someone else’s housework.
The June day was warm and Emma’s feet were already aching from the long walk as she approached Mr Bell’s street, but she couldn’t fail to notice the difference. The air here was cleaner than at home, with no taint of smoke from factory chimneys. The houses she walked alongside were large, immaculate, smacking of wealth, and on the opposite side was Clapham Common, a wide expanse of green grass and trees.
She passed St Barnabas’ Church and soon after was standing outside Mr Bell’s house. Like the neighbouring ones, it was huge and four storeys high. Emma took in the lovely, mellow red-brick façade and, her heart jumping with nerves, she tentatively walked down a drive lined with huge rhododendron bushes. There were bay windows on the ground floor, and a wide stone staircase leading to the front door. For a moment she halted, floundering. Should she use the front entrance or look for one at the side? Unsure, she decided on the front, hand trembling as she rang the bell.
When the door opened, Mr Bell stood there, a wide smile on his face. ‘You found it then,’ he said unnecessarily.
‘Yes,’ she murmured, shocked that he had answered the door himself. Surely in a house this size there were other staff? Mr Bell gestured herinside. Her eyes rounded as she followed him into a large hall with a sweeping, carpet-covered staircase. They almost popped out when she was led into a huge, plush room with wonderful views across the Common. The furniture looked sumptuous, large sofas with mahogany side tables, these covered with a thin layer of dust. Huge gilt-framed paintings lined the walls, and inlaid cabinets held beautiful porcelain figurines.
‘This is the drawing room,’ Mr Bell said, indicating that she should sit down, waiting until Emma perched nervously on the edge of a gilt and brocade chair. ‘I’m afraid I have to go out on business this morning,’ he continued, ‘so I’ll leave you to find your way around. You’ll find all the cleaning materials you need in a room just off the kitchen, and a Hoover.’
‘A…a Hoover?’
‘It’s a machine for vacuuming the rugs.’
Emma swallowed deeply, in awe of Mr Bell and his beautiful house. Her voice quavered as she spoke. ‘Is…is there anyone to show me how to use it?’
For a moment he looked nonplussed. ‘Well, no, I’m afraid you’ll be on your own. I did have a daily, but she proved to be untrustworthy. When my wife, Isabelle, was alive, we kept a couple of staff, but when she died I let them go.’
Emma knew that, nervous or not, she wouldhave to speak up now or she never would. ‘Mr Bell, this is a huge house and I don’t see how I can manage to clean it on my own.’
‘Oh, don’t worry, Emma. On this floor you will only have to clean this room, along with the dining room and my study. Oh, and of course the kitchen, which is at the back of the house, with a laundry room and scullery. On the first floor I use the front bedroom and bathroom, but the rest of the bedrooms are closed and can be left.’
Emma’s shoulders slumped with relief, but then she sat up again as Mr Bell continued.
‘As for the Hoover, I’m sure you’ll work it out. I think you just plug it into the wall, and off it goes.’ Mr Bell glanced at the ornate clock on the huge mantelpiece. ‘I’m sorry, but I really must go now. I should be back before you leave but, just in case, you’d better have these.’
Emma took the large keys that he proffered, and as he hurriedly left, she relaxed, a small smile playing around her lips. If he was out all day, it wouldn’t be so bad.
Rising to her feet, she went to explore the house.
When Emma found the kitchen she gasped at the size and range of equipment. It looked unused, everything covered in a thin layer of dust. She soon found a room with mops, buckets, dusters, brushes, and what she could only imagine was the Hoover. She eyed it warily, gulping at the thoughtof trying to use it.
The June day was warm and Emma’s feet were already aching from the long walk as she approached Mr Bell’s street, but she couldn’t fail to notice the difference. The air here was cleaner than at home, with no taint of smoke from factory chimneys. The houses she walked alongside were large, immaculate, smacking of wealth, and on the opposite side was Clapham Common, a wide expanse of green grass and trees.
She passed St Barnabas’ Church and soon after was standing outside Mr Bell’s house. Like the neighbouring ones, it was huge and four storeys high. Emma took in the lovely, mellow red-brick façade and, her heart jumping with nerves, she tentatively walked down a drive lined with huge rhododendron bushes. There were bay windows on the ground floor, and a wide stone staircase leading to the front door. For a moment she halted, floundering. Should she use the front entrance or look for one at the side? Unsure, she decided on the front, hand trembling as she rang the bell.
When the door opened, Mr Bell stood there, a wide smile on his face. ‘You found it then,’ he said unnecessarily.
‘Yes,’ she murmured, shocked that he had answered the door himself. Surely in a house this size there were other staff? Mr Bell gestured herinside. Her eyes rounded as she followed him into a large hall with a sweeping, carpet-covered staircase. They almost popped out when she was led into a huge, plush room with wonderful views across the Common. The furniture looked sumptuous, large sofas with mahogany side tables, these covered with a thin layer of dust. Huge gilt-framed paintings lined the walls, and inlaid cabinets held beautiful porcelain figurines.
‘This is the drawing room,’ Mr Bell said, indicating that she should sit down, waiting until Emma perched nervously on the edge of a gilt and brocade chair. ‘I’m afraid I have to go out on business this morning,’ he continued, ‘so I’ll leave you to find your way around. You’ll find all the cleaning materials you need in a room just off the kitchen, and a Hoover.’
‘A…a Hoover?’
‘It’s a machine for vacuuming the rugs.’
Emma swallowed deeply, in awe of Mr Bell and his beautiful house. Her voice quavered as she spoke. ‘Is…is there anyone to show me how to use it?’
For a moment he looked nonplussed. ‘Well, no, I’m afraid you’ll be on your own. I did have a daily, but she proved to be untrustworthy. When my wife, Isabelle, was alive, we kept a couple of staff, but when she died I let them go.’
Emma knew that, nervous or not, she wouldhave to speak up now or she never would. ‘Mr Bell, this is a huge house and I don’t see how I can manage to clean it on my own.’
‘Oh, don’t worry, Emma. On this floor you will only have to clean this room, along with the dining room and my study. Oh, and of course the kitchen, which is at the back of the house, with a laundry room and scullery. On the first floor I use the front bedroom and bathroom, but the rest of the bedrooms are closed and can be left.’
Emma’s shoulders slumped with relief, but then she sat up again as Mr Bell continued.
‘As for the Hoover, I’m sure you’ll work it out. I think you just plug it into the wall, and off it goes.’ Mr Bell glanced at the ornate clock on the huge mantelpiece. ‘I’m sorry, but I really must go now. I should be back before you leave but, just in case, you’d better have these.’
Emma took the large keys that he proffered, and as he hurriedly left, she relaxed, a small smile playing around her lips. If he was out all day, it wouldn’t be so bad.
Rising to her feet, she went to explore the house.
When Emma found the kitchen she gasped at the size and range of equipment. It looked unused, everything covered in a thin layer of dust. She soon found a room with mops, buckets, dusters, brushes, and what she could only imagine was the Hoover. She eyed it warily, gulping at the thoughtof trying to use it.
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