Chapter 11
Walking towards the rich houses, I knew exactly what I had to do. I knocked on the first door, stepping back a little nervously and trying to tidy my hair, even though I had already brushed it.
“Hello? Who on earth are you, then?” a fat, jolly-looking man asked, standing there at the door entrance.
“I am looking for a cleaning job, sir. Do you need any cleaning done? Would you take me on?” I said, taking a risk.
He looked at me thoughtfully for a second, scratching his sticking-up hair. After about a minute he said, sighing, “OK, Miss. Mind, you try any stupid misbehaviour, then you’ll find yourself thrown out, no money.”
“Will you pay each week, or day, or month?” I wondered out loud.
“Every two days, I think. Fair deal. So how about two hours per day, £8 for the two days together? Pretty good deal,” he decided, looking at me.
“Great. I am free now, so from three to five is fine with me. I can start now if you like.”
“Three till five is perfect, thanks. Here’s the stuff you need.” He disappeared for a few minutes, and then came back, his arms full of mops and brushes and cleaning sprays.
“Thank you. I shall start upstairs, do each room – dust, vacuum, clean, tidy – and then do downstairs. I shall sweep and mop the kitchen floor too,” I offered, trying to sound professional and businesslike.
I trudged upstairs and found the two bathrooms first, not looking forward to cleaning them at all. Once I had the knack of cleaning the floor tiles with the lemon-flavour wipes, I scrubbed the toilet pan good and hard, then flushed once with a lot of blue bleach. It shone, and I was happy at my superior cleaning skills. I washed the sink and bath too, rinsing out all the toothpaste carefully, rearranging the toiletries by the bath too.
After vacuuming the upstairs, my arms and back ached unbearably. The carpet was messy and thick, so it took about ten minutes to do each separate room. The dusting was easier, but the feather duster made me sneeze so I used the rag and spray, taking care to polish each dust-covered surface.
The man came up to inspect my work soon, so I did my best to give him a good impression. I skipped and danced lightly around the rooms, vacuuming to my heart’s content, making each stroke vanish many dirty flakes.
He nodded at me, impressed, and told me to come downstairs for a break. He had laid the table with a selection of fancy biscuits and cakes: chocolate bourbons, homemade choc-chip cookies, raisin and oatmeal cookies, millionaire’s shortbread, scones, lemon drizzle and a huge rich Victoria sponge with thick cream and cherry jam oozing out of the middle, icing swirled in delicate lumps, topped off with caramel swirls, marshmallows and Smarties lined up around the edges, hundreds and thousands sprinkled generously on the centre.
“For my kids,” he said, beaming lovingly. “May, Selena and my little Amber. Max and Sam are at school too – due home in ten minutes. All my lovies, those kids.” He went off in a dream, but I just focused on the table.
“Is this all for them?” I asked nosily.
“Well, most of it – but some for me too! A little credit for the cook! Sapphire, you come and join us too, my lovely. I’m Jerry, by the way.”
“Well, thank you,” I replied, a little taken aback. “How nice of you! I can’t wait to meet the kids.”
I set about the room, cleaning it a little, making it nice and homely. Jerry winked at me fun-lovingly, and I winked back, totally over the moon.
“Hello, Selena! Guess what! We have a lovely young cleaner each day now. She is called Sapphire, and is really looking forward to meeting you!” he cried, giving her a quick hug.
“Hello, Sapphire. I’m Selena, nice to meet you. Are you our new cleaner then?”
“Well, yes. I came today, and will come each day at this time to clean and tidy your lovely house,” I replied, liking her instantly. Her open face was honey-coloured, her dark eyes were honest and forgiving, and her lips were stretched into a cheery smile. She took me up to her bedroom, treating me as a proper friend, and showed me all her things in detail as if I was an inspector come to investigate her room. But she spoke lightly and happily, showing no sign of boredom or meanness, and I liked her a lot.
“Huh? Oh, it’s Sapphire, the new maid! Hello,” a thin, reedy voice piped up from outside the door. She pushed it forward, showing a pink-cheeked face and green eyes, fair hair and a cheeky grin.
“Hello?” I said uncertainly.
“Oh, May, stop humiliating poor Sapphire! She is not a maid, just a lovely friend who helps us clean the house each day, keep it nice. And we should treat her as a friend, you know.” Selena ticked May off openly.
“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” May yawned, trying to act cool. I guessed she was about ten. ”So, Sapphire, what made you ask Daddy for work?”
“I needed a job,” I replied shortly, not wanting to give anything away.
I crept downstairs to finish off the kitchen. Once I had scrubbed and mopped the floor, washed the sideboard, cleaned the oven and washed up, I raced back to May, Selena and Amber (who had arrived while I was cleaning) and told them it was tea time.
“Yay!” cried May, holding up her skirts and sitting on the gilt banisters, giving herself a push and flying down at top speed.
“Great.” Amber and Selena followed after sedately.
“Oh, are you joining us for supper? Please say Sapphire can join us for supper!” begged Amber.
“Of course she can!” Jerry laughed, holding out a chair for me.
I sat down, relieved, and feasted on the treaty tea, loving the sweet taste of lemon drizzle and the rich creaminess of the fudge cake. Jerry had even gone to the trouble of making a big cupcake which read, ‘Good luck and thank you, Sapphire!’ I was so grateful to him that I actually hugged him, and he pulled away a little, embarrassed. We ate a delicious salad after: fresh mango, cut-up apple, sweet strawberries, pale peach, fuzzy apricot and a little grated orange zest. Everyone was so normal and nice to me I almost felt like one of the family.
“Oh look – five o’clock already!” exclaimed Jerry heartily, hearing the chiming cuckoo clock in the corner.
“Oh, I must go! My sister must be worried about me.” I got up to leave.
“Hey – how old is this sister?” asked Jerry, in a whisper once we had reached the front door.
“Twenty-two,” I replied, wondering why he wanted to know.
“Oh,” he said, but carried on, “Would she like to work for me too? I’d be happy to pay double for the two of you.”
“Yes, I’m sure she would. I’ll bring her along tomorrow if so. Thank you!” I said, silently rejoicing.
“Great! See you tomorrow, Sapphire. Thank you and well done.”
“Bye!” I shouted, walking along the path and waving.
As I saw my watch, I decided to go quickly back to Sylvie and tell her the good news. With my money, I bought two BLT sandwiches, a pot of spicy pasta to share and a pot of strawberries each, saving quite a lot too. Sylvie thanked me excessively, and when we were sitting on the soft sagging sofa eating our tea, we chatted about the day.
“So, why are you so excited?” Sylvie munched, seeing my pent-up excitement.
“Because my lovely new employer Jerry has asked you to help too!” I cried.
“Who? What? You’re not making sense, Sapphire!” she said, confused.
“Today, after I left the nail salon at half past two, I went looking for a new cleaning job. The posh houses near Ashy Corner were my first choice, so I went over to ask for employment. On the first door I knocked on, a man came to the door and listened to my speech, then took me on. So he invited me in, and set the deal for three till five, every day, same time. Every other day he will pay me £8. And if you join too, we can clean the house well together, earn £16 and have fun together! Jerry is really nice; his attitude is fun-loving and natural, and all his five kids are friendly and happy too, if a little too loud. He bakes astoundingly – and the tea that I just had was amazingly fantastic! Oh, that del
icious sponge cake …”
“You know what? I’ll do it! Tomorrow, I’ll make that money! You and I, Sapphire, and I’m so amazingly proud of you,” Sylvie said, hugging me tight. “Hey, did I tell you about my new job? In a baker’s shop, the big one with delicious pies and buns on Spring Drive, near the massive market in Linden Street. Well, I smelt the cakes baking, and walked in. I was trying to choose what to buy when a lovely young woman came over, a little plump but you would be working in a bakery, wouldn’t you? She asked me if I wanted to work there, seeing I only had a little change left, and looked hungry. She took me to the staffroom there, and I listened to what she wanted me to do while eating fantastic apple and cinnamon cookies and cranberry oatmeal biscuits. I was very excited, and said yes immediately. So I have my rota, and a little something for you,” Sylvie explained, smiling as she passed me a thick brown paper parcel.
I opened it carefully, revealing a double chocolate cookie, a vanilla and white chocolate cake with caramel icing, and two small pear-and-apple pies, both still steaming hot. Sylvie had obviously slipped away to heat them up while I was devouring my second tea.
“Oh, thanks! They smell heavenly.” I breathed in deeply, taking in the cloudy smell of cooking apples and fresh pears.
“I got them free, and this too,” She delved into her jeans pocket and found six ten-pound notes. “This is for a seven-day week – only ten till half-two each day.”
“Where’s Linden Street? Is it close to Ashy Corner?” I started to panic. “What if you can’t make it to Jerry’s house in time?”
“Well, pass the map!” suggested Sylvie sensibly. “Here it is – it says a twenty-minute walk, or five-minute cycle. Not bad, but I’ll have to memorise the way.”
She stared at the map for an hour, looking at it reproachfully when she lost her place and had to take the trouble in finding it again. I sat on the sofa, having left the sweet treats for later, full up from the previous cakes and slightly more sensible tea afterwards.
I went to my waiting job, weary and disheartened, but I was thankfully let off early and collected my money, exhausted after three hours of rudeness and sharpness from the crazed men, drinking their money away without a care in the world.
I hopped up the stairs that night, wondering about staying the night in the only bedroom, where Sylvie was sleeping tonight, instead of suffering outside. I made a bundle of bedding on the shorn, straggled carpet, adding a few of my warmest fleeces which Chloe had posted to me, along with all my other belongings, over the top to preserve my heat, knowing how cold it was going without.
I tried again to fall asleep, but couldn’t. The house was noisy at night, which was terribly inconvenient: taps dripped and I couldn’t turn them off totally, the wind rattled the window frames and gave me a headache, the rain hammered harshly against the wooden roof and seeped through, gradually becoming wetter and wetter. Shutting out the persistent noise, I wrapped the germy grey pillow around my head, trying desperately to get some sleep. I saw the little grandfather clock that looked strangely out of place in the bleak miserable house, the time showing three fifteen. Without knowing it, I dropped off.
In the morning, I found that Sylvie had already gone. Half past seven? Where on earth was she? Oh well. I turned over and fell back to sleep, all alone in this wet and windy place. But soon my attempts to get some more sleep were failing as the cheery sunshine spilt through the corners and slits of my useless blind, flapping around happily as a gust of wind unsettled it again.
Once I was fully dressed in my pink T-shirt with stars and purple jeans, covered with a lilac denim jacket and delicate floating blue scarf, I went along the high street, listening as stallholders shouted out their wares of, “Come and buy your fresh five-a-day, healthy and delicious, just delivered today!” or, “Shoes, shoes, shoes! All the kinds of shoes you need, from sandals to wellingtons. Look at my tiny shoes – perfect for your little darlings! Come and buy a pair now, right now, and save a fortune here!”
I stopped outside a particularly big stall, brimming with oranges and apples and kiwis and coconuts. The man running it was brisk and burly, hurling your orders across the piles of fruit and banging the change down in front of them. He never took any time on anyone; barely glanced at the fruit he was handling, just threw it in wholeheartedly.
“Well, madam, what you staring at? Come to order a pineapple or two? Perhaps an apple, or an orange?” he suddenly addressed me, shouting across his bewildered customers.
“No, Mister. I was only looking.” I retorted, turning on my heel and walking off, head high.
“Ooh, Miss Hoity-Toity,” he called after me in his hoarse, rasping voice. “Temper, temper!”
I passed many interesting shops including a wood-carver, an artist, a baker and a photographing stall, littered with photo frames.
I bought a length of velvet in a cheap material store off a quiet drive, isolated from the hubbub of noise at the market, along with pink and green wool, a lot of deep indigo fur and a full five metres of blue-and-white striped cloth.
Stopping in a corner shop that sold absolutely everything, I bought a pair of scissors, shining stones embellished on the cold frame. I finally decided on white, red and black thread in a tin with a whole pack of pins, fifty assorted buttons and many sharp needles, imprisoned in a short length of embroidered fabric that went for an extremely low price.
Returning home, I burrowed into my paper bag, pulling out the blue-and-white cloth, a slim needle with a small eye and the white thread. Threading the needle with difficulty, I began to stitch the edges over and over, reducing the size enormously. Once I had gone round the edge three times over, I cross-stitched my way back again, the white thread disappearing rapidly. Happy now, I sewed a few buttons on, making sure they were all sky blue or fluffy white, matching exactly.
Now I draped them over our bedroom window, fitting perfectly over the protesting blinds. I stuck them on the wall with a roll of Velcro, gluing it on the wall straight to secure it. I then ran off to work, feeling lighter inside.
Work was easy and had a friendly atmosphere, and as I polished nails continually, I hummed ecstatically inside my clear head. Outside, the sky was cornflower blue and the shady lawn was jade green, tulips and daisies popping up from every blade of fine green grass.
As I reached home after the nail salon, I picked up the furry material resolutely and began stitching away, the needle flying in and out of the material as easily as sewing up a hole in my woollen tights. Soon, the purple fur resembled a heart, although the pins that were holding it together had slipped out of place a little and the shape had fallen away stitch by stitch. Now I selected quite a lot of pink and blue buttons, arranging them in two littler hearts inside the one big one, and cleverly embroidering a frilly heart in the middle of them, giving it an interesting layered affect. I placed it proudly on the carpet in our room, exactly in the centre, in pride of place.
Rushing a little now, I grabbed the dark velvet and hung it around the condensation-covered window, luckily having a little to spare. The extras were scrunched up into a tight ball, then fitted on a silver clip and scraped in my hair.
I then caught the bus to Ashy Corner, reaching Jerry’s house with seconds to spare.
After I had come out of my evening job at Pasta Palace, a good-looking boy came after me and started to try to impress me, walking alone at this late hour (it was about eleven thirty by now!) and chatting to his mates who were laughing and drinking alcohol, and then he was doing it too, straight from the bottle.
“Hey – you! Come here, missy!” shouted a tall dark lad, then gulped some more beer from his thin-necked green bottle.
“Why should I?” I called, half-running.
“Please,” cried the cutest boy, blinking at me. “Oh, please!”
I considered while still trying to walk away quickly.
“No!” I shouted, having made up my mind.
By the time I had left the high street, most of the boys were gone ap
art from the cutest and the most good-looking, who were both smiling at me hopefully.
“What?” I asked witheringly, standing about five steps in front of them.
“Have a drink?” the taller boy said.
“OK,” I agreed readily, unable to decline this offer with two adorable boys and a needed drink.
We sat down at a triangular table in the corner and talked quietly but interestedly to each other over our coke floats. I chatted eagerly to the listening boys, who were sipping steadily and grinning at me.
“Oh no!” cried the small tanned boy, his cute blue eyes shining in horror. “I have to get home – my mum will kill me!”
Leaving a piece of paper on my lap, he dropped his share of money on the table and scarpered, running away down the dark and creepy alleys.
“Come on,” the other boy urged, a little glint in his deep brown eye. “Let’s go to the park!” I knew by now his name was Jay, and liked him a little more than Tommy, the other, cute boy who had left before us.
Jay had a really lovely face – quite pale, soft brown skin, deep brown understanding eyes, and long dark lashes that curled up at the ends. His voice was high and kind, but sensitive and quiet too. I loved his pale blond hair, which suited his gorgeous face. He wore casual clothes but looked really great in them, even his neon orange football shoes, visible from a mile away. I just wanted to stay with him, and was a little miffed by his last suggestion.
“OK, but can I talk to you somewhere else for just a second?”
“Why’s that?” he asked, eyebrows raised, but then added, “Sure you can, darling.”
We stepped into the pitch-black night after paying for our coke floats and sundae (which me and Jay shared after Tommy had gone) and walked into a sheltered alley which saved us from the howling wind and lashing rain.
“Jay, I don’t know what it is about you, but I really love you,” I stated, going scarlet with joy and a little embarrassment.
“Well, Sapphire … I love you too, darling,” he whispered, then pulled me close.
My arms slipped around him and we embraced. I breathed heavily, but was safe in his arms and cuddled up close like we were proper girlfriend and boyfriend and this was no big deal whatsoever.
“So … will you be my girlfriend?” he asked, looking deep into my sapphire-blue eyes.
“Of course I will,” I replied. “I love you,” I repeated, surprising myself a little.
He took my arm and we walked, linked, all the way to our house at the end of the three drives and closes and avenues. I was confused and we took a long route instead of the easier, shorter route that I would have been able to find by day. When we arrived, the church clock chimed one, and I invited Jay to stay the night.
“Hello, Sylvie!” I said brightly, trying to close the door so she wouldn’t hear the clock chiming. “Sorry we’re a little late?” I offered by way of apology.
“Oh, Sapphire. Why didn’t you text me?” Sylvie said wearily, but luckily let me off and greeted Jay happily. He smiled at the two of us a little awkwardly then we all took cups of tea to bed and Sylvie retreated upstairs, ready to go to sleep for the night.
“Jay, we sleep downstairs,” I confessed as he made his way to the stairs. Sylvie had bought two mattresses for the living room and a blanket each so we would be warm.
“Oh, lovely! So cosy,” Jay smiled.
I cuddled down in my makeshift bed and sighed contentedly. Jay stayed awake with me all night long, chatting about our future together and playing on our phones and texting each other. In the really early morning, about four o clock, he announced that his girlfriend had dumped him a week ago and he had still been grieving until a beautiful blue-eyed, long-haired girl came along and chatted with him and helped him out of his misery. Me!
At eight in the morning, we had both had about two hours’ sleep. You could tell straight away by looking at us. The sleep from last night was in Jay’s eyes, I kept yawning like a cat and stretching, and we both had the sleepiness in our minds all day long. At three (I didn’t have to work because it was a bank holiday – yay!) Jay headed back to his house, ready to face the music after spending the night at an unknown girl’s house then staying till late afternoon. Oh dear!
The next day, it was back to our normal routine again; get up, have juice and a roll for breakfast, wake Sylvie up, see her off to the baker’s, go to the nail salon, collect my money, have lunch, keep working, go to Jerry’s house, do the cleaning, have a slap-up meal, see the kids, have a chat, work with Sylvie a little more, then go home, rest or read or write, have a hot bath, go out to Pasta Palace, have a tea and some pasta, do my job, collect the money, have a cold drink, rush home, rest, sleep. The routine has stuck in my head, and unable to get out of it, I always wake up at seven thirty now, with no need for an alarm clock. I have practised waking early so much that I do it each day now, regardless of what day it is! But Sylvie is absolutely great at not waking up. Each time I set my alarm for half seven, she sleeps through it and I have to wake her up with a cup of tea!
Jay was waiting outside the Palace again in the evening. He asked if I would go out with him, and I said yes because it truly wasn’t that late – only a weekday, when I finish work at 8:15. I called Sylvie and said I would be back about two hours later. And she agreed readily, although asked me to promise to text when I was coming back.
An hour later, we were at a disco somewhere near Stonehaven, a lovely beach with stones – you guessed it! The actual hall that the disco was held in was an old school off Seaforth Drive, a quiet but friendly lane with lots of nice shops selling souvenirs and postcards of all the nearby beaches and seaside towns.
Jay knew a lot of people there; it might have been ex-girlfriends, or long-lost best friends, or childhood sweethearts. But all the older girls there were really nice and I had a great time out.
“Hey, Sapphire,” Jay mumbled through the beat of the music. “You wanna head off now?”
“Sylvie expects me by a quarter to eleven,” I muttered back, checking the big clock in one corner, “you know how long it will take to get back.”
By half past ten, we were strolling along the lit-up high street, enjoying the Christmas lights. It was the tenth of December, and they had all been put up. Holly berries flashed in festive green and jolly red, Santa Clauses grinned at us from other houses, Christmas stockings glowed blue and red and purple on the lamp-posts, candles flickered as if they were actually lit, and gold stars beamed from their position high up on house windows.
“This is nice!” I exclaimed, pointing at a big house with about twenty different lights, including a chain of gold and silver stars hanging from a double window, and Santa’s reindeer flying across one of the walls, a sack of presents tied to the sleigh. I also liked the big image of a Christmas stocking that was overloaded with brilliant, brightly-wrapped presents.
“Come on!” Jay muttered, pulling my arm gently.
We walked on, then came to my ramshackle house. The outside walls had been painted a shining fresh white, and a mini star had been stuck up right on the centre, making the house shine with warmth. A deep green wreath hung from the door, and when I touched it, it began to change colour. The inside was even better. The living room was a sky blue, very bright with fluffy clouds at the bottom of the walls and a yellow sun in the corner. We had changed the carpet – now a pastel pink colour was beneath my toes. The dining room was cream, with little red hearts stained onto each wall, and a set of pink candles in the centre of the table. Our bedroom wasn’t painted yet, but the carpet was now a deep purple, and the old bed had been removed, replaced by a double, its fresh white sheets spread out generously. Even the grimy kitchen was now aquamarine, the cupboards sparkling clean with flowers painted on neatly.
“Wow! Sylvie, how could you have done this by yourself? Oh, you’re the best sister ever!” I laughed, hugging her.
She showed me outside and I marvelled at the loo too – it was now painted white, but the new toilet seat a
nd floor were deep black, the towels hanging up shades of white and black too.
We went up to bed and I saw that Sylvie had painted the landing too – a pale beige with a deep brown border on each metre mark. The two colours contrasted with the pale cream carpet, very fluffy beneath my feet.
“So, how did you get the time and money?” I finally enquired.
“Well, I received lots from Chloe yesterday, actually. She said she was extremely apologetic and we can come to America with her after all; but not for the full year because we had tourist visas. We can stay for eight months, darling, the two of us, and she also said you can bring a friend, who can stay for five months. Anyway, she is coming over next week here so we can have a catch-up. She sent us £1,000, so we have a lot of spending to do for America, particularly as we have no mortgage or bills for this house! So, she will look out for clothes and things like that for us too, so by next Saturday you’ll have a full wardrobe!” she explained.
“Wow! Of course I forgive her! Oh wow – America!” I sang happily, off to text Jay and Ellie and Olivia.
Hey darling,
WUU2? Guess what! Going to America for 8 months! Epic; see you at the Palace 2moro. See U then! Sapphire xx
I pressed the send button and then started a text to Ellie:
Hey BF,
OMG! Going to America for 8 months! Back on with Chloe. Great news! U can come 2, for 5 months. Get buying! I’ll send u some money 2moro. Sapphire xxx
I then texted Olivia, rushing in my haste and excitement.
Hi Olivia,
Great news! Going to America; am friends again with Chloe! She’ll give u the details. U can come for 5 months, if u save up. I’ll send u guys cash 2moro. Hope u can manage. We’ll pay for food, lodgings, clothes, days out, whatever. Chloe has a great modelling job in New York and a small role in Hollywood in a new film, Indian Princess. See U soon. BTW, u can come 2 cos Ellie has a part in Indian Princess too – it’s paying tons of money and she’s happy to spend some on another room for u. Sapphire xxx
I sat on my mattress and curled up into a ball, imagining what I would do when I got to America. My dream was to become a model. New York! Olivia, Ellie and I could try out there. We would walk along the catwalk, dressed up in amazing clothes, with dyed hair, made-up faces, high heels and bright jewellery. We would make hundreds, thousands, millions, billions even! – and buy a beautiful mansion, with a gilt staircase and white fluffy carpet and soft cream sofas. I imagined it so vividly I was practically lying there, head back, legs up, a glossy fashion magazine on my lap, champagne by my side in a gorgeous glass flute. Stretching out luxuriously, my eyes closed, I fell asleep in bliss.