‘Come in!’ the voice called again.
She gave Angel her very best pleading expression. ‘I’ll be five minutes.’
Giving Angel no chance to say anything more, Hayley put her hand to the doorknob and pushed her way into the room.
The smell of lavender took her breath from her lungs. She didn’t dare breathe for fear of coughing. A woman no more than her own age stood up and came around the desk. She was wearing a maroon-coloured uniform, pleats in all the right places. Her hair was the colour of polished walnut set into a bun and just visibleunder a tricorne hat. A whiter than white blouse was buttoned up high on her neck, then came flawless skin and glossy lips.
‘Hello, I’m Rebecca Rogers-Smythe,’ the woman greeted. ‘You must be Ms Walker.’ The woman held out her hand.
‘Hayley.’ She realised she had emphasised her British accent as she gave Rebecca’s hand a solid shake. Emma Watson would be so proud.
Rebecca let Hayley’s hand go and looked her up and down from her winter boots to her hair that was flecked with snow. She realised then she probably should have made more of an effort. She could have added one of Dean’s fancy door swags to her coat or some silver buttons. Too late now.
‘So, what experience have you had?’ Rebecca asked, pointing to a floral embroidered carver chair as she returned to her desk.
‘In cleaning?’ Hayley asked, sitting down and gripping the arms of the chair with sweaty palms.
‘Here at Majestic, we like to call it hygienic maintenance.’
‘Sorry.’ She swallowed. ‘I’ve worked in several office buildings and a local hostelry. My last job was in a dry-cleaning… establishment.’
‘And you could provide references?’
‘Yes.’
‘We never deal with spills on wool.’
‘No?’
‘If there is any sign of vomit or defecation, you do not touch anything; you call me.’
The tastes were in her mouth already but she managed to nod her head. It was actually hard to get a word in.
Rebecca let out a breath of what sounded like relief. ‘I don’t usually take people on without a thorough vetting procedure, but I had an employee leave two days ago and I cannot let my regular clients down.’
‘I—’
‘I’ll pay you cash. Ten dollars an hour.’
Hayley swallowed. Ten dollars an hour. A few hours for the time she was here. That would mean not dipping into her minimal dollar pot for entrance fees to all the places Angel wanted to visit. Anything more would be a bonus to tide her over when they got home.
‘Right,’ she found herself responding. She crossed her fingers.
Rebecca picked up a sheaf of papers and handed them to Hayley. ‘Familiarise yourself with everything written on here.’ She shook the papers as if to signify their importance. ‘The client I’m giving you today has a Diana.’
‘A Diana?’
‘Yes. We have levels of service at Majestic. The Queen Elizabeth is a deep clean, the full works, from blinds and tracks to baseboards, with everything in between. The Princess Diana is more of a personal service.’ Rebecca let out a sigh. ‘It’s a medium-level clean with the emphasis on the areas of the home that mean most to the family.’ Rebecca presented a hand forward, stroking the air. ‘It’s all about the little touches. The plumping and arranging of cushions, placement of ornaments and decorative features, bed-making, beautifying. With the Diana, the focus is the family, not the dust. We make their house a home again.’
Hayley now felt she needed a hygiene degree to take on this role. When did cleaning become so technical?
‘Finally, we have the Camilla,’ Rebecca said.
She was almost afraid to ask. She swallowed. ‘What’s that?’
‘A quick whip-round and the garbage taken out.’
Hayley forced a smile and wondered what a Prince Andrew or a Prince Harry might entail. She didn’t dare think about a Prince Philip.
