The maid’s secret

CHAPTER EIGHT

AMELIA’S POV

“Lily,” I said firmly, crossing my arms as I watched her tuck a packet of biscuits under her blanket, “what did I tell you about hoarding food?”

She froze, her big brown eyes widening with guilt. “I… I wasn’t!”

I raised an eyebrow. “Really? Then what’s that sticking out of your blanket?”

Her tiny hands scrambled to push the packet further under, cheeks puffing out stubbornly. “It’s for later. Just in case I get hungry.”

I sighed, running a hand over my face. She’d been doing this for days—slipping fruit into her pockets, hiding cookies under her pillow, even sneaking bread rolls into the drawer. At first, I thought it was just her way of feeling secure. After all, there were times when we barely had enough to eat. But now… it felt different.

I crouched down in front of her. “Sweetheart, there’s always food here. You don’t have to hide it anymore. I promise.”

She looked down, fiddling with the hem of her dress. “I know, Mama… but…”

“But what?” I pressed gently.

Her lips pursed, as if she was holding back words. Then, with a quick shake of her head, she mumbled, “Nothing.”

Something about the way she avoided my eyes made my stomach twist. I brushed a strand of her hair back and kissed her forehead. “You don’t need to hide things from me, Lily. I’ll always take care of you. Always.”

She smiled faintly and nodded, but I knew she wasn’t telling me the whole truth.

Later that night, as I folded laundry in the dim glow of the lamp, I glanced at her bed. She was curled up, fast asleep, Daisy the doll clutched tightly in her arms. Her little chest rose and fell steadily, peaceful and innocent.

But the edge of a biscuit packet peeked from under her pillow.

I frowned. What on earth is she doing with all these snacks?

A quiet unease stirred in me. Lily had always been open with me, always quick to chatter about every little thought in her head. But lately, there was a secretiveness in her smile, a mystery I couldn’t quite put my finger on.

I tried to shake it off, telling myself she was just being playful. Children were like that sometimes.

Still… I couldn’t shake the feeling that she was hiding something.

And whatever it was, I wasn’t sure I was ready to find out.