everything and then I’ll leave you to it,’ she says. Her tone, once again, makes me feel like I’m some sort of inconvenience. What is she? The housekeeper? The manager of this place? Just an agent for the Parkers? And where is she going? She’s not going to leave me alone here, is she? I see now that she has her bag over her shoulder. She’s not kidding. She really is about to leave.
I think of the friendly note from Mrs Parker upstairs and the lovely flowers, and try to calm down. There must be a plan.
Gundred pulls out a folded piece of paper from her bag and hands it to me. ‘First, and most importantly, you’ll need this.’
I look at the paper she’s given me. It’s a floor plan of the house. There are rooms shaded in blue and others in red.
‘This will help you get your bearings,’ she says. ‘The red rooms are off-limits.’
Off-limits?
Why, I wonder?
‘Where are the kids?’ I ask, trying to take it all in.
What the hell happens in the red rooms?
‘I mean, where are their bedrooms?’
‘The kids are still away at camp,’ she says. ‘They’ll be back in a week or so, but Mrs Parker wanted you to have some time to settle in first. Get acclimatized. As you can see, they haven’t finished moving in themselves, which has somewhat delayed their schedule.’
I’m totally flummoxed by this news, my mind racing. Why the rush to get me here, if the kids aren’t here? And what the hell am I going to do for a week without them? And how old are they, if they’re at camp? Not babies, then. Phew.
Come on, Sophie, I tell myself. You’re in five-star luxury. How hard can it be? When was the last time you actually had a break? Let alone a paid break?
‘OK,’ I say. ‘Can you tell me anything about them, though?’
‘Who?’
‘The kids,’ I tell her, confused.
She cocks her head on one side and then she smiles. I can’t tell if she’s amused by me or feels sympathetic. ‘The kids? Oh, well, there are two boys. Twins. Luther and Tobias. Haven’t I told you that already?’
‘No,’ I tell her. My tone is more petulant than I’d like.
She pauses. Then she seems to make a decision and, when she speaks next, her tone is reassuring. ‘Oh, well, I really wouldn’t worry about them. Just enjoy yourself this week. Believe me, you’ll be busy soon enough.’
Relief rushes through me. Twin boys. Luther and Tobias. Nice names. OK. I can deal with boys. I’m used to Ryan. I’m a lot more confident now that I know what I’m dealing with.
I’m picturing the boys in my head as Gundred shows me around, and start to realize how easy it might be to enjoy myself. It’s a busy, bustling home and I soon lose count of the number of corridors we walk down.
Don’t panic, I tell myself. This is just like the first day at a new school. You’ll soon know your way around like you’ve been living here all your life.
There’s a swimming pool downstairs, with the giant sauna and steam room. In the kitchen I meet Mrs Janey, the cook, and there are lots of other people coming and going, too. They seem to be busy, either cleaning or decorating. It’s hard to tell if they’re permanent staff like me, or not.
Permanent staff.
The thought trips me up. Is that how I see myself already? As permanent? As part of all of this?
England seems a very long way away.
12
Once Gundred has gone, I take myself off back up to my room and unpack and then lie on the bed and call Dad, but I can hardly get a signal. We have a ridiculous conversation of echoing feedback and half-sentences. I think I manage to get across the gist of my call – that I’ve arrived and I’m OK.
‘Have fun. Love you,’ he shouts, before the line cuts out, and I smile, although I can picture his face: I know he’s missing me already.
It’s all been so much to take in and I haven’t slept for more than twenty minutes in nearly twenty-four hours. At first I amuse myself, trying to get comfortable on the waterbed, but there’s no
I think of the friendly note from Mrs Parker upstairs and the lovely flowers, and try to calm down. There must be a plan.
Gundred pulls out a folded piece of paper from her bag and hands it to me. ‘First, and most importantly, you’ll need this.’
I look at the paper she’s given me. It’s a floor plan of the house. There are rooms shaded in blue and others in red.
‘This will help you get your bearings,’ she says. ‘The red rooms are off-limits.’
Off-limits?
Why, I wonder?
‘Where are the kids?’ I ask, trying to take it all in.
What the hell happens in the red rooms?
‘I mean, where are their bedrooms?’
‘The kids are still away at camp,’ she says. ‘They’ll be back in a week or so, but Mrs Parker wanted you to have some time to settle in first. Get acclimatized. As you can see, they haven’t finished moving in themselves, which has somewhat delayed their schedule.’
I’m totally flummoxed by this news, my mind racing. Why the rush to get me here, if the kids aren’t here? And what the hell am I going to do for a week without them? And how old are they, if they’re at camp? Not babies, then. Phew.
Come on, Sophie, I tell myself. You’re in five-star luxury. How hard can it be? When was the last time you actually had a break? Let alone a paid break?
‘OK,’ I say. ‘Can you tell me anything about them, though?’
‘Who?’
‘The kids,’ I tell her, confused.
She cocks her head on one side and then she smiles. I can’t tell if she’s amused by me or feels sympathetic. ‘The kids? Oh, well, there are two boys. Twins. Luther and Tobias. Haven’t I told you that already?’
‘No,’ I tell her. My tone is more petulant than I’d like.
She pauses. Then she seems to make a decision and, when she speaks next, her tone is reassuring. ‘Oh, well, I really wouldn’t worry about them. Just enjoy yourself this week. Believe me, you’ll be busy soon enough.’
Relief rushes through me. Twin boys. Luther and Tobias. Nice names. OK. I can deal with boys. I’m used to Ryan. I’m a lot more confident now that I know what I’m dealing with.
I’m picturing the boys in my head as Gundred shows me around, and start to realize how easy it might be to enjoy myself. It’s a busy, bustling home and I soon lose count of the number of corridors we walk down.
Don’t panic, I tell myself. This is just like the first day at a new school. You’ll soon know your way around like you’ve been living here all your life.
There’s a swimming pool downstairs, with the giant sauna and steam room. In the kitchen I meet Mrs Janey, the cook, and there are lots of other people coming and going, too. They seem to be busy, either cleaning or decorating. It’s hard to tell if they’re permanent staff like me, or not.
Permanent staff.
The thought trips me up. Is that how I see myself already? As permanent? As part of all of this?
England seems a very long way away.
12
Once Gundred has gone, I take myself off back up to my room and unpack and then lie on the bed and call Dad, but I can hardly get a signal. We have a ridiculous conversation of echoing feedback and half-sentences. I think I manage to get across the gist of my call – that I’ve arrived and I’m OK.
‘Have fun. Love you,’ he shouts, before the line cuts out, and I smile, although I can picture his face: I know he’s missing me already.
It’s all been so much to take in and I haven’t slept for more than twenty minutes in nearly twenty-four hours. At first I amuse myself, trying to get comfortable on the waterbed, but there’s no
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