. Watson!”

The words had barely left her mouth when Arna cracked the whip, and the carriage shot forward like an arrow from a bow.

As the carriage hurtled along at full speed, Watson’s grip on the frame grew tighter and tighter. He was beginning to think that getting on this carriage had been a mistake.

            

Arna held the reins, whooping with delight as she took a sharp turn. At the same moment, the hat on Watson’s head was nearly torn from him.

“Good heavens—!” he yelled, forced to use one hand to grab his airborne hat and the other to cling to the rail to keep from falling off.

“Watch out, Doctor, hold on tight!” Arna shouted into the wind, not slowing down. “We’re speeding up!”

            

“Wh-what?!” Watson said in terror.

The beast that looked like a horse was moving so fast it seemed about to take flight. Its hooves hammered against the road, as if it were being chased by the devil himself.

Was this a speed a normal carriage could even reach?

            

Watson drew a sharp breath as Arna weaved between other carriages and pedestrians. His knuckles turned white from gripping the rail. As the distance between them and another vehicle shrank to mere inches, he held his breath, almost certain he was about to die with his eyes wide open in shock.

“Perhaps—er, a little slower?” he managed to say, his voice strained as he instinctively leaned back.

“Almost there!” Arna replied cheerfully.

            

Her speed had reached a whole new level; she was about to unlock a new achievement.

A moment later, the carriage came to a stop.

The lively horse shook its head excitedly, and after a brief pause, it affectionately rested its head in Arna’s palm, enjoying a comfortable pat while taking the opportunity to eat the beans from her hand.

            

Meanwhile, Watson climbed down from the carriage on shaky legs. His face was a mixture of green and purple, his expression a complex mess. He looked as if he wished he could go back fifteen minutes and strangle the version of himself who had agreed to the ride.

Too trusting. Too careless.

Now, Watson felt not only that his stomach was churning like a stormy sea, but that his heart was pounding so violently it might leap out of his chest.

            

“You,” he said, leaning breathlessly against the nearest tree and letting out a long sigh. “You drive like a madman, do you know that?”

Arna, who had just received the title 【King of the Furious Road】, blinked.

“But we saved twenty minutes compared to the usual time,” she said matter-of-factly. “We must cherish time. Time is money, efficiency is everything, Doctor.”

            

Watson groaned, pressing his forehead against the rough tree bark as if praying for someone to save him.

“Next time,” he gasped, “I will definitely choose to walk. Even if I have to walk all the way to Scotland.”

As it happened, the Artful Dodger, who was on kitchen duty today, was carrying a bucket of water into the factory from outside and overheard their conversation.

            

“Well now, Mr. Aisas, are you driving again soon?” he said mischievously, sloshing the bucket. “I’d pay something to see that again! For instance, I’d be willing to fetch another bucket of water and give the breakfast pots another scrub.”

Watson made a retching sound and said weakly, “Please, I beg you, don’t.”

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