Spindle(48)

Briar stood up from resetting the builder on frame number one. She was surprised Wheeler hadn’t had her to their home yet. Briar had been invited right from the start. She hid a smile as she answered. “His parents are very nice. His da plays a mean fiddle, so as long as you tap your feet, you’ll win him over.”

“And his mother?”

Briar walked over to frame number two and checked the lines of thread. “She is a little more particular.”

“That’s what I was afraid of.” Sadie kept walking past frame number three until she was in line with number four. “Mmmm, smells like apples over here, Briar. How do you get your area to smell so good? Mine stinks like machine oil. Can’t get the smell out of my hair, even. Girls, come here. Briar’s hidden an apple pie on us.”

Briar looked up to see the morning rush of girls coming in to set up their frames.

“I haven’t hidden any pie. My area doesn’t smell any different from yours.” Leave it be, Sadie.

Annie and several others started walking over, and Briar began to panic. She didn’t need all the girls coming over and making a fuss about her frame, even if they were all older than seventeen and the spindle posed no risk for them. “A summer breeze must be slipping through the cracks or something.” She tried to shoo the others away.

“No, there is something here. I’m getting closer.” Sadie sniffed her way down frame number four.

The overseer marched past. “To your frames,” he called. The girls scattered and Briar let out a breath of relief. She thought of the Sleeping Beauty story and how Aurora couldn’t help but touch the tip of the spindle. Could the spindle be drawing the girls close to it? If so, why didn’t it have that affect on her?

When the machines were up and running, she wandered by number four and sniffed. Apple pie? Maybe. To her it smelled more like spoiled apples, not pleasant at all.

Shortly into the morning shift, Maribelle came bouncing in with the other doffers.

Maribelle! How could Briar have forgotten about her young doffer? She was a girl under seventeen. Briar couldn’t let her near the spindle.

“I’m going to doff frame number four from now on,” Briar yelled above the noise. “I figured out just how to handle it properly.”

Maribelle’s face fell.

“It’s nothing you did,” Briar was quick to assure her. But the girl’s pride had clearly taken a hit. She worked with less enthusiasm and avoided eye contact each time she came up to doff. Briar wished she could let Maribelle doff all the frames, but keeping her away from the spindle was for her own protection.

When doffing the wooden spindle, Briar was careful each time to keep her fingers far away from the tip of the spindle. As the day wore on and she wasn’t once tempted to touch the spindle, as Fanny had feared, Briar began to doubt it was cursed at all.

So far the spindle had done nothing but good for Briar. Even though she was taking the time to doff her own frame, her production increased. The effect of the spindle was spreading to her other frames, evidenced by how frequently Maribelle had to come up to replace the bobbins.

Briar avoided the curious looks of the other operatives. What else could she do? She couldn’t go any slower unless she periodically shut down her frames.

After the dinner bell rang Annie went over to Briar. “Why are your frames working so well now? Did you know I used to have this frame before you came along, and was I ever glad to be rid of it, but if it’s working again, I might ask for it back.” She continued to examine frame number four.

“We’re going to miss dinner if we don’t hurry,” warned Briar, putting herself between Annie and the frame. Even though Annie lived at a different boardinghouse, everyone knew she was fond of eating, and Briar hoped the prompt would get the girl moving.

“Don’t worry about me, you go on and get your food.”

Briar crossed her arms. “Not with you poking around my frame I won’t. I’ll call the overseer first and tell him you’re causing trouble.” As Briar raised her voice, other girls walking past turned to see what was going on. They stayed to watch.

Annie leaned forward and peered around Briar, into the frame. “It’s this here spindle. Why have you got a wooden spindle in your frame?” She took a deep breath. “Smells heavenly. Must be all that spinning rubbing the scent off the wood.”

As quick as lightning, Annie slipped around Briar and lifted the bobbin.

“No!” Briar dodged too late to stop her. “It’s sharp. Don’t touch it.”

Annie ran her finger along the length of the spindle, just shy of the tip, and rubbed her fingers together. “It’s a bit sticky.”

Briar’s cry faded when she realized Annie hadn’t pricked her finger. With relief, Briar pulled her away only to have Sadie come along from behind and touch the spindle also.

“Stop it. Please,” Briar cried desperately, wedging herself between them and her frame.

Sadie sniffed the tip of her finger then licked it. “Tastes like syrup. I want one for my frame. Where did you get it?”

Annie wiped her hand on her apron. “Ew, I’m not going to taste it.”

“It was a fix for a broken spindle, now would you all leave my frame alone?” Her voice rose in pitch.

She watched helplessly as one by one the girls trotted past, trying to smell the spindle. “Maybe you aren’t working hard enough if you’ve got time to come by and bother me,” she said, knowing it wouldn’t make her any more popular, but she had to keep them away. They didn’t understand the risk. At least none of them pricked their fingers—this time. They were all so intrigued by the spindle. How was she going to keep them away?