Spindle

by Shonna Slayton

  Briar sighed and went directly to her room to freshen up. She was hot and sweaty after cycling. The room was empty, so she splashed some water on her face then lay down for a rest before supper. She’d not had a restful time at the cottage, nor a welcome greeting back at the boardinghouse.

  When she came down to eat, there was a hush in the dining room, followed by more quiet whispers and looks directed her way. Ethel squeezed her hand encouragingly, and Mim gave her a wink. Their support was just enough to see her through until she could go back to the room.

  Later, she asked her room-mates upstairs, “Why are they so angry with me? I didn’t lower their wages.”

  “They’re not angry at you exactly, they’re frustrated that our wages were cut again and we have no recourse.” Ethel paced between the beds. “Where else are we going to work? The next mill over? They offer the same wage. Our working conditions keep getting worse and worse, our pay lower and lower, and our rents, paid back to the mills, are staying the same. We’re going to have to walk out to get their attention.”

  “For once I agree with Ethel,” said Mim, blocking Ethel’s path to stop her pacing. “The other operatives will forget about it by morning. Don’t you worry.”

  “But what about our wages?” asked Ethel, hands on hips. “Do you finally agree with me that we’re getting a bad deal?”

  “Of course I do, I’m just not as loud about it,” retorted Mim. “But the bosses are going to do what they’re going to do. They can pay us more, but then have to fire some of us to make up the difference. Is that what you want?”

  “If you believe what they’re telling us. I still see the agent driving up in his new buggy, wearing his fine tailored clothes. They used to treat us operatives better. Like Mrs. Tuttle said about Charles Dickens’s report on the Lowell girls. He said conditions weren’t like those in the factories in England, but here and now we are already halfway to workhouse conditions like those in Oliver Twist.”

  And with that, Briar’s troubles with the other operatives were forgotten as more and more girls wandered in to watch Ethel and Mim go at it. There were operatives sitting on the beds, the floor, and spilling out the hallway. At the bell, they all cleared out, not having solved anyone’s problems, but feeling better for letting off steam.

  “That was exciting,” said Sadie, squeezing her way back in. “Couldn’t even get into my own room.”

  Briar hoped everyone had put their anger back on the company and off her. She’d quietly go about her business, keeping her frames running as best she could and staying away from the spindle until she turned seventeen. She didn’t want to be the focus of anyone’s attention anymore. Not the other operatives, nor the overseer or agent. She hoped the girls wouldn’t walk out until after she and Fanny had figured out how to get rid of the spindle. She didn’t want to have to choose between supporting the operatives and keeping her job so she could protect everyone from a cursed spindle.

  The next morning, Briar tried to leave by herself again, but Sadie also woke up early, and followed her all the way to the mill, asking questions about Ethel and Mim, and finally getting around to the real questions she wanted to know.

  Twisting her fingers nervously, she asked, “Do you think Wheeler’s parents would accept a girl who’s not Irish? I haven’t met them yet, even though they live right here in town. He keeps telling me he is waiting for the right moment to invite me over.”

  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, a
nd 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?

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Shuffling out onto the porch after dinner, Sadie held her hand to her forehead. “The spinning room is giving me such a headache. I don’t know that I can last. I thought a move up to spinning would be better than the carding room, but today I’m regretting the move.”

  “It is better than the carding room for your lungs,” Ethel said, clomping down the stairs. “And if you know what’s good for you, you’ll pull yourself up and be back at those frames. Too many others waiting to take your spot.”

  Sadie glanced at Briar. “Don’t I know it.”

  Somehow, after all that had happened in the last few days, the thought of Wheeler and Sadie didn’t cause her any pain or jealousy. The current problems in her life so eclipsed any others that it was possible her heart was preparing to move on. She even walked beside Sadie all the way back to the mill without any churning bitterness in her stomach.

  No one bothered to come back to Briar’s frames that afternoon, for which Briar was relieved. She was enjoying the new efficiency of her frames and didn’t want anyone getting in the way of it. But midway through the afternoon, there was a commotion on the other side of the room. Maribelle was busy doffing the far frame, so Briar moved down the aisles to see what was going on.

  Sadie had collapsed next to her frames, lying like a lump of cotton on the greasy wood floor. Annie was hunched over her, yelling for the overseer. The call for help was carried on down the line over the pulsing noise of the machines.

  Briar ran to see what she could do.

  “She’s burning up,” said Annie, fanning the air over Sadie’s face with her hands. “We’ve got to get her out of this heat.”

  “Back to work, everyone,” said the overseer, arriving on the spot. “Which house is she at?”

  “Miss Olive’s,” answered Briar.

  “Get someone to cover your frames and walk her home, then,” he said.

  “Me?” She couldn’t leave the spindle unguarded.

  “Would you rather I fired you so you could take the time?”

  “No, I’ll do it.”

  Briar raced back to her frames and got three other girls to each cover one. The bosses liked to see the frames running at all times, and when a girl was sick, the nearby operatives pitched in to help so she wouldn’t lose her wages. It was the only insurance they had. Helping each other.

  She’d let frame number four stay off and hope the overseer didn’t notice. Briar wasn’t thrilled about leaving curious Annie alone with her frames, but gave her number one. Although, Annie didn’t look well, either.

  “Are you okay?” Briar yelled above the noise. “You look flushed.”

  Annie waved her away.

  The girls who had gathered around Sadie were halfheartedly walking back to their frames when Briar returned. The overseer had gotten Sadie to sit up, and with Briar’s help she was standing. After looping the girl’s arm around Briar’s neck, Briar hoisted her up by the waist. She felt like a life-size rag doll stuffed with heavy cotton. “Can you walk?” Briar asked.

  Sadie nodded. Slowly, they made their way through the room and out the door. Briar worried about descending the stairs. “Let me know if you need a break,” she said. “I don’t want us to fall.”

  It took several minutes to descend the first flight, and several more for the next two. “Good thing we weren’t on the top floor,” Briar joked. There was no response from Sadie, and Briar worried the bright sun would make her fever worse. The girl was having trouble moving her feet now.

  As they were inching their way across the yard, Briar spotted Wheeler coming out of one of the outbuildings. “Wheeler!” she called.

  He took two seconds to register that Briar was having trouble keeping Sadie standing and sprinted over.

  “Sadie.” He scooped her up in his arms and she rested her head on his chest. “What happened?”

  “She fainted. I’m to bring her home. I think she’ll need a doctor. She’s getting worse by the second.”

  He nodded toward the building he came out of. “Would you go tell my boss I’m helping you? He’ll need to unlock the gate anyway.”

  Briar ran and got Wheeler’s boss, who opened the gate for them.

  Wheeler’s long legs strode purposefully toward the boardinghouse while Briar almost had to jog to keep up.

  “I won’t be able to stay,” Wheeler said as he took the porch stairs two at a time. “I’ve got to get back to work.”

  Briar opened the door, calling out, “Miss Olive! Sadie’s taken ill.”

  Miss Olive stepped into the hallway, wiping her wet hands on her apron. “This way to the isolation room.” She led the way to the first floor, to the room they kept open for any of the operatives who were sick. Wheeler gently lowered Sadie to the bed and then ran out the door.

  “He’s in a hurry,” remarked Miss Olive. “Don’t you need to get back, too?”

  “I should. Is she going to be okay?”

  Miss Olive felt Sadie’s forehead. “That’s some fever. I’ll see what I can do to get it down. Meanwhile, I’ll send someone for the doctor. Don’t you worry.”

  Sadie’s face had turned deathly pale, her breathing shallow.

  “Shoo. Away with you.” Miss Olive shoved Briar out the door. “There’s nothing you can do for her, so go relieve the girls working your own frames.”

  Briar glanced over Miss Olive’s shoulder. The paleness of Sadie’s face reminded Briar of how her mother looked after the boys were born. Near death. She ran out of the room.

  Intermittently throughout the rest of the day, the girls kept checking themselves and others to see if they, too, had fevers. Briar touched her own forehead and thought it was warm, but it was a hard thing to tell, given the stifling air on their floor anyway. By the end of the day Annie was also complaining about a piercing headache. The operatives passed worried looks behind her back.

  When Briar got home, she found Miss Olive coming out of the isolation room. “Doctor’s been and says he’ll know more in the morning. I’ve got to stay here with her; do you think you girls can serve yourselves? Food’s ready.”

  “Of course,” Briar said. “Do you want me to get anything started for breakfast?”

  “Kind of you, but there is nothing to do tonight. Check with me in the morning.”

  The mood was somber around the table that night. The rumor, whether exaggerated or not, had spread that Sadie was on the verge of death. When one of the girls told a joke, those around her laughed, but the laughter died quickly under withering gazes of the others.

  “What happened to her?” asked Mim from the floor of their bedroom. She refused to sleep in the same bed Sadie had slept in, and Ethel wouldn’t let her squeeze in with her and Briar. “I heard she fell and cracked her head open on her frame. And I also heard that she licked the grease on the spindles? Why would she do such a thing? That would make anybody sick.”

  The spindle! Br
iar’s heart sank. Could the spindle have made Sadie sick, even if she didn’t prick her finger?

  “She didn’t hit her head, but she did faint.” Briar searched her memory for the chain of events. “I’ve never felt someone with such a fever. She couldn’t even walk back to the house. Wheeler had to carry her here.” But that’s not dying and it’s not falling asleep for a hundred years. It could be a coincidence. A summer flu, perhaps.

  “Well, I better not get it,” said Mim. “Wish we still had Ania living with us.”

  In the morning, Ethel checked in on Sadie first thing and reported back. “Oh, girls. She’s in an awful state. Worse than yesterday. Miss Olive is pacing, waiting for the doctor. I’ve never seen her so worried before.”

  On the way to work, they peeked down the hallway on the first floor, but the door to the isolation room was closed. Maybe the doctor was in there now.

  They looked at each other grimly. Maybe there would be news at dinner. Until then, they’d better hustle to be through the mill gate before it closed.

  When Briar got to her station, she noticed immediately that Annie wasn’t at work, either. The overseer assigned Briar and two others to cover for the missing operatives before he started the pulleys. The spinning machines whirled to life and the girls were too busy covering the extra frames to gossip about anything.

  Briar’s fourth frame hummed along perfectly all morning, giving her plenty of time to wonder how Annie was doing, and if she had the same fever Sadie had.

  At the dinner bell, Briar shut down her machines and sought out one of Annie’s friends.

  “She’s feelin’ real bad,” the girl said. “Last night she was moanin’ so loud she woke up the whole house. Doc’s coming by today.”

  “Tell her I hope she feels better soon. We’re tending her frames for her.” Briar waved to the girl, then turned and raced home to find the doctor still in with Sadie.

  In the dining room, the girls ate in silence, which wasn’t that unusual, since they were always in such a hurry, but a pall hung over the table as everyone’s thoughts were with Sadie. None of them were strangers to illness. In fact, family illness was often the very reason girls like Briar were working in the mills.