CLEANER: Chapter Four - Part Three

DAHLIA

After dinner I sat in the garden, eying my empty plate on the little patio table, wishing that I’d given myself a bigger serving but feeling guilty that I did.

I could go back inside and fetch myself some more; boil up some more pasta; put another piece of chicken in the oven. Or I could have some desert. Except I didn’t have any more in. I’d polished off the last éclair after I'd finished the washing up before lunch... when Melissa and I were still swapped.

I considered popping out in the car but the village shop would be closed by now and it was miles down to Asda.

I grumbled to myself, getting up, feeling restless. I was bored. I’d been bored for days now. Nothing seemed to interest me anymore. I went to pick up my tea things but stopped myself. Cleaning up after myself... I withdrew my hands and went inside, leaving it.

I had too much nervous energy. I couldn’t relax. I ended up upstairs. I didn’t need to go but I went to the loo, just to have something to do. Then I stood looking at myself in the mirror. I was riled up and I wasn’t sure why; really edgy.

I kept thinking how nice it had been to lose myself in Melissa’s role, but I'd made my decision now. I wasn’t going to do it anymore. It was the stupidest thing I'd ever heard of. I was never going to do it again.

Maybe I should get rid of Melissa; get a new cleaner; or even get some live-in help; someone to cook my meals for me as well. They could do the gardening as well so that I could get shot of that creepy old man who did it now.

But I was worried that Melissa might cause trouble if I sacked her. What if she went to the papers with her story? I worried about that, imagining each step of the scandal.

It made me want to do it again with her even more – just to switch off.

Was that crazy? Or just a good idea?

I looked at myself in the mirror.

Had I put weight on from the extra food I’d been eating? It didn’t look like I had; not discernibly. I was disappointed and then guilty again because of that, but I dipped my chin, putting my head back, trying to accentuate what fat I had at my neck. I smiled at myself, trying to make my cheeks look chubbier. I puffed my cheeks full of air.

Then hesitantly, I raised my hands, making little loops from the thumb and first finger of each. I wavered with them at neck level, then raised them to my eyes to simulate glasses.

I stood there, gazing at myself, my head pushed back, cheeks puffed out, fake glasses in place.

Then I stopped all of it and sneered at myself.

This had to stop now; it really did.

I reached for the pull chord and plunged the room into darkness, but I went on standing there for several more minutes before I left the room.