CLEANER: Chapter Eight - Part One

Facing the World

DAHLIA

As I walked back upstairs, the guilt and self-doubt were threatening to crush my skull like a pumpkin beneath a sledgehammer, but I closed my eyes and shook my head. I was doing it.

I was going to go out dressed as Melissa.

It couldn’t kill me or hurt me and it would be ten times as intense as anything I’d done so far.

I didn’t know anyone in Barton. Even if I ran into someone, they wouldn’t recognise me with this hair and these glasses. If glasses worked for Clark Kent they could work for me.

I giggled.

Melissa was in the bedroom, already back in her own clothes, just straightening her dress. The wig was discarded. “Can you help me with these contacts?” she asked. “My eyes are getting sore in them.”

“Sure.”

We went back into the bathroom and I went over what the optician had told me with her, guiding her to do it herself. We got them out in no time and she put hr glasses back on.

I watched her in the mirror as she gave her hair a quick brush, seeing myself reflected beside her, disappointed by how different she looked, despite my disguise. I didn’t really look like her at all; just not like myself.

I turned my back on the mirror, scraping my curled lower lip against the edge of my teeth.

“Aren’t you getting changed?” she asked.

“Yes. Of course,” I replied. “In a minute. I’ll see you off first.”

“Monday,” she said. “All day, right?”

“Yes. All day.”

“Great,” said Melissa. “It’s going to be so good not having to do the school after today. Did you make the calls to quit the other posts?”

“Yes. Well, sort of. I did Sangeeta and the other woman. Not the school.”

“That’s fine. I’ll do the school myself. It will give me a much greater sense of satisfaction anyway to do it myself.”

I handed her back her phone. “It was nice trying that out.”

“Yes. For me too.”

We looked at one another for a minute.

“I’d better get going,” said Melissa.

“Okay. Enjoy your day off,” I said.

“Are you kidding? I get more relaxation here.” She laughed and went into the bedroom. I followed her through but didn’t take off my cleaner uniform or the wig or the glasses.

Melissa gathered up her things and said goodbye. I watched her leave from the top of the stairs then went into the guest bedroom at the front; watched her go down the drive and turn left onto the lane.

My heart rate was up. My eyelids fluttered. For the first time, I was staying as Melissa, even after she was gone.

And this was just the start.

I went back through to the bedroom excitedly and pulled up the other shopping bag I’d left on the floor under the window; took out the off-white coat I’d bought in Barton the day before.

It plainly wasn’t an expensive or fashionable garment, just a practical device for keeping off the rain, but it was just what I needed. I wanted to keep my cleaner uniform on but I couldn’t really walk the streets of Barton in just that. If I wore this loosely done up over the top then the uniform would be visible enough to show off “my trade” but discreet enough to show that I wasn’t working at that moment.

I put it on and did up the belt, arranging the opening to reveal as much of my uniform as I could, then I stood in front of the mirror, admiring how I looked, not quite believing that I was going to really let myself be seen by others in this get-up.