The Battlefront

Chapter 2: Work

Charlotte walked briskly down the small dust road that led to the small village, holding a wooden bucket, on her way to begin her daily work at the Finnigans farm. The chilly morning air hardly fazed her as she was used to it since she often woke up very early, before the crack of dawn to make her way to the Finnigans farm which was at the opposite end of the village.

"Good morning, Mr Anderson," she greeted cheerfully, passing by the old baker who waved in response, smiling from ear to ear, revealing his now rotten yellow teeth.

"A lovely morning to you Charlotte, here's a little something to munch on," he said, tossing her a small bag containing two fresh buns, "You can always return the bag when you come to clean up the bakery on your way back."

"Thank you!"

The young lady really appreciated the old man's kind gestures as he would offer her something every morning. She couldn't help but feel grateful because she would basically starve the whole day, not counting the poor excuse of a meal that the Finnigans would offer during lunch break. It was simply inedible, and she still had certain standards that she had, in spite of her difficult circumstances.

The first rays of sunlight illuminated the peaks of the mountains, casting long shadows that stretched across the village, the sky painted in orange, red and pinkish hues creating a breath-taking view to behold. Unfortunately, Charlotte didn't have time to enjoy the lovely view as she had arrived at the farm and made her way to the farmhouse, knocking on the door to be greeted by none other than the haughty Mrs Finnigan.

The short, plump woman stood on the stone steps leading to the kitchen, her red hair highlighted by the sunlight, the mole on her chin standing out as she looked down at Charlotte with her usual disdain. She wore a simple brown dress, a yellow apron circling her waist indicating that she had been cooking breakfast for her family. The Finnigans may have been living in the countryside, but they were originally from the city and Mr Finnigan would often go into town for business. They lived quite a comfortable life as could be seen from the superb quality of the clothes they wore and the huge piece of land that they owned. This naturally explained their awful characters as they looked down on everyone in the village.

"Well," her shrill voice shouted, "Get to work girl! Make sure to clean the cottage today, we will be having important guests today and if I hear a single complaint from them concerning their living quarters, you shall be receiving only a third of your usual salary!"

"Yes ma'am, understood. I will make sure to do as you say."

"Now get to it!" she ordered, slamming the door behind her, leaving behind an unhappy Charlotte who soon turned to begin her daily duties.

The young lady went to the well, filling up her bucket with water before going to the storehouse to grab the cloth, brooms, mops and brushes. Upon entering the dusty cottage, Charlotte began her tiring job, sweeping the floors, brushing off mould and dusting the shelves, removing the old linen sheets and bringing in new pillows. It was noon by the time she was done with the cottage, the only issue pending being to ask the madam what bedding to use for the guests. Charlotte sighed, not at all wanting to confront Mrs Finnigan yet having no option but to do so.

Reluctantly, Charlotte made her way to the main house, entering through the back door that was meant for her, setting down the big basket containing the old linen sheets and her cleaning tools before going in search of her mistress.

"Madam."

"What is it," snapped Mrs Finnigan, unable to mask the annoyance she felt as she sipped on her cup of afternoon tea, a large assortment of pastries laid out on the table.

Rosie stared at the poor maid, a glint of disgust flashing through her eyes before turning her face away, gently placing her cup of tea on the saucer. Charlotte couldn't help but resist the urge to roll her eyes at the younger miss Finnigan. The two of them were the same age and this made Rosie loathe Charlotte. "I'm the same age as a dirty maid of low origin!" she had screamed upon learning this fact. Mrs Finnigan's daughter always sought to make her job harder since then.