The Secret Service section #10

I shake my head to clear my thoughts and head in the opposite direction that Henry had gone. After going through a few more halls, an aroma slams into me. The delicious aroma of food. My stomach growls and I follow the smells all the way to a large wooden door. I slowly push it open, peering in. The kitchen is huge, almost the size of my house in Redreef. There are pots and pans everywhere I look and a precariously stacked set off dirty plates beside one of the seven sinks. It is very noisy, with people milling around in every direction. No one has empty hands and anyone who pauses for just a moment is rewarded with a yell by a short chubby woman in an apron with bright red cheeks and is assigned to something else that needs doing. They flinch every time she spares them a glower. She must be the head chef. And she sure has her hands full. I count at least twenty other people in the kitchen who are cooking, including one scrawny girl with tangled red hair hanging over her face in the midst of them, trying his best to mop the floor without being trampled. In the middle of the kitchen is a tall, isolated table that is crowded with dishes of food. That is what I have been smelling.

I slip through the door, not being able to stop it before it slams behind me. Every one stops what they are doing and turns to stare at me. I freeze, my throat suddenly dry.

The chef storms up to me, her cheeks getting even redder than before. “What are you doing in my kitchen?!”

“I- I’m sorry,” I apologize, my voice catching. “I didn’t mean to interrupt anything. I was just coming in to get a bite to eat. I would greatly appreciate anything you could spare.”

The woman studies me, taking in everything from my hungry eyes to my scuffed shoes. I feel as if everyone in the room is holding their breath. The chef must be someone that is feared. Finally, she sighs. “I suppose you can have something.”

She turns and with a wave of her hand, everyone drops what they are doing and all gather around the table. They each grab four dishes, two in each arm, and exit the kitchen through another doorway. One man walks through before the rest and I hear him announce that dinner is served. When it opens, I glimpse people sitting around a long dining room table. At the head, sits King Ernest, beside him are Queen Cara and Henry. For a moment, I watch him laugh and talk with his mother before the door closes again.

Then it is just the chef and I . . . and the girl who is still mopping the floor. She looks relieved now that everyone else has left, but still wary with the chef.

“Take a seat, hon. You can call me Mrs. Harsh,” She motions towards a seat at the table.

“My name is Keri.”

I obey, my stomach growling again. Mrs. Harsh steps into a large pantry and comes back with a loaf of bread. She takes it to the table and sets it in front of me. Part of it has mold on it, but my mouth begins to water anyway. I can’t even remember the last time I had bread. She takes out a knife and scrapes off the mold and then cuts me a small piece.

As I take it from her, she watches me closely. I am so hungry; I can’t help but stuff it in my mouth. When I finish, I smile up at her.

“Thank you so much for the bread,” I say, getting up to leave.

I see surprise light up her eyes and she tells me to sit back down. I sit.

“Hon, you barely ate anything! You aren’t from around here are you?” she asks.

“Why would you think that?”

“Most girls in Sorington would rather faint than eat a piece of bread that had mold on it, much less thank me for it afterwards.”

I narrow my eyes, confused. “But the bread didn’t have mold on it. You cut it off before giving it to me. It was perfectly edible. For someone to waste such food is ridiculous.”

Mrs. Harsh smiles, something I didn’t know she was capable of. “I am glad to find someone that actually has good sense. I was beginning to lose hope.”

“When you are used to going days without decent food, you are grateful for anything you can get your hands on. Just a month ago, my family had to eat tree bark for every meal for four days,” I explain, shrugging as if it was no big deal. But it was.

I was shocked when I saw tears were forming in her eyes, though they didn’t spill. Then she said something I never saw coming. “Don’t worry. You will never go hungry again, as long as I can help it.”

Maybe this woman isn’t as mean as she pretends to be. I slide of the chair and stand. “Thank you. I’m afraid I have to get going.”

“Of course, of course,” Mrs. Harsh says quickly. “Just wait a moment.”

I watch as she runs back into the pantry, this time with a loaf of bread that doesn’t have a trace of mold on it and is still a little warm. She hands it to me and I give her a smile of thanks before leaving the kitchen.

I wait until the door is closed before unwrapping that loaf and stuffing a piece in my mouth. I let out a muffled sigh as a mixture of warmth and sweetness unravel in my mouth. I haven’t eaten anything this good since . . . I feel tears forming at the edge of my eyes, threatening to fall. Since Isaac and I got our last big catch together. I can remember the gold coins flowing through my fingers as I rejoiced in the reward. My family had plenty to eat for at least two months. And I made sure Isaac’s family had the same.

“Keri!”

I turn, my sad thoughts vanishing. I see the girl who was mopping the floor in the kitchen rushing towards me. “Yes?”

She stops before me, breathless. “I just wanted to let you know that I have never seen anyone sweet talk Mrs. Harsh like that before!”

I raise my eyebrows, confused. “Sweet talk?”

“Yes! Well, not exactly sweet talk, but it’s like a miracle,” the girl babbled. “Mrs. Harsh’s daughter died just two years ago from a terrible sickness and she would have been our age if she was still alive. Ever since, Mrs. Harsh has been overwhelmed with grief and hasn’t spoken to anyone like she spoke to you!”

I could not help, but like this girl. She was so full of joy, and despite her position, she did not appear to be the kind to complain. That was refreshing.

“What is your name?” I ask.

“I’m Ada. I work in the kitchen in exchange for a place to sleep and food to eat.”

“Where is your family?”

A clouded look overcomes Ada’s usual happy self. “I don’t have a family. They left me here when I was seven years old. Just abandoned me on the front steps of the castle under the cover of the night. A guard found me and took me to Mrs. Harsh. She was short on kitchen staff and so I got to work.”

I would like to say that I am shocked that someone would just leave their child, but then I would be lying. I am simply just sad and my heart hurts for Ada. “You started working here when you were only seven?”

She nods. “Mrs. Harsh is kind enough to act as a mother to me as much as she can. I am not much of a cook, but I can clean as well as the next person. It’s not so bad. Better than most people have it. I have a warm place to sleep and am never hungry.” She giggles. “And I am always ready to taste test Mrs. Harsh’s new recipes!”

I let out a small laugh and am about to say more when Mrs. Harsh calls out for Ada. The girl goes back into the kitchen to resume her job. I find that I really like Ada. I’ve never had a friend that is a girl, unless my sisters count. I’ve only ever befriended Isaac and that only was because we had such similar lives and could help each other. I am liking Sorington better and better.