Roses and Black Glass: a dark Cinderella tale (24 page)

“I don’t care
whether you’re Nora’s or not.  No one falls asleep on my watch!”

The man was
apparently in a foul humor today and didn’t care for rules.  He wasn’t supposed
to hurt her.  Didn’t he know that?  But Wren could tell by the look in his eyes
that he didn’t care.  She must have been too clean – her skin too smooth.  He
wanted to remedy that, give her a few scars.

He raised the
stick and Wren knew that it was coming down on her, going to break her arm as
she tried to protect herself and beat her senseless until he felt she’d learned
her lesson – if he stopped before he killed her.  She was trembling as she
clenched her eyes shut tight and held her arms over her face – 

A roar of rage
echoed through the room.  From out of nowhere, Henry sprang forward and tackled
the overseer, leaping up on the man’s back and wrapping lissome arms around his
thick neck.

Wren looked up
at the sound of the angry cry, and when she saw Henry clinging to the man’s
shoulders and throat as if to choke him, she knew that all the color had
drained from her face.  Her insides clenched, tangling in a knot that grew
increasingly tighter.  She knew from the first moment that this was not going
to go well.  Teetering one way might send them both into the machine, but even
if they avoided that, she knew Henry would not win.

No, no,
Henry!

Worthy did not
go down, for he was much larger than Henry, but he did drop his club, which
slid under the machine where the scavengers lived, disappearing into the dark. 
This gave Wren enough time to get up off the floor, for Worthy had forgotten
her completely, but Henry was not so lucky.  The boy had a lot of anger, but
not much body mass to back it up.  He was easily thwarted by the larger man.

The Devil
flipped him over onto the floor and gave no warning before he began to smash
his heavy fist into Henry, even though the boy was trying to block and kick
with fury – anything he could do to lessen the blows.  A mighty punch in the
gut made Henry drop his guard from his face, and then the blood began to flow.

Wren’s first
instinct was to run, but she knew that she couldn’t leave this as it was, or
she would have nothing more than a broken, bloody mess for a brother.

The man was
hitting Henry in the face with his bare knuckles, the blows slow but forceful. 
Blood was pooling out of his nose and mouth, droplets splattering over the
floor.  Worthy didn’t see that Henry was a child, much smaller than him.  All
he saw was the red of his rage.  The sight of the boy’s blood was only feeding
that fury, and the sadistic grin on his mouth proved it.

Someone do
something!

Wren looked
around frantically at the other workers, many of them women and children who
were too afraid to do anything, thinking the same might happen to them if they
intervened.  Some had not even pulled away from their machines.  This was such
a frequent occurrence that it didn’t faze them – just as long as they weren’t
the ones on the ground.

She was as
afraid as the rest of them, but she couldn’t let this happen to Henry.  She
didn’t know what the consequences would be, but she cast that aside.  This man
was going to
kill him
if she didn’t act!

Knowing that
she couldn’t wait for anyone else to step forward, she let her instincts take
over.  Wren pulled herself off the floor and ran toward Worthy, casting off her
fear and inhibitions.  She leaned in with her weight and threw herself into
him, shoving him as hard as she could.

A vengeful
wail burst from her lungs and the man lost his balance, flailing backward.  His
girth made it impossible for him to regain his footing before he fell flat on
his large rump.  That was enough time for her to grab Henry and help him get
out of harm’s way.  He seemed disoriented, but she wasn’t surprised at that
when she considered the amount of blood that was running down his shirt.

That will
never come out
.

“Are you
okay?  Henry?”

She clasped
his head between her hands to force him to look at her.  He managed to nod, and
she saw that his eyes were able to focus on hers.  He was, at least, not too
damaged.

Thank God,
he’s –

Her thoughts
were shattered by a piercing yell of agony, and she lent her eyes back to the
scene.  On the floor, Worthy had toppled over and instinctively reached back,
stretching out his hand to catch something for leverage – but he hadn’t been
quick enough to remember the spinning machine.  His scream filled the factory
as his hand was caught in the weave, but the machine did not yield for him, and
within moments, had torn off several of his fingers. 

Blood gushed
out in spurts, dying the weave a hideous red.  Everything seemed to stop then. 
The other workers – so many of them grimy, unclaimed children – were standing
back, simply looking on with horror in their eyes while the overseer writhed on
the floor, clenching what was left of his mangled hand.

Wren was
frozen in place, unable to move or even
breathe
– do anything except
stare at him, knowing she had done it.

This is not
good.  It’s not happening…

She was in a
daze when Henry grabbed her arm, and then they were running through the mill
and out onto the street.  No one stopped them.  No one outside even knew what
they were running from, but Wren knew, and also grasped that it would be better
for them if they didn’t stop.

They ran until
they were tired, and Henry pulled her into an alley before they halted.  He
leaned back on one side of the narrow space and she slumped against the other. 
Breathless, they looked at each other in wild surmise.  They didn’t need words
to know exactly what the other was thinking.  Perhaps they had escaped the
worst of the beating, but the
worst
was to come.  Even as they stood
here, Wren knew that everything she had worked for – everything that she had
tried to preserve – was over.

1

“This
disappoints me,” Miss Nora said.  “It really does.”

Wren and Henry
were sitting in front of her desk, which served as a barrier to keep them
separated from her sympathy.  She was not their mother, and since they had
caused trouble for her, she was also not their friend.  She might have denied
that she knew them at all if not for her contract with the factory.  Wren knew
she must take what she could get from the woman as far as mercy, but already
knew it wouldn’t be much.

Wren had
finally convinced Henry that they had to come back to the Home even despite
what might have been awaiting them.  If for no other reason, they could not
simply vanish and desert Max.  Wren was certain that once Miss Nora had seen
how badly Henry had been beaten, surely they would get some compassion.  She was
at least right about that, though it wasn’t much more than getting Henry
doctored properly.

Wren glanced
over at the boy now, and she felt terribly guilty with her small welt compared
to what he looked like.  His cheeks were puffy with bruising, and one eye was
nearly swollen shut.  His bottom lip was split, but he was lucky that he still
had all his teeth – if she had a right to call it
lucky
.

There were
papers on the desk, detailing their release from the factory, giving up all the
discriminating details, which Wren was certain made them seem like the ones
fully at fault.  She didn’t want to read them and there was no real use in
speaking against the charges.  All she could do was beg for mercy.

“I suppose the
only thing I can do now is give you your choices.  Do you want to go to the
workhouse?  Be on the street?  Or do you want to continue to stay here?”

“We want to
stay here,” Wren said quickly.  Her heart was beating furiously, hammering away
at the nails in her coffin.  She felt that since this had happened, they would
be cast out on the street for certain, regardless of what she said.

Henry still
hadn’t tried to make a case for himself, and Nora was waiting for him to.  When
he did not, she called for his attention.

“Henry,” she
said sternly.  “Your sister loves you very much, and you have hurt her by
this.”

Wren saw his
eyes widen – saw the words welling behind his lips and she begged for them not
to burst free.  When he actually managed to keep quiet, she was relieved.

“I’m going to
try one more time to place you in work, but this is the last chance.  I have
often refused that any children in my house should go to the mines, but perhaps
that is the only place for you.”

“No!”  Wren
protested on his behalf.  She knew how treacherous the mines would be.  There
was often news of cave-ins, and even if not that, she still did not want to
imagine her brother down there alone in the dark.  “Please just put us in
another factory and nothing like this will ever happen again.”

Nora eyed them
both, giving particular consideration to Henry, but she didn’t say anything
else on the subject.

“Henry, you
may go.  Wren, I’d like you to stay a moment.”

Henry cast a
glance at Wren and then tromped out heatedly, glad to be free, but the idea of
time alone with Miss Nora did not make her feel at ease.  It could not have led
to any good conversations.

Once the woman
was sure that Henry had gone, she looked Wren in the eyes.

“You need to
prepare yourself for the worst,” she said firmly.  “The two of you lashed out
at a supervisor and caused him to be severely injured.  This is not something
that’s easily hidden or forgiven.  No one wants a defiant youth.”

“But you will
try,” Wren led on hopefully, though she felt she was asking in vain.

“That man
violated our contract, but that cannot explain away what you did to him.  I’m
not going to hold my breath, and you shouldn’t either.  I may still be able to
get some domestic work for you, but if I can’t place Henry within the next few
weeks, then he’s going off to Armstrong’s to work in the mines.  I’ll leave it
to you to tell him – or not – as you see fit.”

Wren felt
tears pressing behind her eyes, but she couldn’t say that she hadn’t known.  A
thousand consequences had gone through her mind and this had only been one
possibility.  They couldn’t get away with what they had done, even if it hadn’t
been entirely their fault.  It would have been better if Henry had just let her
take the beating.  At least it would have been over and done with.

She looked
down at the scarred surface of the desk, trying to keep herself together.

“May I go
now?” she asked, her voice low and strained.  But Nora would not release her.

“There is one
more thing.”  Wren looked up, wondering how this could have gotten worse, but
knowing it was about to.  “A husband and wife who were at the visitation
yesterday have expressed a desire for adoption, and I have approved it.”

Wren wasn’t
sure how to feel about that.  Her heart was tugging one way and her mind the
other.  If she was a puppet, she would have been tangled beyond use.  She
remembered the woman she had spoken to and her husband with the hungry eyes. 
Was it them?

“They want to
adopt Max –
only
Max.”

Wren’s face
fell as understanding sank in, passing from cautious expectation to absolute
fear.

“What?  No!”  It
was her natural reaction to protest, whether or not it was acceptable for her
to do so.  She had been looking after Max since he was a baby, and though she’d
claim she didn’t want him to look to her as a mother, she couldn’t help but
feel that her own child was being ripped from her.

“Wren, you
know how often we get to move children out of here,” Nora said reasonably. 
“This is for the best.”

“He’s
my
brother.  Don’t I get a say in this?”

“It’s a
courtesy
that I’m telling you first,” she said firmly.

Wren looked
back at her, hardly able to believe this harshness.  Miss Nora was not usually
cruel – distant, perhaps – but this all seemed particularly cold to Wren.  She
stared at the woman until finally Miss Nora sighed, looking so aged in that
moment that it was frightening.  Wren saw a reflection of herself beyond the
hard life that awaited her.

“Wren, I know
how you feel about the three of you staying together, but let us face the
facts.  You’re growing up to be quite an attractive young woman and you can’t
hope to hide it forever.  Despite your effort, you’ll eventually be bought off
to be someone’s wife – if you’re lucky enough to even get a commitment like
that.  Who’s going to protect them then?  Henry, with his attitude, may never
get out of here, and this could be Maxwell’s only chance before it’s too late
for him as well.  Would you rather him be on the street?  Down a mine shaft
somewhere with Henry?  You need to think about what is the best thing for Max;
not for you.  He’s young.  There is no future for him if he stays here.  Be
reasonable.”

Wren was
trying
to be reasonable, but all she could think was:
I’m going to lose
both of my brothers now.  All of this struggling to stay together, and for
what?

“The Ausbrooks
are wealthy,” Nora said as a way of consoling her.  “They have an estate in the
country and have traveled out to prepare the house for him.  He’ll be well
taken care of, will have a good education and will grow up to be a fine young
man with the love of a family, like he deserves.  How could you ask for more
than that?”

In her heart,
Wren knew she was right, but yet it was a lot to swallow at once.

“How long?”
she wanted to know.  She heard her own voice breaking up, but she swore she
wouldn’t cry – not now.

“Several weeks
yet.  They hope to be back by the end of the month.  Plenty of time to say
goodbye.”

2

After that,
Wren didn’t have much to say to anyone.  She was irresponsive to any verbal
attempt as she carried out her chores and helped to prepare supper for the rest
of the children.  By the time she sat down with her brothers to eat, she was
like a ghost, drifting about, transparent and with no purpose.

The meal was
one of their more conservative.  It was an oatcake with onions and a small
amount of potato, which outshined everything else, despite it being such a
little chunk.  They did eat better than this on occasion, but it seemed that
Nora’s displeasure had affected the menu.  They were all being punished for
it.  She had lost the income from two workers and intended to make up the
difference somewhere.

Wren stared
blankly at the table, beyond her plate of food, not paying attention as Max
pushed his oatcake off onto the floor.  Henry tore his into little pieces,
stirred them around on his plate for a bit and then finally put one morsel past
his sore lips.  He had only just tasted it before he spat it back out onto the
plate and shoved all of it away from him across the table, making several of
the others look up from their own food in surprise.

“I don’t want
this,” Henry muttered sullenly.

Wren snapped
back to herself.  She could see that look on Henry’s face – the way he stared
down at the table, lips clenched.  She suspected that something else was
bothering him instead of the food, but decided to feign ignorance.  She hardly
had the energy to deal with his issues right now.

“What’s wrong
with it?  Is your mouth sore?”  He was still swollen from the beating he’d
taken.  There was no denying that.

“It tastes
like shit.”

“Henry!”  She
didn’t like to hear him say words like that.  It was unrefined, and they were
not lowlifes.  They had been taught better than that.  It did, however, make
several of the others at the table giggle, which roused Maxwell’s attention,
because he did not understand.

“What’s ‘
shit
’?”
Max asked, looking up at her with his inquisitive four-year-old eyes.  Wren was
aghast, but Henry snickered with his head down.  There was a short smile on his
busted lips.

“It’s a word
none of you should be saying,” she scolded them all, then glared at Henry.  She
lowered her voice to rebuke him.  “That’s perfect, Henry.  Just what we need is
to have him saying words like that in front of his new parents.”

It was out of
her mouth before she’d thought much about it.  Wren froze, waiting for him to
demand what she meant by that, but Henry did not seem to grasp onto it.

“We don’t need
new parents,” he told her.  “We
have
parents somewhere.”

“Who gave us
up,” she reminded him.

“Exactly.  It
didn’t work the first time.  Why would it work again?  There’s no point in
hoping for it.  It’s not going to happen!”

Wren was angry
with him, furious in fact.  He was so young and stupid that he could not
possibly understand what was happening right now, just under his nose.  She
almost erupted and told him what Nora had said to her – that he was going to be
sent away and Max was being taken – but she managed to keep it contained
inside.  It was stagnant water in an old bottle.

“What happened
today is not alright,” she warned him.  “It won’t be forgotten or forgiven.  We
won’t just waltz away from it like nothing happened.  You need to stop living
in a fantasy and realize that there are going to be consequences!”

“What
happened?” a girl across the table asked.  Her name was Polly and she was
around seven years old – much too young to be concerned about it.

“Wren pushed
the Devil into the machine.  Tore his hand right off,” Liam informed her
quietly.  He had been there to see it.

“Was he trying
to get the gold?” Polly asked innocently.

Wren felt a
chill run through her.  Henry looked at her knowingly. 

“Then there’s
no sense hoping that someone will adopt us then, is there?” he asked smartly. 
“That’s a fantasy too.”

Wren was fed
up, unable to take any more.  She wanted to yell at him but held back for the
others’ sakes.  Instead, she lifted her tin plate and slammed it back down on
the table, scattering food and making a loud noise that startled them all. 

“You’d rather
stay here and eat
shit
?  Fine.  Maybe you’ll get your wish.” 

Wren’s face
flushed when she allowed herself to say the forbidden word, but she was too
angry to go back on it.  She got up and walked away from the table, leaving Max
there and Henry bewildered.  He just didn’t understand.  Did he really have no
grasp on what they had done?  Did he not know that they weren’t going to be excused
from it? 

I can’t
deal with this.  I just can’t.

Wren went to
the girls’ washroom, closing herself away.  She sank down in the corner against
the wall, feeling the coldness of the tiles pass through her dress.  She was
alone, and she didn’t bother holding back her tears.  Everything was falling
apart around her and she could do nothing to stop it.  Soon, her family would
all be gone and she would be the only one left.

I won’t
have anyone at all,
she thought. 
Nowhere to go.  Nowhere to belong...

The door of
the washroom began to open and she tried to turn away so that no one would see
her sorrow.  Tears were contagious in this place. 

Glimpsing a
familiar form made her look up, and she was surprised to see that it was
Henry.  She was so shocked that he had come after her that she simply stared at
him, dumbfounded.  After that, it was too late to hide her tears.

“You’re not
supposed to be in here,” she told him, but that meant very little to her
rebellious brother, who didn’t care for rules.  He sat down next to her against
the wall, watching her as she tried to get a handle on her emotions.  She wiped
her tears away with the back of her hand, knowing they made her eyes look puffy
and old.