The room was still dark when Briar woke. Ethel was facing away from her, but Briar noted the steady rise and fall of her shoulder as she slept. With as little movement to the bed as possible, Briar slipped out. She quickly changed into her work clothes, forgoing washing.
As she tied her apron, there was a familiar bump of the small book against her thigh, the one that reminded her she never completed her education. She pulled the book out of her pocket and slid it under her pillow. Maybe one day she’d finish reading it; mark a new chapter in her life by finishing the old.
After checking and rechecking that the girls were all asleep—Sadie snoring, and Mim with her pillow over her ears—Briar knelt down to retrieve the spindle from under the bed. She slid out the box, cringing as wood scraped against wood. She paused. Listened. Then opened the box.
There was just enough light to see the spindle against the silk cloth. With only a slight hesitation, Briar reached in with an old cloth handkerchief and scooped up the spindle, silk and all.
She quickly wrapped everything securely, pausing only to lament that she still hadn’t gotten a good look at it, or even touched it yet. Her fingers were itching to glide over the roses. The shaft was long and stuck out of her pocket, but wrapped in her handkerchief people might think she had hastily jabbed the cloth into her apron.
Now, even if the girls woke early, she was ready. She buttoned up her boots, and still no one woke. She allowed herself a small smile as she gently opened the door and stepped out. At the click of the doorknob, the first mill bell of the day began to clang. Drat. She rested her forehead on the doorframe. She wasn’t as early as she’d hoped.
Standing tall, she took a step and bumped smack into Miss Olive. “Oh! Excuse me,” Briar said. A stir of guilt pricked her conscience. Why was she feeling guilty? She’d done nothing wrong. The peddler gave her the spindle.
Miss Olive’s brow furrowed and she sniffed in the air.
“Is everything okay?” Briar asked as the bedroom doors flew open. Girls streamed out, racing one another to the outside privies, and jostling Briar and Miss Olive in the process.
“Yes, oh, yes. I was merely tracking down an unusual scent.” She breathed again, a look of confusion crossing her face. “Seem to have lost it now amongst all the handcreams and other concoctions up here.” She waved her hand. “No bother, it was probably my nose playing tricks on me. Something I haven’t smelled in years.” She sniffed once more at Briar before heading back downstairs.
By this time, Mim had opened their bedroom door and stood in the open space. “What was that about? I didn’t think Miss Olive ever came up here until we were gone, and she was collecting our laundry.”
Ethel stumbled out next, yawning wide. “You’re up early,” she said to Briar. “Or am I late?” She dashed back into the room and banged out drawers in her hurry to dress.
Mim laughed. “Ha! Haven’t seen that one ruffled in a while. I’ve got to fix my hair yet. I’ll see you at breakfast.”
Briar didn’t wait for her room-mates. She skittered to the kitchen to find Miss Olive. The boardinghouse keeper was up to her elbows in dough as she kneaded the daily bread.
“May I borrow a tool from the box?” Briar asked.
“Yes,” Miss Olive answered distractedly. “Make sure you return it tonight.”
Leaving Miss Olive sniffing the air again, Briar opened the utility closet and located a wrench. Hopefully it would do the job. She stopped by the dining room on the way out to grab a flapjack and was on her way.
Alone at last, Briar stepped outside, self-consciously trying to hide the spindle end, and now a wrench poking out the top of her apron pocket. Had the season been winter, the morning darkness would have helped, but this early sunrise exposed all.
“Morning,” another mill girl called in passing. Briar nodded back and then waved at another friendly mill girl.
When Briar reached the mill, the gates were open, but only a few people were going inside the yard. Most waited for the bell to call them there, which was what Briar was counting on. She needed to be alone with her spinning frame.
She’d never been the first one in and hoped the overseer wasn’t an early bird.
“Hello?” she called out. Silence. “Anyone here?”