The sun streamed through the small window at the top of the wall, it illuminated a small square of flooring and gave me the light I needed. Standing in the square of sunlight, I glanced down at the small ball of clay that Robert had given me the day before, running my fingers over its smooth surface. I squeezed the ball tightly in my hand, feeling it flatten out and start to flow through the gaps in my fingers, as though it had turned to liquid. On the bed, Esther rolled around in her sleep. I ignored her and continued to roll the ball around in my hand, squeezing it to try and loosen the stiffness in my fingers.

After several minutes, the stiffness passed, and I was able to use my fingers properly for the first time in days. The clay looked as though it was going to do its job, I just hoped it would last long enough to get through the day, or at least until lunch. I stuffed the ball of clay back into my pocket, rubbing my darkened fingers together to try and remove the residue from my fingertips. Very slowly, the clay started to peel off, but I knew I would have to wash my hands to get rid of the clay completely. Sighing, I glanced back at Esther who was sprawled across the bed, her foot poking out the bottom of the blanket.

Trying not to get clay residue on my dress or apron, I crossed the room hands outstretched and headed towards the kitchen. The kitchen was silent, Miss Jenkins had yet to arrive. The main table was devoid of anything except a small china plate with crumbs on it, possibly placed there after everyone had gone to bed. Leaving the plate on the table, I turned and walked towards the sink, putting the stopping in the drain before using the pump and filling the whole sink with water. Once full, I grabbed the bar of carbolic soap off the counter and set to work removing the clay from my hand.

"What are you doing up so early?" Miss Jenkins voice said behind me. I jumped slightly, dropping the soap into the sink with a small splash.

"You scared me," I said, fishing around in the water for the soap.

"I apologise, I just wasn't expecting to find you in the kitchen before I was. Couldn't sleep?"

"My hand ached a little, I thought I would see if the ball of clay would make a difference."

"Did it?"

"A little, yes. Only my hand is covered in clay, so I came to wash it."

"Well, since you're here, can you go and wake Esther for me? You can put the burn cream on whilst you are up there."

Nodding, I quickly dried my hands on a towel and left the room, following the stairs back to the attic where Esther was still fast asleep on the bed. Her foot was still sticking out of the blanket, whilst one arm was thrown over her head, her mouth open slightly. I crossed the room and grabbed the jar of burn paste, twisting the lid off before smothering the thick paste onto the burn. With the burn now a pale pink colour, and my fingers almost back to normal, it was as if my entire left arm was back to normal. Though I knew it wasn't.

I put the jar back on the chest of drawers and turned towards the bed, silently grabbed Esther's discarded dress, balled it up and threw it directly as Esther. The balled-up cloth hit her directly in the face, causing her to panic and roll directly off the bed and onto the floor. A loud thump echoed through the small room as Esther collected herself off the floor, looking at me with a startled expression. I bit my lip to contain a laugh as Esther pushed herself up and grabbed the dress off the bed and glared at me, finally realising what I had done.

"Next time just shake me rather than scaring me half to death," she said, straightening out the dress.

"Sorry, my hands are all greasy from the burn paste, I didn't think you would want your nightdress covered in grease."

"What about my work dress? Didn't you just grab that?" Esther asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I used my left hand, don't worry."

"Why didn't you just shake me with your left hand?"

"Good point."

I nudged Esther slightly with my shoulder and left her to get dressed, wiping my right hand on my apron as I returned to the kitchen where Miss Jenkins was busy preparing for the morning. She nudged a small plate of toast towards me and gestured to it, knowing what she meant, I reached out and grabbed a slice, biting into it and watching Miss her run around the kitchen trying to get things ready on time. It was a mystery to me as to why she didn't just get up a little early to complete everything so there wouldn't be this rush to get everything done on time. I suppose, that was just her way of doing things and chaos was easier for her to understand compared to order.

After several minutes, Esther descended the staircase and joined us in the kitchen, also grabbing a slice of toast and watching Miss Jenkins pour hot water from the kettle into two separate teapots. The teapots were placed side-by-side on the table, two small china cups beside them. I knew the objects were meant for Robert and Matilda's morning tea trays, only I wasn't entirely sure what my task was going to be. Esther knew her role was to make sure the trays looked neat enough whilst I wasn't even sure if I was to be trusted with a tray, especially with Matilda.

The injury to my hand was more of a hindrance then I would have liked and meant that I often found myself waiting to be told what to do rather than just getting on with a task. I wanted nothing more than to be able to help with something, anything, only I couldn't. I wanted to be able to walk into the kitchen in the morning and know instantly what I had to do that day, where I had to be without the risk of getting under everyone's feet or just getting in the way. I had been working for Ealing's for only a day and I already felt as though I was causing more trouble than it was worth.

"Right, Rosie, even after the events of yesterday, Miss Matilda has requested you take her the tea tray. Why she made this request, I don't know. It is possible she is trying to catch you out which is something she has done in the past. Make sure you do everything with your right hand and only do as asked, that way she can find nothing to complain about," Miss Jenkins said, pushing Matilda's tray towards me.

"Are you sure that's a good idea? She wasn't too keen with me doing it yesterday," I said, biting my lip anxiously.

"She requested you specifically and I wasn't going to turn her down. Just do as you're asked, and she'll find no reason to complain to Mrs Ealing about you. She'll find something else to complain about soon enough."

"If you insist."

"You'll be fine," Esther whispered, sending me a small reassuring smile as I gripped the edges of Matilda's breakfast tray.

As I left the room and started the climb upstairs, I began to realise just how repetitive my life at the Ealing household was likely to be. Life at the factory was ruled by routine, doing the same thing every day without question and where the only time that routine changed was when something bad happened. Routine meant that I knew what I was doing and there was little room for error or things to go wrong. I liked knowing what I was doing when I was doing it and where I had to be to do it. The fact that a routine was starting to set in at the Ealing's helped to ease the nerves that were welling up inside. I just had to hope that nothing bad happened.

Readjusting my grip on the tray, I followed the stairs up to Matilda's room, pausing for a second to glance out of the window that looked out onto the garden. On the grounds below, a small, dark-haired boy was kicking a small ball back and forth across the grass, running after it when he kicked it too far. He zig-zagged across the grass, disappearing into the trees only to reappear moments later, the ball emerging before he did. Despite having never met him, my mind instantly went to Zachariah, the only member of the Ealing family I had yet to meet. He was roughly the same height as Charlotte, but with hair that was the same colour as Robert. Whether or not they looked the same was a mystery.

I turned away from the window and towards Matilda's door, freeing up one hand to lightly rap on the wood of the door with my knuckles. Inside, a muffled, intelligible voice replied. Not knowing what was said, I pushed the door open with my hand, assuming Matilda had invited me in. Pushing open the door, Matilda was sat at her table, in front of a huge mirror, a collection of hairpins held in her mouth. With the tea tray, I crossed the room and placed it onto the same table I had put it on the day before, hoping that was enough for Matilda. It looked as though I wasn't going to be able to do anything without Matilda finding fault in it.

Matilda looked at me in the mirror, watching my movement as she slowly removed the pins from her mouth and turned to face me. Her dark hair fell in small ringlets around her shoulders, some of it already pinned up on the back of her head. I found myself looking anywhere but at Matilda, her green eyes were startling, almost glowing in the light.

"It was you who organised my table, was it not?" Matilda asked, fumbling around with the hairpins.

"Yes, I did it when I came to collect your tea tray yesterday afternoon," I replied, clasping my hands together behind my back.

"I thought as much, Esther was serving at the table, but it was clean when I came back," she paused, "well, I suppose I should thank you. I was actually able to find everything I needed this morning rather than digging around for it."

"You're welcome, Miss." I tried to remain calm and controlled, though I was a little stunned that Matilda had just given me a compliment after spending so long insulting me. I didn't even think she was capable of complimenting or praising anyone.

"Mother says I am to apologise for how I reacted yesterday, apparently, I was out of order and should have taken your injury into consideration. However, I think thank you for doing something that you were not required to do is good enough, don't you?"

"Yes, miss."

"I'm Glad we're on the same page." She fumbled around with several hairpins, struggling to put them in her hair and keep them there. "Stupid things."

"Would you like some help?"

"I suppose you can't make it any worse," Matilda said, holding the pins out.

Crossing the room, I took the pins off Matilda and placed them between my teeth, biting down so I didn't lose them. Trying not to look in the mirror, I grabbed a small section of Matilda's hair, pulling it back off her face. Without even thinking, I started to plait the small section of hair. Back in the factory, I used to play with Isabel's hair to help her sleep. I would practise all these extravagant hairstyles, pretending that one day we would leave the factory and get to dress in the finer clothing. That dream looked as though it would remain a dream, but the hairstyle practice was good some something.

Passing the completed plait to Matilda, I pulled back some hair from the other side of her head and copied my movement, once again passing the completed plait to Matilda. I added two other small plaits with the others before moving on to the main section of her hair. Pulling back half of her hair, I twisted it up into a knot at the back of her head and pinned it in place, taking the pins from my mouth to make sure it was secure. I then grabbed the plaits from Matilda and wrapped them around the knot, pinning them in place. Once the plaits were secure, I smoothed out the back of her hair, making sure the ringlets were placed right down her back. Once done, I took a step back.

"Hm, not bad. I suppose you are good for somethings. Where did you learn to do this?" Matilda asked, admiring herself in the mirror.

"I used to practice on a friend," I said, feeling rather awkward.

"Right. I don't need you for anything else, you may return to the kitchen."

"Very well."

I left Matilda at her desk, still examining the hairstyle I had created. Slipping out into the hallway, I glanced out the window to find Zachariah still kicking the ball back and forth, though his movement was a little more deflated. I wasn't sure how long I had been in the room, but in that time, Zachariah looked as though he had lost all enthusiasm for the ball game. He kicked the ball and walked after it, reaching the edge of the trees before turning around to face the house. I watched as he scanned the outside of the building, his eyes eventually landing on the window I was looking out of. Upon noticing me, he gave an excitable wave, his previously dejected face spreading into a grin.

Smiling, I waved back at him, watching as he quickly went back to the ball, looking far more enthusiastic then he had been before he spotted me. I backed away from the window, descending the staircase and returning to the kitchen where the low hum of voices told me Miss Jenkins wasn't the only one in the kitchen. I approached the kitchen quietly, trying not to make so much as a floorboard creak so they wouldn't hear me coming. The voices were too low to make out, even as I stood right outside the door. After several seconds of low murmuring, I slipped into the kitchen, going almost unnoticed by Miss Jenkins and Mrs Ealing but Esther, who was standing off to the side with a rolling pin and what looked to be pastry, glanced up and smiled at me.

With the others deep in conversation, I crossed the room to join Esther who nudged a small pot of strawberries in my direction. She raised a hand and pressed a finger to her lips, smiling at me as she did so. Nodding, I took one of the strawberries from the pot and placed it in my mouth, biting down on it. The juice of the strawberry exploded in my mouth, the juice threatening to run down my mouth as I ate it. Strawberries were definitely one of my favourite things, having not had any since I could remember. I had missed the sweet smell and taste of sugar and strawberries allowed me to experience that without dipping my finger into the sugar bowl (something I had been banned from doing).

I leant against the counter and watched Esther as she sprinkled some flour onto the surface and then continued to roll the pastry out. She then grabbed a small bowl and a sharp knife, placing the bowl on the pastry and drawing around it, cutting out a circle and then repeating the pattern until the pastry was full of cut circles. Esther then started to take each one of the pastry circles and press them into small pastry cases, using her fingers to make sure it was pressed into the ridges.

"One day, we'll teach you to make some tarts, but I don't quite trust you with a knife just yet," Miss Jenkins said, glancing over from Mrs Ealing to address me.

"I fully understand that I wouldn't trust me with a knife, either," I said, smiling slightly.

"Glad to see we're on the same page. We'll start you off with something simple and build up to the more extreme bakes, including those that contain sharp objects."

"I've never baked anything before, so it will be an adventure."

"It sounds as though you haven't done too many things in the past, Rosie," Mrs Ealing said.

"I suppose not, but you don't really know what you have missed until you experience it for the first time, before that it's just a story."

"Hm, interesting way of looking at things. I shall let you get on with your work, I must find Matilda, we have a dressmaker appointment to make."

"Very well, Ma'am. I will get on with putting a menu together for the party."

Mrs Ealing nodded towards Miss Jenkins and then turned to Esther and I and did the same thing before sweeping from the room and disappearing back into the main house. Esther turned away from the door and went back to placing pastry into cases whilst Miss Jenkins handed me a cloth and instructed me to go to the parlour and dust. Despite having done that the previous day, I said nothing and returned to the first floor to do the task I had been asked. The cushions that I had tied up the day before were in disarray whilst the books on the side tables were placed at an angle and no longer straight.

Sighing, I set about straightening up all the items that had been moved overnight, stacking the books so they were straight and quickly sweeping my cloth across the table before I put them back down. I moved across the room, straightening cushions and dusting shelves as I went, lightly humming a small tune to myself as I moved. When I reached the curtains, I glanced out of the large window to see Zachariah still kicking a ball across the grass, though he was further into the trees then I thought he should have. Although it wasn't my place to say, in my mind, it made sense for him to have been told to stay where he could have been seen, and beyond the trees were invisible to anyone, no matter where in the house they were.

I watched him for several seconds, watching as he disappeared into the trees and failed to reappear immediately. Furrowing my eyebrows, I placed the cloth onto a small table and left the parlour, walking a little further up the hallway and slipping out the back door and down the stairs. Holding my dress up slightly to keep it out of the mud, I stepped off the path and towards the trees, following Zachariah's movements as best as I could. I glanced back, spotting the parlour window and stepped in amongst the trees, the sun instantly being swallowed up by the leaves. The low sound of a child's singing echoed through the trees and I moved as silently as possible.

After a little while, I spotted a small shadow moving along the floor, being followed by the small rays of sunlight that dipped in and out. Zachariah's head came into view, skipping around the trees and among the fallen leaves. He darted in and out of the shadow of the trees, whilst I followed close behind him unsure if he could see me. The ball looked as though it had been abandoned a little further back. Turning my back for a second, I glanced back to the trees to try and see how far we had come, unable to see the house at all.

As I looked back through the trees, towards the house, my attention was quickly pulled back when a small scream and a splash echoed through the trees.  

 ~~~

A/N - I know, I know, this chapter is a little late, but I've been preoccupied with Uni and the sequel to Last Christmas, 'Winter Wonderland' that has just started! I probably won't be able to keep up with regular updates, but please bear with me!

Anyways, this chapter was full of little surprises! Matilda was actually nice to Rosie! Do you think she meant it? Or was she just doing what she was asked to do? What about that ending? Any ideas on what happened?

Comment your thoughts below and don't forget to vote!

Dedication - This chapter is dedicated to hgjluvkwrld who was another judge for The Magic Awards!

First Published - October 25th, 2018