The Factory Girl // Book 1 in the Rosie Grey series

Chapter Five

Sinking myself into the hot water, I let the steam encase me. It danced up from the water in waves, before disappearing into the sunlight that streamed through a small window at the top of the room. Esther had heated up some water on the stove in the kitchen and poured into a small, metal basin that was kept in a room off to the side. She left me a grey towel and a bar of carbolic soap, saying I could take as much time as I needed since my maid duties were not due to begin until the next morning. I intended to spend as much time as possible in the water, both to remove the mountains of dirt from my skin and to enjoy a small moment of peace. Something that was rare in the factory.

I used the soap to scrub my skin until the black dirt was removed and replaced by the light pink colour that had been hidden for so long. Within seconds, the water turned a murky brown colour, but it didn't bother me. My left arm hung over the side of the basin, kept away from the steam that rose up around me and the hot water that helped melt the dirt from my body. Sighing, I dropped the bar of soap back into the small container it came in and sank back against the rim of the basin, my eyes wandering up to the ceiling.

Outside, the sun was starting to set below the clouds and a pink haze started to replace the bright sunlight that had once streamed into the small room. The small candle Esther had left for me flickered as I moved, taking over as the main source of light. With darkness descending upon the room, I decided it was time to vacate the bath, though it was tempting to remain in the water until the sun set and darkness appeared. Using the rim of the basin, I hauled myself up and out of the tub, letting the water run down my body and back into the basin.

From a wooden chair off to the side, I grabbed the towel and wrapped it around me, stepping out of the water and onto the ground, leaving damp footprints. I crossed the room and used the towel to dry myself before dressing in a pair of stockings left by Esther and the dress I had been wearing earlier. I felt like a completely different person. My skin was no longer black with dirt, my hair was washed, and my clothing wasn't too small, too itchy or covered in lice. Using the towel, I quickly ran it over my hair in an attempt to dry it before I grabbed the candle and left the room.

"There we go! Much better!" Miss Jenkins said when she noticed me enter the kitchen. The burner was still going, and the room was lit with thousands of burning candles and oil burners placed strategically around the room. Miss Jenkins was busing herself with stirring pots on the stove and occasionally checking the oven. "You hungry? I made the three of us a pie, once Esther has finished serving the family, we'll eat."

"Starving," I replied, rubbing my hands up and down my arms. The kitchen was a cold place to be and small Goosebumps had formed on my arms.

"Good. Esther should be finished soon. Take a seat, you might as well enjoy your only evening of not having to work."

"I'm used to working, days off in the workhouse didn't exist," I said, sitting at the table.

"Those workhouses sound awful."

"You get used to it."

Miss Jenkins didn't say anything, she just busied herself with placing plates on the table which were swiftly followed by a piping hot pie that she had just pulled from the oven. The moment it was placed in front of me, the smell made my stomach growl and my mouth water. It had been several years since I had had anything other than watery porridge and soggy vegetable soup. The idea of a pie, of eating meat with gravy and pastry was enough to make me want to eat the whole thing in one sitting. We used to daydream about the different types of food we would eat when we finally escaped the foreman's clutches, my time just came sooner than everyone else's.

For several minutes, I had to sit with the pie in front of me, trying not to eat it whilst Miss Jenkins laid several other things on the table and waited for Esther to return from serving the family at the dining room table. Sitting at the table, knowing I had just lied to someone who was going out of their way to make feel at home was more than I could bear. I wanted nothing more than to confess everything, from the foreman's behaviour to what really happened behind that gate. I wanted to confess it all because lying to them hurt me more than I thought it would. They had known me for a few hours but were looking out for me, and I was lying to them.