by F. C. Clark
‘Hello… Kate Harper. Can I get you a coffee or something to eat?’
‘A latte would be lovely – thank you, Kate.’
She sits down as I head to the counter and order a latte and an Americano, although another shot of caffeine is not what I need, especially in new company. I return with our drinks.
‘Thank you, Kate. Let’s get down to business. I will explain the job, and you can ask any questions at the end. Is that OK?’
‘Yes.’ What do I say to someone so assertive?
‘Firstly, here are some papers for you to sign. These are security contracts, and one is for your new boss. His private life, he would like to remain private, so you need to sign that. It merely states you cannot talk about your job – within reason.’ She lays out the paperwork in front of me. ‘Here is another. This is for the security team and their records. Lastly, I need your bank details and signature.’
I listen and watch. Security and anonymity, what’s going on?
I sign all the paperwork.
‘Good, now then you will need to be at the house by nine thirty, Monday through to Friday. You will need to collect and deposit the dry-cleaning – daily. Monday mornings is when the main food order is delivered, but you will need to keep the fridge well stocked during the week – feel free to purchase any additional ingredients. Lastly, you will cook the main meal and you must be out of the house by six thirty. Once your jobs are completed, you can please yourself for the rest of the day. A thousand pounds a week will be deposited by an independent payroll company into your bank account every Friday.’
‘A thousand pounds a week? Wow! Are you sure, Mrs Trevant?’
‘Yes, I’m quite sure. There are a few stipulations. You will not meet your employer – he wants complete anonymity – and you must not ask the other members of staff questions. Is that clear, Kate?’ She looks at me with a no-nonsense stare. ‘Any questions?’
‘I’ll make dinner and leave it warm, as I’ll never be there to dish it up.’
‘Yes,’ she says.
‘So, during the day I won’t have any jobs – just shopping, dry-cleaning and making the evening meal?’ I try not to sound unintelligent, and yet this seems a little too good to be true. Cynically, I’m waiting for the catch.
Stella offers me a smile. Perhaps she too thinks the wages are high.
‘Yes, as I said, once you have completed your set tasks you are free to do as you please. Obviously, you can stay at the house during the day. I assume you will be prepping food, et cetera.’ Stella sips her latte. ‘I need to take you to the house to get your security code set up, and if it’s not too much trouble can you start today? Oh, and another point I would like to make: your new boss is hopeless in the kitchen. So much so, he burns toast.’ Her expression shows her warmth towards her boss; she likes him.
‘Not too much of a challenge, Mrs…’
She chuckles. ‘Oh Kate, just call me Stella. Drop the Mrs – it makes me feel old, older than I want to feel.’ She laughs, which relaxes us both. ‘Come, I have a car waiting outside.’
We exit the café together. The heat hits us both – London is basking in an unprecedented hot summer. I follow Stella to a black Bentley, very smart and very expensive – I would imagine. A man holds the door open for us.
‘Kate, this is Max; he is employed by your new boss. Max, this is Kate Harper – she will be cooking whilst Margaret is away.’
‘Pleased to meet you, Max.’ I hold my hand out to the tall, well-built man. His menacing stature makes him look more like a security guard than a driver. I guess he’s in his late forties, dressed in a dark suit, pale blue shirt.
‘Hello,’ he replies with a half-hearted smile.
The car is complete luxury. I have never seen such a smart vehicle, with black leather interior and elegant finishing touches. I sit back and wonder where my day is going to take me. It’s certainly been bizarre so far, and it’s only two o’clock.
‘As you know, the job is temporary until Margaret returns from her father’s, although I’m unsure when that will be.’ She has a warm undertone to her voice, and I sense that she and Margaret are more than colleagues.
‘Yes. But I am looking for a full-time position, so I’ll use the time wisely.’
‘What career path are you taking?’ Stella asks, with genuine interest.
‘Interiors. I’ve sent my CV to a few companies.’
‘Do you enjoy cooking?’
‘I cook at home for my sister. Is my new boss allergic to anything? Does he eat most things?’
‘No, Kate, you are free to cook whatever you like.’
Before I have to time to think, we pull up at a gated driveway in South Kensington. The gates open, and we pull into a short driveway. Max immediately exits and opens the door for us.
I step out onto the gravel. ‘Thanks, Max.’
He nods.
Stella stands next to me, observing the look of disbelief on my face.
‘You will get used to it, Kate – I know it looks a little daunting but once inside you will realise it is first and foremost a home. Come, let me show you inside.’
I struggle to move. This is a mansion, not a house. Three storeys high, with Victorian sash windows. Feeling quite overwhelmed, I wonder what I have taken on. Eventually I follow Stella to a large black front door.
‘Now then, Kate, this door does not have a key. It works on an electric key pad. For security reasons, everyone has their own number.’
Oh great, technology and a memory test – my two favourite pastimes!
We enter a foyer. The walls are white with a shiny chequered floor. I raise my head and stare at the stunning chandelier hanging from the high ceiling. This is not a foyer, it’s a room – it’s bigger than my lounge.
I follow Stella through a set of half-glazed double doors into the main hallway. Wow… It takes my breath away. Not just the size of the property, but the style is simple and elegant. The flooring is dark wood and the walls are muted off-white with matching coloured half-wood panelling. The most prominent feature is the sweeping staircase that cascades from the top of the house, with an intricate black metal balustrade.
Stella walks into a room on the right. ‘This is the lounge.’
‘Stella, it’s beautiful.’ It has soft grey walls and panelling to match; in the centre of the room there is a large stone fireplace with a mirror above and bookcases on either side. The windows are dressed with white shutters and luxurious grey silk curtains, which are the same colour as the large sofas.
‘Come, my dear, this tour may take longer than I expected.’ She leaves the room, laughing.
‘Stella, this house is beautiful.’ Wow – ‘holy shit’ is what I want to say.
We re-enter the hallway, and walk pass another set of double doors with a keypad. Not more technology and numbers!
‘This is the office. You will have no need to enter this room.’
She walks past the stairs. They descend to the basement level.
‘Cinema, games room and a cellar are below us.’
Opposite the lower stairwell is a dining room. Once again it is a room that screams sophistication. It is in pale coffee colours with a fireplace, luxurious silk curtains and white shutters.
‘You may need to set the table in this room if requested, but you would be given plenty of notice.’
‘Dinner parties?’ Oh, crap. I can cope with cooking for a few people, but that table can hold twelve people, if not more.
‘Unlikely – maybe an extra one or two people.’
Stella leaves the dining room, and leads me into an open area housing the kitchen, breakfast bar, dining area and living area, all of which overlook the garden. There are various doors leading from this room too.
The kitchen is white and modern with dark granite worktops; it also appears to be well equ
ipped. The lounge area has two oversized leather sofas facing each other, a fireplace in the centre, and a large plasma TV.
‘As you can see, this is the main room that you will be in.’ Stella walks to the far side. ‘Rosie, are you there?’ she calls through an open door. ‘Here’s the laundry room, and the corridor that leads to Rosie’s and Jerry’s apartment – oh, and Max’s too.’
Wow, this is some set-up.
‘I’ll be out in a second, Stella.’
Stella moves towards me. ‘Rosie runs the house and deals with the cleaners; Jerry, her husband, attends to the garden and does various odd jobs.’
Rosie comes bounding towards us. She’s fairly short and plump with strawberry blonde hair, maybe aged fifty or so. She seems extremely friendly, if the grin on her face is anything to go by.
‘Rosie, how are you? This is Kate Harper, she will be cooking until Margaret returns.’
I hold my hand out to greet her.
‘Pleased to meet you.’
‘And you, Kate.’ She appears to be homely; I can’t help but smile at her.
‘Where’s Jerry?’ Stella says.
‘Probably attacking the roses. I’ll give him a shout.’ Rosie walks to the concertinaed glass back doors and calls for Jerry.
I join her for a closer inspection of the spectacular garden. A large swimming pool occupies the top end with parasols and steamer chairs laid out either side. Beyond the pool stands a large terrace area with a garden dining table. I notice a building that runs parallel with the swimming pool.
A man begins to walk towards the house. He’s medium height, broad-shouldered, with grey hair and looks to be the same age as Rosie. His appearance is slightly weathered; the result of working outdoors, perhaps.
Rosie opens the door.
‘Jerry, this is Kate Harper. She’ll be cooking whilst Margaret is away.’ Rosie smiles as she introduces us.
‘Pleased to meet you, Kate.’ My expression alters – I can only just understand his broad accent.
‘He’s from Northern Ireland, Kate. I find the best thing to do, if you don’t understand him, is to nod.’ Rosie laughs.
‘She’s right, Kate.’
‘Bloody cheek…’ Jerry shakes his head. ‘Now then, Kate, let’s talk about your cooking.’ Jerry places his hand on my elbow and leads me to the breakfast bar.
‘Jerry, you’re on a diet – besides, Kate is not here for you.’ Rosie joins us at the seated area.
‘Yes, I’m aware of that – it feels like someone has cut my bloody throat.’ Jerry holds his stomach. ‘I’m happy to help test new recipes, or eat any leftovers. I hate throwing food away.’
‘Oh, heavens above. I give up with you. You’ll have a bloody heart attack.’
‘I only cook fresh healthy food, and cakes.’ I smile as Jerry’s face lights up.
‘That’s it – you know he’ll want to adopt you.’ Rosie moves from the breakfast bar towards Stella.
‘Kate, look at this.’ He presses a button on the island. A small section rises out of the worktop. ‘It’s a food warmer.’
‘At least I can keep dinners warm.’ This should help with my menu choice.
‘Be careful, flower, it gets bloody hot.’ He gives me a wink. Already I feel at ease with him.
Max enters the room. ‘Security code checked, Stella – Kate.’ Max hands me a piece of paper. ‘This is your code to enter the house.’ He nods at me. ‘Stella, I’ll wait by the car.’ He turns and exits the room.
‘Just a couple of items to discuss, Kate.’ Stella reaches in her bag and passes me an envelope. ‘As you can see, there is precisely two hundred pounds here. All I need you to do is keep all receipts from shopping and dry-cleaning and anything else you may have to purchase. I will meet you every Friday, and replace your cash in return for receipts. Shall we say noon at Café Rouge, as the location is perfect for me?’
‘OK.’
‘Well, you seem quite settled. Rosie is here if you need anything. Oh my goodness, I forgot to show you the closet – also, you’ll need the address for the dry-cleaners.’ Stella checks her watch.
‘I’ll do that, Stella, I have laundry to hang.’ Rosie says helpfully.
‘You have my mobile number. Any questions, Kate?’ Stella asks in her authoritative tone.
‘No… I don’t think so… I’m sure Rosie will help me – and not forgetting my official chief taste-tester.’ I giggle as Jerry offers me a salute.
‘I think you will settle in well.’
Stella speedily leaves.
‘I had better show you upstairs and then you have a meal to prepare.’ Rosie smiles. ‘I’ll go and collect the laundry.’ She walks off in the direction of the laundry room.
I place my bag on the island, and retrieve my mobile to text Harry.
Hi babe,
At the house learning about my new job. See you when I get back from Pete’s. xoxo.
I instantly receive a reply.
Hi my newly employed sister,
Sounds fab – let’s exchange gossip later. I’m going for a drink with Raymond. See you tonight. xoxo.
I’m so pleased. I hope he called her – I know she would prefer that.
Whilst waiting for Rosie, I walk around the kitchen familiarising myself with its layout. For an old house, the kitchen is extremely modern and well equipped – exciting for me, but ironic for the owner who burns toast…
Rosie appears, laden with laundry. I can just about see the top of her head.
‘Let me take some of that for you.’
‘Thanks, Kate.’
She walks towards the hallway and the grand staircase. I follow in her footsteps, absorbing the surroundings. We reach the first floor. In front of us is a set of double doors.
‘Kate, can you open the door?’
‘Sure.’ I turn the brass handle, and enter the most impressive bedroom. If I could pick colours and furniture for a room of this size, it would mirror what is laid out before my eyes.
The walls are off-white with half panelling. There is a fireplace against one wall, with French doors on either side, dressed with white shutters. Against the main wall is the biggest bed I have ever seen. It must be seven foot wide – at least! Layered with crisp white cotton bedding and luxurious puffy pillows, the rest of the furniture matches the richness of the bed. I turn and canvass the remainder of the room. Propped against the far back wall is the most beautiful dark wood mirror, which reaches from floor to ceiling and is wider than my outstretched arms.
‘Quite a lot to take in – you’ll get used to it.’ Rosie moves towards the panelling with brass handles in the centre. ‘Kate, this is the closet.’
I step towards the door, as jealousy rises through me. This is not a closet; it’s a room with suits – lots of suits. I scan quickly, evaluating the clothes and trying to see who may live here. There is no female clothing.
Whilst I remain awe-struck, Rosie takes the clothes from my arms and files them away – every item has a home.
‘Kate, this is the dry-cleaning bag.’ She points to a linen bag on a hook. ‘All you need to do is collect this bag every morning and put it back once you’ve finished with it.’
‘Got it,’ I reply. I would love to rummage through the suits. I think this room would benefit from a slight readjustment in the hanging order.
Rosie makes her way out of the dressing room; again I follow her as she opens another door adjacent to the closet.
‘Here is the en-suite.’
This house has officially exhausted my interior designer’s eye. Here is another opulent room. Does one person need a bathroom this vast? Running down one side is a cream marble work surface housing two sinks; behind that is a large half-sunken bath. To the rear of the room is a shower with no door, just a sheet of glass.
‘Is there anything yo
u want to ask?’ Rosie gives her warm smile.
Yes. I want to run a bath and then climb in the luxurious bed.
‘No, I think you’ve covered everything. If I’m stuck, I’ll ask.’
She reaches out and touches my hand. ‘I think you’ll like it here. I have a good feeling about you, Kate Harper.’
I assess the food content in the fridge. It’s well stocked, which gives me a choice. In the corner there is a walk-in larder with every conceivable ingredient I may need. I decide to take the easy route and make a lasagne – it’s always a hit. Feeling relatively relaxed in someone else’s home, I remove my jacket and shoes and begin to cook a meal for one.
Six o’clock arrives. I set the breakfast bar and place the individually cooked lasagne on top of the warmer. I start to plan future meals. With no contact at all with my new employer, I’m concerned whether the meals will be to his liking. I hesitate for a moment and then decide to write a note. Collecting my bag, I search for a notepad and pen. Now, what shall I write?
Dear sir,
As I did not have much time to prepare for this evening’s meal, I hope homemade lasagne is satisfactory.
I will cook a variety of meals for you. Please be honest and tell me if you don’t like a meal, or if there is anything you would like me to cook. That will also apply to the heat of the dishes I cook, as I frequently use chillies in cooking, and I don’t know how spicy you like your food.
Once again, I hope you enjoy this evening’s meal.
Kate – aka Cook
I reread the note, over-analysing something that really doesn’t need further thought. The dinner smells divine and the kitchen is neat and tidy – job done.
I close the black front door and reach the gate. I didn’t realise I would need to input my code in order for it to open. I look at the note Max gave me and realise the numbers match my date of birth. Are they trying to make it easy for me?
Arriving home from a busy evening at the bar, I discover Harry has not yet returned from her date with Monsieur Raymond. Exhaustion takes over my body, leaving me with no choice. I settle in bed with a cup of ‘world peace’ – tea – and a biscuit, planning my menu for tomorrow. With that in mind, I decide to have a ménage a trois with some chefs.
