The gulls were screaming overhead, but Ellie paid them little heed. Much like the sound of sea, she was so accustomed to their noise, they sort of faded into the background. She would probably only notice their absence. Duty done, she had the afternoon to herself from her employer, presumably so that they wouldn't be seen by others of their set as 'one of those cruel households', and not from any innate sense of charity toward domestics.  

She idlily kicked the heels of her boots against the stonework of the wharf, her legs dangling over the water. She had a bag of brightly coloured penny sweets resting in her lap which was a happy contrast to the austere black of her service uniform. She popped a sweet into her mouth.  The taste did not agree with her and she spat it out into her hand.

"Gugrh," she gurgled and examined the gooey, yet still recognisable confection "Aniseed!" she said definitively.  It was a polarising taste, love it or hate it, and Ellie hated it.  She threw the thing as hard as she could, watching it disappear into the murky harbour chop.

Father would go trout fishing near Saltwick Nab tonight. Oh merciful summer days when there was less work for a fisherlass! Sure, the nets had to be cleaned and the corks checked, but that was far less work than gathering enough bait for some few hundred hooks while getting her feet and ankles wet and nearly freezing to death on the Scaur, skaning as much bait and then baiting those cursed stingy hooks. Not to mention the worst job of all: mucking the lines. It was worst when the weather had been adverse, or father hadn't been able to go out for another reason, and she would not just have to clean the remainder of the bait from the hooks, but she'd have to cut away the complete muscles and mollusks. They had already become thick by that time and had started rotting. The smell wouldn't leave her nostrils all through the night. In summer there was still cleaning and cooking and laundry of course, but every day besides Monday seemed bearable in summer.

All her chores done, Anne strolled around town idly. She had told herself that she would use this time free well. She'd see if she could get a small job for during her free hours. Or perhaps she would reflect on a strategy to cheer Alice up. Perhaps she would see if there were free lectures at one of the institutes or societies that she could follow to improve herself.

And yet in spite of her industrious ambitions, she found herself merely strolling around, thinking and daydreaming. She was walking idly down by the wharfs when she stopped in her tracks. The dress was that of a domestic servant, but she recognised the face and hair of a fisherlass she well knew. The Russells lived closeby and Ellie and Anne had been classmates. Ellie was looking at something and then flung it across the harbour. "Ellie," she greeted. "You look right smart." She sat down by the girl's side, crossing her legs in front of her.

Were those sweets?

Ellie knew Anne well enough, they were neighbours of sorts in the Cragg and classmates too back when school had been a part of their lives. For a time, they had even been 'sisters' of a sort, with the shared bond of domestic service. Anne wasn't doing that anymore, or so the Cragg gossip line had said. Ellie felt sorry for the family, and Anne in particular, for good things seemed to elude them like the prize catch slipping away.

"Anne. Want some?" Her words were garbled because she was sucking a sweet, but she handed over her bag of confection. She swallowed.

"Ye look well. I like yer hair." Ellie was slightly envious of her friend's fiery curls. Surely the vibrant locks made her stand out to all the boys, which meant more dances at the pavilion, more free sweets.

"Thank you," said Anne a little suspiciously. Normally when her friends called her 'pretty' and she'd accept the compliment, she'd then hear sniggers and see them exchange glances that made her want to disappear into thin air. "I have nowt to share with ye." she added, but she took a sweet anyway and popped it into her mouth. Hmmm, strawberry. "How are they treatin' ye at t' house?"

"It's 'ard work. scrubbin, polish, sweep. Everythin' but cook. I'm sure ye remember." she paused looking out over the boats bobbing in the harbour. "They're not cruel, but they're not the kindest employers. I'm sure ye remember." Ellie plucked a sweet from the bag and popped it in her mouth. Her nose scrunched, lemon. Still better than Aniseed.

Anne sucked on her sweet, resisting the temptation to chew. She pressed it into her cheek so that she could talk. "I don't know, I was only a maid real short." She feared Ellie had heard gossip about how Anne had become the maid of an Earl, and then the next day was not anymore, how said Earl had visited the Cragg and there had been shouting in the Ward home and the man had left with a bashed up face and there had been more shouting. Nobody had asked her or her father about it, but Anne knew they had drawn their own conclusions. "But our Rose really hated bein' a maid. Her employer was a nasty man, I think." At least Alice had told her that.

Ellie had been working that day, but had heard the stories about the Wards when she had returned. Still, being a maid had to be better than untangling hooks from lines or gutting fish. It was a quiet dread for Ellie that she could return to that life in moments notice.

"The good ones are 'ard to find. I'd love to work in a big house; like fer the Carringtons or McPadraics." Ellie just plucked the names two of the best known families she knew from the papers. "Surrounded by all those nice things. Plus money means refinement, class, and generosity. Not like the Cragg at all." Ellie said oblivious to her company. "Gives 'ere, what flavours are left?" She used a finger to pull open the little bag.

Anne accidentally chewed the sweet and regretted it when the last bit of it went down her throat. "Carrington? No, you shouldn't work there. 'aven't ye heard about the son that's a murderer?!"

That was rich, coming from her, she realized the next moment, and Ellie knew all about that.

"I mean a bad murderer."

Because Simon had only used the knife to tickle Mr. Christopher Hurley... She turned red.

Ellie shot Anne a look, both eyebrows raised. The Ward family had no right to stand on high horses. At least the Russell's only notoriety was that their baked goods were so delicious, they were probably sinful. Father Kemble had said so. Every family had a black ram. But Ellie liked Anne, so but said nothing about it.

"Still, the uniform's a little rough." Ellie responded, wriggling a little.

Anne blushed deeper when Ellie shot her that look, and she was grateful for the change of subject. "It looks good on ye, though," she said. "And yer family must be so proud t' way yer bringin' in extra money and do well enough to serve in a nice home." She eyed the bag.