I feel a prickle of unease. ‘What did happen to her?’
She hesitates, as if wondering whether she should be telling me this. She lowers her voice, her eyes flicking to the door. ‘She was killed. In a hit-and-run last August. Oh, it was just dreadful. It was her night off and she was walking home in the dark, a little drunk I imagine – Matilde did like to party. She’d been to a bar in Park Street. Happened on the road out the front. It was raining heavily that night, I remember. She must have just stepped out without seeing the car.’
I’m too ashamed to admit to Aggie that I never read the news. And that last August I was rushed off my feet looking after my mum in between my job at the care home. ‘Oh, Aggie, that’s awful. I am sorry.’
Her eyes soften. ‘I was fond of Matilde. A lovely, bonny girl. Good fun. A breath of fresh air around the place.’
‘Did they ever catch the driver?’
She shakes her head, her chins wobbling. ‘Unfortunately not.’
I’m just about to ask more when I hear Elspeth at the door. ‘What on earth is keeping you so long? I could have made my own tea in the time it’s taken you.’ She turns on her heel and, carefully so I don’t drop the tray, I follow her up the stairs.
At this rate I won’t even last the morning. I’ll be the one Aggie will be gossiping about to my replacement. The girl who didn’t make it past her first day.
I’ve been watching you. I’m like a cat, stealthy and light on my feet. It’s a fun game and you’re easy to spot with your long hair that shimmers down your back. It stands out from the bland January skies. Sometimes you wear a big fluffy Russian hat and then you’re even easier to spot. You have your own style. You don’t run with the crowd. You like to think you’re different.
I watch you come and go from the big house like you own it, and I bet you wish you did. I bet you like to imagine that you’re the mistress of that house, that you’re rich, don’t you? Sometimes you have that old bag on your arm and sometimes you’re alone. Well, you’re never actually alone. Because I’m always with you. You just don’t know it. And when you least expect it, I’ll pounce.
4
Una
Thankfully, I last the morning. I even make it to Wednesday – my day off.
I know it’s only a few days, but I can’t lie. There are times when I’m bored out of my skull in this job. I was so busy at the care home – there was always some duty to perform and because there were so many residents I had variety to my routine. Then, when my shift ended, I’d rush home to visit Mum. But here, with Elspeth, a large amount of my time is spent sitting next to her on the sofa while she reads – although I never actually see her turn a page – and nods off. Yesterday I made the mistake of getting up and exploring the house while she was napping, hoping to bump into Aggie or Lewis – anyone I could have a chat with – but when Elspeth woke up and found I wasn’t there she began calling for me, panic in her voice, as if I’d left her to die or something. I had to pretend I’d just gone to the loo.
The only time I have a small reprieve is when she asks me to go down to the kitchen and fetch her some tea. Then I can have a chat with Aggie, but not for too long or she comes to find me. I’ve not had a chance to ask about Jemima or Matilde again.
Luckily Elspeth is in bed by nine thirty so I can escape to my room, watch TV, while munching junk food, and take the smile off my face, as Mum would say. I never knew how emotionally draining it would be living and working in the same place. It’s like I’m never off duty.
Elspeth is an early riser so she expects me to get her up at six thirty. She likes to shower every morning, with my help. She doesn’t mind standing naked in front of me, not like some of the residents at the care home, who tried to hide themselves behind a towel. No, Elspeth is happy to walk around in the buff. I imagined she was like that as a younger woman, never worrying about her nakedness. I didn’t grow up in a household like that. My mum and I were much more prudish, even though it was just the two of us. And I’m expected to be by Elspeth’s side at all times. It’s only when she’s in bed that I can truly relax. I imagine this is what it must have been like over a hundred years ago being a lady’s maid.
This morning, because it’s my day off, I have a lie-in until nine o’clock. But even though the sleigh bed is large and comfortable, I can’t relax as I stare up at the beads of light dancing on the sloping ceiling, from the weak sun filtering through the cream curtains. I can hear traffic, the shriek of a child, a faraway police siren. What am I supposed to do all day? I can’t hang around in my room watching TV, and if I go downstairs I’ll feel like I’m working. I half expect Elspeth to be calling for me now, in her pinched, clipped tone.