Just Like Magic Read Online Free PDF Page B

to the pump, I stomped up the stairs and stared into the hall mirror. Smudged face, staring eyes, straggly hair. I stomped back downstairs to heat some water. It was definitely time for a nice hot bath.
By the time I had heated water and filled the tin tub that I found in the closet, I was tired enough to fall asleep. I set a screen around the tub and climbed in with enough bath salts to perfume half the house. Ahhh….
While I was luxuriating in the steaming water I heard a muffled pop from the oven, then another. I glanced that way, eyebrows lowered, when there came an even more unwelcome noise, this time from the top of the stairs.
“Ella!” It was Gerta’s voice.
I glared at the stairway. “Hmmm?”
“Ella! What are you doing down there?”
I almost said, “None of your business,” but refrained. “Taking a bath,” I said shortly.
“Taking a bath! Well, I like that!” Gerta’s voice got louder and I heard the stairs creaking. “What about dinner? We do expect to eat, you know!”
“For your information,” I said, raising my voice, “it’s cooking even now. And please go away!”
There was another muffled bang from the oven. I could hear Gerta lifting a lid, dropping it, and squealing.
“Gerta! Go away! Now!”
She must have found the towel, because I heard the lid being lifted again. “This is burning,” she said.
“Gerta!”
“Seems to me you’d be glad for a little help. And by the by, I’ll want a bath tomorrow morning.”
“You will? How interesting. Go away!”
I could hear her poking around and the creak of her weight on the stairs. Her voice floated back down to me: “And you can wash my blue morning dress….”
I didn’t answer. There was a faint charred smell gently making its way from the stove, just noticeable above the bath salts. Teeth gritted, I climbed out of the tub, wrapped myself in a towel, and approached the oven. Hmmm. The carrots did appear a bit scorched. I ladled a dipperful of water into the pan, and the smell of charred steam now added its perfume to the air. Bah. I stalked back behind the screen and dressed.
By the time I had my hair done, there was a charcoal beef and potato smell to match the scorched carrot smell. And when I had finally hauled out the meat and potatoes and served some uneven slices onto the plates, I surveyed it with disgust. The beef was burned on the outside and rare inside. The onion skin was still tough. The potato skins were blackened, as were the bits of potato that had stuck to the oven interior. (The muffled popping noise I had heard had been three of the potatoes exploding.) The carrots had burned patches and a smoky taste.
I leaned over to peer into the oven at the potato fragments. What a horrible mess. Henry would not be pleased when he cleaned it again on Thursday. I wiped my forehead, which was perspiring from the heat, and stared glumly at the food. Oh well, might as well serve it and get it over with.
I loaded the tray and headed upstairs. Gerta looked up as I backed into her room. She wrinkled her nose as I put a plate down on her table. “Aren’t we eating in the dining room?”
“No. It’s not clean yet.”
She stared at her plate and made a face. “I told you it was burning. And what happened to the meat? I like mine well done, not rare!”
“Then eat the outside bits,” I said shortly, and took the tray in to Lucy. She looked up at me and raised an eyebrow.
“Good heavens, Ella, couldn’t you wash? You look like a grubby scullery maid!”
I drew myself up tall, but couldn’t help glancing in her mirror. My forehead was smudged, my hair drooping. “Excuse me, Lucy,” I said between clenched teeth, “but as I seem to be the only one around here doing any work—”
“Work!” Lucy pushed her plate away. “It doesn’t take much work to burn food!”
“More work than to sit around giving orders! But I expect you’re afraid you’ll spoil your complexion.”
“At least my complexion isn’t covered with