She was no good at sewing. It was terrible and awful and she hated the fiddly threads and she kept stabbing herself with the needle and ‘Maaaaaa...’
‘Hush now.’
Smith ground her teeth, and stuck the needle through the cloth straight into her leg.
‘Look at you,’ said her mother. ‘You’ll be getting blood everywhere, go clean up. And you can wipe that smirk off your face, filly! You’ll be back here soon as to keep at it.’
Pearly had been good at sewing. Ma made a sort of choking sound, and Smith winced. Did I say that out loud?
ah and this makes me rethink what had happened to Pearly, which reads now as losing her to an illness or accident (an illness foreshadowed?), if bringing up her name is enough to distress her mother. and augh, because this is also a bit of rebellion against her mother, deliberately stabbing the needle into herself, that also brings back to mind Pearly.