The Declaration

train instead, but she still went because you have to see the world, otherwise what’s the point? I wanted to ask ‘The point of what?’ but I didn’t because you’re not meant to ask questions, it’s not polite. She said she’d been to a hundred and fifty different countries, some more than twice, and I tried to stop my mouth dropping open because I didn’t want her to know that I hadn’t even known there were that many countries in the world. We don’t learn about countries at Grange Hall.
    Mrs Sharpe has probably been to four hundred and fifty-three countries now, because it was a whole a year ago that I was at her house. I wish I were still her housekeeper. She didn’t hit me even once.
    It must be amazing to travel to foreign countries. Mrs Sharpe showed me a map of the world and showed me where England is. She told me about the deserts in the Middle East, about the mountains in India and about the sea. I think my favourite place would be the desert because apparently there are no people there at all. It would be hard to be Surplus in the desert – even if you knew you were one really, there wouldn’t be anyone else around to remind you.
    I’ll probably never see any desert, though. Mrs Pincent says it’s all disappearing fast because they can build on it now. Desert is a luxury this world can’t afford, she says. And I should be worrying about the state of my ironing, not thinking of places I’ll never be able to go to. I’m not sure she’s exactly right about that, although I’d never say that to her. Mrs Sharpe said she had a housekeeper once who used to go with her travelling around the world, doing her packing and organising tickets and things like that. She had her for forty years, she told me, and she was very sad to see her go because her new housekeeper can’t take the hot temperatures, so she has to leave her behind when she goes away. If I could get a job with a lady who travels a lot, I don’t think I’d mind the hot temperatures. The desert’s the hottest place of all and I’m sure I’d love it there.
    ‘Anna! Anna, will you come here this minute!’
    Anna looked up from the small journal Mrs Sharpe had given her as a parting gift and quickly returned it, and her pen, to its hiding place.
    ‘Yes, House Matron,’ she called hurriedly, and rushed out of Female Bathroom 2 and down the corridor, her face flushed. How long had Mrs Pincent been calling her? How had she not heard her call?
    The truth was that she’d never realised how absorbing it could be to write. She’d had Mrs Sharpe’s journal for a year now. It was a small, fat book covered in pale pink suede and filled with thick, creamy pages that looked so beautiful she couldn’t ever imagine ruining them by making a single mark on that lovely paper. Every so often she’d taken it out to look at it. She would turn it over in her hands, guiltily enjoying the soft texture of the suede against her skin before secreting it away again. But she’d never written in it – not until today, that is. Today, for some reason, she had taken it out, picked up a pen, and without even thinking had started to write. And once she’d started, she found she didn’t want to stop. Thoughts and feelings that usually lay hidden beneath worries and exhaustion suddenly came flooding to the surface as if gasping for air.
    Which was all very well, but if it was discovered, she would be beaten. Number one, she wasn’t allowed to accept gifts from anyone. And number two, journals and writing were forbidden at Grange Hall. Surpluses were not there to read and write; they were there to learn and work, Mrs Pincent told them regularly. She said that things would be much easier if they didn’t have to teach them to read and write in the first place, because reading and writing were a dangerous business; they made you think, and Surpluses who thought too much were useless and difficult. But people wanted maids and housekeepers who were literate, so Mrs Pincent didn’t have a choice.
    If she were truly Valuable Asset material, she would get rid of the journal completely, Anna knew that. Temptation was a test, Mrs Pincent often said. She’d already failed it twice – first by accepting the gift and now by writing in it. A true Valuable Asset wouldn’t succumb to temptation like that, would they? A Valuable Asset simply wouldn’t break the rules.
    But Anna, who never broke any rules, who believed that regulations existed to be followed to the