The Serving Girl // Book 2 in the Rosie Grey series

Chapter Thirty-Three

Esther returned that evening with a pleather of stories about working at the office that day, all of them appearing rather mundane compared to what I had witnessed just the other week. Still, Miss Jenkins allowed her to speak whilst she finished up the supper for upstairs and I sliced up the gingerbread cake we had made earlier. It was the only task I could do since I couldn't serve upstairs with only one leg.

"I don't understand how you do it every week, Rosie. People were coming in and out all day, some showing signs of influenza, others with injuries from the work going on around the city, it was chaotic. We barely had time to eat anything," Esther said. She slumped back against the chair and ran her hands over her face. She struggled to keep her eyes open and looked as though she was going to fall asleep right there and then.

"Get that down you, you need to stay awake. They'll be wanting supper soon," Miss Jenkins said. A cup of steaming dark liquid was placed in front of Esther and I watched as she seized it and drunk the whole thing in one go, not even waiting for it to cool. She pulled a face and placed the cup back on the table.

"Ugh, I will never get used to that. How Doctor Ealing can drink several cups of that a day is beyond me, it's disgusting."

"What is it?" I asked, taking the cup and looking at the dregs at the bottom. It certainly didn't smell all that appetising.

"Coffee, the last resort for tired servants." She took the cup of the table. "Go on, off you go. The table's already set, all you need to take up is the food. Spill any of it and they'll be no gingerbread cake for you."

"Don't worry, I won't."

Miss Jenkins handed Esther a large tray weighed down with a large pot containing the stew and a smaller bowl of mash potatoes. I watched as Esther struggled under the weight of the tray and made her way out of the kitchen whilst her footsteps gradually receded up the stairs. Mrs Ealing slid a wooden breadboard and a hunk of bread in my direction. She placed a large knife on the table beside the brad and I knew immediately what she wanted me to do before she had even said it. Whilst Esther spent the evening serving upstairs and spending all that time on her feet after a long day at the office, I was slicing up bread in the comfort of the kitchen.

It was unfair for several reasons, but the fact that Esther had to complete the hardest of chores on her own whilst I sat at the kitchen table and did nothing but slice up a loaf of bread. Doctor Ealing's decision to keep me on had been on the basis that I would relieve the amount of work Esther did and yet I had somehow managed to add to them rather than making it any better. It had been hard to pinpoint just how many days I had spent out of work rather than partaking in it over the past six months. Although the six months prior had been doable, with my workload being somewhat on par with Esther's, the last few weeks I had spent more time not working.

In truth, I felt bad about it. I had done nothing but add to the ongoing aggravation Miss Jenkins and Esther had to deal with. Rather than focusing on the chores they had to do, both had to worry on whether or not I would still have a job by the end of the week or whether I was fit to work after I had injured myself or come down with some sort of ailment. If felt as though I was more hassle than the twins since they were having to keep a better eye on me then I did on them. I was surprised Miss Jenkins hadn't been the one to throw me out by the ear when she realised just how much trouble I would bring to her doorstep on a regular basis.

"If you're done with that, you can wipe the knife and cut up the gingerbread cake, I need to finish the decorations on the trifle for upstairs. Strawberries are difficult to get in Winter, but Mrs Ealing insists on them. Luckily, I froze a lot of them in the icebox during Summer," Miss Jenkins said. She shook her head and slid the pan of gingerbread cake across the table.