A Boy Called Charlie Chapter 1 "But, I mean, ahem, Sir, I was just, erm, wondering if, well, I could have a little more?" Charlie Aswin was a short tuft of a boy. His family were exceptionally poor, so poor Charlie and his brother Will had to go to work in vast factories, six days a week. Will was more than poorly. He was extremely ill. Well, what do you expect when your family are living in a tumbledown house with rats scrawling everywhere in the Victorian era? "Nonsense, boy!" cried Mr Briggs, who was Charlie and Wills boss. He supplied them with little quantity of food at their short six minute break a day. Additionally, he was a slyly smug man, with lots of cash and chains worth loads. Charlie and Will pulled a face of pure disappointment. Their boss was a selfish individual, they were as skinny as a twiglet, Will was ill, and their family were poor. "Well don't just stand there boy! Continue with your work!" The two depressed boys spent their days working with dangerous machinery, when they could be learning and being educated at school. The pair of them dreamt of going to school. Imagine, they sometimes thought, if we could learn to read, write and solve tricky arithmetic sums? The day flew by. After their tedious shift was finished, they trotted home, Will practically limping with a sore leg, and coughing as loud as you, reader, could possibly imagine. "Will?'' Charlie questioned. "Yes,' Will replied, coughing violently. "You're coughing blood?!" "Am not!" "Are too! Explain the red stains on your hands then." Will gulped. Nervously, he pulled his hands up so his weak eyes were able to view them. Brought to his attention were two bloody patches on his trembling hands. "Its......paint." "Paint?" "Yes." "We have no paint." "Well, well. Charlie, just stop questioning me!" Charlie, granting Will's wish, walked home (well it was more of a huge piece of material held up by sticks) in complete silence. When they arrived home, they were greeted by the soft mumbles from their father, who had been at work all day, and the quiet "Hello" from their mother, who was crocheting them new jumpers. "You two boys 'ungry?" asked their mother Andrea. Simultaneously, they nodded. For a few moments, Andrea disappeared into the kitchen. Their tired fathers face was hidden by that days copy of the Gazette, which they could only just afford. He carried on reading ; the only movements he made were every now and then when he flicked onto the next page. After, their mother returned with one plate with a single piece of bread and a small jug of water, complemented by two cups. Without hesitation, the boys poured a little water into a cup each and halved the bread evenly. Quickly, they gobbled up their tea. Their parents continued with their to-doings, whilst the boys sat on the hard and creaky wooden floor. Every now and then, when Will coughed vigorously, Andrea went over and patted him on the back. Eventually, the time came and their mother exclaimed they should get some rest. The two of them trotted into another microscopic room and cuddled together in the corner. Charlie heard Will's cough but in a strange way it was relaxing plus comforting therefore Charlie soon fell to sleep.