by G J Stevens
“I’m sorry I didn’t see you much yesterday. That bad bottle of champagne ruined my plans.”
“It’s fine. I was very busy with the chores anyway.”
“You do too much,” she said, stepping with me as I moved along the line. “That said, I hope you don’t mind but I’ve offered your services next week. I’m not sure I told you, but the kids and I are going with Lenart to a thing next week. We’ll be away for six days. It’ll be such a bore but I’ve got to show willing.
“I would have invited you along, but you’d hate it and Lenart wants some time with just the family, not that he ever sees you. So I don’t know what the problem is. Anyway, talking over lunch with Lenara, she’s too much fun, she mentioned that Alarica is going home for a week and Frank is off on business, too. So I offered your services to help with the house. I hope you don’t mind. She doesn’t get on too well on her own. They’ll pay you what Alarica gets and of course we’ll still be paying you.”
“It’s fine,” I said. I already knew about the trip and about Alarica going home, too. My kindness to Lenara and the offer of help with the clearing up were not mere gestures.
10
The day came around quickly.
The previous morning I’d said goodbye to Alarica as she renewed her promise to get on with her project as soon as she returned. With the Rozman’s packed off, I headed around to fifty-six to find the house all but empty. The children had already left for school and Frank had gone away early that morning.
With the house looking pristine, I found Lenara making coffee in the kitchen.
I took a deep breath at the silence, hoping I wasn’t in for a rerun of the last few weeks I’d had with Celina. Lenara was quick to offer Alarica’s room if I didn’t fancy the very short walk home to an empty house each night.
As I politely declined, she sat me down with a coffee and told me to relax. She wanted a chat.
It turned out to be more of an interview. Although smiling throughout and making pleasant noises, the questions drilled in quick succession. Where was I from? How had my home life been? Siblings? School?
I knew the information off by heart, being well drilled in all the details, but still I was forced to elaborate to fill in some gaps I didn’t realise existed.
“So what do your parents do?” she said. “Sorry for all the questions, but I’m such a nosey old bat. It’s either that or the washing up,” she said, laughing.
“They’re both retired now,” I said. “My dad was in the military.”
“Which branch?”
“RAF. An engineer,” I replied without pause.
“And your mother?”
“A nurse, then a housewife.”
“And what made you leave and come here to clean up other people’s mess and look after their kids?”
“Life experience,” I replied. “My family has very little money, so I have to work while I see the world.”
“Are you planning to stick around?”
“For the next six months, I guess. I’m under contract.”
She smiled back at those words. “And you seem to get on with Celina?”
“Yes,” I said. “She’s very nice, as is the rest of the family.”
She made a contented purr. “Well, she likes you too. She hardly speaks of anything else these days,” she said, raising her eyebrow. “I exaggerate, of course.”
I nodded and she asked what I thought of Alarica.
“We seem to have hit it off.”
“Yes, she has taken quite a shine to you. It won’t do her any harm to have some friends of her own age.”
“Sorry to ask, but have I done something wrong?” I said, still more than a little surprised about the questioning.
Lenara sat back in her seat and puffed out air, her hands out square on her knees. “No. It’s me that should be sorry. I was just a little surprised with the way they talked about you. I’ve seen it before. A woman comes in and puts up a front, tricking people.”
“That’s not me. What you see is what you get.”
“Yes, I can see that. You seem like a sweet girl,” she said, but her eyes still narrowed as if she didn’t trust her own words.
“Can I ask, maybe I’m a little naïve, but what is it these women are trying to get?”
Lenara laughed. “Sorry, it’s rude for me to laugh, but you’re so delightful. It’s the men, my dear. They’re after the men. They buddy up with the wives and their friends. They make it seem that the beautiful girl with the bright blue eyes and perfect white teeth is not a threat to their lives, to their relationship. Then they strike.”
“Sorry, what do you mean 'they strike'?”
“They ensnare the husband. Flashing their pert breasts and perfect tight asses and if the man isn’t protected and you’re not vigilant, they’ve got him. Men are so weak. They think with their genitals and once it’s happened, it’s hard work to get them back.” She sobbed, pulling a tissue from the box under the table by the side of the chair.
“Has it happened to you?” I replied in a quiet voice. I watched her head tilt back and forward. “Was it Mr Bukia?”
She shot a look back for a moment, then her eyes seemed to brighten again. “No. He’s a good man and I protect him. He’s my second husband. My first was weak. A sucker for big tits and a smile. Sorry for my vulgarity but because of my condition I find it hard to get pleasure from relations. I have to be extra vigilant to protect my interests. Do you know what I mean?”
“Yes, and I understand,” I replied, not too sure if I did.
“But you’re sweet. Just remember, someday you’ll be a wife, I hope, and you need to be on your guard.”
“I’ll watch out.”
With that the conversation ended as she lost all interest in asking me questions, instead heading up the stairs to fix her makeup whilst I was to make myself at home. She told me to do whatever I felt was necessary; she was going out and would be back with the children after they’d eaten dinner out.
Within minutes she’d left and I’d searched out the brightly-coloured upright vacuum cleaner and hung a duster from my back pocket. Circling around the house on my journey up the two flights of stairs, I’d soon confirmed the house to be as pristine as it had first looked.
Still, on the top floor I plugged in the vacuum and began to push it over the thick piled carpet, keeping my head pointed down at the floor with my gaze roving the rooms.
The first, a girl's room; the teenage daughter I’d yet to meet. The room ordered but with a wooden packing crate in the corner, it was the first hint they’d only just moved back in.
The second, a small bathroom; a toilet and shower sandwiched beside a boy's room. He was younger than his sister with small, brightly-coloured plastic bricks strewn across the floor.
The third, a spare room with a double bed filling the space between the walls, the light brown duvet spread evenly across its surface, the edges pulled tight and tucked neat to the mattress. The wardrobe full of blankets and bedding.
Taking the time to run the nozzle over each of the stairs, I carried the noisy machine down to the next level and scoured the hall where I got the first hint of new paint still in the air.
I could already tell the house was much bigger than the one I’d come from, its design completely different; its external dimensions deceptive.
The next room was the most disordered so far, even compared with the young boy’s. Make up bottles and tubes lay spilt from a small bag on a dresser, their names and uses alien to me; the depth of my experience taken from deep greens and blacks of camo paint, not this subtle rainbow of shades. Clothes were strewn across the floor, the wardrobe door wide open. A suitcase lay on the base of the wooden furniture. The double bed in the centre ruffled. The covers to the side as if the occupant had woken late, packing in a panic, straighteners and a hairdryer put to use, then discarded on a chair to cool.
It was Alarica’s room.
I pulled the door closed and headed to the next, f
inding a cupboard; a hot water tank and towels hiding inside.
Next was the master bathroom with a corner bath and a shower, too. In the opposite corner, the bright white of the tiles and enamel sparkled as the morning sun streamed through the wide frosted windows.
The marital bedroom came after and a hairless pale mannequin’s head greeted me, staring back from the dressing table. I took a step in and saw other than the bed was larger, it was much like the spare room with crisp clean folds and tucks, the beside tables clear of any clutter and an alarm clock on one side, a box of paper tissues on the opposite and a tall thin lamp sat on each.
A dark wooden wardrobe, teak or mahogany, lined the far wall, offsetting the white patterned wallpaper wrapping the room in brightness, broken only by a second room; a small ensuite bathroom. A toilet and a sink were the only furniture.
The next room stood apart from the rest. A study with a wide desk in the centre and a chair the other side with its back to a tall window. Any occupier would have a full view of the door and that of a computer screen offset to its left.
A keyboard and a pen rested on top of a green blotter running most of the width of the desk.
Pushing the vacuum cleaner over the threshold, I saw tall bookcases obscuring both walls to the right. The shelves were crammed but ordered, with tall, thick medical books one side and short, fat fiction lined up on the other.
To my left, the built-in wardrobe seemed to be a hangover from its previous occupation as a bedroom and my gaze lingered on the intricate inlaid details. I could smell the sweetness of new wood, its intensity growing as I pushed the appliance closer.
Wrapping up in the room, I pushed the head of the noisy beast around the edges of the hall and along the length of the skirting board until I reached the master bedroom door. I turned off the noise at the head of the machine and strolled to the bedside, plucking a tissue from the box.
Blowing my nose in gesture only, I took the chance to stare at the wall to the right of the door and I saw what I’d been looking for, despite there being nothing obvious; the wall stopped too soon. Or the wardrobe on the other side started early.
It was either very deep, walk-in perhaps, or hid another room inside.
I glided the head of the vacuum across the rest of the surfaces, my gaze scouring for more inconsistencies in the walls of the ground floor. When I finished, I made a coffee, concentrating only on replaying the image in my mind of what I’d seen, not able to break a rule of my craft we needed to keep to in the twenty-first century.
11
During the rest of the week I settled into a rhythm; spending half of each day at fifty-six doing chores and cooking dinner, all with one eye searching for flaws in the architecture whilst avoiding the study other than was necessary.
I was sure the wardrobe would be locked, although I didn’t test the old-fashioned keyhole standing indented in the centre.
While back in the Rozman’s, I sent long reports of my observations, but getting nothing of interest back.
Instructions:
Observe. Report.
I wondered what would happen if I missed a report. I wondered perhaps if there was something wrong with the keyboard the other end.
The Rozman’s and the rest of the Bukia’s were back within twenty-four-hours of each other, signalling the end of a dull six days. Frank arrived with a puppy and I could all but imagine the children’s explosive reactions.
The Rozman’s brought back stressed expressions, as if they needed to settle back into their personal space and climb into their individual orbits which rarely collided. The children were indifferent as I greeted them at the door. Lenart gave a smile, peering past me to check everything had survived their absence. Celina carried a sly grin, licking her lips as she passed in to the hall.
They each sat at the dining room table and ate the lunch I’d prepared for their arrival whilst I aimed my excitement at the new member of the Bukia family, watching the flash of interest in both the children.
The boy’s eyes lit as he turned to his father, only to be dashed by a firm glare in response, a short negative coming soon after.
“Why did you do that?” he said, finding me in the kitchen a few moments later.
Turning from the counter, I saw the door closed at his back.
“Sorry?” I replied with a question in my tone.
“Why did you put me in that position?” he said, his thick eyebrows bunching.
“Um,” I replied, forcing a wide look of surprise. “I didn’t mean to put anyone in any position.”
“Well you did. I had to let him down. I had to be the bad guy.”
“I’m really sorry. That wasn’t my intention,” I said, stepping back as he edged towards me.
“Okay,” he said, stopping. “Please don’t do that again.”
“I won’t,” I replied, adding another apology as he turned.
That was my first interaction with Lenart alone and my first insight into his character. I had to hold my anger, stopping myself from lashing out and smashing a plate across the top of his head before he pulled open the door.
With a deep breath I continued to clear the table, Lenart smiling in my direction when our glances crossed, a picture of reason to all around. Maybe now I knew why Celina held her attention to everyone else.
With the place straight after the big lunch, the family scattered to their separate corners of the house; the children each to their rooms, Celina to the garden to help Brad with clearing weeds and Lenart to the living room, his feet up on a stool and a short glass of brown liquor at his side.
I’d finished for the day and when a knock at the door interrupted my thoughts, I hurried away to accompany Alarica as the new puppy dragged her down the track between houses, racing to explore the woods.
“Thanks for helping while I was away,” she said as we left earshot of the two houses. The light had already started to dull through the canopy as the path headed deeper into the thick trees.
“I didn’t do much. Just ran the vacuum around a few times.”
“You kept her company and stopped her thinking too much.”
“In all honesty I hardly saw her,” I replied, trying not to laugh as she struggled to control the black Alsatian who at twelve weeks old was already strong enough to lead the excursion. “We had a chat on the first morning.”
“Oh, I’m really sorry. Did she interrogate you?”
“Interrogate? Ha,” I said, then stifled my laughter. “She came on a bit strong, but I think I won her round.”
“You did. Believe me, you did.”
“She was talking like I was plotting to steal her husband.”
“I know. She went through some bad stuff with her first and you know how everyone gravitates around Frank,” she said, looking away into the distance. “She has to put up with that, too.”
“I understand. It was fine. She offered me your room, not the spare, rather than take the thirty-second walk to my bed. That reminds me, for someone who cleans and tidies other people’s mess, you don’t seem to take the habit to heart.”
“You mean my room?” she replied, only glancing back in my direction.
“Yeah, it was a tip.”
“That wasn’t me,” she replied. “Lenara does that every time I go away. You had the chat and you won her over. I had the chat and didn’t quite convince and now she thinks I’m sleeping with Frank.”
I stayed silent. I was lost for the words which would comfort her, but then I let my thoughts slip.
“You have though,” I said quietly, but still she heard.
“I know, but she can’t know. I think she thought we were away together because our trips coincided.”
“That’s unfair. You’ve got to see your family,” I replied, the words tailing off as she turned to face me with a sly grin.
“I didn’t make it home,” she said, her face beaming.
“So you did go away with him?” I replied, leaving my mouth wide.
“Oh
my god, it was amazing. I stayed in the hotel the whole week while he was coming and going to business meetings. I’m surprised I can walk now. Every time he’d come back we’d be at it like rabbits. I’m exhausted.”
“Holy shit,” was all I could reply and then lost my words again as I watched her strain to keep control of the dog, her face stretched in a wide smile. “So she was right to be paranoid about him.”
Her smile dropped a little. “I guess so, but she couldn’t know. Anyway, she doesn’t treat him well. She can’t...” she stopped herself and paused. “A man like Frank has needs that she can’t satisfy.”
“She told me she had some issues.”
“Yeah. She had an accident a long time ago, got brain damage. It must have been when her son was just a baby. She lost complete sensation of her body. It got better though, but she still has issues feeling pain and can’t feel when it’s in,” she said, raising her eyebrows. “And can’t reach a climax.”
“And he told you this?” I said, raising my brows.
“Yes. He’s not a bad man.”
“I didn’t say he was,” I replied, putting my hand on her shoulder.
“We all need pleasure in our lives and it just so happens we’re the perfect match. I know he loves his wife and I’m fine with that, but she’s more like his sister than anything else. It’s been so long.”
“Do you think he loves you?”
She grinned. “Yes, but not like a sister,” she replied, her eyes seeming to mist over.
“Do you love him?”
“I do,” she said without pause, her arm circling into mine and she hugged at my shoulder.
“And are you enough for him?” I said. “A man like that must be hard to please.”
She laughed again. “He seemed pretty satisfied to me. Well, at least for a couple of hours after.” She burst into laughter.
I didn’t, not sure how I felt.
“You think I’m a bad person, don’t you?” she added, her smile gone.
