fine, she didn’t feel particularly fine. Taking her bowl back to her table, she lifted the food to her mouth, but found herself unable to eat. The porridge felt dry, like sawdust, and eventually, having almost gagged on the first mouthful, she gave up.
It was tiredness, she decided. That was all.
‘Hurry up, now. Remember that you’re on clearing duty this morning. I want Central Feeding clean before training starts.’
Anna looked up to see Mrs Pincent hovering over her, and she nodded quickly.
‘Yes, House Matron, I remember. We’ll start right away,’ she said. ‘You can depend on me,’ she added unnecessarily, and Mrs Pincent raised an eyebrow.
‘Yes, well, I hope I can,’ she said frowning slightly as she swished past, her solid court shoes resonating on the cold, hard floor.
Anna looked up and saw that Sheila was standing nervously in the doorway. The final whistle had just been blown, which meant no more food was to be consumed. And suddenly Anna couldn’t bear it.
‘Sheila, come in, we’re on cleaning duty,’ she said loudly, watching closely as Sheila nodded obediently, her eyes surreptitiously moving to the front of the hall where the big vats of porridge were being taken into the kitchens.
Anna picked up her bowl, which was still full of porridge, and walked over to Sheila.
‘Here,’ she said softly, checking that no one was watching before handing her the bowl. ‘Just eat it quickly and don’t tell anyone, OK?’
Sheila’s face lit up as she took the bowl gratefully. ‘Thanks, Anna,’ she said in her small, soft voice. ‘And I’m sorry about the button.’
Anna nodded, and walked away thinking as she did so of Mrs Pincent’s take on apologies. Don’t ever say you’re sorry to another Surplus , the House Matron had told her repeatedly when she’d first become a Prefect. ‘Sorry’ implies a contract, an expected level of behaviour, and Surpluses don’t enjoy such a luxury. Surpluses should not ask why, or how – they simply do what they’re told, and that’s the end of it. Sometimes she’d pause then, and frown slightly. Life is very straightforward for a Surplus , she’d say, almost wistfully . There’s nothing to think about at all.
Chapter Ten
Later that morning, Anna found herself in Laundry, which that day involved ironing all the clothes they took in for the local houses – the ones that didn’t have housekeepers. Grange Hall’s income had risen steadily over the years, Mrs Pincent was always proud to point out. They now did laundry regularly for over fifty households and two local hotels and the high quality of the work was often commented upon, something that Anna always heard Mrs Pincent telling people, particularly people who were from the Authorities.
Anna quite liked doing laundry, because she got to see the soft sheets and beautiful clothes that people in the village wore – soft woollen jumpers, wisp-thin silk blouses and beautiful cotton dresses that she sometimes liked to imagine wafting around in as if life were nothing more than a wonderful holiday. Not today, though. Today, all she wanted to do was scrub – scrub away dirt, scrub away her wickedness, and scrub away all thoughts of Peter and her appointment later that night. She’d even offered to do undergarments, which was considered the worst job. They were all hard and full of wire – called ‘bones’, apparently – and impossible to clean properly.
Anna couldn’t understand why anyone would want to wear such uncomfortable undergarments, at least she hadn’t until she’d worked for Mrs Sharpe.
‘Longevity doesn’t cure gravity, unfortunately,’ Mrs Sharpe had told her when she’d been caught frowning at a particularly painful-looking thing that she discovered was called an Uplifter. ‘Until they develop a drug that renews the skin as well as the body, we’re going to need boning to keep everything in place and to hold everything up.’
Anna had just nodded then, even though
It was tiredness, she decided. That was all.
‘Hurry up, now. Remember that you’re on clearing duty this morning. I want Central Feeding clean before training starts.’
Anna looked up to see Mrs Pincent hovering over her, and she nodded quickly.
‘Yes, House Matron, I remember. We’ll start right away,’ she said. ‘You can depend on me,’ she added unnecessarily, and Mrs Pincent raised an eyebrow.
‘Yes, well, I hope I can,’ she said frowning slightly as she swished past, her solid court shoes resonating on the cold, hard floor.
Anna looked up and saw that Sheila was standing nervously in the doorway. The final whistle had just been blown, which meant no more food was to be consumed. And suddenly Anna couldn’t bear it.
‘Sheila, come in, we’re on cleaning duty,’ she said loudly, watching closely as Sheila nodded obediently, her eyes surreptitiously moving to the front of the hall where the big vats of porridge were being taken into the kitchens.
Anna picked up her bowl, which was still full of porridge, and walked over to Sheila.
‘Here,’ she said softly, checking that no one was watching before handing her the bowl. ‘Just eat it quickly and don’t tell anyone, OK?’
Sheila’s face lit up as she took the bowl gratefully. ‘Thanks, Anna,’ she said in her small, soft voice. ‘And I’m sorry about the button.’
Anna nodded, and walked away thinking as she did so of Mrs Pincent’s take on apologies. Don’t ever say you’re sorry to another Surplus , the House Matron had told her repeatedly when she’d first become a Prefect. ‘Sorry’ implies a contract, an expected level of behaviour, and Surpluses don’t enjoy such a luxury. Surpluses should not ask why, or how – they simply do what they’re told, and that’s the end of it. Sometimes she’d pause then, and frown slightly. Life is very straightforward for a Surplus , she’d say, almost wistfully . There’s nothing to think about at all.
Chapter Ten
Later that morning, Anna found herself in Laundry, which that day involved ironing all the clothes they took in for the local houses – the ones that didn’t have housekeepers. Grange Hall’s income had risen steadily over the years, Mrs Pincent was always proud to point out. They now did laundry regularly for over fifty households and two local hotels and the high quality of the work was often commented upon, something that Anna always heard Mrs Pincent telling people, particularly people who were from the Authorities.
Anna quite liked doing laundry, because she got to see the soft sheets and beautiful clothes that people in the village wore – soft woollen jumpers, wisp-thin silk blouses and beautiful cotton dresses that she sometimes liked to imagine wafting around in as if life were nothing more than a wonderful holiday. Not today, though. Today, all she wanted to do was scrub – scrub away dirt, scrub away her wickedness, and scrub away all thoughts of Peter and her appointment later that night. She’d even offered to do undergarments, which was considered the worst job. They were all hard and full of wire – called ‘bones’, apparently – and impossible to clean properly.
Anna couldn’t understand why anyone would want to wear such uncomfortable undergarments, at least she hadn’t until she’d worked for Mrs Sharpe.
‘Longevity doesn’t cure gravity, unfortunately,’ Mrs Sharpe had told her when she’d been caught frowning at a particularly painful-looking thing that she discovered was called an Uplifter. ‘Until they develop a drug that renews the skin as well as the body, we’re going to need boning to keep everything in place and to hold everything up.’
Anna had just nodded then, even though
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