CLEANER: Chapter Four - Part Six

MELISSA

It was my day to clean the Stanwick house in Chauncy but it was irritating me more than usual.

The Indian woman who lived there was normally out when I was doing it but today she was kicking around the house getting in my way. She didn’t seem to settle in one place more than five minutes and I hated to be watched while I was doing my duties. I had enough of that at Summertop from bloody Dahlia.

If anything, I found my jobs more hateful since the stupid switches I'd done with her. I pissed off she’d even broached the subject. Offering it then whipping it away both times was like a slap in the face, hurling me back to the bottom of the pile. I felt my low position now far more keenly.

It was also bugging me that here was yet another employer who happened to be a beautiful woman. Working for Dahlia was bad enough but for some reason the prettiness of Mrs Stanwick was sticking in my craw. Even pregnant, she didn’t show any signs of losing her looks.

I glared at my obese reflection in the glass door of the dresser I was dusting, cursing Dahlia’s name.

Mrs Stanwick went out eventually, thank God. I immediately cut back on the effort I was putting in, doing a passable enough job to not be noticed. What did they care anyway? I'd seen her and her husband together. They snogged each other every chance they got. It was disgusting.

I worked my way upstairs to the master bedroom, thinking about that ornament I’d considered pinching from Summertop. I should have taken it. That would show Dahlia for messing me around. It was probably worth something too.

I wiped the mirror and dusted the filigree on the wardrobe. It was intricate enough to drag on. I started to wonder how soon I could slip off – make like I’d finished. There was quite a lot of dust on the drawers where Mrs Stanwick kept her perfume and makeup. I’d obviously skimped on that last time I was here. Begrudgingly, I did a better job this time then, bored and curious, I had a little root through the drawers. Mostly it was just underwear and bits and bobs but I found a small wooden box near the back of one of the lower drawers.

With a suspicious glance at the door, I cracked it open. Inside, inserted in the cushioned interior, was a ring. It was quite an unusual one, carved from stone by the look of it. The sigils on its surface were black grooves but something glistened in the crevices as I turned it. It was pretty.

I took it out of its box and held it up, fascinated. I hooped the ring over the end of my first finger and started to slide it into place. I could tell it was going to fit me before it was half way down, but I paused, revolving it slightly, then pulled it back off. I glanced at the door again; listened; then popped it into the top front of my dress. It slipped down into the front of my bra and I smugly put the empty box back where I’d found it.

I smirked to myself as I finished off, feeling the thrill of the minor criminality. How long would it be before they noticed? Years probably. I shrugged. I'd just swear black was white I’d never even seen it. What could they do?

I went back downstairs and put my cleaning stuff away, then I locked up the house and sauntered down toward the centre of Chauncy to catch the bus. There was a Cash Exchange store on Barton high street. I'd pop in there after I'd finished at the school and see what I could get for it.

That would make me feel better.