SHORT STORIES SPECIAL

In Freya Berry’s story, Evangeline suffers at Mr Hornbeam’s New York millinery firm until a pivotal event pushes her to shape her own future – and his

‘You’re late.”

Evangeline glanced up from her workbench, neck already aching from the intricate creation before her: a hat decorated with no fewer than six hummingbirds, pinned to netting so fine it would look as though the creatures were, indeed, flying – if one ignored the metal spikes impaling their tiny bodies. Mr Hornbeam was glaring at her down his beaky nose, his small black eyes pinning her to where she sat.

“That’s the second time this month. I see everything, as you know.” His tone was triumphant. Evangeline opened her mouth to tell him about her mother who lay glassy-eyed in one of the family’s two rooms all day, about her younger sister who sometimes cried quietly in her sleep from hunger. But before she could speak, Mr Hornbeam continued: “One more strike and you’re out. That goes for the rest of you. I see everything.” . He swept his black gaze over the other 50 or so women – girls, really – who worked for Hornbeam Millinery & Co: “Hats so modern they fly off the shelves!” An allusion to the hats themselves, adorned with fashionable feathers or indeed whole stuffed birds.

“Don’t worry about him.” Cora gave her a nudge. Cora, Evangeline’s benchmate and the only thing that made bearable the 12-hour shifts, six days a week. “Let’s go to the Bowery after work.”

The Manhattan street known as the Bowery, with its cheap thrills and shows, was their chief – indeed only – source of diversion on whatever days either of them could afford it. Today, Evangeline privately knew, was not one of those days – nor tomorrow, nor the day after that. They might call this era the Gilded Age, but for everyone she knew, there was precious little shine to be had. So she merely smiled at Cora and returned to the hat and the birds before her.