Spindle(11)

The boys tore away from Briar and rushed to Henry.

“We’ve got a secret!” Jack shouted.

“Hush, boys,” Briar said before Benny could chime in to explain. “A secret isn’t a secret if everyone knows it.”

Henry bent down to the boys’ level. “Briar’s right. If you do have a good secret, you should keep it quiet until you have permission to tell it.”

“What do you mean a good secret?”

“Well, the opposite of a bad secret. If someone asks you to keep a bad secret, you should tell.”

Jack’s eyes grew wide and Benny asked the question for him. “What’s a bad secret?”

“One that you know in your heart isn’t right, and you should tell Briar.”

“’Cause she’s responsible for us?” Benny asked, repeating what she told them whenever they asked about having a mam and a da.

“And loves us,” added Jack.

“That’s right. There isn’t anything she wouldn’t do for you if you were ever in trouble.”

“And we’d help her, too,” said Benny.

“I’m counting on it. You boys are sharp. You can help Briar by keeping watch at the cottage. Tell her anything unusual that happens. Like if the birds stop singing. Or the wind blows extra hard. Or the leaves on the trees curl and turn black.”

Henry’s tone had suddenly gotten serious. This change was so unlike him that the hairs on Briar’s neck prickled and she gave a shiver. “Don’t scare the boys,” she chided him, forcing her tone to stay light.

“We’ve got a guard bunny,” Jack whispered.

Benny nodded. “He’ll let us know if someone bad comes along.”

“Is that your secret?” Henry looked up and grinned at Briar. The old Henry was back. The dependable Henry. The Henry who didn’t put scary thoughts into little boys’ heads.

“We don’t want Fanny to know in case she doesn’t like bunnies. We have to watch her first before we decide,” Benny said. He then took off, starting a race with Jack to the cottage.

“Why did you scare the boys like that?” Briar asked.

“They weren’t scared. Boys like that kind of thing,” Henry said, opening the door to the cottage and standing back to let Briar go in first. “Besides, if they’re going to wander in the woods alone, they need to pay better attention to their surroundings.”

Fanny was back inside and had breakfast on the table. Pansy sat at her seat with her hair already neatly braided and a scowl on her face. Likely upset she didn’t wake up early enough to sneak off with the boys to see the bunny.

Fanny nodded at Henry and waved the boys over to their full bowls of porridge. Briar was trying to think up a way to explain their absence, but Fanny never even asked. She added a bowl for Henry and, as soon as everyone was done, had them all shuffled out the door and on to church.

“You’ve never walked with us to church before,” Briar said. She slowed her step, hoping to be able to speak to Henry without the boys monopolizing his attention, but they had each taken hold of one hand as if they knew he was fixing to leave them.

“Let’s talk on the way back to town tonight,” Henry said, holding up the boys’ hands.

Briar nodded. She let them bound ahead, leaving her with Pansy and Fanny.

“Briar is an unusual name,” Fanny said.

“It’s actually Briarly Rose. The girls in my family are named after flowers. Variations of the name Briar Rose go back generations. My mother was also called Briarly.”

“And I’m Pansy Poppy,” Pansy said. She looked torn between racing up with the boys or staying behind and listening to Briar and Miss Fanny.

“A perfect name for you, Pansy Poppy. Did you know that fairies like to use flower names to nickname children? Since you already have a flower name, maybe the fairies will leave you alone.”

Pansy smiled but then looked uncertain, as if she didn’t know if she wanted a fairy to notice her or not.

“Briar Rose, just like Sleeping Beauty,” Fanny said. “Pansy tells me you work in a room full of spindles. Best keep your fingers to yourself. That other Briar Rose was too curious for her own good.”

“Good thing the other Briar Rose was a fairy tale, then,” Briar said. Her workplace was rather dangerous. The operatives had to keep their hair up and watch that their clothing and fingers stayed a safe distance away from the machines. The doffers, usually small children like Pansy, got hurt when they weren’t paying attention and accidentally wedged their fingers into the machinery. Briar set her jaw. She would do anything to keep her little sister from having to work there, too.





Chapter Six



When Briar started work, she’d signed a contract, like all the other girls, that included a moral clause requiring her to attend church. Didn’t matter if their denomination was available or not, a Catholic had to attend a Protestant church until a Catholic church could be built.

Briar didn’t mind. She would have gone to services in the little country church no matter what, but some girls bristled at the idea of being forced to go, even if they wanted to. Now that Mam and Da were gone, her church family helped fill the void like aunts and uncles would. They took an interest in Briar and the children, and helped Nanny with repairs around the cottage. It was a small, poor community, fewer than ten families, mostly older folks, who lived even farther out from town. They met in a converted barn, one of the farmers doubling as the preacher. They shared what little they had, but no one had either the room or the energy for the Jenny children full-time, or Nanny would have already moved them on.