while she briefed her on what they knew so far on the new client.
“I don’t know her Christian name,” said Floss, “but I remember she donated to charity the proceeds of opening her garden one year.”
As they walked up the short drive to the house, Lois looked around and said it was certainly a lovely garden. “She must be loaded to hire a gardener to do all of this. Looks like it’s been trimmed with manicure scissors!”
“What’s her name, Mrs. M? I’d better know it, if I’m going to work here.”
“Um, hang on. I’m showing my age, Floss, when I can’t remember names! No, I’ve got it. Mrs. Diana Prentise. I knew I’d heard it somewhere before! She’s lived here some while now, but originates from Tresham. Very pleasant on the phone, the second time she rang. Ah, I think someone’s coming.”
They were given coffee, and invited to sit in a long, low-ceilinged room, where heavy black beams supported the ceiling like the backbones of a flatfish.
Lois opened the conversation, and then handed it over to Floss. Mrs. Prentise offered to show them over the house, and it was when they were ushered into a pink, overfrilled bedroom that Lois remembered where she had heard the name previously. Gloria Prentise, of course.
“Do you have a daughter?” she said. “This is such a lovely girl’s room.”
“It was my daughter’s, a long time ago now. But she occasionally spends the odd night or two here and likes me to keep the room as it was.”
Lois looked at her more closely. Her hair was a uniform grey, with no signs of having once been red. She was neat and expensively dressed, guessed Lois. That kind of muted elegance costs money. Perhaps she had been on the game until retirement, with her daughter following in her footsteps?
Her thoughts were interrupted by a sudden burst of laughter from Floss. She and Mrs. Prentise had gone on ahead, so Lois caught up and asked what had been so funny.
“That black furry monkey!” said Floss, pointing out of the window at a rose-covered brick wall in the garden. “It’s a toy, look, see how it is holding on to a stem with its hands and dangling its feet below.” She laughed again, and Mrs. Prentise smiled. “My daughter calls him Black Jack! Don’t ask me why. He stays out there, come rain or come shine, without deteriorating. Now, you go downstairs first, Floss. I am so old now that I often trip up.”
Lois followed behind the other two, and wondered at the warped sense of humour that could hang like a biblical criminal on a rosy crucifix, an innocent toy. Still, it had amused Floss, so she supposed it wasn’t all bad.
Lois answered a few more questions about cleaning schedules, and added details of New Brooms prices. Mrs. Prentise waved that aside, saying she was glad to be able to support her old age in the manner to which she had been accustomed.
Lucky you! Lois was beginning to dislike this smug old woman, and then unbidden a thought came into her head. Wouldn’t she be a likely candidate for one of Gran and Joan’s jewellery parties? Then she remembered she thoroughly disapproved of those, and somewhat abruptly ushered Floss out of the front door, saying that, if convenient, New Brooms would start in a week’s time.
“You didn’t like her, Mrs. M, did you?” said Floss, as they drove away.
“I don’t have to like the clients, and nor do you, Flossie dear,” said Lois. “We just go in and do a job as well as possible, and that’s it. I’ll say what I always say, as you know; be on your guard and report back to me anything untoward that is said or heard by you whilst you are working there.”
Floss frowned. “I don’t think I’ve heard you say it quite so seriously before. Do you know something about Mrs. Prentise that perhaps I should know, too?”
“We have a week before you start. Then you’ll either be fine there, or withdrawn.”
Then Lois changed the subject, and asked Floss how her parents were, and had she decided
“I don’t know her Christian name,” said Floss, “but I remember she donated to charity the proceeds of opening her garden one year.”
As they walked up the short drive to the house, Lois looked around and said it was certainly a lovely garden. “She must be loaded to hire a gardener to do all of this. Looks like it’s been trimmed with manicure scissors!”
“What’s her name, Mrs. M? I’d better know it, if I’m going to work here.”
“Um, hang on. I’m showing my age, Floss, when I can’t remember names! No, I’ve got it. Mrs. Diana Prentise. I knew I’d heard it somewhere before! She’s lived here some while now, but originates from Tresham. Very pleasant on the phone, the second time she rang. Ah, I think someone’s coming.”
They were given coffee, and invited to sit in a long, low-ceilinged room, where heavy black beams supported the ceiling like the backbones of a flatfish.
Lois opened the conversation, and then handed it over to Floss. Mrs. Prentise offered to show them over the house, and it was when they were ushered into a pink, overfrilled bedroom that Lois remembered where she had heard the name previously. Gloria Prentise, of course.
“Do you have a daughter?” she said. “This is such a lovely girl’s room.”
“It was my daughter’s, a long time ago now. But she occasionally spends the odd night or two here and likes me to keep the room as it was.”
Lois looked at her more closely. Her hair was a uniform grey, with no signs of having once been red. She was neat and expensively dressed, guessed Lois. That kind of muted elegance costs money. Perhaps she had been on the game until retirement, with her daughter following in her footsteps?
Her thoughts were interrupted by a sudden burst of laughter from Floss. She and Mrs. Prentise had gone on ahead, so Lois caught up and asked what had been so funny.
“That black furry monkey!” said Floss, pointing out of the window at a rose-covered brick wall in the garden. “It’s a toy, look, see how it is holding on to a stem with its hands and dangling its feet below.” She laughed again, and Mrs. Prentise smiled. “My daughter calls him Black Jack! Don’t ask me why. He stays out there, come rain or come shine, without deteriorating. Now, you go downstairs first, Floss. I am so old now that I often trip up.”
Lois followed behind the other two, and wondered at the warped sense of humour that could hang like a biblical criminal on a rosy crucifix, an innocent toy. Still, it had amused Floss, so she supposed it wasn’t all bad.
Lois answered a few more questions about cleaning schedules, and added details of New Brooms prices. Mrs. Prentise waved that aside, saying she was glad to be able to support her old age in the manner to which she had been accustomed.
Lucky you! Lois was beginning to dislike this smug old woman, and then unbidden a thought came into her head. Wouldn’t she be a likely candidate for one of Gran and Joan’s jewellery parties? Then she remembered she thoroughly disapproved of those, and somewhat abruptly ushered Floss out of the front door, saying that, if convenient, New Brooms would start in a week’s time.
“You didn’t like her, Mrs. M, did you?” said Floss, as they drove away.
“I don’t have to like the clients, and nor do you, Flossie dear,” said Lois. “We just go in and do a job as well as possible, and that’s it. I’ll say what I always say, as you know; be on your guard and report back to me anything untoward that is said or heard by you whilst you are working there.”
Floss frowned. “I don’t think I’ve heard you say it quite so seriously before. Do you know something about Mrs. Prentise that perhaps I should know, too?”
“We have a week before you start. Then you’ll either be fine there, or withdrawn.”
Then Lois changed the subject, and asked Floss how her parents were, and had she decided
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