June 01, 2020
Review, Edit and Update
Cook did most of the talking in A Letter Home to her sister, Lily in England. A lovely chatty letter, Cook did mention the shared experience of Covid19. Even as the real author of her letter, I really couldn’t alter too much in her letter. I did sneak in there and take out a space and one unnecessary word. Hope she doesn’t notice and please don’t tell on me.
A Letter Home
Cook didn’t care much for the monthly staff meetings that Digby insisted on, despite whether she was in the middle of preparing the evening meal or not. She was not pleased that she’d had to be away from her kitchen at the Beaufort mansion for these past two, going on three weeks. Stuck at home, only going out to her garden and talking to people over that FaceTime. Took me a long enough time to figure that one out and then it wasn’t as difficult at that new fangled microwave with all its buttons. At least, we haven’t had that nuisance of a staff meeting this month. Cook was in her own kitchen. She had a meat pie in the oven, potatoes out and ready to peel. From the drawer in her kitchen table, just like her mother’s old kitchen table, she pulled out a pad of writing paper and a pen. There was a pile of pens in the drawer but she liked the blue one best. The ink didn’t blob. She wrote a letter to her sister, Lily, in England every month. Sometimes more often, like today. It had only been two weeks since she last wrote, but time was growing long so she decided Lily needed to hear from her again. After all, she was as cooped up over here as over there.
Cook had been christened Mary Elizabeth Saunders. Her sister, who was two years older, was christened Lillian Henrietta Saunders. Mary Elizabeth’s name was shortened to Lizzie by her high school chums. The boys were terrible to her. They teased her and called her Lizzie the Lizard because she had big green eyes that seemed to be looking in all directions. She would just laugh at them and tell them they’d better run because she just might turn into a giant lizard and squish them like ants. But then she grew up and insisted that she be called Elizabeth. She had always known she liked cooking. She and Lily had fights over who was going to cook supper or get lunch ready. Elizabeth always seemed to win. They each went to different colleges after high school. Elizabeth didn’t really know what she wanted to do with her life. Becoming a cook, according to her parents and her teacher, was not a very lucrative career path for her. Never be able to pay the bills. So she pursued being a legal secretary. That’s where she developed a distaste for staff meetings. A distaste that had never left her. She was increasingly unhappy so left that job and the education that she was getting to go to work in a mom and pop restaurant. That’s where she really learned how to cook. They were very busy, just off a main highway. People came from far and wide for their sandwiches, hot main meals and homemade soups. Elizabeth was in her element. With the backing of her employers she went to Culinary School to hone her skills. Getting the job with old lady Beaufort had landed Elizabeth in a place that had only been in her dreams. To have her own kitchen with all the tools and toys she would ever want. It was there that she became Cook and had held that title ever since. Digby and Martha were fairly new employees at the time, so the three of them had become fast friends and had been with the Beaufort family well before young Michael married his beautiful Emelina. They had often, when they shared coffee after the evening meal, talked about what they could do, if they were ever asked, with the money that the Beauforts seemed to have in endless supply. But enough reminiscing. Cook needed to get her letter written and in the mail before 3pm.
Dear Lily,
Hope you are still well. Your last letter was good news that you were negative for this virus. The days are getting long over here and I would just like to be back at Beaufort’s and get cooking again. I’ve done as much cooking here as possible, and have eaten too much of my own good cooking. Surprise. Surprise. Mrs. Beaufort and her sister got groceries for me! That Miss Priss has never done anything much for me in the past but sign my paycheque. I’m grateful for that and hope I don’t lose my job like so many other people have in town. Because we all have had to be isolating for the last few weeks, I haven’t had to go to any of those unnecessary staff meetings I’ve told you about. Martha, the Housekeeper, tried to get me to keep ‘kitchen books’ but I fussed so about it that she decided we’d just talk about things. I want nothing to do with keeping books. You know that making soup, cooking meals and baking bread are the things a cook should be doing. I’m good at that, I know what I need and I know what isn’t necessary and when Martha and I have our little chats, I can tell her.
Lily, did I ever tell you about why this place is run like some castle. I must have, I may never have written it down. Old Mrs. Beaufort was the one who tried to make this old house into something grander than it has ever been. Upstairs. Downstairs. I just think that’s about the silliest thing I’ve ever heard. But for some reason all that fooforal stuck, so I went along with it. As long as I could cook delicious food, Mrs Beaufort could have had us living like we were Martians. She had an Upstairs maid and a Downstairs maid, both of them really cleaners that kept the place clean and tidy. Years later when young Michael died, it was just easier for all of us to take care of Miss Emelina. She was so devastated and has been a mess ever since. And then there was the night that we left the mansion in a hurry. We all felt so bad, but were so scared about the virus that we all had our families to think of. That is except for Digby who lives alone and has never been married. We’re no spring chickens anymore and had to get to where we could be safe. If you’re getting bored reading all this - like if I’ve told you this a million times - but then I don’t have much more to talk about. Or you can just stop reading. But let me tell you about the miracle that happened and I know I haven’t told you this part of the story. Miss Emelina has a sister! The miracle was that her sister - what was her name? - Desperanze? - such an odd name - anyway, this was the miracle. Miss Emelina had to rescue her from some kind of trouble. They don’t talk about what that trouble was, so it must be something shameful. Still, this Desperanze seems an awfully nice person and Miss Emelina seems in better spirits than she’s been for a long time. And that’s since her sister has arrived. Well, I guess I’d better stop talking your ear off and mail this letter. I’ll be calling Martha this evening and see what she has to say about coming out of isolation.
Love you, Lily
Stay well and keep safe.
Your loving sister, Elizabeth
“Letter writing is the only device for
combining solitude with good company.”
~ Lord Byron
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