The Declaration

correctly? Was Mrs Pincent in London?
    Hurriedly, she started to clean again, but her mind was elsewhere. If Mrs Pincent wasn’t there, perhaps she had another shot at being sent to Solitary. Surely it was worth a go?
    Suddenly, Anna frowned, and let go of the nappy she was holding.
    Out of the corner of her eye, Anna watched Maisie picking the dry, calloused skin from her hands, and she had an idea.
    Slowly but methodically, she rinsed her hands under the tap, and moved away from the sink. Maisie raised her eyebrows.
    ‘No you don’t, missy. You’ll stay there till them nappies are clean,’ she said, with a little smirk. ‘I’m under orders from Mrs Pincent. When she gets back there’ll be hell to pay.’
    Anna felt a flutter of excitement in her stomach. Mrs Pincent was definitely away.
    Emboldened, she smiled sweetly at Maisie. ‘Then you can tell Mrs Pincent that I was very badly behaved,’ she said, employing her haughtiest voice, the one she used with errant Middles. ‘I refuse to clean any more,’ she continued. ‘It’s not my job, anyway. I thought Domestics were employed to clean nappies.’
    It was a cheap shot, but, as Anna had hoped, it worked. Being a Domestic at Grange Hall was, according to Mrs Pincent, one of the worst possible jobs on offer to Legals – Anna had heard her say so to Mrs Larson. To be spoken down to by a Surplus was simply too much for Maisie to bear, and before Anna had even finished speaking, she had lashed out, striking Anna across the face.
    ‘You’re a Surplus,’ she screamed. ‘You don’t talk to me like that. I’m Legal. Legal, d’you hear? You could be my slave if I wanted you . . .’
    ‘Really? I didn’t think Domestics were paid enough to have staff,’ Anna continued, wincing slightly at the pain from Maisie’s blow, which had caught her on the side of her face.
    At this, Maisie drew herself up to her full height and dealt Anna a massive blow across the head, sending her flying to the ground. Then she looked around nervously. Mrs Pincent didn’t think much of Domestics and they certainly weren’t allowed to hit the Surpluses.
    At the sound of Anna falling to the ground, Mrs Larson, who supervised the Domestics from time to time and who had been given the poisoned chalice of looking after things in Mrs Pincent’s absence, came looking to see what the commotion was, and cried out, putting her hand over her mouth just in time.
    ‘Maisie, what on earth have you done?’ she asked worriedly.
    ‘She was giving me lip,’ Maisie said firmly. ‘She had it coming.’
    ‘But what will we tell Mrs Pincent?’ Mrs Larson continued, rushing over to assess the damage.
    ‘She ought to be in Solitary,’ Maisie continued defiantly. ‘Like I say, that Surplus had it coming.’
    Mrs Larson shook her head in disbelief, then looked around nervously to check that no one else was near.
    ‘Maisie, help me lift her. I think you’re right about Solitary. Better to put her down there than have people talk. And one night should teach her how to behave.’

Chapter Fourteen
    Anna’s right cheek was so swollen from Maisie’s blow that she couldn’t open the eye above it. Her hair had blood encrusted in it and her bottom lip was bleeding because she had inadvertently bitten it when she’d fallen to the floor. But she had never been so happy in her whole life.
    As she came to slowly on the hard, concrete bed, she opened her eyes and sat up to take in her surroundings, then she smiled to herself, ignoring the pain as she did so. She’d made it. She was in Solitary. That one thought made her feel more alive than she could remember feeling before. And powerful. She felt like she could do anything. With Peter, she was invincible.
    Looking around to make sure that she was alone, she called out excitedly, her voice soft at first then louder. ‘Peter, I’m here. Peter!’
    ‘Anna! You did it! I hoped it was you when I heard them bring someone in, but I didn’t dare say anything. What did you do? How did you get them to send you down here?’ His voice was coming from the wall behind her, which meant that she was in the cell next to him, she realised to her relief.
    ‘I challenged Mr Sargent,’ she said proudly, smiling at the memory of his red face pulsating with shock at her words. ‘And then I was rude to a Domestic.’
    She heard Peter laugh, and it made her glow with pride.
    ‘So when do we leave?’ she asked nervously.
    ‘Tonight,’ Peter said, without