Finding the North Star

Chapter 1 ENDINGS

The giant circular saw had gone quiet by the time the girl and the man reached the works' shed. She did not fight the grip he had on her elbow but every part of her slender body leaned away from him; while her red hair, whipped by the wind that came moaning through the outbuildings, swirled about her head in angry tendrils. 

There was no one to watch their progress over the rough cobblestones. The builders yard, usually busy with stonemasons, carpenters, bricklayers, along with a small army of apprentices, was empty. If it were not for the steady puffs of smoke coming from the steam engine chimney it could have been a Sunday.

The girl readjusted herself within the man's grasp, remembering what her father had told her once  – "Everything shuts down when someone's died on the job. The men go quiet, the machines as well. Becky, you can hear a pin drop in that yard."

Becky had always been afraid of the angry buzz of the steam powered saw, now it was the silence that frightened her.

They steered a wide path around the steam engine sitting under its own lean-to against the one wall of the shed. It was unbearably hot close up and Becky hated it almost as much as the saw. Even now, dampened down it felt dangerous. Heat shimmered along the surface of the boiler and it seemed to breathe with pent up energy as the coals shifted within its iron belly.

Rounding the corner of the building, Becky shrugged herself out of the man's grasp when she saw Mary and their little terrier sitting together in the doorway.

Mary had been with Becky and her dad almost as long as Becky could remember – ever since her mum died. The Mohawk girl did all the household chores and had helped raise Becky; and some, those that did not know the family very well, might have thought of her as a servant. She was paid for her service sure enough, but they did not see her eating meals with Becky and her dad, or sitting before the fire on long winter nights playing cards and talking.

She saw Becky starting to run and taking a deep breath, pulled herself up to standing. At nineteen, she was barely an inch taller than Becky who had just had her thirteenth birthday only a month before.

She slipped her long black braid over her shoulder as the younger girl ran into her arms, "They asked me to bring your dad's suit to dress him in." She buried her nose in Becky's hair. "I wanted to come get you from school but they told me you were already on your way."

Becky pulled back and met the steady gaze of those brown eyes. She knew then it was true, her father was dead.

The man caught up and took her elbow again. He had lied to her.

Just a half hour ago, he told Becky in front of the whole class her father had been hurt. He said, "Come with me, I will take you to him." He never looked at her, keeping his eyes lowered all the while fiddling with the cap he held in his nervous fingers. She had gone with him, trusted him – that was until they got to the yard and the silent saw told her something bad had happened.

Still holding Becky tight, Mary whispered, "I said goodbye . . . I can't go in there again. Can you go by yourself?"

Becky nodded, going with the man again because she had no choice even though she felt like lashing out, really hurting him. But she took the string leash from Mary's hand – at least Kip would be with her.

The man's hand trembled as he laid it in the small of her back, guiding her. "This way Rebecca, your father is ready for you now."

Then she was in the shed and out of the wind, though it still clamoured around the old bricks looking for a way in. The man was almost pushing her as if he wanted to be done with this whole business. He directed her over to a side room. Becky wiped her sweating palms down her pinafore front, aware that she was clutching Kip's string very tight.