My Life As A Maid
"Flaky," called a voice. I rubbed my eyes and looked over my covers at the door. Slowly, I got up and opened my door, met by the butler. He nodded slightly before speaking again, the way I'd seen him do before.
"Our chef, Madame Talbot, has fallen ill," the butler told me. "She has a head cold and told us she'll be out for today. While she is sick, you will have to fill in for her. I trust that you can cook, you being a housekeeper."
"I can, sir," I assured him, too afraid to mention that I was a maid, not a housekeeper.
"Good. Breakfast usually starts at nine, so half an hour should be enough time to prepare a breakfast. You've proved to be an excellent maid so far. Don't let us down now."
"I won't, sir."
He left me to get changed, and I made my way into the kitchen. It was an average-sized, grey room full of pots, pans and the smell of lemon scented cleaning chemicals. I went from cupboard to cupboard, checking what kind of food or spices were in each one. When I'd sorted out everything I got out the toaster and popped four slices of bread in, setting it on timer. While I was waiting I filled two bowls with corn flakes and poured milk over them, sticking a spoon into each bowl. I smacked my forehead and took the spoons out. The cutlery had to be laid out on the table.
The toaster dinged, and I scooped up the toast, placing two slices on each place. I went to get butter, and then realized I had no idea what to put on the toast. Jam? Marmalade? I got out six of the smallest bowls I could find and placed a bit of jam, marmalade and butter in each one. I smiled proudly, and then ran out with spoons and knives. I even brought forks just to be sure.
The dining hall was a large room with a mahogany table in the centre. The windows were tall, the red velvet cushions drawn over them, blocking out any slight hint of daylight. Looking at the curtains locking the light made me feel like a trapped animal. It made me miss the outdoors, miss my old home, it made me miss my Mother more than ever.
I shook myself and moved back to the table. I jumped when I heard someone walk inside. It was Flippy, dressed in a green shirt and faded blue jeans. His hair was a mess, loose bangs falling over his pale face. His eyes were sleepy; he rubbed them with his arm before catching my eye.
"What are you doing?" he asked.
"I-I'm filling in f-for the cook," I told him.
"I see. You made breakfast, then?"
"Y-Yes, it's ready."
"Excellent." Flippy smiled. "I'm sure you're a wonderful chef."
"W-Well, I don't know." I could only cook the basic things, and the recipes my Mother had taught me when I was a little girl. I wasn't a professional. But I could make food good enough for this family. Hopefully.
"My father will be down in a couple of minutes. I usually arrive before him. So... Um... How are you finding things here?"
"Everything is fine," I said. "You have a lovely house."
"I guess you could say that," Flippy said with a laugh.
"Good morning Flippy, Flaky."
I jumped at the sound of Flippy's father's voice. He walked inside, and made his way to the head of the table. Flippy smiled at me and shrugged, . I ran back to the kitchen and scooped up everything, balancing them carefully on my arms. I walked as quickly as possible back to the dining hall and placed the toast and cereal first in front of Flippy's father, and then moved to Flippy.
I put the toast in front of him, and then the cereal. I watched his expression change as he lifted the knife. For a split second, his eyes grew bright and excited. But only for a fraction of a second, then he resumed spreading butter on the toast. I bid them good-bye and left them to eat.
Only on my way back to the kitchen did I realize I had to eat too. I poured a bowl of corn flakes for myself and ate them quickly. I walked back to my room in a trance-like way, taking my time. It felt a little strange to not have any cleaning to do, but it gave me time to relax a little and think. I lay down on my bed and stared at the ceiling.
It struck me that I hadn't had a full night's sleep since I'd arrived here. I closed my eyes, and tried to slow my breathing down, in and out gently. I could still feel though. I could still smell and hear the things around the house. When people are really asleep, it's like they've disappeared from the Earth. Not quite dead, but just not there. I remember Mother telling me that once. I never doubted her words.
"Flaky."
I sat up when I heard the butler. I opened the door and stood there looking like a fool. I'm pretty sure I was blushing too. He obviously thought I'd been slacking off on the job.
"You'll be making lunch in a couple of minutes. Today's lunch is salad. It's simple enough so I trust you won't fail us."
"No, sir."
"You should be finished by one, then."
"Yes, sir."
I returned to the dull, gray kitchen and got out all the things I'd need for a decent salad. My hand became lost in the process of cutting and putting aside, it was like it was on repeat, just going over and over in the same pattern. I put in cucumber, lettuce leaves, grated cheese, some radish, beetroot and coleslaw. My Mother had used a sort of dressing in her salad that was lovely, but she'd never shown me how to make it. So my salad went plain.
I returned to the dining room and laid out the cutlery once more. I was sure to be quick; I didn't want to run into Flippy again. I ran back for the salad, which I'd arranged neatly on two plates, and brought it back to the table at two minutes to one.
"Oh hello, Flaky."
I paused to glance over my shoulder. Flippy was at the doorway, smiling. I waved quickly, flashed a smile at him and ran back to the kitchen like a fool. Flippy looked after me with a long, unmoving stare. I buried myself in dishes, scrubbing until my hands felt like they were never part of me. I put everything back and then scuttled away to my room.
A couple of hours later, after singing quietly to myself, the butler was back to remind me it was coming up to dinner. Today's dinner was a roast, something I had never been lucky enough to try, but lucky enough to have seen it being made.
I washed my hands and prepared the meat, cutting up baby carrots and mixing in peas and sweet-corn. Mother had always told me that mixed vegetables were one of the healthiest things you could get. Like said, I've never doubted her.
I mashed potatoes until they were a creamy white mixture. I remembered Mother had always added milk and butter to them to make them taste nicer, so I did the same. The only difference was that I wasn't using fresh goat milk, I was using store-bought packaged milk. Still, it was all I could do.
I brought the cutlery out first, and then the dinner. It was a little too early, it was still five minutes before Flippy or his father would arrive. I didn't really take notice of the time, though. I laid out the food and was gone in a flash. A few minutes later I heard footsteps, and the sound of conversation. I washed the dishes and left them.
I was walking back to my room when I heard the sound of a door swinging shut. At 7:30pm, I didn't expect anyone to be visiting the house. To be honest I didn't expect anyone to visit the house at all. I turned back and looked around the corner at the front door.
A broad woman in a long coat stood panting in the doorway, her large cheeks bright red like her hair, which was done up in a neat bun. Her eyes were the colour of a miserable day, and she looked me over with them when she saw me.
"You been fillin' in for me?" she asked. She hadn't an accent but I couldn't tell where from. Her voice was booming and loud, and it rattled my bones.
"Y-Yes, miss."
"Been feedin' 'em country food then, huh?"
"N-No, miss."
"Don't lie to me, girl," she warned, standing tall over me. Her eyes burned, and I knew she must have been a proud chef. She looked about to insult me further but she choked on her words. Her eyes bulged a little and swivelled around. I was looking around too, for whatever had stopped her. I didn't want to step behind her, I had a feeling someone or something was waiting there. Then I heard his voice.
"Her cooking was excellent, you pig," said Flippy. He poked his head over her shoulder and gripped her coat tighter, eyes bright and dangerous.
"And I would strongly appreciate it if you didn't insult her like that," he continued. Madame Talbot nodded rapidly, and Flippy let her go. She hurried away in the opposite direction. Flippy and I stood looking after her. After a while, Flippy turned around and began to walk back to his bedroom.
"Th-Thank you," I stammered. He brushed past me without a word, his arm bumping against mine. I stayed still for a while before returning to my room in silence.
There were no games that night.