William stepped out of the tube station and smoothed down the shirt he had freshly ironed that morning.
Checking his watch, he quickened his pace and headed towards Downton Abbey. The beautiful, colossal hotel was located in the heart of London's West End, and guarded over the street like a silent protector.
Inside, the reception was buzzing with energy – staff running to-and-fro, wealthy guests storming through to the breakfast room.
William couldn't get his head around it. Every staff member knew their place, their duties, their purpose in life. He'd been working here as a waiter for a week now and still hadn't a clue what was going on.
"Where have you been?" spat Thomas, the other waiter, as William hurriedly fixed his tie and set to work.
"I'm not late, am I?"
"You're late when I say you're late."
William scurried over to arrange the spoons at an unoccupied table, just to look busy.
Thomas hated when he looked idle.
{}{}{}{}
Daisy threw her hair up in a messy ponytail as she bounded through the back entrance of Downton Abbey. She was dead late, as usual.
"Daisy Robinson," boomed a loud voice behind her.
She spun round to find Mr Carson, the executive manager, tapping his watch impatiently.
"I-I'm so sorry, sir," she stuttered, "I was running for my bus and I missed it, so I ran for the train and I missed that, so –"
Carson waved a hand dismissively. "It's alright, Daisy. Now hurry along before Mrs Patmore has a conniption."
Technically, Daisy and the manager weren't even supposed to cross paths. As the dishwasher, she took orders directly from Ms Patmore, the head chef. However, like most members of the staff, he had a soft spot for the young girl.
She scurried off into the kitchen, where she threw on her apron over her tracksuit.
She was on her way over to the sink when Mrs Patmore's cynical tone stopped her in her tracks.
"You know, someone from a land where time stands still would have a better understanding of punctuality than you!"
Daisy tilted her head slightly. "Actually, I was born in Hackney, miss."
Mrs Patmore threw her eyes to heaven and turned back around to her frying pan.
"Everyone has the right to stupidity but you, my child, abuse the privilege! Now, get started on those pots before the oats start sticking."
{}{}{}{}
William scurried to and fro, trying not to panic as he juggled between English Breakfasts, glasses of orange juice, bowls of fruit salads, and low fat cereals.
Thomas gave him a violent nudge. "That croissant was supposed to be warmed up ages ago, William!"
"Right. I'll do it now."
William hurried into the kitchen, croissant in hand. Inside, Mrs Patmore and the other chefs were busy preparing meals, so he turned to Daisy, who was elbows deep in hot, soapy water.
"Daisy, you couldn't heat this up for me, could you?"
He had seen her around the kitchens a lot over the last week, but rarely had the opportunity to start up a conversation. All he knew was she spent a lot of time scrubbing pots and had the most beautiful set of eyes he'd ever seen.
"Me? What should I know about croissants?"
William was speechless for a few moments. "You're a cook aren't you?"
"Do I look like a cook?"
He looked up and down at her worn runners and faded Adidas tracksuit. No, she didn't look like Mrs Patmore, anyway.
"Suppose not."
"I think she'll trust me enough to use the microwave, though, if you want?"
William just nodded, his mind suddenly blank.
Daisy zapped the flakey pastry in the microwave for a few seconds, then served it up on a plate. "Take it while it's hot."
With an almost apologetic, thanks, William sprinted out of the kitchen, leaving Daisy to return to her growing pile of plates and cutlery.
{}{}{}{}
The usually tedious breakfast passed faster than usual that morning, and Daisy took her lunchtime break on the step of the fire exit.
It was an average grey day in London, and the clouds covered every possible acre of blue sky.
She zipped up her hoody further, and held her head in her hands, watching over the lonely backstreet.
Footsteps sounded down the corridor and stopped directly behind her. She recognized the gentle, clumsy plodding immediately. William.
Without even a word of acknowledgement, he sat down beside her.
The two of them sat in silence for a few minutes, until William stretched and looked up at the sky. He tried to be all nonchalant around her, but inside he was grinning like a mad man.
"You alright, Daisy?"
"I'm just thinking. What about you? You looked pretty flustered this morning."
"I was not!" William protested. "Thomas likes keeping things moving, that's all."
Daisy smiled, staring dreamily into space. "Thomas is nice, isn't he?"
He shrugged. "Suppose so."
"And he's so tall."
William decided not to point out that he was just as tall as Thomas. "I suppose."
"He's too smart for me, though. I wouldn't even be able to have a conversation with someone like Thomas."
William's brow creased. "I think you're smart, Daisy."
She laughed. "As if! I haven't been to school properly since I was fourteen! Most six year olds can read better than me!"
"What age are you now, then?"
"Sixteen." Daisy looked quickly over her shoulder. "Well, fifteen, but I'm supposed to be older to work here. What about you?"
William leaned back against the wall. "Sixteen. This is my first job, actually. I'm from Yorkshire, out in the country, but I'm staying with my aunt and uncle while I'm in London."
"I've never been to the country. It's all farms and stuff, isn't it?"
"Not all of it. We live in a little house just outside the village, where my dad has his shop."
'WHERE IS THAT GIRL? DAISY? GET IN HERE NOW!"
Mrs Patmore's roar caused both of them to jump two feet.
"I'm coming, Mrs Patmore!" called Daisy, pushing herself to her feet and dusting off her apron. "We should have more of these chats, William."
He felt his heart expand two sizes. "Yeah, I'd…I'd like that."
Alone on the back step, William sat smiling to himself.
{}{}{}{}
"William, I've to head home early tonight, alright?" said Thomas, removing his bow tie and running a hand through his greased hair.
"Oh, okay. Plans?"
"If I did it would be none of your bloody business."
William ducked his head and continued clearing up the empty restaurant.
Thomas switched off the lights as he left, leaving the young waiter in complete darkness.
William sighed, and wearily felt his way around the room.
After a few moments, the light was switched back on, and in walked a wiry, middle-aged woman.
"William? What are you doing in here in the dark?" exclaimed Mrs Hughes, the assistant manager who had welcomed him on his first day.
"I couldn't find the switch, that's all. I'll be done soon."
"I wish you wouldn't let Thomas take advantage of you. He's just a waiter, like yourself."
"Oh, I don't mind a bit of extra work. It keeps my mind off things."
Her face creased in concern and sympathy. "What kind of things do you have to keep your mind off?"
William was silent, and continued wiping down one of the tables.
"Being homesick is nothing to be ashamed of," said Mrs Hughes, placing a hand on his shoulder, "It means you came from a happy home. God knows a lot of people here would envy that."
He couldn't help of think of Daisy then, for some unknown reason. He knew so little about her, but in quiet moments he saw that deepness in her eyes. They were eyes that had seen too much for a girl her age.
But he also saw how they sparkled when she talked of Thomas. One day, he'd like to see them sparkle for him. If only.
