when she still had a husband living with her, and heard a tale of sadness and brutality. “Mind you,” Paula said with a half smile, “as you can see from my four boys, we got on really well for thirteen years. Unlucky thirteen, it turned out to be. Jack lost his job, and that’s when the trouble started.
It was a familiar story of the sort Lois read every week in the Tresham Advertiser . Man out of work, spends his dole money on booze and gambling, goes home full of guilt and beats up his wife. Paula was anxious to stress that he had never touched the children. Just her, she said, and bared her arm. A scar about four inches long ran down to her wrist.
“Looks like you were lucky, after all, not to get that cut across the vein,” Lois said coolly. “I can see why you had to leave. Anyway,” she continued, “that’s enough of all that. It’s your private business, and I shall see that nobody else discusses it on the team. Now, what hours can you work? Didn’t you say the playgroup in the village hall could take Frankie? Would that be on a regular basis?”
Paula said that two whole days had been agreed, and they had been very accommodating about payment. “I am very reliable, Mrs. Meade,” she said. “Except, of course, if any of the children got sick, and I suppose that’s bound to happen sooner or later.” Her face fell as she realised this was a problem she had not really thought through.
“Could happen to any of my cleaners who have children,” Lois said. “We are well organised to cope. Mostly with me filling in!” she said, and smiled reassuringly.
In fact, she liked to relieve the girls occasionally, keeping her hand in and giving her a chance to check on clients firsthand. And in certain cases, this had given her useful opportunites for what Derek insisted on calling ferretin’. It was amazing how careless people were with their cleaners. Like servants in the old days, the daily help was in some ways invisible. Private papers were left out on tables, telephone conversations held at tops of voices, and rows between husbands and wives carried on, all without a thought for an observant member of New Brooms’ team.
There was an unspoken agreement, never spelled out, that Lois’s team would keep its eyes and ears open if given a hint from the boss that this might be useful.
After a general chat, Lois had summed up Paula and her household, and decided she would give the woman a trial period of four weeks, if only to please Josie. She asked Paula to provide a couple of references and said she could come along to next week’s team meeting. “Monday, at twelve noon,” she said. “That should be all right with the playgroup?”
Paula’s face was scarlet with relief, and she nodded. “Mondays and Wednesdays, they said. I hope that will fit in.”
“By the way,” Lois added, as they went to the door, “where have you worked before?”
“Oh, I was in a builders’ office. Part-time general dogs-body, on a minimum wage.” Paula grinned. “They were quite big developers in Tresham, with offices in London and several other cities. Covered the whole country and some abroad.”
“Are they still there?” asked Lois.
“Oh, yeah. Head office is in Amsterdam, I think. It’ll be nice to work for a small business like yours. You can rely on me, Mrs. Meade,” she repeated, cuddling Frankie close.
“Mrs. M,” Lois said, smiling kindly. “That’s what the others call me. Mrs. M.”
TEN
W HAT TIME IS YOUR MEETING, DEREK?” GRAN WAS READING an old recipe book that had been her mother’s, planning what to cook for their evening meal. There was no longer a butcher in Long Farnden, but Josie at the shop had lately done a deal with John Thornbull to supply her with his farm-reared meat, already vacuum packed, and in manageable sizes for elderly people who could not get into town and were reluctant to have food delivered from supermarkets. “Don’t trust ’em, myself,” Gran had said.
It was a familiar story of the sort Lois read every week in the Tresham Advertiser . Man out of work, spends his dole money on booze and gambling, goes home full of guilt and beats up his wife. Paula was anxious to stress that he had never touched the children. Just her, she said, and bared her arm. A scar about four inches long ran down to her wrist.
“Looks like you were lucky, after all, not to get that cut across the vein,” Lois said coolly. “I can see why you had to leave. Anyway,” she continued, “that’s enough of all that. It’s your private business, and I shall see that nobody else discusses it on the team. Now, what hours can you work? Didn’t you say the playgroup in the village hall could take Frankie? Would that be on a regular basis?”
Paula said that two whole days had been agreed, and they had been very accommodating about payment. “I am very reliable, Mrs. Meade,” she said. “Except, of course, if any of the children got sick, and I suppose that’s bound to happen sooner or later.” Her face fell as she realised this was a problem she had not really thought through.
“Could happen to any of my cleaners who have children,” Lois said. “We are well organised to cope. Mostly with me filling in!” she said, and smiled reassuringly.
In fact, she liked to relieve the girls occasionally, keeping her hand in and giving her a chance to check on clients firsthand. And in certain cases, this had given her useful opportunites for what Derek insisted on calling ferretin’. It was amazing how careless people were with their cleaners. Like servants in the old days, the daily help was in some ways invisible. Private papers were left out on tables, telephone conversations held at tops of voices, and rows between husbands and wives carried on, all without a thought for an observant member of New Brooms’ team.
There was an unspoken agreement, never spelled out, that Lois’s team would keep its eyes and ears open if given a hint from the boss that this might be useful.
After a general chat, Lois had summed up Paula and her household, and decided she would give the woman a trial period of four weeks, if only to please Josie. She asked Paula to provide a couple of references and said she could come along to next week’s team meeting. “Monday, at twelve noon,” she said. “That should be all right with the playgroup?”
Paula’s face was scarlet with relief, and she nodded. “Mondays and Wednesdays, they said. I hope that will fit in.”
“By the way,” Lois added, as they went to the door, “where have you worked before?”
“Oh, I was in a builders’ office. Part-time general dogs-body, on a minimum wage.” Paula grinned. “They were quite big developers in Tresham, with offices in London and several other cities. Covered the whole country and some abroad.”
“Are they still there?” asked Lois.
“Oh, yeah. Head office is in Amsterdam, I think. It’ll be nice to work for a small business like yours. You can rely on me, Mrs. Meade,” she repeated, cuddling Frankie close.
“Mrs. M,” Lois said, smiling kindly. “That’s what the others call me. Mrs. M.”
TEN
W HAT TIME IS YOUR MEETING, DEREK?” GRAN WAS READING an old recipe book that had been her mother’s, planning what to cook for their evening meal. There was no longer a butcher in Long Farnden, but Josie at the shop had lately done a deal with John Thornbull to supply her with his farm-reared meat, already vacuum packed, and in manageable sizes for elderly people who could not get into town and were reluctant to have food delivered from supermarkets. “Don’t trust ’em, myself,” Gran had said.
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