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...
On the surface, it seemed that Calendar Hall was operating perfectly well, normally. But now, the staff were cook-less and groundsman-less, with Mrs Whittock and Jack's untimely departures. I've been thinking about what Mrs Whittock has been getting up to now that she's not working, the emptiness of the kitchen also reminds me of the old girls, Ada, Violet, Eve and Helena. It's strange how I can think about them peacefully, but I can't bring myself to think about Jack, wherever he is. The show must go on. The day began with the usual, the fires, the post and the serving of a light breakfast - the Calendar's appetites were to be saved as today they were going to the fair. Once breakfast was consumed, us upstairs girls returned to the kitchen, where Sheila, our now cook, and Lizzie, the remaining scullery maid, were packing the hamper for the Calendar's excursion, sweets aplenty. Mrs Brody entered, carrying a chamber pot. She spoke in her usual, deceptive manner.
"Bad news, girls. I'm afraid one of you will have to accompany me at the Hall." Hetty strode in just as Sheila sighed and Lizzie's nervous expression solidified, "Hetty. Just in time."
"One of us has to stay behind." Lizzie explained to Hetty, regretfully.
"But Mr Calendar gave all of us the day off." mentioned Hetty.
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"A generous gesture I'm sure, but hardly a practical one. There're still the usual chores, dinner to prepare. I have to surrender my opportunity to go to the fair, as is my duty as housekeeper. However, I only have one pair of hands. So, I've written each of your names on slips on paper," Mrs Brody angled the chamber pot towards Hetty, "Perhaps you would do the honour?" Her hands reached into the blue, floral decorated chamber pot, I secretly wished it wasn't going to be my name she'd pulled out. I was lucky that Mrs Brody hadn't chosen me at default. Hetty opened the folded parchment she'd picked, an annoyed and disappointed expression emerged on her freckled face shortly after, "Bad luck, Hetty." It looked like I was going to the fair, after all.
The servants that were going to the fair (Agnes, Sheila, Lizzie, Gideon and I) quickly returned to our small bedrooms to change into our regular, non-serving clothes, ready to depart. I don't own many frocks, but I chose to wear one of my personal favourites, this red dress that my father bought me from Denmark a few years prior. I revisited the kitchens again, just to check if they needed any more help - we were to be leaving soon. Sheila was preparing some sandwiches, cutting them while Agnes placed scones into our less grand hamper.
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