The sky was a patchwork of sullen clouds and pale blues. Every now and then, a shy sun would inch its way out from behind a cloud, only to be smothered again almost immediately. The day looked like Eli felt inside, miserable and uncertain. Things were not going well at the mill. The workers were unsettled and had not taken too kindly to the news that their futures were now in the hands of an eighteen-year-old boy. The mill manager, a fastidious little man called Ernest Wraith, was of the same opinion. Although Eli had grasped the rudiments of running the business from evenings spent at his father’s side in the study, out in the real world, the day-to-day management, the bickering, the negotiations, and the finer points of it all, were just a fuddle in his brain. It didn’t help that since his father’s untimely death, his mother had taken to her room and as each day passed she was becoming more and more difficult. Whenever he was in the house, she demanded every moment of his attention.
