The morning had been long and dreary in the mill, and the grey world outside had offered them little light to work by.
Selina had been manning the grindstone, pouring wheat into the grind hole, manoeuvring the lever to lower the stone, grinding the wheat and filling sacks with the resulting flour. It was hard work, though not as hard as hauling the sacks up the ladders to the higher platforms where they were safe from the scrutinising of mice and rats.
Morag and Hannah carried sacks between them to the second tier, then George would continue with them to the third, where they would be locked inside a secure vault.
It was lunchtime, and the four of them groaned a sigh of relief and stretched their backs – gathering outside the furnace room while George boiled hot water and made them all cups of spiced ginger.
‘Sixteen more bag-fulls, I reckon,’ Hannah said, leaning over the railings and watching the grindstone turn slowly below.
Selina sighed and nodded, too tired to say anything. She crouched on the floor, her back aching as though she had spent the morning carrying rocks.
George emerged with steaming cups for Hannah and Morag, and then another for Selina and himself.
‘You’ve got grease on your cheek.’ He said to Selina, who wiped at it with her cuff. ‘No, the other one.’
She rubbed the other cheek, though only managed to smear the grease further across her face.
‘There’s a mirror around somewhere. Only a shard, but....’ He stopped as Hannah leaned forward, spitting on her sleeve and rubbing Selina’s face like an overbearing mother.
‘That reminds me. I saw someone up by the mirror last night. Just before sunset.’ He said.
‘Who’d be going up there?’ Morag asked, ‘No-ones used it for years.’ She sipped from her drink and flinched from its heat. ‘Ow!’
‘Semilion goes up there sometimes. So does Bill. Just to check on it.’
‘I think Bill goes up there because it reminds him of his brother.’ Hannah offered.
‘And his pa.’ Morag concluded.
‘What is the mirror?’ Selina asked as Hannah finished with her and returned to her drink.
‘It’s a great big lens that looks into the sky.’ George said animatedly. ‘You should see it. I’ll take you up there.’
‘I remember you offered me that a while back.’
‘You’re a dirty blighter, George.’ Morag said, shaking her head. ‘Why don’t you just ask if you can hump her?’
‘What?’ He choked on his drink.
‘That’s not your game?’ Morag turned to Selina. ‘Let me know if he takes you up there and doesn’t try it on. I’d be amazed. I’d regain my faith in humanity.’
Selina coloured, though couldn’t help but laugh at George’s evident embarrassment. She found herself liking George the more she got to know him. She detested his inability to conceal his desire for half the women in the village, and his apparent need for approval. She’d learned he did this by putting others down to bolster himself. It wasn’t malicious, she had come to realise, he was just terribly insecure.
She didn’t know why. He was handsome in a plain and stoic kind of way, and working in the mill in the furnace room had resulted in broad shoulders and the kind of arms a wrestler would be proud of.
‘I didn’t mean that, honestly.’ He said. ‘It’s really amazing. We should go up there the next time it’s a clear night.’
‘Oh, he’s good.’ Morag bayed.
‘Wants to take you up there at night!’ Hannah teased.
George sighed in mock exasperation and shrugged. ‘Well, I’ll take you up there if you like, that’s all I’m saying.’
Morag chuckled, then turned to Selina. ‘Maybe you should go. Of all the things in the community the mirror is probably the most outstanding.’
‘Ok,’ Selina said, turning to George, ‘I’d like to see it.’
He waited until she looked away before turning to Morag and winking.