Chapter 10
2091 Words
He puts his bottle of beer down and wipes his mouth. His hands look scrubbed clean, but I can still see the traces of earth ingrained around his nails, in the seams of his weather-beaten skin.
“I could speak to my mum. She can cook. She could teach you the basics.”
I look at him in astonishment, almost laughing. “You think I should stay? I thought I was supposed to be a confidence trickster.” I shake my head, wincing at the taste of the Cointreau. “I have to go.”
“Shame.” He shrugs. “It would have been nice to have someone around who speaks English. And makes such great sandwiches,” he adds, totally deadpan.
I can’t help smiling back. “Caterers.”
“Ah. I wondered.”
A faint rapping at the door makes us both look up.
“Olivia?” Tanya’s voice outside is hushed and urgent. “Can you hear me?”
“Er … yes?”
“Don’t worry, I won’t come in. I don’t want to disturb anything! You’re probably at a very crucial stage.”
“Kind of …”
I catch Nathaniel’s eye and a sudden wave of hysteria rises through me.
“I just wanted to ask,” Tanya’s voice continues, “if you will be serving any kind of sorbet between the courses?”
I look at Nathaniel. His shoulders are shaking with silent laughter. I can’t stop a tiny snort escaping. I clamp my hand over my mouth, trying to get control of myself.
“Olivia?”
“Er … no,” I manage at last. “There won’t be any sorbet.”
Nathaniel has picked up one of my pans of burned onions. He mimes taking a spoonful and eating it. Yummy, he mouths.
“Well! See you later!”
Tanya tip-taps away and I collapse into helpless laughter. I’ve never laughed so hard in my life. My ribs hurt; I’m coughing; I almost feel like I’ll be sick.
At last I wipe my eyes and blow my runny nose on the kitchen towel. Nathaniel’s stopped laughing too and is looking around the bombshelled kitchen.
“Seriously,” he says. “What are you going to do about this? They’re expecting a fancy dinner.”
“I know. I know they are. I’ll just have to … think of something.”
There’s silence in the kitchen. Nathaniel is curiously eyeing the white splodges of meringue on the floor. I cast my mind back to all the times I’ve had to go into a room at Steve Spink and bluff my way out of a tricky spot. There has to be a way.
“OK.” I take a deep breath and push back my damp hair. “I’m going to rescue the situation.”
“You’re going to rescue the situation?” He looks skeptical.
“In fact, I think this might solve everyone’s problems.” I get to my feet and start busily sweeping packets into the bin. “First I need to clear up the kitchen a bit.…”
“I’ll help.” Nathaniel stands up. “This I have to see.”
Companionably, we empty pans and pots and packets into the bin. I scrub all the smeared surfaces while Nathaniel mops up the meringue.
“How long have you worked here?” I ask as he rinses out the mop in the sink.
“Three years. I worked for the people who lived here before the Geigers, the Ellises. Then Tanya and Eddie moved in two years ago and kept me on.”
I digest this. “Why did the Ellises move? It’s such a beautiful house.”
“The Geigers made them an offer they couldn’t refuse.” Nathaniel’s mouth is twitching with … amusement?
“What?” I say, intrigued. “What happened?”
“Well …” He puts the mop down. “It was fairly comical. The house was used as a location in a BBC period drama, all set in the Cotswolds. Two weeks after it was aired, Tanya and Eddie arrived on the doorstep waving a check. They’d seen it on television, decided they wanted it, and tracked it down.”
“Wow.” I laugh. “Presumably they paid a good price.”
“God knows what they paid. The Ellises would never say.”
“Do you know how the Geigers made all their money?”
“They built up a road haulage company from nothing and sold it off. Made a bundle.” He starts mopping up the final patch of meringue.
“And how about you? Before the Ellises?” I tip the congealed apricots down the waste disposal with a shudder.
“I was working at Marchant House,” Nathaniel replies. “It’s a stately home near Oxford. Before that, university.”
“University?” I say, my ears pricking up. “I didn’t know—”
I halt, reddening. I was about to say, “I didn’t know gardeners went to university.”
“I did natural sciences.” Nathaniel gives me a look that makes me think he knew exactly what I was thinking.
I open my mouth to ask him where and when he was at university—then on second thought, close it and switch the waste disposal on. I don’t want to start getting into details, going down the “do we know anyone in common?” road. Right now, I could do without remembering the particulars of my life.
At last the kitchen looks a bit more normal. I pick up the eggcup, drain the rest of the Cointreau, and take a deep breath.
“OK. Showtime.”
“Good luck.” Nathaniel raises his eyebrows.
I open the kitchen door to see Tanya and Eddie loitering in the hall, holding their sherry glasses.
“Ah, Olivia! Everything ready?” Tanya’s face is all lit up with anticipation, and I feel a huge twinge of guilt for what I’m about to do.
But I can’t see any other way.
I take a deep breath and put on my best breaking-bad-news-to-a-client face.
“Mr. and Mrs. Geiger.” I look from one face to the other, making sure I have their attention. “I am devastated.”
I close my eyes and shake my head.
“Devastated?” echoes Tanya nervously.
“I have done my best.” I open my eyes. “But I’m afraid I cannot work with your equipment. The dinner I created was not up to my own professional standards. I could not allow it out of the kitchen. I will of course reimburse all your costs—and offer my resignation. I will leave in the morning.”
There. Done. And no casualties.
I can’t help glancing at Nathaniel, standing in the doorway of the kitchen. He gives me the thumbs-up.
“Leave?” Tanya puts her sherry glass down on a side table with a little crash. “You can’t leave! You’re the best housekeeper we’ve ever had! Eddie, do something!”
“Mrs. Geiger, after tonight’s performance, I feel I have no choice,” I say. “To be frank, the dinner was inedible.”
“That wasn’t your fault!” she says in consternation. “It was our fault! We’ll order you new equipment at once.”
“But—”
“Just give us a list of what you need. Spare no expense! And we’ll give you a pay rise!” She’s suddenly gripped by a new idea. “How much do you want? Name your price!”
This is not going the way I planned. Not at all.
“Well … we never discussed pay,” I begin. “And really I can’t accept—”
“Eddie!” Tanya rounds on him savagely. “This is your fault! Olivia’s leaving because you’re not paying her enough!”
“Mrs. Geiger, that’s not the case—”
“And she needs new kitchen pots and pans. From the best place.” She digs Eddie in the ribs with her elbow and mutters, “Say something!”
“Ah … Olivia.” Eddie clears his throat awkwardly. “We’d be very happy if you would consider staying with us. We’ve been delighted with your performance, and whatever your salary expectations are … we’ll match them.” Tanya digs him in the ribs again. “Exceed them.”
“And health care,” adds Tanya.
They’re both gazing at me with a kind of eager hope.
I glance over at Nathaniel, who c***s his head as though to say, “Why not?”
The strangest feeling is coming over me. Three people. All telling me they want me within the space of ten minutes.
I could stay. It’s as simple as that. For however long it takes to … work myself out. I’m miles away from London. No one knows I’m here. I’ll be safe.
I can’t cook, a little voice reminds me. I can’t clean. I’m not a housekeeper.
But I could learn. I could learn it all.
The silence is growing in tension. Even Nathaniel is watching me closely from the door.
“Well … OK.” I feel a smile coming to my lips. “OK. If you want me to … I’ll stay.”
Later that night, after we’ve all eaten a Chinese take-away, I take out my mobile phone, call my mother’s office, and wait till I’m put through to voice mail.
“It’s all right, Mum,” I say. “You don’t need to call in any favors. I’ve got a job.” And I click the mobile shut.
Ten
The only thing is, now I actually have to be a housekeeper.
The next morning my alarm goes off at six fifteen and I arrive downstairs in the kitchen before seven, in my uniform. The garden is misty and there are no sounds, except a couple of magpies chacking at each other on the lawn. I feel as though I’m the only person awake in the world.
As quietly as I can, I empty the dishwasher and put everything away in the cupboards. I straighten the chairs under the table. I make a cup of coffee. Then I look around at the gleaming granite counters.
My domain.
It doesn’t feel like my domain. It feels like someone else’s scary kitchen.
So … what do I do now? I feel twitchy, just standing here. I should be occupied. My mind flashes back to London before I can stop it, to my regular routine. If I were still at Steve Spink, I would be queuing for a cappuccino by now. Or maybe on the tube, answering e-mails. I wonder how many e-mails are stacked up, unanswered, in my BlackBerry? The thought makes me feel slightly ill.
No. Don’t think about it. There’s an old copy of The Economist in the magazine rack by the table and I pick it up. I flip through and start reading a piece on international monetary controls, sipping my coffee.
Then, as I hear a sound from upstairs, I hastily put it down again. Housekeepers aren’t supposed to read articles on international monetary controls. They’re supposed to be making breakfast. But how can I do that until I know what the Geigers want?
Then all of a sudden I remember yesterday morning. Tanya made me a cup of tea.
Maybe today I’m supposed to make her a cup of tea. Maybe they’re waiting upstairs, tapping their fingers impatiently, saying “Where’s the damn tea?”
Quickly I boil the kettle and make a teapot full. I put it on a tray with cups and saucers and after a moment’s thought add a couple of biscuits. Then I head upstairs, venture along the silent corridor to Tanya and Eddie’s bedroom … and stop outside the door.
Now what?
What if they’re asleep and I wake them up?
I lift a hand to knock—but the tray’s too heavy to hold in one hand and there’s an alarming c******g as the whole thing starts tilting sideways. In horror, I grab it just before the teapot slides off. Sweating, I put the whole lot on the ground, raise a hand, and knock very quietly, then pick up the tray again.
There’s no answer.
Hesitantly I tap again.
“Eddie! Stop that!” Tanya’s raised voice filters faintly through the door.
Oh, God. Why can’t they hear me?
- Writer
