part0020

B ella’s powder blue sports car is parked on the driveway when I arrive on Monday morning. This is a surprise and I experience a flutter of excitement in the pit of my stomach; she’s never been at home when I’ve cleaned before, I’m finally going to meet her. There’s no sign of Mr Justin-smarty-pants’ car so I’m hopeful that he’s not there.

I turn off the engine and sit in the car for a moment; there’s no need to rush as I’m early anyway and also, I need to compose myself before I go in. I can’t help feeling that everything is back on track. The weekend that loomed long and lonely on Friday turned out to be quite different from normal and I don’t know why I was so nervous about ringing Gerald because as soon as he heard my name he couldn’t wait to ask me out to dinner on Saturday night.

Of course I had nothing suitable to wear so I had to use Mother’s card to buy myself a new dress. And shoes, because of course none of mine went with the dress. And then there was a really nice necklace that matched the dress so I bought that too. I didn’t want to wear the emeralds again because I wore them the first time we met and I think Gerald’s the sort who would notice .

I didn’t tell Mother I had a date, there’s no need for her to know and she’d only have tried to make me feel bad and spoil it for me. She’s been very quiet for the last few days, says she’s got a headache and doesn’t feel right. I don’t know whether she’s playing for sympathy or not although she did look a bit pale and washed out. Although she’s eating everything that I cook for her so I’m inclined to think she’s putting it on.

I didn’t want Gerald coming into the house so I kept looking out of the window and as soon as I saw his car I went out to meet him. He seemed a bit surprised so I had to tell him about Mother. Not the whole truth obviously; I said that she was ill, which is true, and that the carers are in and I’d let myself out as I didn’t want to disturb them. I thought it through this time; if I lied and pretended I didn’t live with Mother he might want to come in. I couldn’t have that, I can’t imagine Gerald would be very impressed with the seventies furniture and decoration in here; that’s just beyond embarrassing.

Anyway, he took me to a very nice Italian restaurant, all dim lighting with red candles stuck in Chianti bottles and Italian waiters who probably aren’t Italian at all. We made a good-looking couple even though I say it myself. Gerald had on a pair of navy chinos with a crisp white shirt finished off with a beige linen jacket. He smelled gorgeous too, a subtle and probably very expensive not-in-your-face aftershave. I was wearing my new dress and shoes and I’m not being big headed when I say I looked pretty good.

When I was getting ready to go out I was fretting a bit; what was I going to talk about, what if he asked me about my job? Obviously, I wasn’t going to tell him I’m cleaner but I couldn’t decide what I was going to be because every time I decided on something I was afraid he’d ask me questions about it. In the end I decided I’d just wing it and as it turned out I needn’t have worried.

Gerald likes to talk. About himself. I could tell you every detail about his recent water-skiing holiday, even the names of the people he went with. His house, I could describe that in minute detail and I even know much he paid for it, absolute bargain , according to him.

He did ask me where I worked and on the spur of the moment I said I was a freelance cookery writer. Wow, how interesting , was his response and that was it, straight back onto the important topic of conversation - him. So I didn’t need to worry at all, I could have told no end of lies and he didn’t even need to believe me because he was too busy listening to the sound of his own voice.

That’s not to say I didn’t have a nice evening though, my lasagne was very nice and I enjoyed the admiring looks from Gerald. And the waiters. When it came to the bill I wasn’t sure of the etiquette; it’s ten years since I’ve been on a date and I was still at school and everyone paid their own way. Gerald clicked his fingers importantly and asked for the bill. When it came he made a big deal of getting his gold American Express card out and I thought; go on then, I’ve listened to you talking all night so the least you can do is pay for the meal .

I know that I’m not used to spending time with people, apart from Doris and Mrs Forsyth, and I don’t sit talking with people so maybe I expect too much. Because although I was the listener (because I couldn’t get a word in) I was exhausted. Sounds stupid doesn’t it? By the end of the evening I was worn out with listening to him. He jumped from one subject to the other and frankly, I couldn’t keep up and I gave up trying. Which didn’t matter because as long as I made the appropriate interested noises and fascinated expressions that’s all that was required.

Anyway, I don’t think he expected me to pay and he made a big show of giving an over generous tip to the waiters who’d been fawning over him all night. It’s his favourite go to Italian so they obviously know he’s a big tipper but what I saw and he didn’t – because he was too busy talking – is that those fawning waiters were making faces at each other behind his back, rolling their eyes about him and sniggering.

We came outside and it was a lovely warm evening, a romantic sort of evening. We got into his car and he suggested that we go back to his place for a nightcap but I think he was expecting me to spend the night with him. Like I say, it’s been a long time since I’ve been on a date and maybe that’s expected now; sort of payment for the meal. I said no and that I had to get back to Mother and I think he was surprised and a bit annoyed, although he tried to hide it. I just wasn’t feeling it. I don’t fancy him; although I was tempted to have sex with him just to see if he could actually shut up. Unless he talks all the way through that as well.

When we got to my house he pulled up outside and to my amazement he asked me out again. I didn’t think he’d bother after I turned him down but then I realised that he thinks I’m playing hard to get. I didn’t want to commit myself so I told him I was away on business for a few days but I’d give him a call when I got back. He didn’t even ask anything about where I was going; talk about self-obsessed.

So he leaned in for a kiss, which I allowed, and it was okay; his breath was bit garlicky from the Italian meal but I expect mine was too. He said how much he’d enjoyed the evening and launched into a great big long diatribe about how and when he’d discovered his go to Italian and I had to stop myself from shouting shut up! For God’s sake give your mouth a rest.

When he paused for a nanosecond to draw breath I used the opportunity to open the car door and make my escape.

So. That was then and this is now; I look at my watch and I’m only five minutes early now so I think I’ll go in. I’ve decided that I’m not going to knock even though Bella’s car is on the drive, it’s just awkward knocking and waiting for an answer. I’m going to go in and act as if it’s just a normal cleaning day, which it is, except Bella’s there.

I get my key out ready, grab my cleaning kit and get out of the car. A quick check of the upstairs curtains confirms they’re open so she’s not still in bed. I quietly let myself in the front door, put my cleaning kit in front of me on the floor and then gently close the door. Normal closing; not too loud and not too quiet as if I’m trying to sneak in, just normal.

I stand and listen for a moment. I can hear talking from upstairs, a woman’s voice which I guess is Bella’s but she doesn’t sound at all like I thought she would.

I expected Bella to have a soft, measured, well-spoken voice. The voice coming from upstairs is shrill, strident and screeching, almost shouting.

I quietly move to the bottom of the stairs so I can hear.

...it must be bad or else you wouldn’t have been suspended .’ There’s silence after she’s spoken so I’m guessing she’s on the phone. It’s very quiet and I can hear her pacing around up there and I hope she doesn’t look down the stairs otherwise she’ll see my cleaning kit in front of the door.

I contemplate quickly moving it when the sound of her voice stops me and this time she is shouting.

‘Don’t lie to me! Don’t fucking lie! They found it on your laptop Justin and only you use it so you can’t blame it on anyone else.’

The cleaning kit will have to wait; I daren’t move now. I feel a small thrill of satisfaction; it sounds as if my plan has worked and Mr Justin-smarty-pants has been caught out. I hear the thud of footsteps crossing the landing and then more shouting.

The shout turns into a scream on the last word and she must have hurled the phone across the room as I hear the sound of something hitting the wall. I stand frozen to the spot and listen to Bella crying; great heaving sobs that reverberate down the stairs. I should feel bad; I do feel bad for Bella’s distress but she’ll get over it, plenty more fish in the sea and all that. I’m actually surprised how well it’s all worked out, it’s all gone to plan. Because no matter how well you plan and execute something you never know if it’ll work when it comes to the crunch; it wasn’t as if I could rehearse it or anything. As for Justin it serves him right, talk your way out of that one, strangefruit .

I remain standing at the bottom on the stairs in an agony of indecision. Can I get to the front door unseen and pretend I’ve just arrived? I hover uncertainly and then hear the bang of a door slamming upstairs; whatever room Bella’s in she’s shut the door. I take my opportunity and skip over to the front door, open it and then close it loudly.

‘Helloo,’ I shout out cheerily. ‘Anyone home?’

I open and shut the door again, a bit louder this time, and after a moment there’s the definite sound of an upstairs door being opened.

‘Hello?’ Bella’s hesitant voice drifts down the stairs.

‘Hello!’ I bellow. ‘It’s Alison, the cleaner.’

Silence for a moment and then a blonde head pops around the top of the banister rail at the top of the stairs.

‘Sorry, I forgot you were coming.’

Her hair is loose so I can’t see her face as she’s hiding behind it and won’t look at me face on.

‘That’s okay, I’ll start in the kitchen as usual.’

The blonde hair disappears and then the sound of her bedroom door closing.

Bit rude, if I’m honest, but I’ll forgive her this once as she’s obviously having a stressful time.

I bend down and slip my shoe covers on, collect my cloths and cleaners and pad out to the kitchen. She’ll have to come out of her room sooner or later and then I’ll get to meet her properly. I’m glad that I made the effort and washed my hair this morning; a part of me must have known that I was going to meet her today. I’ve still got the awful Moppers tabard on – Veronica insisted on giving me a smaller size to wear - but my leggings and t-shirt fit me now and they’re not Foodco specials, they’re nice expensive ones from Helicon Sports.

The kitchen worktops aren’t quite as full as usual of dirty dishes and I realise that Justin must have been gone for a few days as it’s mostly cereal bowls and small plates with crumbs on. It looks like Bella’s been living on cereal and toast so Justin must have been the chef. Another thing we have in common; we’re both crap cooks. I hum happily as I load the dishwasher and clean the kitchen and wonder if Justin will get the sack. Would serve him right for mocking people less fortunate than himself.

Kitchen cleaned, I decide to change my normal routine and do the lounge next, give Bella a bit more time to pull herself together. I whiz around dusting the lounge and then get the vacuum cleaner out from the cupboard under the stairs and vacuum the entire ground floor. I clean the downstairs toilet and then mop the kitchen floor.

When I’ve finished I stand at the bottom of the stairs unsure what to do. I thought Bella would have come down by now; should I just go upstairs and carry on as usual? I think I should, after all Bella doesn’t know that I know. Decision made I pick up the vacuum cleaner and walk upstairs a bit noisily to get her attention. I dust the skirting boards on the landing and am wiping down the banisters when I hear the creak of her bedroom door opening. Her hair is tied back in a neat chignon and she’s applied some make-up. I’m impressed; you’d never even know she’d been crying.

‘Hi,’ I say with a smile as I look up from my dusting.

‘Hi. I don’t think we’ve met before, I’m Bella.’ She puts her hand out.

‘Hi Bella, I’m Alison.’ I take her hand and shake it gently.

‘I don’t want to get in your way so I’ll go downstairs and you carry on as normal.’

I move aside to let her down the stairs and watch her; shoulders back, head held high.

I go into their bedroom and the lack of his clothes on the floor confirms that he hasn’t been here for a few days. As I pick Bella’s dirty washing up I notice that she’s left her mobile phone on the dressing table. It’s next to a smashed landline handset which I guess is the one I heard being hurled against the wall.

I step over to the mobile phone and look at it for a moment and then pick it up, keeping an eye on the bedroom door at the same time. The phone’s locked and requires a code to unlock it. I tap in 1,2,3,4,5 and 6 but it doesn’t work. On a hunch I tap in Bella’s date of birth and I’m in, I scroll straight to messages and tap on Justin. I step over and shut the bedroom door and quickly read through the latest ones.

Justin: I don’t know. I’ve hired an IT expert to look into it for me. I’m not just going to roll over and give in and lose my job over it.

Justin: I’m not going to keep telling you it wasn’t me. I thought we knew each other but if you believe this of me then you don’t know me at all. I’ve given you space but I’m not going to keep apologising for something I haven’t done. It’s bad enough that I’ve been suspended.

Bella: I’ll call you later .

I place the phone back carefully where it was and mull it over. She’s weakening, I’m pretty sure she’s going to give in and have him back.

That simply cannot happen.

Why? The rational side of me asks, why is so important to me that Justin loses his job and loses Bella as well?

Because he has to pay; for all of the years I’ve been laughed at, sneered at and made the butt of other people’s jokes. Okay, it wasn’t him but I can hardly track down every single person who’s made me feel like shit and punish them, can I? So, he can take the punishment for all of them.

I jump at the sound of the bedroom door being opened. Bella pops her head into the room .

‘Just looking for my phone, not sure where I left it.’

I pretend to look around and spot it on the dressing table.

Bella comes in and picks it up and walks back towards the door. She’s going to ring him and give in; I can feel it. I need to stop her.

‘Bella?’ I call as she disappears through the doorway.

‘Yes?’ She turns around and I sense a hint of annoyance from her that I’m bothering her.

‘Is it okay to clean the study today?’

‘Yes, of course.’ She seems puzzled by my question.

‘Okay.’ I reach down and drag the vacuum towards the en-suite. ‘Just checking, because Mr Willoughby doesn’t like me cleaning it usually.’

‘Sorry?’ She looks totally confused now.

‘When he’s working in there. He doesn’t like me in there when he’s here so I just wanted to be sure.’

‘But he’s never here. Well, maybe just the odd time.’

‘Oh, dear. I hope I haven’t spoken out of turn.’

‘What do you mean?’ Bella’s voice is less friendly now.

‘I’m sorry but he’s nearly always here when I clean. More often than not. He got quite angry the first time I went in there when he was here; said he didn’t pay cleaners to snoop on him.’

I stand still and watch her face as the tumblers fall into position; the dawning realisation that he’s a liar. Her reaction surprises me though, I’d expected tears .