The Half You See

Chapter 3

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The general hubbub of the kitchens never daunted me; in fact they were rather welcoming. I cleansed and inspected every plate that went through my laborious routine, every knife was polished and every fork had to sparkle- I didn’t believe in second best. When the mountain of dirty dishes had been eradicated, I removed my rubber marigold gloves and slipped on my snow-white cotton glove onto my right hand. It was Mother’s rules that I had to cover all my flesh, but over the years I’ve managed to disguise a little less; I’m quite proud of my invisible limbs and like to show off a little of them. I used to wear two gloves, but after they hindered my performance Mother allowed me to wear only one (The only problem being is that I now look like a low budget Michael Jackson look-a-like, half a plastic face and all). Luckily, I am permitted to wear a skirt as opposed to trousers, long knee high socks and boots mean that the lower half of my legs are securely covered, but a small patch of skin (or lack of it) can still be seen; this drives Mother crazy, however as Newton’s third law demonstrates “Every action has its equal and opposite reaction” the more she pushes me; the more I’ll go out of my way to get back at her.

I collected the breakfast platter the maid had cooked and arranged and began my ascent up the stairs. Same routine, day in day out; wash the dishes after eating my breakfast and then deliver it to room 3-19. Three floors later I arrived at the familiar door and knocked twice. A voice bellowed from inside.

“Come in, dear!”

I opened the door and stepped inside, I looked around the room. On the walls were framed photographs of a younger woman, pretty of face (shame her figure was rather large, not humongous but larger than average), dressed in an assortment of designer dresses and trends. On her shelves were wigs on manikin heads with an array of beautiful hats adorned upon their scalps, alongside smaller photographs of the same young woman this time with other young women and attractive men. This woman loved herself. She was lounged on the sofa and I was surprised it could hold her weight; it had disappeared underneath this superfluous figure.

Whoops, Mother warned me about saying bad things about our guests-especially our regulars.

Stuff it.

I gently placed the tray onto the small mahogany table, next to her small bouquet of tulips- Atrocious flowers. Still, one man’s rubbish is another man’s treasure I suppose. I smiled politely at her.

“Here is your breakfast as usual, Miss. Jenkins,” I looked down and awaited her usual answer of:

“Please, dear, call me Gloria” She smiled at me in her usual fashion. Her lips were scarlet and her eyelids were a deep blue. Barbie: that’s all that could describe her. A big fat hideo-

“Oh, certainly Gloria,” I interrupted my own thoughts; I always thought I was a novice at holding my tongue but it was a risky business. I would hate to offend anyone by saying what I truly think of them. “I completely forgot our agreement.” I smiled again; you can never smile too much in this business.

She chuckled at this, snobbishly might I add, nasally and sounded more like she had a blocked nose than laughing. I really am horrible.

“You know, dear, I appreciate you doing this for me every day”

It’s my job you stupid woman, you think I do this for your benefit? If I didn’t do this then I would be in serious trouble with my Father. How moronic can you be? Every morning you say ‘thank you’ with that same gluttonous smug look on your face and you expect me to be polite and call you ‘Miss. Jenkins’ just so you can correct me and feel as if that you’re better than me! I looked over at her, I could feel my eyes were nearly alight, I quickly cooled my temper. She glared at me for a response.

“Oh, certainly Miss. Gloria, you know I’m always happy to help” you get to your already predetermined early grave, you overweight over-indulgent cow! With that I hurried out of the room before my raging thoughts spilt out of my mouth. I heard her shout out her oh so familiar ‘thank you!’ I dismissed it and skipped down the stairs; past Roger who was busy delivering breakfast to another guest. I felt his hand slip past my leg; a shiver ran up my spine. He smiled over at me as I skipped around the corner and out of sight.