The thought of losing Damien freezes the marrow in my bones. Already, I’m lost at the thought of him gone.
I move on to my next room when I’m done, but a guest is still inside when I knock. The door opens a crack and a gentleman peeks out at me. He’s tall and fetching, with his hair and moustache waxed to a shine.
“Can you wait five minutes?”
“Of course, sir.”
I’m tempted to move to the next room, but five minutes isn’t too long to wait. I take the time to examine my trolley, making sure I have everything I need—though I know that I do. After that, I stand quiet beside it, toying with the cool brass master keys on the ring at my waist. Each one is the same, plain as the next except for the room number stamped on the front. They’re nothing like the beautiful, ornate keys given to the guests, but that is understandable. A whole ring would weigh too much, and I’m sure they would cost a pretty penny to make.
I have held a guest key, and ’tis a special thing, to be sure. Its weight is even more memorable than its swirls. It’s like the guests are holding a promise of something truly special.
My keys might seem ordinary, but they have purpose. Mrs. Evans says these keys are a matter of trust, since they can open any door on this floor as well as our lockers. I like thinking about that.
The friendly guest opens his door again. “Thank you for waiting.”
“?’Tis my pleasure, sir,” I say, then I am back to work.
My day is done by eight o’clock, which is well timed with Damien’s shift. I wrap my jumper tight around myself as I step into the summer night. Damien meets me in the half-light by the staff door, and I can’t help but think he’s a fair picture of a man, he is.
“How are you keeping?” I ask.
“Better since you’re here.” He frowns at the glowing white bandagearound my hand. I’d clean forgot it was there. Very carefully, he unwinds it, then holds my hand under the streetlamp to inspect it. The blood has all dried, but the cloth will need laundering.
“I covered it so as not to make a mess,” I tell him.
He kisses the back of my hand, gentle as can be.
I stare at him. “It’s just a cut.”
“I suppose so,” he says. “Don’t like to see you hurt is all.”
I peer around his back and whisper, “What’s for supper?”
He motions with his head, so I follow him. We keep our mouths shut until we’re a block away, in the alley we have decided is ours.
“Chicken,” he says. “And I…” He stops himself, which he never does.
“What? You what?”
“I have a special dessert for after.”
“Dessert!”
“Let’s finish this first, shall we?”
I swoon, seeing the plate of chicken. “Oh, Damien. ’Tis lovely.”
He takes a bite, then remembers something. “I got a grand story for you. You won’t believe it.” He grins. “Me and the lads was talking in the kitchen, and I asked what they’re doing with their money, since ’tis starting to add up. Do you know what? Ah. You’ll never guess. Eddie and Frank just made money in the stock market!”
I’m shocked. Eddie and Frank are cousins, and they work in the Dominion’s kitchen. They also live a couple of blocks from me, in a shack held together by sticks and stones.
“Well, I never! Shame on them. They can’t afford what they have now.”
“They did good, Rosie.”
I shake my head. “I don’t believe it, but I reckon a fool’s money don’t stay in their pocket for long.”
“It’s true.”
