Best Maid Plans

by Klaire, Jody

  Rebecca scowled at me.

  “When I bumped into her when we were little, she would be dressed head to toe in golf gear and a bush on her head.” I smiled at the memory. She’d always had crazy hair. Lemon or not.

  Stephanie sniggered; Madame Henri hid her smile behind her hand and Rebecca glared at me. “You want to get me angry?”

  She stuck the ball on the tee.

  “Five hundred thousand euros as a prize,” I said to Madame Henri who stared at Rebecca with alarm in her eyes. “You hit the back wall and you get it.”

  “It is very far,” Stephanie said, eyeing the wall somewhere beyond my need for glasses or maybe I didn’t need glasses and it was really far? Maybe it was the lights? Funny light always made it hard to see.

  “Can it be done?” Stephanie asked, waving her hand in front of my face and laughing.

  “Not unless you are a professional,” Madame Henri muttered, pursing her lips at the range thingy bit.

  “But it’s worth having a go at it. It’ll be fun.” I nodded with a smile.

  “Pip, you’re more likely to hit yourself with the driver.” Rebecca was scowling again.

  “Driver?” I looked around. “I don’t see a driver.”

  “The club, numbskull,” she grunted. “You’d hit yourself with the club.”

  “I may surprise you.” I folded my arms. Most likely by hitting myself and whoever was near me.

  Madame Henri tutted at Rebecca and smiled at me. “It is fun to try, oui.”

  Rebecca sucked in her jaw and motioned to the tee.

  Stephanie winked at me as she took the club. Why did it need to be a club and a driver. Wasn’t one name enough?

  Rebecca moved in and wrapped her arms around her, showing her how to swing the club. I pulled a face and Stephanie giggled.

  “What, Pip?” Rebecca stopped, and fixed me with a hard stare.

  “You look like you’re giving her a cuddle.” I hugged myself.

  Madame Henri laughed; Stephanie wiggled her eyebrows and Rebecca put her hands on her hips, a disgusted grimace on her face.

  Madame Henri laughed even more. “Monsieur, if you please,” she called to a passing man. “He is the supervisor.”

  Stephanie poked Rebecca. “Why do you look so pained? I am not worth a cuddle?”

  “We are going to try for the prize, oui?” Madame Henri’s tone was filled with amusement.

  “There’s no place for cuddling in golf,” Rebecca muttered.

  Stephanie clonked Rebecca across the head with her golfing glove. “There is always a place for cuddles.”

  The supervisor raised an eyebrow, took a stool and pulled out a clipboard from the side.

  “We need to verify that we have not cheated, oui?” Madame Henri said to me.

  I frowned. “I didn’t know you could cheat at golf?”

  The supervisor gave a curt nod, his expression serious as he unscrewed his pen lid. “Name of golfer?”

  Stephanie glanced at me and I smiled. “Stephanie,” she mumbled, a smile touching the corner of her lips.

  “Full name, Madame.” His expression was stoic.

  “Stephanie... Saint-Clarence,” she mumbled with a shrug.

  He sat there like he was expecting her to do something.

  “There is a problem?” she asked.

  “Oui,” he said. “Your driver’s licence, if you will.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “That’s a bit intense, isn’t it?” He could get on well with Rebecca. They could be serious together.

  “It is to make sure that Madame Saint-Clarence is not a professional.” He tapped into a screen on the wall. “Very well.”

  I was still staring at him.

  He met my eyes with a shrug. “A lot of professionals try this. It is not allowed.”

  “I will be happy to hit the ball,” Stephanie said, shaking her head at him and focusing on the tee.

  Rebecca rolled her eyes and folded her arms.

  Stephanie paused and narrowed her eyes. “I know why Babs enjoys your company so, oui?” Her tone was full of French smoothness.

  Rebecca’s eyebrows shot up; Madame Henri laughed and Stephanie winked at me, a smile on her lips.

  “Continue,” the supervisor grunted.

  Stephanie raised a bored eyebrow and went through the swing technique that Rebecca had shown her.

  Thunk.

  The ball went up and clonked onto the ground by the first marker.

  I clapped and Stephanie grinned at me. “I hit it.”

  I high-fived her as she joined me; Madame Henri gave her a hearty clap; Rebecca only managed a polite one, and the supervisor sat stern-faced.

  “I have never played before,” she muttered at him. “I only get one cuddle also.” She winked at Rebecca again who blushed.

  “Very good, Madame,” the supervisor said in a bored tone.

  Rebecca motioned to me.

  I strode up like I was very professional and stretched out my thighs like sportspeople did.

  “Pip, you’re not sprinting, you’re hitting a ball.” Rebecca shoved the club into my hands.

  “Hey, where’s my cuddle?” I poked out my bottom lip as Rebecca stomped off to the side.

  “You know how to play.” She wagged her finger at me. “Just hold onto the club.”

  I poked my tongue out. I’d nearly decapitated Doug once when I’d let go. It had been slippery, he was good natured about it, what was the issue?

  Rebecca motioned to the ball.

  I stood with my feet shoulder width apart. I was sure it was shoulder width. Any wider and I’d look like I was doing gymnastics. I swished the club around like Doug had tried to show me. I drew the club back...

  Thunk.

  The ball went up. My club went with it. I squealed and darted out of the way as both clattered to the floor.

  Madame Henri and Stephanie howled with laughter; the supervisor blinked a few times, and Rebecca, she looked like she’d throttle me.

  “I tried.” I poked my tongue out at her again and turned to the supervisor. “Do you need my name?”

  He rolled his eyes. “Non.”

  I poked my tongue out at him too.

  Madame Henri strolled up and gave him a pleasant smile. “You need my details?”

  He blushed. “Non, Madame.”

  She winked at Stephanie and I, and went through her practice swing.

  Thwack.

  The ball sailed into the air. I gripped hold of Stephanie as it flew off. I couldn’t see where but I took a breath, hoping it would hit the wall.

  Clang.

  I looked at Stephanie who sighed. “The furthest mark only.”

  Madame Henri groaned. “I hit it everytime.” She turned to me and threw her hands in the air. “I cannot get it to go further, I try but it will not go.”

  Stephanie and I launched into cheers. We didn’t care. She hit the ball and it went far. Rebecca clapped too.

  The supervisor beamed. “Ah, Madame, you do much better than Monsieur Henri.”

  She put her hands on her hips with a good natured grin. “It is not hard. Pepe, has more consistency.”

  “Pepe?” He asked. I waved. He laughed and clapped his hands. I folded my arms. It wasn’t that funny.

  “Name,” the man chimed at Rebecca as she stepped up.

  “Rebecca Whitely.” She handed him her license. She’d dropped her double barrelled name when we’d moved to London. She narrowed her eyes at me. I sighed. She got really irritated when people messed about while golfing. It was serious. No fun allowed.

  “Very well.” His bored tone had returned.

  Rebecca flicked out the club, putting herself in the right posture.

  “She had braces for three years,” I bellowed to Stephanie.

  Rebecca stopped at glared at me.

  “She’d speak with a lisp.” I tried impersonating the sound.

  Rebecca’s face filled with colour: Redhead was in session.

  “That, and the
bushy hair.” I nodded as Stephanie chuckled.

  Rebecca slammed the ball into the tee, her routine swift. She drew back her club.

  Thwack.

  The ball whipped through the air. I lost sight of it and gripped onto Stephanie’s arm. She gripped back. Madame Henri waved her hands as if to urge it on.

  Thunk.

  It didn’t sound like the marker. I looked to Stephanie who grinned, shock twinkling in her eyes.

  “She hit it.”

  The supervisor’s clipboard clattered to the ground as he slid off his stool. “She hit it.”

  Madame Henri beamed at Rebecca. “I think you make a hole in the wall, non?”

  Rebecca stared down at her club. “I...” She glanced up at me. “I...”

  The supervisor hurried over. He shook her hand, close to pulling it off. He ran over to the wall next to the screen and pressed something. Canned applause filled the air. Other golfers peeked over from their lanes and burst into applause too.

  Madame Henri took the club off Rebecca and handed it to the supervisor. “We have to collect your prize, non?”

  Rebecca nodded, getting wrapped in a massive hug from Stephanie.

  “Five hundred thousand euros, Madame.” He smiled, all trace of boredom gone. He took the club from Rebecca and marched off. Madame Henri motioned to Stephanie and she hurried to join her as they followed.

  I linked my arm with Rebecca, helping her move. “You don’t look surprised, Pip.”

  “I’m not. I knew you could. If you don’t over think things, you can hit further.” I winked at her. The bushy haired, lisping redhead had grown up on a golf course. The driving range didn’t really match it.

  “I haven’t played in years, Pip.” She shook her head, a smile breaking through.

  “You’re better than most professionals.” I grinned at her. “And you play at your best when angry.”

  She laughed. “Oh, that’s what you were doing.”

  “Now you have plenty to buy Babs some nice shiny new things?” I caught her as she tripped over her own feet. “And plenty of money so her parents will give you their blessing.”

  “You’re okay with it? I mean, you have thought it over. You want the marriage?” She gripped me by the shoulders.

  A few golfers clapped at us and whistled encouragement.

  “Why do you think I dragged you here?” I pointed to my foot. “I had to drop my club on my toe for you.”

  She grinned; the golfers whooped and Rebecca pulled me into a big hug. “I love you, you great big numbskull.”

  I squeezed her back. “I know.”

  Chapter 23

  We went for a few drinks after Rebecca had picked up her cheque so we were quite merry being dropped off by Madame Henri’s driver. Babs was a lot like her mother and they were both full of fun. Madame Henri was fast becoming someone I really was fond of. She’d been slurring a fair amount too.

  We’d even got her to tell us how she and Monsieur Henri had met. He’d adored her since childhood and had taken a good while to tell him she felt the same. It was all very romantic. They were still in love which was amazing after five children.

  Needless to say, that put us all in a romantic mood. Stephanie and I had linked arms as we swayed our way up to the apartment with Rebecca serenading us.

  “I can’t believe you mentioned my hairstyle,” she slurred at me as Stephanie closed one eye, attempting to punch in the code for the key.

  “I’ve held it in for so long.” I hiccoughed as I peered at her. “It needed to be said.”

  “It wasn’t that big.” She tried frowning but only managed a half-wink, half-eyebrow raise.

  “It was huge.” I held out the word huge and threw my arms out to show it. I wobbled. Rebecca steadied me by holding onto my shoulder.

  Berne opened the door. “Ça va?” She raised her eyebrows at us.

  “Rebecca hit a wall.” I nodded.

  Berne raised her eyebrows further.

  “She smacked the ball right into it.” I swooped my hand about to show her and wobbled. Rebecca steadied me again.

  Stephanie giggled. She swayed about, finger hovering over the keypad. “I hit metal.”

  I cheered; Rebecca joined in; Stephanie curtseyed and Berne cocked her head.

  “I hit myself.” I jutted out my bottom lip. “Right on my big toe.” I pointed down at it. It was very far away.

  “You hit the ball.” Stephanie turned to me, one eye still closed. “This is good.” She went back to hovering her finger over the keypad. She cheered; Rebecca clapped; I tried to curtsey but wobbled about.

  Berne hurried over. “You were drunk around Madame Henri?”

  “Ah, she drinks much more than us. She hit the furthest metal.” Stephanie cheered even louder, then shushed herself, then went back to trying to hack the keypad.

  “Pip had her singing karaoke.” Rebecca whooped like she was watching the rugby. I snorted with laughter; Stephanie turned and shh’d me, only to poke herself in the eye with her finger.

  Babs popped her head around the door. “Ça va?”

  “Your maman is terrible at karaoke,” Stephanie managed between hiccoughs. “Et Rebecca is très rich. She wins the prize.”

  Babs clapped, then peeled Stephanie away from the keypad. “You win?”

  “Yeah, five hundred thousand euros,” Rebecca mumbled showing her the cheque. “Cool, huh?” she chuckled and planted a kiss on Babs’s lips.

  “I didn’t even have to give my driver’s licence.” I nodded up at Berne. She kept jumping up and down in my vision. I’d had a lot of wine. For me. Two glasses and I was merry.

  “I missed this?” Babs sounded very sad. She poked out her lip in a pout.

  I met her eyes, sort of. “Your mum still wasn’t convinced though.”

  Babs cocked her head. Her phone blurted into life. “Ah, that is papa... Wait... wait there, I want to hear about it.”

  Rebecca “shh’d” me as Babs hurried into the apartment.

  I giggled. Right. Babs wasn’t meant to know. Oops.

  Stephanie stared at the door as if only just realising it was open. “I hacked it, oui?”

  “Pepe, you need to have some coffee, non?” Berne didn’t look at all impressed with our hard work.

  “We were trying to impress Babs’s mum. We want her to love Rebecca.” I winked at Stephanie who ah’d.

  “Come inside,” Berne glanced down the corridor. “People may hear you.”

  “You don’t want Rebecca to be loved?” I stuck out my bottom lip. I wobbled and clattered into the wall, smacking my knee. Ow. Wasn’t drink supposed to stop you feeling pain? Ow, ow. “I broke my kneecap.”

  “Rebecca doesn’t have any kneecaps,” Stephanie told Babs as she hurried out of the apartment.

  Babs stopped, raised her eyebrows and peered at Rebecca’s legs. “What did my mother do to you?”

  Rebecca snorted. “Handicap. I don’t have a handicap.”

  Babs frowned. “This is impolite.”

  “Golf,” Stephanie said, giving Babs a big squeeze. “She gave me a cuddle.”

  Babs’s eyebrows shot up and she glanced at Berne.

  “So anyway... Babs’s mum said money wasn’t good enough.” I looked to Stephanie who nodded, forlorn. “And Rebecca said that Babs was worth more than any amount of money.”

  Rebecca hauled Babs into a hug and planted a smacker on her lips. “I love that about you.” She grinned a dopey grin. “I love everything about you.”

  Babs beamed up at her. “So this is how I find your feelings? I grease the wheels with wine, non?”

  I nodded. The hall jumped up and down. Woozy. “She’s very open in drink.”

  “Pip, that sounds like a pick up line.” Rebecca snorted; Babs too; Stephanie giggled behind her hand but Berne looked bored.

  “You’re twisting my words, Whitely,” I mumbled. I held up my hand in protest. “So anyway... She said we were bums.”

  Stephanie nodded. “She did.�
�

  “Bums?” Babs looked to me. “Maman says this?”

  “Not exactly, she was more polite,” Rebecca said with a shrug. “But she said you can’t be seen with a bum who has no dad.”

  “Which is mean because she has one.” I scowled. “It’s not her fault he’s an idiot.”

  “Pepe tells her,” Stephanie nodded. “She says that your maman is a snob.”

  Rebecca and Stephanie sniggered.

  “You are teasing.” Berne frowned. “You would not say these things.”

  “What did she say?” Babs had her hands over her mouth, staring at me.

  “She agreed.” I shrugged, swayed and hiccoughed.

  “You are drunk. You would not do this if you were sober.” Berne chewed on her lip. “We can go there, we can say sorry.”

  “I’m tipsy.” Well, a bit more really but still, I wasn’t completely hammered, sort of. “Why? They are snobs.”

  Babs shrugged. “She is right.”

  “I know I am... so anyway.” I took a big gulping breath hoping to stop the hiccoughs. “I said that we’re not bums because we are working a big contract for Fletcher enterprises and that makes us very successful.”

  “Pardon?” Berne said, confusion in her eyes.

  “Doug asked me to fix his house and be his best maid.” There, I’d said it. I could be brave.

  Babs smiled. “This is good. My parents, they feel better with this?”

  Rebecca sighed. “Yeah, Pip had them in fits of laughter... but they still want me to fix things with my dad.”

  “You did not say this about him,” Berne said, her eyes glinting with anger.

  “Who?” Rebecca’s dad?

  “No, Doug. You did not talk with me.” She folded her arms.

  “Can you blame me?” My temper ignited. “You get grumpy when I so much as mention him or talk to anyone or breathe!” Bit dramatic but I was mad. I stomped to the doorway and turned. “And by the way, Emilie took a picture and sent it to me. If you will see your ex-girlfriend, it’s polite not to do it in public.”

  Rebecca scowled; Stephanie gasped and Babs sighed.

  Berne opened her mouth.

  I held up my phone. “Very cosy.” Tears bubbled up. I shoved the phone at Rebecca, spun on my heel—nearly taking out Stephanie. “I’ll sleep in another room.”