The morning came warm, with a hint of humidity that told New York to dress lightly. It was the end of August, and each day in New York was hot, sticky, and nearly unbearable for workers. Those in the factories had it the worst; people died from heatstroke all the time, working away at the machines and assembly lines. Those outside got an occasional breeze, but not much else.
Cara wrinkled her nose as Madam Brently patted her cheek sharply to wake her. The middle-aged woman was severe-looking and strict, but not overbearingly so. Cara liked her, just not the way she chose to wake the girls up in the morning. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, Cara absently pushed her hair about until it settled to her liking, and hopped off the bed. She laced up her worn, scuffed black boots and pulled on her suspenders and short-sleeved button-down, plucking a blue ribbon barrette from beneath her pillow and clipping it into her hair for a nicer touch.
Tucking her scant pieces of colored chalk into her pockets and tucking her charcoal behind her left ear, Cara bid Madam Brently farewell and went on her way to the sweep's supply, which was where she obtained her brushes and sheets for chimney sweeping. By the time she arrived, there was already a line of five other sweeps waiting for their gear for the day, and Cara shoved her hands in her pockets, sufficing to twist her chalk pieces to pass the time. The sun came up completely, blanketing the sky in a brilliant orange, peach, and pink coat of color. Cara's fingers twitched involuntarily. What she wouldn't give for a proper canvas and set of paints at this very moment. She stood, observing the skyline, mesmerized, until a sharp nudge in the back made her start.
"Oy, line's movin'," said the sweep behind her, a tall, slim boy with dirty blonde hair. He jerked his chin up, motioning for Cara to move forward, which she did without much more than a dirty look to the offender.
"Where'm I goin' today, boss?" she asked as she set her brushes over her shoulder and donned her sheet pack.
"Harlem. Three stopped chimneys there, and then another four in south Harlem. Be quick about it, I've been getting' complaints," the Boss barked roughly. She frowned and stepped aside.
"Certainly not about me, sah," she said doubtfully, smirking as she turned and headed towards the streets of Harlem.
The streets were buzzing with activity by the time Cara reached her first address. She stared up at the three-story monstrosity of an 'apartment' and rang the bell, gulping down her apprehension. A plump, gray-haired housekeeper came to the door and at first looked quite taken aback, until she spied the sweeping brushes on Cara's shoulder.
"Pardon me, ma'am," she said. "But I'm told there's a chimney needs unstoppin' 'ere?"
The housekeeper studied Cara and then nodded. "Follow me," she said in a thick Irish brogue. Cara smiled.
"In 'ere, and don't make a mess," the maid fussed, waving her pudgy hands about at the chintz and oriental rugs. "My mistress would be mighty displeased should she find any soot 'ereabouts."
"That's what me sheets are for, marm," Cara replied cheerfully, flinging the first sheet over the couch directly in front of the fireplace. She continued until all furniture and carpeting within ten feet of the fireplace was covered, and then she opened the fire grating to peer up the flu. She couldn't see a spot of daylight, and she sighed. Small as she was, being a girl, she could fit up most chimneys, but it didn't mean she was thrilled to do it. Climbing was all right, but not when you were pumping a brush up and down whilst soot and clods of birds' nests were raining down upon your bonce. Cara selected one of her brushes and poked it up the floo, standing directly inside the fireplace now. She pushed upwards, rotating clockwise to loosen the soot and ash trapped in the small gap above. A few birds chirped indignantly and flew out the top of the chimney as soot showered Cara's head. Looking up again, Cara realized she'd have to climb to reach the topmost blockage.
With a sigh, she plucked the strands of hair from her face and began to push herself up the chimney, sticking the brush ahead of her to knock free the soot and dirt. She blinked as soot threatened to get in her eyes. It was going to be a long day.
After her 4th house, Cara had a bit of a ways to walk to her next house, one even larger than the last. Did these people even know what a normal flat looked like? She doubted it. Never mind that their neighbors across the street were nearly destitute, as long as they kept out of the way. Along her path, Cara met a few Harlem newsies, who politely tipped their hats as they spied the bow in her hair. She spoke briefly with one of them.
"Feel any different?" she asked, winking.
The newsie thumbed his tattered lapel and thought about it. "Not much, just a lotta gents askin' me the same thing, miss," he replied. " 'Ow about yew?"
"I'm doin' seven chimneys 'stead of sixteen today, pal. That feels different to me," she replied. She handed him two bits and took a paper. He tipped his cap and continued his sales, shouting the usual "Extra, extra!" with a few embellishments here and there as Cara rounded the corner and knocked on the door of her next house.
A young man answered the door and invited her in immediately with a smile. He pointed her to the direction of the main floor chimney and left her to her work. The chimney really only needed a sound sweeping and less of an unblocking than most chimneys, and Cara was done within the hour.
"Excuse me sah, there anythin' else you want me to be doin'?" she called, leaning her head around the double-door entrance to the sitting room. There was silence for a few seconds, and then the young man came hurrying down the stairs.
"Actually, if it isn't too much trouble, my niece's room has been a bit stuffy these past few days, could you look at the shaft of her fireplace?" he asked sincerely. Cara bit back a snort of laughter and nodded her head.
"I'm a bit sooty, should I clean up foist, mista?" she asked.
"Oh, no no, that's what maids are for, dear girl. Please, up this way," he replied, showing her up the stairs and into a lavender-colored room with a miniature fireplace and chimney to match. Cara stuck her head up the small shaft and peered into the dark.
"You've got a boid in here, mista. I kin knock it loose easy," she said, and delivered a sharp tap to the feathered nest blocking the shaft. The occupant squawked noisily and vacated quickly as the nest toppled in a twiggy lump onto the grating.
"That all for yew, govna?" she asked, leaning on her flu brush.
"Yes, yes that's all," he said, seeming slightly distracted. He hesitated, and then said, "My dear, would you like something to eat? You look quite underfed."
"You ain't from around here, are you?" she said, raising one eyebrow.
"No, I'm from England, but why should that matter?" he said, beginning to walk down the hallway.
"Just makes you nicer'n everyone else, tha's why," she replied. "But I wouldn't say no to a bit of sup."
"Oh good. Come right in here. There's plenty of leftovers. Too much for us, I daresay," he said, placing three platters of sausage, crackers, and fruit on the table for Cara. Her eyes became round and glassy, and she sat down quite readily and began to eat.
"Beggin' your pardon, mista, but, why're you feedin' me?" she asked after swallowing her third piece of sausage.
"I know what it's like to be hungry," he replied. "Are you homeless, child?"
"I ain't a bum, if that's what you're askin'," she said quickly, furrowing her eyebrows.
"Oh no, that's not what I meant. Do you have a place to live?" he asked. "Blankets, a bed? A roof over your head?"
"I live in a girls' home in Southside. It's betta than a box," she said. "Madam ain't mean much, and I don't gots to pay. Pretty nice deal."
"Yes, those public homes were quite a good idea," said the man. "I've forgotten my manners. I am Adam Trenton. Might I ask your name?"
"I'm Cara O'Conner. Pleasure," she said, pocketing half a dozen crackers and a few slices of sausage, along with an apple in her pack. "Thanks for the food mista, but I still gots a few chimneys to go, so could I get me pay?"
"Of course. Here you are," he said kindly, placing a few silver coins in her hand. He held out a quarter. "And this is for you. Not extra pay, but for you. Save it or spend it if you wish, Cara O'Conner. It was nice meeting you. Don't hesitate to drop by if you're in the area, yes?"
"Sure mista. Thanks!" she said, and packed up her sheets. Adam Trenton let her out the door with a smile, and she stepped off his porch feeling full for the first time in her life.