Six minutes before her alarm went off. Six minutes before the start of a brand new day. She stood up, now three minutes before seven. It was still dark outside, the scent of autumn clearly noticeable. A cold breeze, lifting the scent of fresh baked bread from the bakery into the apartment.
"You have to go this early, Rose?" Oliver peaked his head from behind his bedroom door. He had already been awake for an hour, but didn't want to wake his sister as her bed was in the corner of their little kitchen.
"I'm sorry, Olly. I still have a lot of work to catch up on. But hopefully I'll be done on time." She put on the kettle to make both her and Oliver a cup of tea. Half an hour later she was out the door.
It was completely quiet when she arrived at work. The windows were closed, curtains draping over them, making no place for a single flash of daylight. Mrs. Woodbridge's house of dressmaking had gained a ton of popularity during the past months and since the VanderBilts were giving their annual ball, it seemed as if all of Boston high society women decided to let their gown be made here. The days were long, seemed endless at times. Every woman wanted to look the most ravishing, making them want a change of design almost every week.
Two hours of complete silence were filled with finishing the last seams and adding as much detail, embroidery and beads as possible. In the little kitchen in the back of the atelier, Rose enjoyed her morning coffee together with Jane. Jane had only been working at the Atelier for a month, but her delicate hands and her exquisite eye for detail made some of the other girls envy her. Jane found solace in her friendship with Rose and often got in early to catch up with her.
This was Rose's everyday routine. Ever since she moved to Boston together with her mother and her little brother she'd get up, bring Oliver to their upstair neighbour for his lessons, go to work and get back home. But when her mother passed away two years ago, the responsibility of keeping the family well was all on her. Yet dreams were big, even for a 20-year-old woman who could barely bring food to the table. One day, perhaps when her brother was grown up too, she'd make something of her life. There were drawings and picture books underneath her bed, which she had collected over the years, of beautiful images of the world's most foreign places. One day she'd travel to those places and experience what it'd truly be like to live.
There was a knock on the door followed a short greeting. Mrs. Woodbridge's husband had come to tell that she had caught a stomach flu and wouldn't come. Julie, the eldest, still no older than twenty-eight, was put in charge.
"Great." Julie said when Mr. Woodbridge left, "can a day get any worse?"
"Oh come on, Julie." Rose sat down next to her, "I bet there won't be any more orders until the ball next week so we only have to finish the last bits and pieces. Everyone can get right to work."
And so they did. Twenty women, 8 hours of long work. Songs were sung to make the time go by faster. As the others went home, Rose and Julie were left to close up the place. They secretly shared a cigarette in the kitchen.
"I wonder if we were to make one of those dresses for ourselves could we secretly sneak into those fancy parties?" Julie has always been the rebel. She could write a whole book about all the things she had experiences in her life. More good than bad unfortunately, which supposedly had caused her to toughen up. But she had a small heart, was always there for people and Rose loved her for that. She truly felt like a sister she never had.
"Wouldn't it be fun," She continued, "Free drinks all night long. Catching up on Boston's latest rumours. Maybe find ourselves a nice suitor."
"If we hurry up we can sneak into the fabric store, we'll have our dress finished by the end of the week," Rose laughed, "We wouldn't know how to behave, Julie. We'd totally make fools out of ourselves!"
"Then they'd truly have something to laugh about! No I wouldn't last a day with those snobs." Before her sentence was properly finished there was another hard bang on the door. It sounded hasty, desperate almost. Rose opened the door and found a woman, totally in distress.
"We are closed ma'am!' Julie shouted from the back, clearly not in the mood for any more nonsense.
"You have to help me." And without asking she was already in the shop. "My maid totally ruined my dress for next week. You know, for the ball. It's completely stained and shrunken, look!"
The woman placed her dress on top of the table. It indeed looked horrible as if it had been completely bleached. The skirt was too short and would probably be up to her knees.
"I am afraid I can't fix this ma'am. I am sorry to say it but this dress is indeed completely ruined." Rose said.
"I am going to hang that little girl! Now I have nothing to wear and I can't just simply buy a dress, I am seven months pregnant for goodness sake."
The two girls scanned the dress one more time and Julie sighed in annoyance.
"Julie, could you please fetch, I forgot to ask you name."
"Mrs. Spencer. Cecilia Spencer."
"Mrs. Spencer a glass of water." Rose sat down beside her. "I have an offer for you. What if you come by tomorrow. I'll take your measurements and you can tell me what kind of design you'd like. I can have it finished for you by next week."
There immediately appeared a glance in Mrs. Spencer's eyes.
"You'd do that for me?"
"Of course. I have everything finished for next week and there probably won't be any more orders so I have some extra time on my hands."
Julie declared Rose as a lunatic as the two of them made their way back home. She was right in a way, throwing away her only free days like that. But every penny counted for the young seamstress. Every extra penny would be used to live.
Mrs. Spencer couldn't express her gratitude and even offered Rose to come by her house. Since she was with child and unfortunately suffered from some complications she wasn't allowed to move that much. It was one of those tall fancy houses centred in Beacon Hill. It felt as if it was a totally different world. Marmer tiles made the floor of the entrance sparkle, fresh flowers stood everywhere and the light made everything look like a dream. A faint sound of the piano was heard when Rose was let in by he butler.
"Please wait here, miss." he instructed her. Afraid to move, she waited patiently and when the music stopped, Mrs. Cecilia Spencer came in to greet her.
"How glad you are here, miss Smith." She was still wearing her dressing gown, making her bump significantly present. They moved to the drawing room, where Rose put down her equipement en went straight to work. Measurements were taken, fabric had been chosen so now it was time for the design.
"Because you told me you don't want it to be too noticeable that you are expecting I was thinking what if we put the details more on the sleeves, neckline and hem of the dress. The center more simple, still with the best fabric of course." Drawing the idea down, Mrs. Spencer clapped in her hands and laughed.
"You are quite a fine artiste, miss Smith."
"I always draw down my ideas, ma'am. Helps me visualise."
"My little brother likes to draw like that as well. He is more into portraits and stuff and is always joking, ever since he was young, that he wants to run off to Paris to become a street artist."
He wouldn't last a day, Rose thought. How could someone who lived such a ravishing life want to give it all up to live in the gutter.
Time was well spent that day, the more work was done, the sooner the dress would be finished. A warm lunch with the servants relaxed her tired hands for a short while. The old sewing machine barely worked, therefore being forced to do most by hand. It was the way her grandmother had taught her all those years ago. As she sat by the dull light of the fireplace next to her teacher, she would sew little dresses for her dolls. There was no pleasure in the act, but it distracted her and as her grandmother would often say: "You'll never know when it will come in handy, Rosalind. It might save your life one day." And it did in some sort of way. The natural autumn light, as dull as the fireplace from the past, made it hard to continue. And eventually Rose was forced to call it quits for the day.
So she returned from what she called a castle, back to her own world. Where she fell asleep in the corner of the kitchen and waited for another day to greet her.