Spindle(27)

Thinking that Ethel wouldn’t approve of the fancy spindle, Briar glanced over at Mim’s bed. Mim would approve. Her bed had a quilt with lace sewn all the way around. The lace was patchwork, constructed of pieces Mim had acquired over the years that weren’t fit for dresses but serviceable for a quilt. The lace seemed extravagant to Briar, but it was important for Mim.

A stuffed rabbit had been added to Sadie’s side of the bed, and the top of the dresser looked a bit more crowded with Mim’s relocated cosmetics.

She needed to hurry if she were to get a look at the spindle before the others returned. She quickly opened the box. It was as she remembered it. No, better. The intricately carved roses were even more delicate. The variations in the wood more pronounced. Her heart ached with how beautiful it was. It would be a shame to take it apart to put in her frame.

She hadn’t touched it when the peddler showed it to her, and she was hesitant to grasp it now. Before, she didn’t get too close because she didn’t want to become attached. Now it was hers, and it was the prettiest thing she owned. Even if the spindle didn’t work in her spinning frame, she could use it to teach Pansy. They could practice with wool from the Princes’ sheep. Mrs. Prince, with no daughter of her own, had taken a shine to Pansy and would no doubt let her have as much wool as she could handle.

“Where’d ya get that, eh?” a girl named Mary asked, pushing her way into the room. Mary was friends with Sadie, likely coming by to see her.

Briar automatically closed the lid. She was sure she had closed the door all the way. The other girls were usually good about keeping to their own rooms. There wasn’t enough privacy to go around in a boardinghouse.

Mary jumped onto the bed. “Don’t hide it, I only wanted a look.” She pawed at the box, and Briar pulled it away when Mim walked in.

“What’s going on?”

“I only wanted to see what Briar has. She never buys anything. I wanted to see what was so special.” Mary left in a huff.

Mim eyed the box. “Best go to the privy if you want absolute privacy, though you have to close the door fast on that one.” She flicked her thumb toward the door. “Besides, the bell’s about to go and Sadie’s on her way up with Ethel.” The mill bell clanged and Mim shrugged.

The halls filled with noise as all the girls made the climb up to their rooms for the night. A chase erupted over a hairbrush, and an argument from across the hall broke out over someone leaving crumbs on the shared bureau. Before anyone else came into the room, Briar stashed the spindle under her bed.

When Ethel opened the door, she eyed the two of them, her gaze shifting back and forth. “You look like you’re up to something.” Sadie followed in at her heels.

“Nothing you’d be interested in,” said Mim, taking first rotation at the wash basin to brush her teeth.

“Now that we’re all here,” said Ethel, looking pointedly at Briar, “let’s go over the rules.”

Sadie flounced onto her new bed and rolled her eyes at Briar.

Briar ignored the look and turned her attention to Ethel, like listening to her talk about the rules was the most important thing in the world.

“No one is allowed to be messy. We each take care of our own things, but common areas like the dresser tops, the water basin, and the desktop, are to be kept orderly at all times. We take turns with the wastewater, the trash, the sweeping, the dusting. No food is to be left out to rot. If any is found, we are allowed to toss it in the kitchen trash so the room doesn’t stink or attract mice.”

“Next,” called Mim, backing away from the water basin.

Sadie made a dash for the basin. After they’d all cycled through, the rules were done, and Ethel had started in on inviting Sadie to the next suffrage meeting. “Given what the mill wants to do to our wages, it’s time for us to band together again like they did a few years ago when the operatives went on strike. But we need the vote if we’re to make any lasting changes.”

“No more suffrage talk, please.” Mim turned off the light. “I want pleasant dreams.”

Soon the gentle shuffles of everyone settling in for the night shifted to the quiet sounds of room-mates sleeping. Briar stared up into the dark, wide awake despite her aching feet and sore shoulders. She was as exhausted as the others but couldn’t shut down her mind. Fanny’s constant talk of fairies was working its way into her thoughts and she was trying to keep separate the ideas of fairies and fairy wood. The spindle under her bed may be made of something called fairy wood, but that didn’t mean it was magical.





Chapter Fourteen



Finally, the fog began to lift, and with it the ill tempers. Briar had hoped to get a good look at the spindle, but with all her room-mates in the room, there was no time.

When she got to her station at work, she examined her frames to check their suitability for a wooden spindle. She’d never paid much heed to the inner workings, keeping her eyes on the thread itself. Now she noted the rows of spindles and how they attached to the machine. When she had to shut down one of the frames, she used the time to lift a bobbin out of the way and measure the size of the spindles. She tried unscrewing the bolt on one but it held fast. It wouldn’t be easy to twist off.

As the dinner bell rang and everyone shut down, Briar quickly checked out her fourth frame. She’d watched Henry attend to the frame so many times applying the oil, which got all over the doffers’ feet and the hem of Briar’s skirts.