It had been a year since Phillipa Thamesman had taken up the housemaid's post advertised in the Daily Herald. The summer of 1890 was one to remember, from euphoric daydreams materialising to untimely reunions, the events of July and August solidifie...
When I was much younger than I am today, I dreamed that I would be something exciting, like a detective or a politician; I spent my few years at school imagining an exhilarating life, whilst solving my algebraic equations and writing poems about reading. I didn't attend school for very long, my parents insisted that I went for at least a bit. For the most part, I liked it. I liked learning and playing with the other children, but my favourite part of attending school was my teacher, Miss Phan. She used to say that I had the makings of a great writer, or what tickled my fancy even more, a teacher, like her. Even now, I think about her whilst I'm cleaning the fireplaces and dusting the Calendar's many ornaments. I wonder what she'd think if she could see me now, a housemaid, rather than historian. Still, I could never complain about my life at Calendar Hall. I started off the morning laying out two of Mrs Calendar's dresses on her bed, she was to pick which one to wear to her step-daughter's birthday party. The alice blue and almond silk sat peacefully on her freshly made bed. On my way back down to the kitchens, Mrs Brody stood at the top of the servant's corridor, sifting through the letters that'd been handed to her by the postman.
"I believe this one's for you, Phillipa." she handed me the letter, the envelope cream and hearty, the words looped together in black ink, "Be sure to read it in your own time."
"Yes, Mrs Brody. Thank you." I slipped the letter into my dress pocket and entered the kitchen for a spot of breakfast. The gang were there already.
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"You want marmalade?" Agnes asked.
"Go on then." I replied. Mrs Whittock stood at the end of the table, ready to have a go at Sheila.
"There's a joint of beef missing from that larder."
"We cooked it on Friday." answered Sheila, rolling her eyes at the lady.
"I saw it with my own eyes, hanging there clear as day." she walked away after, presumably to collect the ingredients needed to embellish the imaginary joint of beef.
"Going to finish that?" Gideon asked Jack, in reference to the bread on Jack's plate. No reply, he asked again, "Jack?"
At this moment, I was thinking about Mrs Calendar's dresses, hoping she'd pick the blue one, and about the letter that was in my pocket, I wasn't mentally present to realise that Jack's eyes were looking in my direction.
"Sorry, what?" he said, finally.
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