Chapter Six

I have no idea what this womans talking about. My heads hurting so much, I can barely look at her, let alone take in what shes saying.

Are you all right? She peers at me. You look terrible!

Ive got a rather bad headache, I manage. Could I possibly have a glass of water?

Of course! Come in! She waves her cigarette in my face and beckons me into a huge, impressive hall with a vaulted ceiling. Theres a circular oak table in the middle, bearing a vase of huge lilies, and a medieval-​style bench at the side. Youll want to see the house, anyway. Eddie ? Her voice rises to a shriek. Eddie, another ones here! Im Trish Geiger, she adds to me. You may call me Mrs. Geiger. This way...

She leads me down a short passage into a luxurious maple kitchen and tries a few

drawers, apparently at random, before crying Aha! and pulling out a plastic box. She opens it to reveal about fifty assorted bottles of pain-​relief tablets, vitamins, and bottles of something called Hollywood Skin Glow Supplement, and starts rootling about with her lacquered fingernails.

Ive got aspirin... paracetamol... ibuprofen... very mild Valium... She holds up a livid red pill. This ones fromAmerica , she says brightly. Illegal in this country.

Urn... lovely.

She hands me three green tablets and after a few attempts locates a cupboard full of glasses. Here we are. Migraine relief. Theyll zap any headache. Eddie ! She runs me some iced water from the fridge. Drink that up.

Thanks, I say, swallowing the tablets down with a wince. Im so grateful. My heads just so painful. I can barely think straight.

Your English is very good. She gives me a close, appraising look. Very good indeed!

Oh, I say, thrown. Right. Well, Im English. Thats... you know, probably why.

Youre English ? Trish Geiger seems galvanized by this news. Well! Come and sit down. Thosell kick in, in a minute. If they dont well get you some more.

She sweeps me out of the kitchen and back through the hall. This is the drawing room, she says, pausing by a door. She gestures around the large, grand room, dropping ash on the carpet. Its decorated with what look like antiques, several big velvet sofas, and lots of lamps and ornaments everywhere. As youll see, theres quite a lot of hoovering... dusting... silver to be kept clean... She looks at me expectantly.

Right. I nod. I have no idea why this woman is telling me about her housework, but she seems to be waiting for a reply.

Thats a beautiful table, I offer at last, gesturing at a shiny mahogany side table. It needs polishing. Her eyes narrow. Regularly. I do notice these things. Of course. I nod, bemused.

Well go in here... Shes leading me through another huge, grand room into an airy glassed conservatory furnished with opulent teak sun-​loungers, frondy plants, and a well- stocked drinks tray.

Eddie! Come in here! She bangs on the glass and I look up to see a dark-​haired man in golfing slacks walking over the large, well-​manicured lawn. Hes tanned and affluent- looking, probably in his late forties.

Trish is probably in her late forties too, I think, glimpsing her crows feet as she turns away from the window.

Lovely garden, I say.

Oh. Her eyes sweep over it without much interest. Yes, our gardener is very good. Has all sorts of ideas. Now, sit down! She makes a flapping motion with her hands and, feeling a little awkward, I sit down on a lounger. Trish sinks into a basket chair opposite and drains her cocktail.

Can you make a good Bloody Mary? she asks abruptly. I stare at her, bewildered. No matter. She drags on her cigarette. I can teach you. Teach me... ?

Hows your head? she demands before Im able to finish. Better? Ah, heres Eddie!

Greetings! The door opens and Mr. Geiger comes into the conservatory. He doesnt look quite as impressive close up as he did striding over the lawn. His blue eyes are a little bloodshot, and he has the beginnings of a beer belly.

Eddie Geiger, he says, holding out his hand jovially. Master of the house.

Eddie, this is... Trish looks at me in surprise. Whats your name?

Samantha, I explain. Im so sorry to bother you, but I had the most terrible headache...

I gave Samantha some of those wonderful migraine tablets! puts in Trish.

Good choice! Eddie unscrews a Scotch bottle and pours himself a drink.

Im very grateful, really. I manage a half smile. Youve been very kind, letting me trespass on your evening.

Her English is good, isnt it? Eddie raises his eyebrows at Trish.

Shes English! says Trish triumphantly, as though shes pulled a rabbit out of a hat. Understands everything I say!

I am really not getting something here. Do I look foreign?

Shall we do the tour of the house? Eddie turns to Trish. Really, its not necessary, I begin. Im sure its absolutely beautiful Of course its necessary! Trish stubs out her cigarette. Come on... bring your glass!

This woman cannot have a life. All she seems interested in is housework. As we trail round the first floor, viewing one splendid room after another, she keeps pointing out things that need special dusting and polishing, and how careful you have to be with the soft furnishings. Im sure silk drapes do need special treatmentbut why tell me?

Now upstairs! She sweeps out of the dining room.

Oh, God. Theres more?

You come fromLondon , Samantha? says Eddie Geiger as we head up the stairs. A huge oil painting of Trish in a long blue evening dress with astonishingly sparkly eyes and teeth gazes down at us, and I can see the real Trish waiting for a reaction.

Yes, I do. Thats a... lovely painting, I add. So vivid!

We were rather pleased with it. Trish looks complacent.

And you have a full-​time job there? Im sure Eddies only asking to be politebut for a few moments I cant bring myself to answer. Do I have a job?

I did, I say at last. To be honest... I dont know what my situation is at the moment.

What sort of hours did you work? Trish seems suddenly interested in the conversation.

All hours. I shrug. Im used to working all day and into the night. Through the night, sometimes.

The Geigers look absolutely stunned at this revelation. People just have no idea what the life of a lawyer is like.

You used to work through the night ? Trish seems stupefied. On your own? Me and the other staff. Whoever was needed. So you come from... a big setup? One of the biggest inLondon .

Trish and Eddie are darting glances at each other. They really are the oddest people.

Well, were far more relaxed, youll be glad to hear! Trish pushes open a door. This is the master bedroom... the second bedroom...

As we walk down the corridor she opens and closes doors and shows me four-​poster beds and swishy curtains and matching upholstered ottomans, until my head swims. I dont know if its too much floral wallpaper or whatever was in those migraine pillsbut Im feeling more lightheaded by the minute.

The green bedroom... As you will know, we dont have children or pets... Are you a smoker? Trish suddenly demands.

Urn... no. Thanks.

Not that we mind either way.

We descend a small flight of stairs and I grab on to the wall to keep myself steady.

Are you all right? Eddie catches my arm.

I think those tablets were a bit strong... I mumble.

They can be. Trish gives me a considering look. You havent drunk any alcohol today, have you?

Er... well, yes...

Aaah. She pulls a face. Well, maybe you should have alittle rest before you leave. What a good thing weve come tothe staff accommodation! She opens the last door with a flourish.

All the rooms in this house are huge. This one is about the size of my flat, with pale walls and stone mullioned windows overlooking the garden. It has the plainest bed Ive seen yet inthis house, vast and square and made up with crisp white bed linen.

I fight a sudden, almost overwhelming urge to lie down on it and sink into oblivion. Lovely, I say politely. Its... a gorgeous room. Good! Eddie smacks his hands together. Well, Samantha . Id say youve got the job! I look at him dumbly.

Job?

Eddie! snaps Trish. You cant just offer her the job ! We havent finished the interview!

Interview?

We havent even given her a full job description! Trish is still laying into Eddie. We havent been through any of the details!

Well, go through the details, then! retorts Eddie. Trish shoots him a look of fury and clears her throat.

So, Samantha, she says in formal tones. Your role as full- time housekeeper will comprise

Im sorry?

Trish clicks her tongue in exasperation. Your role as full-​time housekeeper, she says, more slowly, will comprise all cleaning, laundry, and cooking. You will wear a uniform and maintain a courteous and respectful...

My role as

These people think Im applying to be their housekeeper ?

Im too dumbfounded to speak.

... full board and lodging, Trish is saying, and four weeks holiday a year.

Whats the salary? says Eddie with interest. Are we paying her more than the last girl?

I think Trish might murder him, there and then.

Im so sorry, Samantha! Before I can even open my mouth shes dragged Eddie out of the room and banged the door, whereupon a furious, muted argument breaks out.

I look around the room, trying to gather my wits.

They think Im a housekeeper. A housekeeper! This is ridiculous. I have to put them right. I have to explain the misunderstanding.

Another wave of wooziness engulfs me and I sit down on the bed. Then, before I can stop myself, I lie back on the cool white cover and close my eyes. Its like sinking into a cloud. Its been a long day. A long, exhausting, painful nightmare of a day. I just want it to be over.

Samantha, Im sorry about that. I open my eyes and struggle up to see Trish coming back in, followed by a pink-​faced Eddie. Before we continue, did you have any

questions about the post?

I stare back at her, my head swirling. This is the moment where I have to explain theres been a big mistake. That Im not a housekeeper, Im a lawyer.

But... nothing comes out of my mouth. I could stay here one night, flashes through my brain. Just one night. I could sort out the

misunderstanding tomorrow . Um... would it be possible to start tonight? I hear myself saying. I dont see why not begins Eddie.

Lets not jump ahead of ourselves, Trish interrupts pointedly. We have had quite a few promising applicants for this post, Samantha. Several quite dazzling. One girl even had a diploma in French Cordon Bleu cookery!

Something inside me stiffens, like an automatic reflex. Is she suggesting Is she implying that I might not get this job?

I regard Trish silently. Somewhere, down inside my bruised state of shock, I can feel a tiny flicker of the old Samantha returning. I can beat some French Cordon Bleu cookery girl.

I have never failed an interview in my life.

Im not about to start now.

So. Trish consults her list. Youre experienced in all forms of laundry?

Naturally. I nod.

And are you Cordon Bleu trained? Its clear from her expression that nothing less will pass the test.

I trained under Michel dela Roux dela Blanc.Ipause. His name obviously speaks for itself.

Absolutely! says Trish, glancing uncertainly at Eddie.

Were sitting in the conservatory again, ten minutes later, and Im sipping a cup of coffee, which Eddie made for me. Trish is firing a series of questions at me that sound

like they come from a how-​to-​hire-​your-​housekeeper pamphlet. And Im answering every single one with total confidence.

Deep down in my brain I can hear a little voice calling out, What are you doing? Samantha, what the hell are you DOING ?

But Im not listening. I dont want to listen. Somehow Ive managed to block out real life, the mistake, my ruined career, the whole nightmare of a dayeverything else in the world except this interview.

Could you give us a sample menu? Trish lights another cigarette. For a dinner party, say?

Food... impressive food...

Suddenly I remember Maxims last night. The souvenir birthday menu.

Ill just consult my... notes. I unzip my bag and surreptitiously scan the Maxims menu. For a formal dinner, I would serve... er... seared foie gras with an apricot glaze... lamb with minted hummus... followed by orange-​chocolate souffle with two homemade sorbets.

Take that , Cordon Bleu girl.

Well! Trish looks astounded. I must say, thats... very impressive.

Marvelous! Eddie looks like hes salivating. Seared foie gras! You couldnt knock some up for us now?

Trish shoots him an annoyed look. Im assuming you have a reference, Samantha? A reference? We will need a reference... Trish begins to frown. My reference is Lady Freya Edgerly, I say, in sudden inspiration.

Lady Edgerly? Trishs eyebrows rise and a pink flush starts slowly creeping up her neck.

I have been associated with Lord and Lady Edgerly for many years, I reply gravely. I know Lady Edgerly will vouch for me.

Trish and Eddie are both staring at me, agog. You cooked for them, did you? inquires Eddie. Breakfasts and so forth?

Naturally. Lord Edgerly was very fond of my signature dish, eggs Benedict. I take a sip of water.

I can see Trish pulling what she clearly imagines are cryptic faces at Eddie, who is surreptitiously nodding back. They might as well have Lets Have Her ! tattooed on their foreheads.

One final thing. Trish takes a deep drag on her cigarette. You will be answering the phone when Mr. Geiger and myself are out. Our image in society is very important. Please, would you demonstrate how you will do it? She nods at a phone on a nearby table.

They cannot be serious. Except... I think they are.

You should say, Good afternoon, the Geiger residence, prompts Eddie.

Obediently I get up, walk across the room, and lift the receiver.

Good afternoon, I say in my most charming, head-​school-​prefect tones. The Geiger residence. How may I help?

Eddie and Trish look like all their Christmases have come at once.