Cleaner - Part Four

I stopped in mid-scrub, bent over, knees cold on the hard marble in the hallway, face less than a foot from the floor.

There was a pair of pale feet in front of me suddenly in expensive pink heels. The skin was delicate and white.
I lifted my head, slowly tracing up the smooth line of her legs. She was close – very close to me. I could smell the scent of the Diabolique, dabbed into the backs of her knees and the scent of her skin itself.

Topaz stood right over me, dressed now in a short flouncy skirt and a sheer, multi-layered, patterned vest top. Her hair was down and divinely “done,” wisps jetting out to the sides. Her face was a picture. 
 

My old face.

My eyes moistened to see her dressed up like that, ready to return to the world.

For the last two years I had withdrawn to the sanctum of my home. I had grown weary of the parties and the glitter and although I had been tempted many times to return to it all, I never had.

To see her now, going in my place, cut me in some small way but made me very proud too. I had created this woman. Now, with absolute confidence, she was ready to assume my former glory.

“The floor’s much better now Melissa,” she said, “You’ve done a good job. Well done.”

I smiled feeling real pride at the compliment. “Thank you Topaz.”

“I was a little hard on you earlier and I should really apologise.”

“It doesn’t matter,” I blurted, still craning up at her.

“No, it does matter,” she said, “You work very hard and I appreciate it.”

I felt a surge of contentment then checked myself. It seemed ludicrous that I should take pride in cleaning well while my cleaner pranced about in my clothes. But I did. I felt proud of myself.

“Now get out the way will you,” said Topaz, her voice cooling again instantly, “You’re blocking the door and Roger’s waiting to drive me to my party.”

I got to my feet, my back creaking and shuffled out of the way, remembered the bucket and scurried back to clear that too. Topaz waited impatiently, arms folded, foot tapping. “I’ll just be a moment miss,” I said.

Then I dropped the scrubber and it splattered drops of water up Topaz’s legs.

She lurched back from shock, arms up. Then the expression of surprise on her face was consumed by her fury. “Look what you did you stupid fat bitch! Look at me! Can’t you do anything right?”

I mumbled several apologies, adrenaline pumping into my bloodstream leaving me wired.

“I’m sorry miss. Let me help dry you off.”

“Don’t – touch me!” She held out her palm to face me. I stepped back. “Fetch a clean towel!”

“Yes miss.”

“Now!”

I scurried to the airing cupboard and returned as fast as I could, wheezing from the exertion.

“Quickly,” snapped Topaz.

I handed her the towel.

She swiped her legs with it briefly then threw it over the top of my bucket. “Be more careful in future idiot!”

“I’m sorry.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Oh, you will be if it happens again.”

She stalked past me. I watched her open the door, leaving it carelessly open, and go out to the waiting car.

All the glory and fame that had been mine was waiting for her. The car would take her to the photographers and celebrities and bright lights and inane conversations. I only wished I were going in her place for a moment. Then I remembered why I left that world in the first place.

Topaz threw me a glance as the door was shut for her. For a second a shiver of what could have been disgust passed over her face before it was replaced by a sneering smile which broke out into a grin.

As the car pulled away she was laughing loud enough for me to hear her through the glass, her head back, slender neck exposed.