Pale daylight passing by the opened curtains woke up the sleeping woman. Leaving the cosiness of the bed she stretched herself and rubbed her eyes. She tried the taps again. Now there was warm water. Presumably her employer was up already. She washed and dressed quickly, choosing the cleanest and most presentable of her clothes from the wardrobe, then stood at the window, looking out. The sun had risen, low in the sky still, but the whole area was too unfamiliar and she couldn’t judge how late it might be.
Opening the door, her nostrils were assailed by the faint but definite smell of freshly made coffee. She made her way downstairs to the kitchen. David was sitting at the table, remains of breakfast in front of him. Directly opposite was an extra place setting.
’Good morning,’ he said. ’I trust you were comfortable.’
’Good morning. Yes, very comfortable thank you. I’m sorry, I didn’t know what time it was.’
’You don’t have a watch?’ he asked.
’No, not now. I had to sell it when I needed money.’
’Well, there are more clocks in this house than building bricks, which is an easy trick as it’s built mainly of stone. I’m sure I can find something for your room. Not that you need to get up any earlier than you wish anyway.’
’That’s nice to hear,’ said Alison. ’But if I’m going to work for my living, I can hardly stay in bed all day. What time do you normally have breakfast? That’s clearly the first job of the morning.’
’I eat when I’m hungry. Usually after a couple of hours of work in the early morning in my study. I find that’s the best time for me to organise my writing. But we’ll worry about that one later. For the moment, until we work out your duties more precisely, you can have your breakfast made by me. And the Lord have mercy on your soul, although I’ve never killed anyone with food poisoning yet, even if I say it myself. There’s not a lot to go wrong with cereal and toast, after all. There’s porage on the stove if you prefer. That’s something I have most mornings. Then there’s coffee, tea, fruit juice, milk, eggs done almost any way you want. No bacon, I’m afraid. I don’t care for it myself, but you’ll be doing the shopping yourself later on, so get whatever you want in the way of food.’
’Porage will be fine,’ said Alison, lifting the lid of the pot and helping herself. It was warm in the kitchen, the heat emanating from the stove, she found to her surprise. She lifted the lid of another, larger pot, and found near boiling water in it.
’At the risk of spoiling your breakfast, that’s washing up water,’ said David cheerfully. ’There is a dishwasher. Use that whenever you please. I find it’s more bother than it’s worth most of the time though. There’s nearly always hot water on the stove, enough for washing up the few things I normally use. It’s an idea I picked up some years ago, and found it very useful.’
Breakfast over and washing up done, by Alison, David showed her around the house. To her relief the kitchen, though large, was well planned and efficient. There would be no difficulty in finding her way around the cupboards, that was clear. Off the kitchen was a small room almost completely given over to shelves which were stacked full of a variety of foodstuffs in tins and packets. In the only available space was an enormous chest freezer, filled to the brim.
’Shopping is something I don’t care for at all,’ David commented. ’When I need to go further than the local shop I buy a good stock at one time, enough to last a couple of months at least. Besides, we can get snowed in during the winter, and it’s wise to have plenty of food in the house. The snow ploughs don’t get along the lane, and I have to wait for a friendly farmer if the thaw doesn’t come first. The local shop is pretty good, but even that’s over a mile away. I normally buy fresh stuff from there, milk and so on. I’ll take you there later on today and show you around.’
A second door from the kitchen led to a bathroom, containing the most enormous bath Alison had ever seen outside of a museum. Everything in the house seemed to be on the same large scale.
’This is one of the more primitive aspects of the house,’ explained David. ’I doubt if you can get baths in this size any more. It takes an amazing amount of water and is grossly extravagant, but once in a while it’s lovely to soak away the cares of the day. Naturally you are welcome to use it, any time you please, only it needs some notice on account of heating up sufficient water.’
Two other rooms led off from the living room, and like the living room, were also filled with books, so many that the rooms looked cramped. In the centre of one room stood a huge Jacobean oak table, on which stood an oddly coloured computer with feminine looking curves, not at all the conventional straight lined light grey Alison was accustomed to seeing. A similar table stood in the centre of the other room. Papers and notebooks covered the top. On the walls were several pictures, some prints, but mainly oil paintings and pencil sketches of technical things she scarcely recognised. One, however, was a painting of the house with the lowering hills in the background, strangely calm and peaceful. She could see from the signature that they were nearly all David’s own work. In answer to a question, he explained that he usually did preliminary drawings to illustrate his books, and that they were finished by a professional artist before the printing stage.
’This is my working area. Once in a while I’ll allow you in to clean the place, but that won’t be very often, as I need to know where everything is.’
Alison nodded, understanding. ’I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many books in a private house before,’ she said in wonderment. ’How many do you have?’
’I’m not sure,’ David replied. ’Something over ten thousand I think. I like to pretend that I need them as I like to pretend I write for a living, but the truth is, I just enjoy buying books. One day I must get around to listing and classifying them properly. I did make a start once, but even with the computer it’s a long winded task. I never seem to have enough time spare from writing to be able to tackle it. Actually, if I’m to be honest, I find the thought of so much work appalling. I sometimes wish I could give it up, but the boss won’t allow it.’
That’s a job I can do, thought Alison, but said nothing, reserving the comment for a more suitable occasion.
Upstairs were four bedrooms, and a shower which was placed in what had presumably been originally a cupboard, itself almost large enough to be used as a single bedroom. Upstairs again to the loft.
’Nothing much here,’ explained David. ’Mainly junk that seems too good to throw out, but not good enough to keep on public view. Just like most other people’s lofts I suppose. You’re welcome to browse any time.’
Downstairs again to the living room, where David pulled out two small tables, and brought mid morning coffee to them.
’This is probably the heart of the house,’ he said. ’At least I seem to spend a lot of time in here when not working, especially in the winter when there’s little pleasure in being outside. I’ve lived in much colder places, but the weather here in December and January is the bleakest I’ve ever experienced.’
Alison looked around, more carefully than she had done the night previously. Things were in order, but there was as much dust here as everywhere else. Clearly there was a lot of work to be done, but it didn’t look excessive, and there seemed to be a more than adequate supply of cleaning materials and machinery for the job.
’It’s a beautiful house, David,’ she said. ’I never imagined that people actually lived in houses like this, at least not outside of the glossy magazines.’
He grinned at her. ’Most people don’t. Most people think they can’t afford it. That’s why I got this. It’s so far out of the way I got it relatively cheap. Considerably less than I would have had to pay for something a third of the size in a city centre. Nor is it expensive to run, surprisingly. I have an understanding with the forestry workers nearby, and buy scrap wood for burning. It helps to keep the house warm and cooks the food at the same time. Not that I couldn’t afford something more conventional, but I happen to like the style. I learned about it some years ago, and it suits me very well.’
’Do you play the piano?’ Alison asked.
’Reasonably well, yes. I’m no expert though. And you?’
’No, not at all. I’ve often wanted to learn.’ She tried to imagine a piano in her mother’s house, but the picture failed to come. They played rather different things there, none of a musical nature.
’Actually, my sister is the real pianist in the family. She did a spell on the concert circuit at one time before turning to teaching. In fact, she taught Lucy, her daughter, to play. Not that Lucy took it up professionally, but she has given the odd recital.’
Alison indicated the photographs beside the grandfather clock.
’Are they your sister and niece?’
David’s face softened considerably. ’Yes. Two fine women. And two fine musicians. They live in America now, and are obviously very happy there. Lucy followed her mother’s example and married a Colonial, so I don’t see too much of them, more’s the pity. There are other photographs of them somewhere in the house, but I keep those there as a reminder of how they looked when they were still young and pretty.’
’And the missing pictures?’ asked Alison, indicating the patches on the wall.
’Old photographs.’ He hesitated. ’My wife, as it happens. And daughter.’
’Your wife? I’m sorry, I didn’t realise you were married. I understood you to say that you were a bachelor.’
David grimaced. ’I’m not married. Not any more. They died some time ago in a traffic accident. But enough of that for now. If you’ll excuse me, I have to pay someone a visit in the village. A duty call, you understand. I promised to get a book for someone I know while I was away. I’ll be back in a couple of hours or so.’
After David left, Alison went to the kitchen and investigated the cleaning cupboard. Dragging out a bucket and mop, vacuum cleaner and a selection of cloths and cleaning liquids, she began to give the house the thorough cleaning it needed. She remembered the toast she had given to herself the previous Christmas, when she thought that things could only get better. Well, they hadn’t. They had got considerably worse instead. But now? My problems, she pondered, show signs of coming to an end at last, and maybe things are getting better after all. Even if not, I can always find some release in work. It’s very different to the library, but at least it’s an improvement over the hard and cold pavement.
After a few minutes she switched off the vacuum cleaner and opened the kitchen cupboard doors, studying the contents within thoughtfully. She inspected the freezer briefly before taking out a selection of meats and vegetables. There seemed to be a good stock of almost everything, although fresh food was lacking as a result of David’s time in the south, and clearly a visit to the village shop was indicated. Being unsure of the solid fuel stove, she switched on the electric oven and started preparing a meal. While this was cooking, she continued with the job of cleaning, first putting all her spare clothes into the washing machine.
Looking out of the window at intervals, Alison eventually caught sight of David making his way along the track that led to the house. She packed away the cleaning materials and rapidly set the table. Plates, glasses, cutlery, salt and pepper, bread. There seemed to be no serviettes, but perhaps they were kept elsewhere. She looked up with a friendly smile as he entered.
’Something smells good,’ he said, with an appreciative note to his voice.
’I’ve made a casserole. It’s just about done. I hope you are ready to eat.’
’I am. Thank you.’ He looked around in wonderment. ’You’ve been cleaning the place too. That’s very good of you.’
’Well, that’s what you brought me here for. Actually, it’s a very easy house to clean, and there’s mainly only dust anyway. Downstairs is almost finished, and I’ll do upstairs after eating.’
’I can help you with that.’
’You’ll do no such thing, I hope. It’s no big problem to do on my own, and I’m sure you have other things you would much rather do. Besides, if I’m to be your housekeeper, I’d better keep house, and not leave it for anyone else to do.’
Alison’s voice was friendly, but the tone was firm. David chuckled and sat down to eat.
’I say,’ he said, ’this is excellent. You are a very good cook.’
’Thank you. I’m glad you like it, though I’m not so sure that I’m so good. I’ve had to make meals for myself so I know the basics, and I don’t think I’ve forgotten how to read. There seem to be plenty of cookbooks in the kitchen. You’ll have to let me know your preferred dishes, and I’ll see what I can come up with.’
That night Alison went to bed with an aching body and a light heart. The aches came from unaccustomed labour. As David had said, the house was large, and it may have been sensible to split the job of cleaning over two or three days. Still, it was done and would need little extra work to keep it in good order. She felt truly happy for the first time in more years than she could remember. Only time would tell, but already she felt as though she lived in a home instead of merely a house.
David had spent the rest of the day in the garden, pottering about and tidying away after the ravages of winter, clearing the ground ready for the spring sowing, as he cleared and organised his mind for his real work. He set light to a pile of rubbish, standing so close to it she felt certain he would be burned. She was to learn that a bonfire in the garden was an almost continuous feature, a feature that seemed to have a fascination for him. She looked at him from time to time, watching him staring into the flames with eyes that seemed to look everywhere, yet nowhere and with a strange expression on his face she found oddly disturbing.
Alison called him in at intervals, reminding him that there were such things as meals and coffee breaks. It was a form of mild bullying which appeared to amuse him as much as not being allowed to help her with the housework. It was a form of mild bullying which she was to learn he didn’t tolerate when he was writing. Then, his time was sacrosanct, and he would not be disturbed until he was ready. She wondered what he planned to grow in the garden. There would be space for flowers, she hoped. She liked flowers, and had sometimes bought some for herself, keeping them in her room, or more often at work, as they were not appreciated by the rest of her family, who considered them to be a waste of good drinking money.
She slid between the sheets and lay awake for a few minutes, considering her employer. He seemed to be a remarkable man. Courteous and kind, thoughtful to a degree she had hardly dreamed of, he had given her money, explaining that it was an advance on her salary. Nothing more than that, but it was clear he had noticed the paucity of her wardrobe, not to mention the quality of it, and had realised she was in need of new clothes. He could hardly miss it, as most of her clothing was hanging up to dry. Just the same, his action gave her a warm glow, especially when she counted the money and found an amount which made her eyes open wide. She had spent a good deal of it already, David having driven her to a nearby town where she could buy the clothing she found necessary to have, although with her customary caution, she reserved over half for later. One incident had given her cause for thought.
’This is a lovely big car, David,’ she had commented, as he prepared to drive her to the shopping centre. ’It’s a Bentley, isn’t it?’
’This? Oh, it’s just an old thing I picked up once.’
’Old? It looks brand new,’ she countered.
’As it happens, I bought it nearly thirty years ago. Quality lasts, you see. Oh, I don’t pretend it’s anything more than a luxury, but just the same, it’s probably cost me a sight less than if I had bought something cheaper every couple of years or so. Not that I bought it for that reason. It was a sort of present to myself when I first became successful.’
’Really? I always thought that most authors struggled to make a living.’
’They probably do. Certainly I don’t make enough out of writing to pay for this class of car, but then I haven’t always been a writer. I used to work with computers, developing office software and games amongst other things, having a business of my own. That was some time ago though. For what seemed to be good reasons at the time, I sold out and went into semi retirement.’
His tone was sombre, his expression serious and far away. Something was disturbing him, and Alison didn’t press for more information.
Sleep that night came easily, with passing light dreams of a more pleasant nature than the night before. She awoke, feeling a little stiff, but otherwise refreshed and ready to face the day. She looked at the clock David had given her, one of the many in the house. The hands pointed to ten past seven. Time to get up and start the day’s work.