One: Daughter, Daughter, Daughter, Daughter
Mother lost another job today. Now we'll be on the streets for a few days, maybe even go to a new town. We will go hungry for a few days, but its not like I am unused to it. Agatha will complain mercilessly, but it is only to stir the unhappy silence. The tailor Mother assisted was a mean man who disrespected her. So I don't feel the least bit guilty when Mother snatched a small bit of food from his larder to tide us over until Mother can find a new job.
And even through meticulous penny-pinching we run out of food by the time we reach the new town, a place called Sumter Valley. We slept the night in an alleyway between two houses, and waited to see what the sun would reveal of Sumter Valley.
Apparently, Wednesday was market day. We wandered the streets, looking for someone in need of employment. But what I spotted instead were two girls. Unspeakably beautiful yet covered in a fire's refuse, they wandered the streets like lost souls. They let the townspeople push them around, getting knocked about like snowflakes in high winds.
"Look, Mother, at those girls. Should we not help them?" I pointed out.
"Yes, Mamma, perchance they could feed us?" Agatha whined, tugging on Mother's skirt. The twelve year old Agatha often acted smaller than her middle years. And Mother often said that I, Rita, acted more twenty than fifteen.
"Yes, maybe we should," Mother started, trailing off as if she would say more.
So I left Mother's side and ran towards the lithe pair. And just as I grabbed the smaller girl's hand I heard a rude voice mutter, 'Move aside, Embers,' before the body pushed the larger girl. She knocked into her comrade, in turn upturning me. We ended up in a heap on the ground.
The older girl scrambled up and motioned to help me up. "So sorry, so sorry," she mumbled. The younger one just sat there, and was she glaring at me? "I am Lena," the older girl continued. "And this is my sister Fenella." she pointed to the young girl. "What is your name?"
"My name is Rita," I offered, extending a hand. Lena shook it. "And over there," I pointed to Mother and Agatha. "Are my mother, and my sister Agatha. We were wondering if you needed any help, and if there was a job for my mother anywhere in Sumter Valley."
"My father runs a steel factory, and there are a few spots for women to keep fires going, but I don't know if that's..." Lena trailed off, and before she could say anything more, I spoke up.
"My mother is unafraid of hard work," I boasted. "Nor am I, nor is my sister."
Lena's lips were clenched tight, and she fumbled with her hands, as if she knew not what to do with them. "I don't know if you want to do that. Working on the fires is..."
"Oh, hush, Lena," the young girl Fenella, quipped. "They look like stout folks, and besides, less work for us, eh?" She smiled, but the smile seemed empty somehow. Maybe Embers was a nickname, since they work fires. Yes, that's it, a nickname.
And that is how we came to Lena and Fenella's house, the Grey residence. They lived alone with their widowed father, Lawrence. Lawrence owned a steel factory, and apparently his daughters ran the fires that kept it going. But if he was a rich businessman, God only knew why his two daughters were working as common maids.
Lawrence Grey was a slight man with waxy skin and nice hair, but his eyes were cold and mean, and he had many frown wrinkles about his mouth. "You were gone too long," he growled, the only greeting he offered his daughters. "Embers, make me my dinner, and Cinders, you tell me what these ragamuffins are doing in my house."
"My name is Lena, father," she pleaded with empty eyes, empty from saying that phrase so many countless times that it lost meaning.
"You are a fire girl," he barked. "And nothing more."
"I am one thing more." Lena pleaded. "I am your daughter."
"Make dinner!" Lawrence bellowed so loud that Agatha flinched and hid behind Mother's skirts
"Father, don't please!" Fenella ran up to Lawrence and extended her arms, as if to hug him. All he did was push her away, a little too hard.
Mother obviously couldn't take any more. The whole time, her eyebrows were knitted together like one long snake. "Mr. Grey, my name is Daniella Laurel. I am here with my daughters to apply for a job. I can sew and repair your clothes, and my daughters can help work the fire. We are used to hard work, and need a place to live. Please. I and my daughters could help cook meals, so your daughters could be proper ladies." She stood tall and unafraid, waiting for an answer.
He looked like he was about to beat us out of his house, but instead he said, "Stay for a week, and then we'll see." He sat down and placed his chin in his hands.
Then Mother told all three of us to help Lena in the kitchen while she talked to Mr. Grey. I never knew what went on during those conversations, and I don't flatter myself with guesses. Us four girls just worked silently making beef stew.
The next morning, Lena shook me awake just as the first beams of sunlight were breaking the foggy gloom of morning.
"Come on," she whispered. "The fires have to be started at dawn." I shook a cranky but cooperative Agatha awake, and pulled on my skirt and blouse. The skirt was once a lovely grey, but now it was just washed out. It was long and plain, with cheap, thin material bunched up as to keep one a semblance of warm. The aristocrats often called these peasant skirts. I was surprised to see Lena pull one on too, not having noticed it before, and wondered why a rich man would clothe his daughters in peasant garb. I just shrugged it off, why should I get into their life, and went downstairs.
Fenella had gone downstairs early, like she always does, Lena said. She pushed us past the kitchen, grabbing a handful of bread heels with the reflexes of a frog's tongue, before struggling to open a thick iron door with smoky, fogged windows, and warmth protruding from the draft.
"This is where we work the fires," Lena said weakly as I helped her push open the door.
The fire room was hot, stuffy, and smoggy enough to make me retch and cough for at least a few weeks. It was hard, backbreaking work, which we did silently, listening only to the crack and pop of the coals.
The day would start with pulling on our soot-blackened clothes in half-light. Then we trooped down the stairs, where either Fenella, Lena or I would grab some bread. One day, Agatha tried, but she was too slow and Lawrence screamed his eyeballs out at all of us. Then we would work the fires all day until at least three o'clock. Then we would have a small meal and do the shopping and errands that Lawrence needed doing.
Embers turned out to be more than just a nickname. It was Lena's identity. A fire girl had no dignity in Sumter Valley, they were considered associates of the devil, since they worked so close to the fires. And now, unbeknownst to Mother, Agatha and I had lost our identities too. I became Ashes, and Agatha became Soot. Lena was Embers, and Fenella was Cinders.