The tray held a bowl of porridge that had steam rising from it, a cup of water and a spoon, exactly as I had requested.The steam rose into my nostrils. Porridge was my comfort food, especially the way my mother prepared it.I tasted a spoonful, and a moan slipped from my mouth."Are you just going to stand there watching me?""I'm to be at your beck and call, my lady," Gertha said, standing by the door, her hands folded."I do not look helpless to you, do I?""No, but it is my duty. I'm paid to.""Leave. I want to be on my own," I said, finality in my tone."As you wish, my lady." She bowed her head slightly. "When you are finished, I will come back for the tray.""I can take it.""The kitchens are not for guests.""I am not a guest."She looked at me. "You are not staff either."I ate another spoonful. The silence was not uncomfortable, but it was not easy."I will take the tray," I said again.Gertha walked to the door and opened it. "Leave it. I will collect it," she said, closing
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