Numbered

Chapter Three

Chapter Three

After that, Jared dismissed himself to his room, whilst Kylie – or Maid, as her new name became – was ordered to prepare the kitchen for lunch. She was handed a black uniform to change into.

The chef – an old man with thinning hair and unnaturally straight white teeth – waited whilst she scrubbed down the worktops, mopped the floors and set out his utensils.

“Thank you, miss, er,….” He said, trailing off as he had not yet learned of her name. Kylie smiled.

“Kylie Fairs,” she answered. “You sure you don’t want to call me ‘Maid’ too?”

He laughed soundlessly. When the man laughed, there were no sign of laugh lines around his eyes or mouth. It was as if the skin was stretched tight, and not a crease existed, even when he smiled widely at her. Surgery, Kylie thought, remembering the stuff her grandmother used to tell her about the higher Numbers.

“No. I’m Michel. We low people must stick together, Kylie,” he said, sticking out his hand. Kylie shook it and glimpsed the 2 on his wrist. When she was done cleaning, she watched the chef at work. His white clothes were as pristine as the floors Kylie had scrubbed, and the way he handled everything was meticulous, methodical, almost robotic. He fried chicken in a pan, pouring in a liquid that set it on fire. Kylie hastened to fetch the fire extinguisher, which was in one of the lower cupboards, but he waved his hand at her, and laughed.

When he spilled something, she wiped it away. And when he needed mushrooms or some other strange food cut, she would do it for him. They worked as a team, and even though he had cooked the majority of the dinner, when it was done, Kylie felt like she’d achieved something. She carried the plates out to the dining table where the family was already sitting in their fine evening wear. Madame Worth was wearing a low cut black evening gown, with diamonds sewn around the neckline and the hem. Mr Worth wore a flamboyant – and garish, Kylie thought – bright green suit, with an orange tie. He looked like a flag Kylie had seen in an old history book that belonged to her great grandfather. Her grandmother had told her to keep it a secret – if she told anyone the Officials would come and burn it. Kylie knew where it was now, under her grandmother’s old wardrobe, underneath the floorboards. The only time it was ever brought out was during the winter, when they didn’t have enough food and needed something to keep their minds off the hunger. Kylie wondered if her grandmother would find it hard without her. She would have to go around people’s houses to sell soup even if it was a bitter night. That was the only way they survived now that the market had been shut down.

Jared sat facing his mother, whilst his father sat at the head of the table. He wore a black suit, with a black tie, although a blue fabric was stitched around the collar and on the hems of the blazer. At least he didn’t look ridiculous like his parents. He smiled at her when she set his dinner on the table. She wanted to smile back, but she didn’t. Kylie didn’t know the custom here, and maybe she would be told off if she smiled back at her masters.

Kylie and Michel ate in the kitchen. They had ‘fruit salad’ which Kylie had never tasted before. It was juicy and delicious and Kylie wolfed it down so fast even the chef looked surprised. Kylie heard a clap and knew it was time to serve the second dish, the chicken. She handed it to Madame Worth.

“Can you get me the gravy over there?” she asked, pointing to the bottom of the table where sauces in silverware sat on a tray.

“Gravy,” Kylie said, as she looked among the sauces. She didn’t know what gravy was. There were yellow, beige, brown, green, red, orange sauces. She picked up the green one, thinking that since the “gr” sound existed in both words, that would be the right sauce.