employ. Suzie insisted they trial the cleaners in the Barons Court flat and that everyone wear Clean Slate polo shirts to reinforce the message that they meant business.
Jobs increased, in size and quantity. Banished to the ‘office’, Stella kept to herself that she enjoyed cleaning more than anything.
One blustery rainy night, soon after Clean Slate’s second anniversary, Stella arrived to clean the premises of her first commercial client, an employment agency over a Spar supermarket on Shepherd’s Bush Green. Months before, the manager, a Mrs Makepeace – late twenties, snappily clad in a suit with shoulder pads – had haggled a knock-down price for the Silver Interior package. Suzie objected, but was mollified when Mrs Makepeace secured Clean Slate contracts with three companies. Stella did the employment-agency shifts and modelled herself on the older woman. She bought a suit for meetings and was nicer to people. Despite Suzie’s warning to maintain a line between staff and clients, over tea and biscuits after sessions Stella confided to Jackie – they had quickly moved to first-name terms – her plans for Clean Slate. She switched to Jackie’s trusted suppliers and absorbed tips on client handling.
That stormy evening there was no tea or biscuits while, her voice raised above the lashing rain and wind buffeting the windows, Jackie Makepeace told Stella the agency had gone under. Her employer had emptied the bank account and disappeared. Clean Slate’s invoice would not be paid and nor would Jackie, although she made little of this. Surrounded by the trappings of an efficient office, she admitted she had completed the filing after hearing the news, although everything would be incinerated, the equipment sold for a song and the lease given up. Jackie was relentlessly optimistic; it was the one time Stella saw her close to crying.
Stella made the tea and, running down to the mini-mart, bought two packets of Rich Tea biscuits, Jackie’s favourite.
By the time she left, Stella had appointed Jackie her office manager and decided to take over the lease of the premises overlooking Shepherd’s Bush Green. Her mum fretted that Clean Slate was too big for Stella’s bedroom, so would applaud her professional response to a crisis; she need not consult her.
Suzanne Darnell did not applaud any of it: she disliked Shepherd’s Bush and, without meeting her, disapproved of Jackie. Once a client always a client; besides, Mrs Makepeace must have had a hand in the collapse of the employment agency. Suzie had relished her role in Stella’s business; she was horrified by the abrupt redundancy, but could not say so.
Soon after this Stella rented a bedsit over the dry cleaner’s next door to the office and left the home she had shared with her mother since she was seven. Suzie showed no further interest in Clean Slate; or much else.
In 2011, on her accountant’s advice and responding to Jackie’s concern that she was living on the job, Stella bought the corner apartment of a gated development by the Thames in Brentford. Stella still held to the rule that clients and staff should not be friends; she forgot that it was Suzie’s rule.
When Stella reached the office the door was open. A man was balancing on his haunches fiddling with the lock.
‘What the hell do you think you’re doing? Stand back with your hands above your head. The police are on their way.’ Stella backed away from the door. She had frightened herself.
The man flung himself to the floor, his arms over his head, his hands over his ears. In the brief quiet Stella became aware of a mewing sound. It was the man.
‘What on earth is going on?’ Jackie appeared, holding a tray of tea things. Stella jumped. Jackie just kept her grasp of the tray.
‘I’ve caught a burglar.’ Even as she said the words Stella had a creeping suspicion this was nonsense.
‘Duggie has put in a new door. The lock broke. I couldn’t make my key turn. So I took the
Jobs increased, in size and quantity. Banished to the ‘office’, Stella kept to herself that she enjoyed cleaning more than anything.
One blustery rainy night, soon after Clean Slate’s second anniversary, Stella arrived to clean the premises of her first commercial client, an employment agency over a Spar supermarket on Shepherd’s Bush Green. Months before, the manager, a Mrs Makepeace – late twenties, snappily clad in a suit with shoulder pads – had haggled a knock-down price for the Silver Interior package. Suzie objected, but was mollified when Mrs Makepeace secured Clean Slate contracts with three companies. Stella did the employment-agency shifts and modelled herself on the older woman. She bought a suit for meetings and was nicer to people. Despite Suzie’s warning to maintain a line between staff and clients, over tea and biscuits after sessions Stella confided to Jackie – they had quickly moved to first-name terms – her plans for Clean Slate. She switched to Jackie’s trusted suppliers and absorbed tips on client handling.
That stormy evening there was no tea or biscuits while, her voice raised above the lashing rain and wind buffeting the windows, Jackie Makepeace told Stella the agency had gone under. Her employer had emptied the bank account and disappeared. Clean Slate’s invoice would not be paid and nor would Jackie, although she made little of this. Surrounded by the trappings of an efficient office, she admitted she had completed the filing after hearing the news, although everything would be incinerated, the equipment sold for a song and the lease given up. Jackie was relentlessly optimistic; it was the one time Stella saw her close to crying.
Stella made the tea and, running down to the mini-mart, bought two packets of Rich Tea biscuits, Jackie’s favourite.
By the time she left, Stella had appointed Jackie her office manager and decided to take over the lease of the premises overlooking Shepherd’s Bush Green. Her mum fretted that Clean Slate was too big for Stella’s bedroom, so would applaud her professional response to a crisis; she need not consult her.
Suzanne Darnell did not applaud any of it: she disliked Shepherd’s Bush and, without meeting her, disapproved of Jackie. Once a client always a client; besides, Mrs Makepeace must have had a hand in the collapse of the employment agency. Suzie had relished her role in Stella’s business; she was horrified by the abrupt redundancy, but could not say so.
Soon after this Stella rented a bedsit over the dry cleaner’s next door to the office and left the home she had shared with her mother since she was seven. Suzie showed no further interest in Clean Slate; or much else.
In 2011, on her accountant’s advice and responding to Jackie’s concern that she was living on the job, Stella bought the corner apartment of a gated development by the Thames in Brentford. Stella still held to the rule that clients and staff should not be friends; she forgot that it was Suzie’s rule.
When Stella reached the office the door was open. A man was balancing on his haunches fiddling with the lock.
‘What the hell do you think you’re doing? Stand back with your hands above your head. The police are on their way.’ Stella backed away from the door. She had frightened herself.
The man flung himself to the floor, his arms over his head, his hands over his ears. In the brief quiet Stella became aware of a mewing sound. It was the man.
‘What on earth is going on?’ Jackie appeared, holding a tray of tea things. Stella jumped. Jackie just kept her grasp of the tray.
‘I’ve caught a burglar.’ Even as she said the words Stella had a creeping suspicion this was nonsense.
‘Duggie has put in a new door. The lock broke. I couldn’t make my key turn. So I took the
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