What the Cleaner Saw.

Carol pulled on her rubber gloves with a snap, smoothed down her smock over her soft child- bearing belly and tucked a wayward grey strand of hair behind a multi pierced ear. She could hear the undulating voice of Bex on zoom call in her office floating down the stairs. Bex pretty much left her alone to get on with it which suited Carol fine. She found bosses who chatted and maintained they were ‘friends with the help,’ trying.

Carol always worked quickly and to high standard in all the houses she cleaned, polishing, vacuuming, cleaning bathrooms, stoves, mopping floors wiping out cupboards and ironing. The only time she paused, was to gaze at the photos of people sealed behind glass, trapped in a moment in time. Lives on show. Carol reckoned she could tell a lot about the families she cleaned for, from their photos.

Bex was married to Max. Carol knew this because the wedding day was displayed in a glorious huge gold frame hanging in the entrance way. They had six attendants each. Bride and bridesmaids slinky and dressed in slippery satin dresses and broad-shouldered groom and groomsmen, in tuxedos, everyone grinning toothily to show how happy they were. The letters B E X were written along the bottom of the frame at the right-hand corner and M A X down the right-hand side. The X shared.

Carol had never met Max, but felt she knew him and Bex intimately. They loved holidays somewhere hot, or adventure tours, or cruises. There they were in frames, a devoted couple, in wild locations, or hugging on golden beaches, tanned fit bodies, in fashionable sportswear or skimpy swimwear, sun bleached salon blonde hair, glowing in sunlight in some and sunsets in others. They were always laughing, showing off their wonderful carefree, childfree life. She thought of her own house where images of her children adorned every surface. There were no photos of her and Ian on holidays and adventures in far off climes. That was because they never went on exotic holidays. A nearby campground with the whole family, their usual destination.

Bex once asked Carol if she had kids and Carol had replied, “yes four,’ and started the vacuum cleaner. She preferred to keep her private life private.

Carol started on the ironing and was smoothing out an orange tee-shirt with the three wise monkeys declaring, see no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil, emblazoned on the front when Bex click-clacked in front her. It amused Carol that Bex power dressed while working at home. Bex paused and pointed a red nail at the tee-shirt.

‘Disgusting thing,’ she snapped. ‘Do you think you can burn it with the iron.’ She re-tucked her sage green silk shirt that had come loose into her cream and grinned to show she was joking. ‘Better not, Max loves it.’ She smoothed her sharp bob. ‘I have a favour to ask. Do you think you could come on Sunday and do an extra clean for me? On Saturday we are having a wee party to celebrate our 25^th wedding anniversary.’

Carol narrowed her eyes and sighed under her breath.

‘First of all, it would not be a wee party, it never was and secondly, what made Bex think she would be free on Sunday to come an extra day, even though she was.’

Bex went on. ‘It is not actually our wedding anniversary. It is next weekend. Max has a conference and will be away.’ She chuckles. ‘But he is making it up to me. We are off on a cruise around Hawaii next month to celebrate properly.’

Carol did not mention that next weekend was also her and Ian’s 25^th wedding anniversary. However, no cruise for them. They were going to celebrate with their first break away without the kids, at a small boutique hotel. It had taken them months to save for it. She briefly thought of mentioning this. They could ooh and aah at the coincidence of a shared anniversary and what were the chances of that.

Instead, all Carol said was, ‘sure I can come on Sunday,’ and resumed ironing the offensive tee-shirt.

Carol flipped onto her back and kicked her feet languidly, her peach painted toenails popping up through the soft blue water of the hotel pool. She dropped into a standing position and waved at Ian who was sprawled on a lounger. He did not respond, eyes closed, dozing in the spring sun. She smiled. He looked so out of place in his decades old but hardly used red board shorts. They could not afford new swim wear just for one weekend. Carol was glad her navy swimsuit, also decades old, was a classic and still fitted despite her middle-aged curves. However, most of the time she hid beneath a hotel robe despite the heat.

Ian kept saying she was beautiful and to stop hiding beneath all that towelling.

A figure drifted into her line of site. Carol snorted. An orange three monkey’s tee-shirt, identical to Max’s, now obscured her view of Ian. Her eyes flicked up to the face of the hotel guest. She snorted again. It was a Max clone, lightly tanned with floppy hair and bright blues eyes like the Max in the photos.

‘Who would have thought,’ she mused, ‘a doppelganger.’

‘Over here,’ a voice rang out.’

Carol turned to see a bikini clad nymph waving frantically at the Max twin.

‘Maxey over here,’ she trilled.

With the marriage of Max and Bex rearranging its narratives in her head, Carol heaved herself out of the pool and plopped down on the sun lounger next to Ian. She reached over and took his hand, giving it a squeeze.

Ian lazily opened one eye.

‘What was that for?’

Carol just smiled at him.

 

by Wendy Taylor