Фрида Макфаден – The Housemaide / Горничная. Книга для чтения на английском языке (страница 5)
“I hope it’s okay,” Nina says. “I figure you’d rather have the privacy of being up here, as well as your own bathroom.”
Maybe she feels guilty about the fact that their ginormous guestroom is lying empty while I am living in a room slightly larger than a broom closet. But that’s fine. Anything larger than the backseat of my car is like a palace. I can’t wait to sleep here tonight. I’m obscenely grateful.
“It’s perfect,” I say honestly.
In addition to the bed, dresser, and bookcase, I notice one other thing in the room that I didn’t see the first time around. A little mini-fridge, about a foot tall. It’s plugged into the wall and humming rhythmically. I crouch down and tug it open.
The mini-fridge has two small shelves. And on the top shelf, there are three tiny bottles of water.
“Good hydration is very important,” Nina says earnestly.
“Yes…”
When she sees the perplexed expression on my face, she smiles. “Obviously, it’s your fridge and you can put whatever you want in it. I thought I would give you a head start[17].”
“Thank you.” It’s not that strange. Some people leave mints on a pillow. Nina leaves three tiny bottles of water.
“Anyway…” Nina wipes her hands on her thighs, even though her hands are spotless. “I’ll let you get unpacked and then get started cleaning the house. I’ll be preparing for my PTA meeting tomorrow.”
“PTA?”
“Parent Teacher Association.” She beams at me. “I’m the vice president.”
“That’s wonderful,” I say, because it’s what she wants to hear. Nina is very easy to please. “I’ll just unpack everything quickly and get right to work.”
“Thank you so much.” Her fingers briefly touch my bare arm – hers are warm and dry. “You’re a lifesaver, Millie. I’m so glad you’re here.”
I rest my hand on the doorknob as Nina starts to leave my room. And that’s when I notice it. What’s been bothering me about this room from the moment I first walked in here. A sick feeling washes over me.
“Nina?”
“Hmm?”
“Why…” I clear my throat. “Why is the lock to this bedroom on the
Nina peers down at the doorknob, as if noticing it for the first time. “Oh! I’m so sorry about that. We used to use this room as a closet, so obviously we wanted it to lock from the outside. But then I converted it to a bedroom for the hired help, and I guess we never switched the lock.”
If somebody wanted, they could easily lock me in here. And there’s only that one window, looking out at the back of the house. This room could be a death trap.
But then again, why would anyone want to lock me in here?
“Could I have the key to the room?” I ask.
She shrugs. “I’m not even sure where it is.”
“I’d like a copy.”
Her light blue eyes narrow at me. “Why? What do you expect to be keeping in your room that you don’t want us to know about?”
My mouth falls open. “I…. Nothing, but…”
Nina throws her head back and laughs. “I’m just kidding. It’s your room, Millie! If you want a key, I’ll get you one. I promise.”
Sometimes it feels like Nina has a split personality. She flips from hot to cold so rapidly. She claims she was joking, but I’m not so sure. It doesn’t matter, though. I have no other prospects and this job is a blessing. I’m going to make it work. No matter what. I’m going to make Nina Winchester love me.
After Nina leaves my room, I close the door behind her. I’d like to lock it, but I can’t. Obviously.
As I shut the door, I notice marks in the wood. Long thin lines running down the length of the door at about the level of my shoulder. I run my fingers over the indentations. They almost seem like…
Scratches. Like somebody was scraping at the door.
Trying to get out.
No, that’s ridiculous. I’m being paranoid. Sometimes old wood gets scratched up. It doesn’t mean anything ominous.
The room suddenly feels unbearably hot and stuffy. There’s a small furnace in the corner of the room, which I’m sure keeps it comfortable in the winter, but there’s nothing to cool it down in the warmer months. I’ll have to buy a fan to prop up in front of the window. Even though it’s way larger than my car, it’s still a very small space – I’m not surprised they used it as a storage closet. I look around, opening the drawers to check their size. There’s a little closet within the room, with just barely enough space to hang up my few dresses. The closet is empty except for a couple of hangers and a small blue bucket in the corner.
I attempt to wrench open the small window to get a bit of air. But it doesn’t budge. I squint my eyes to investigate more closely. I run my finger along the frame of the window. It looks like it’s been painted into place.
Even though I have a window, it doesn’t open.
I could ask Nina about it, but I don’t want it to seem like I’m complaining when I just started working here today. Maybe next week I could mention it. I don’t think it’s too much to hope for, to have one working window.
The landscaping guy, Enzo, is in the backyard now. He’s running the lawnmower back there. He pauses for a moment to wipe sweat from his forehead with his muscular forearm, and then he looks up. He sees my face through the small window, and he shakes his head, just like he did the first time I met him. I remember the word he hissed at me in Italian before I went into the house.
I dig my brand-new cell phone out of my pocket. The screen jumps alive at my touch, filling with little icons for text messaging, calls, and the weather. These sorts of phones were not ubiquitous back at the start of my incarceration, and I haven’t been able to afford one since I got out. But a couple of the girls had one at the halfway houses where I went when I first got out, so I sort of know how to use them. I know which icon brings up a browser.
I type into the browser window:
Chapter 4
I spend the next seven hours cleaning.
Nina could not have made this house dirtier if she tried. Every room of the house is filthy. The pizza box on the coffee table still has two slices of pizza in it, and there is something sticky and foul-smelling spilled in the bottom of the box. It has leaked through and the box is fused to the coffee table. It takes an hour of soaking and thirty minutes of intense scrubbing to get it all clean.
The kitchen is the worst of it. In addition to whatever is in the garbage bin itself, there are two garbage bags in the kitchen, spilling over with their contents. One of the two bags has a rip in the bottom, and when I lift it to take it outside, all the garbage goes everywhere. And it smells beyond terrible. I gag but don’t lose my lunch.
Dishes are piled high in the sink, and I wonder why Nina didn’t just put them in their state-of-the-art dishwasher[18], until I open the dishwasher and notice that it is also packed to the brim with filthy dishes. That woman does
By mid-afternoon, I’ve gotten the kitchen at least somewhat habitable again. I’m proud of myself. It’s the first hard day’s work I’ve done since I got fired from the bar (completely unfairly, but that’s my life these days), and I feel great about it. All I want is to keep working here. And maybe to have a window in my room that opens.
“Who are you?”
A little voice startles me in the middle of putting away the last load of dishes. I whirl around – Cecelia is standing behind me, her pale blue eyes boring into me, wearing a white frilly dress that makes her look like a little doll. And by doll, I’m of course talking about that creepy talking doll in
I didn’t even see her come inside. And Nina is nowhere to be seen. Where did she even come from? If this is the Part of the job where I find out Cecelia has actually been dead for ten years and is a ghost, I’m quitting.
Well, maybe not. But I might ask for a raise.
“Hi, Cecelia!” I say cheerfully. “I’m Millie. I’m going to be working around your house from now on – cleaning things up and watching you when your mom asks me to. I hope we can have fun together.”
Cecelia blinks her pale eyes at me. “I’m hungry.”
I have to remember that she is just a normal little girl who gets hungry and thirsty and cranky and uses the bathroom. “What would you like to eat?”
“I don’t know.”
“Well, what sorts of things do you like?”
“I don’t know.”
I grit my teeth. Cecelia has morphed from a creepy little girl to an annoying little girl. But we just met each other. I’m sure after a few weeks, we’ll be best friends. “Okay, I’ll just fix you a snack then.”
She nods and climbs up on one of the stools set up around the kitchen island. Her eyes still feel like they’re boring through me – like they can read all my secrets. I wish she would go in the living room and watch cartoons on her giant TV instead of just… watching me.