His name is Damien Walsh, he says as he rolls a wooden crate over for me. Between the aroma coming out of that bag and the sweet invitation on the fella’s face, I can’t help myself. I sit, and when he pulls from the bag a box piled high with gravy, spuds with butter, and a pile of green beans, don’t Imake a small sound of bliss. I blink some tears, but he doesn’t see. I’m glad to see he’d the sense not to bring cutlery or napkins, for those would have been missed by his boss.
“Bon appétit,” he says, holding the box out to me.
I start out shy, taking a slice of the meat between my fingers and nibbling, but then, sure enough, I give in and let myself enjoy it. We don’t say a word, because our mouths are full. I have never tasted the like in my life. Ah, the gravy! ’Tis wonderful. Nothing like the burnt bits I turn into a weak sauce with water and a sprinkle of flour. And the potatoes, well, I am tempted to lick the plate clean when we’re done. I’ll admit, I licked my fingers.
A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “You make little noises when you eat, so you do.”
“Get on wit’ you.”
“You do.”
He’s likely right. I make noises sometimes without meaning to. That’s why I had to keep my mouth shut back in the ballroom, so no one would hear my amazement.
“All right,” I mutter. “Thank you for the meal, Damien, but you know you shouldn’t have. They’ll give you the boot if they find out.”
“Aye, but I’m not the only one courting the divil. You shouldn’t have moved, neither, saving me from that woman.”
’Tis true.
“Besides, no one sees me when I don’t want them to. I’m quick, and I know my way around.”
“You’re bold,” I note.
He nods happily. “May I walk you home, then?”
Damien says he lives a few blocks away from me, but I’ve not seen him in The Ward before. I suppose that means nothing, for the place is crowded tight with so many people.
I shrug, trying not to let on that I would enjoy his company more than I should. “Why not? We’re going the same way, aren’t we?”
The next morning he’s waiting outside my door. Brazen lad.
“Why are you here?” I ask, trying not to let on how glad I am to see him.
“So you won’t get lonely,” he replies cheerily.
“I don’t get lonely walking to work,” I assure him.
But his grin is infectious, and something inside me melts. There’s nothing to be done about it: I’m already lost in that saucy smile, though I’ll not mention that to him just yet.
“I fear you might without my company.” He winks. “Come on, Rosie. Let’s go to work.”
chapterFIVE
I understand my place at the Dominion, and you’ll never hear me complain as I work in the lovely rooms. Every bed I make, and every floor I shine, well, ’tis a blessing, each one. Where else could I peer out a window and see Union Station and Lake Ontario spread out and winking at me? Imagine if Granny’s old ancestors could get off their cursed ship and see this now. ’Twould stop their hearts. I’m glad the guests in this room can see it like I do. The rooms are huge, they are. The bedroom is so large it could hold my family’s home. Come to think of it, even the washroom could most likely hold it. Every guest room has its own private phone, bath, shower, alarm clock, and even a radio.
I clean every room until it shines. I’m careful to be invisible, but they must notice me anyway, because occasionally they leave a penny for me. The first time that happened, I went straight to Mrs. Evans and held out the coin.
“They put a note beside it that said ‘For the Chambermaid,’ ma’am.”
“That’s very good, Rosie. They’ve noticed your hard work. Keep it up.”
The penny lies on my palm, and I wait, but she doesn’t take it. A frown briefly crosses her face.
“What do you wish me to do with that?” she asks.
It’s clear what I want, but I don’t say anything. I’m holding the penny so close to her ’tis practically in her hand.
“Oh,” she says, folding my fingers over the penny. “It’s not for me, it’s for you, Rosie. It’s called a tip. You earn this through good work and charitable guests.”
