It was just a typical monday morning. The staff stumbled back into the gleaming kitchen that they rushed to escape Saturday tea time. The room is cold. It only feels cold after the weekend or public holidays as the rest of the week it keeps the raging warmth of the cooking inside over night.
Marcha, the kitchen assistant spots Geraldine first. Momentarily she can't believe her eyes. Surely not. Geraldine Palmer in their kitchen. This is going to be trouble. Marcha screams and begins to jump and almost stamp on the spot. She bends and quickly tucks her over large blue check trousers into her men's black socks. Not an easy thing to do whilst screaming, pointing indiscriminately and stamping her feet.
Jean, her boss sighs. It's monday morning and things should be quiet and organised and Marcha is prone to hysterics.
'What Marcha, calm down and explain the problem. And be quiet'.
Marcha continues to scream and jump and stamp but now begins to point down towards the shiny stainless steel oven.
'It's Geraldine, she's back. She's not dead .'
They both stare on to the spot and there she is sitting upright, her bottom firmly placed on the non slip blue vinyl floor. She looks straight at them, unblinking and appears to almost smile.
'Look, look she is laughing at us.'
'Don't be silly, although I admit it does look like she is smiling. I will call Jim back and get it sorted but for now can't we throw something over her and just get on with preparing the vegetables.'
'Throw what over her and are you going to do it?'
'How about that big flour tub it should be big enough and easy enough to get it over her. I'll have a go'.
Jean got the white transparant bucket from the store cupboard on the otherside of the kitchen and slowly crept towards Geraldine. When she was three feet away she stopped and bent down to tuck her beautifully ironed catering trousers into her bright white socks. Somehow it looked worse for its neatness. She crept closer.
Geraldine looked up at her. Straight at her and waited. Jean manovered the tub in her hands so that it was perfectly vertical and upside down and then in one quick movement popped it neatly over Geraldine.
And there the tub containing Geraldine sat all day. All day of jacket potatoes and salad; of ham and cheese toasted sandwiches; of fish and chips; of shepards pie and peas and cream cakes, coffee and scones. Never moving, never lifted, never even jogging in the rush of the kitchen.
Jim arrived at 4.30 just as the kitchen was in clear up time and a few customers were having their coffee and whatever is left on the counter cakes before catching the last bus home. He sat and drank strong tea from an extra large mug and a mishapped scone smothered in butter in Jean's office before begining his task.
'It can't be Geraldine - she's dead. I took her body away myself. Definately. I disposed of her body in the incinerator myself.'
'Well it looks just like her, same colour, same size, same attitude.'
'Can she really have an attitude?'
Jean looked at Jim stuffing his face and slurping his tea simultanously and wondered if he ever did his job or just liked to visit kitchens for free food and company.
'Anyway' spat Jim as he stuffed the last mouthful of cheese scone in his mouth and gulped his last mouthful of tea, staring into the mug to make sure of its emptiness 'I better go and do the business.'
'It would have been better if you had been here earlier but just deal with it quickly. She's under that tub by the cooker.'
Jim grabbed his trap, a large brown box that rattled as he moved and moved towards the tub. He placed the box next to the tub and almost unseen, so quickly it was like a slight of hand swapped one for the other.
Geraldine was trapped and gone forever.
'Hurry and take her away please,' Marcha begged him. 'I don't want no more scares on a Monday morning.'
'No probs. I just check her and then we will both be gone.' He slid a panel from the side of the box that exposed a clear purspex wall. The inside of the box was empty.
Jim quickly slide the panel back into place before the others noticed. He stood quietly for a moment.
'Geraldine may have lots of relatives you know. Maybe I should bait some traps just in case. I'll be back in the morning to sort it out. Any left overs you are throwing out?'
'No Jim, no left overs today. We'll see you in the morning Geraldine free, I hope' Jean nodded her head towards the box.
'Yeah Geraldine Palmer is gone. Why do you call her Geraldine anyway?'
'Oh she reminded us Gerald our boss, silently visiting and watching, stealing the food and leaving a mess so we christened her Gerald but then you told us she was a female so Geraldine Palmer she became.'
Jim stared at the women silently. He hesitated before speaking.
'You don't know do you?'
'Know what?' Marcha spoke as she walked to the store room to put away the half used box of disposable gloves.
'Gerald died last night - massive heart attack I think. It's a tragedy.'
'Well that's one word for it' Jean felt sorry she said it as soon as the words left her mouth. 'I guess we will have a new boss. Perhaps that nice Miss Allen or Mr Brown.'
'Whoever, there will be lots of changes. Never a good thing, never a good thing at all.' He clasped the empty box closer to his chest and turns to leave.
'See you in the morning to sort out some traps.'
'Ok Jim, no problems and say goodbye to Geraldine for us.'
Jim mumbled something incomprehenible as he leaves the kitchen.
'You go as well Marcha, I'll finish up and lock up. See you bright and early tomorrow.
'Really boss, great I can get home in time to see Neighbours. See you tomorrow.'
Jean smiles, before scanning the kitchen quickly before turning off the lights and locking the door. All nicely clean, neat and tidy ready for tomorrow and definately Geraldine free.
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Marcha, the kitchen assistant spots her first. She can't believe her eyes. No, no, no. There is going to be so much trouble. Marcha screams and begins to jump and almost stamp on the spot. She bends and quickly tucks her over large blue check trousers into her large grey socks. Not an easy thing to do whilst screaming, pointing indiscriminately and stamping her feet.
Jean sighs. It's tuesday morning and she would like a quiet day. Marcha is so prone to hysterics.
'What Marcha, please not again. Calm down and be quiet'.
Marcha continues to scream and jump and stamp and points towards the shiny oven.
'It's Geraldine, she's back. She's not dead .'
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