Chapter 10
After a drink and a sit down, I managed to get up and stumble along. Sylvie led me to a drab grey cottage that was nearby, and went up the dusty path. She knocked on the door as if she knew who was inside, and then stepped inside carefully. I didn’t like the look of the blacked-out windows, the gnarled trees, the fading red bricks, the huge scuttling black spiders crawling over the path I was standing on, the garden tiles layered in thick dust and mud and dirt, and the door coated in dust so it looked a permanent brown, not cheery red.
“Sapphire, come on in,” Sylvie called from somewhere inside the house.
I trod lightly on the dirt-encrusted paving stones, and entered the house, automatically closing the door behind me with a bang. Taking off my shoes, I saw a tall, thin man sitting with Sylvie. He was writing hurriedly on a piece of paper, working out an account.
“Hello,” I said shortly, noticing all the muddy footprints over the mud-brown wood. The table was much lighter, but was infested by ants, just like the sparse cupboards in the old kitchen. As I walked around and investigated curiously, I saw all had food in, but most was out of date, and ants still crept everywhere. The short stairs led to one room upstairs, which contained a single bookshelf, a sinking bed, a white rag rug (which looked as though it used to be pink but has faded) and not much else. Only three books lay on the bookshelf; all tattered paperbacks that no one would buy for ten pence. Even the dining room had dust gathering in balls upon the chipped chairs, under the table and in the rusty candleholders, with grime lining the table legs and wooden tiles. Spiders hung from each corner, cobwebs gathering to form a gloomy squared room.
“Well, Sapphire, do you like our new house?” Sylvie joked, rolling her eyes. “Sorry, but it’s the only option we have, darling.”
“OK.” I wavered, but stayed headstrong. “Fine. It only needs a little cleaning!” I laughed a little unsteadily.
“Well, that will be … £45, Miss Burne,” interrupted the man, holding out a final contract. Her eyes flitted through it cautiously, and then handed it to me. I stared unhappily, but signed my name and Sylvie signed too. Then she handed over a few £10 notes and a handful of change.
“Well, goodbye,” the old man said, stiff in his tight polished suit and trousers by the door. He waved a little awkwardly, pausing as he stepped out of the door.
“Oh, goodbye, Sir Inlay,” Sylvie simpered, bobbing a little curtsey while smiling from ear to ear and blushing.
After he had closed the door, I turned to her. “Why did you suck up to him? He was terribly rude and formal, not at all like you!”
“Oh Sapphire, I wasn’t sucking up to him! He’s rude and formal, that’s for sure. But if he doesn’t like us, we will be thrown out of the house, on to the street.” She gestured, pointing at the bleak rain running down the windowpanes outside.
“All right,” I replied grudgingly. “Let’s get cleaning!”
Together, we rummaged in the cleaning box that Mr Inlay had left, bringing out first a floor-cleaning spray and a rough carpet and wood sponge. We got to work, scrubbing the mud away gradually, and then throwing tap water over it so the floor sparkled.
“Wow!” Sylvie sat back on her heels and rubbed her sore hands, delighting in the new-looking floors. The carpet upstairs was harder to deal with, but eventually we found the right cleaning soaps and scrubbed even harder.
“You take the house; I’ll take the garden!” I cried, randomly flinging some sprays and step-cleaners into an old wicker basket, which I lugged outside and then dumped on the steps. I squirted a whole lot of path-cleaner on, because it said ‘To have superior garden steps, use a little less than half of this bottle, along with water’. I didn’t know about superior garden steps, but I certainly didn’t want grimy, grubby paving stones!
I found the actual plants harder. The dead grass was pale yellow, so I melted a grass-watering pellet with water, and poured the sloppy mixture over the grass, hoping for healthy green grass to spring up around me. Unfortunately, it didn’t, but the mixture flowed away pleasingly.
I then tackled the spiny thorns at the end of the round garden. Brandishing my pair of secateurs, I stepped towards them fearfully. Tearing at the spikes, they fell to the sodden soil, dead and defeated!
“Oh, Sapphire!” giggled Sylvie playfully as she saw my look of satisfaction when they fell to the ground. “This is how you do it!” She cut the plants right at the bottom, then reached out and pulled the rest. Because she had made the cut so far down, the thorns had thinned out and it was easy to pull from the ground. She tossed the stalk into the bucket, standing up at the same time. I looked at my stubs sideways, then looked enviously at her perfect stalks sitting in the bucket.
“OK, you can do that then. I’ll – er – tackle the loo,” I said a little crossly.
“It’s just over there,” Sylvie pointed out a wooden cabin, standing alone at the other end of the garden.
“What? I thought it was inside, like any other household, for God’s sake!” I stomped off angrily, muttering rude words to myself.
As I gingerly opened the door of the worn-down hut, the hinges creaked and I leapt back, afraid. But I managed to resume my dignity, and stepped forward bravely. The gloominess was off-putting, but I walked in and fumbled desperately for the light switch. Once I had found it, I reached for the bleach and peered at the loo anxiously. The smell was overpowering, but I overcame it and washed the grimy sink too, scrubbing hard at the silver taps to avoid the gathering mould and fungi growing freely on the door. A large tin bath lay in one corner, hardly visible because of its grey lining. Washing it too, I ran the taps to clean it completely, the soapy suds coming right out of the bath and onto the floor.
Oh well, I thought, rinsing away. The floor could do with a wash too! So I tipped out the remains of the bath, leaving it clean and shining, most of the collected grime scrubbed away. I reached for the long mop in the corner and sloshed the suds around, even beginning to wash the walls. I was having a great time, reaching up and scrubbing with the mop. The small room smelt of tangy orange, bleach and soap. Sniffing delightedly, I sang a melodious tune, swaying in time to my singing.
“Wow! It sure smells nice! Have you been having a bath, you naughty girl?” Sylvie accused me unjustly.
“No! I cleaned the bath out because it was covered in dirt and stank, but the floors – and walls – really need a good washing, so I used the same water and soap instead of wasting it!” I answered, nodding triumphantly at her, pleased she believed my short speech.
“All right, all right, you funny girl, “ Sylvie smiled. “Ten more minutes, Sapphire, and then you can stop, sweetheart.”
“Yes, Sylvie,” I lisped, pretending she was my mum. “All right, mummy!”
She shut the door and I continued with my humming, still cleaning vigorously. Once I had washed everything apart from the ceiling, hung a fresh blue towel up on the silver rack, and put my lemon and lime bubble bath on the windowsill along with Sylvie’s lavender and rose shower gel, I raced inside to the house.
“Hello, darling,” Sylvie welcomed me as I ran in. “You’ve done great. Sure deserve a treat supper …” she trailed off, grinning, and I beamed at her in delight.
“Great! Tea out!” I cried, happy, flinging my arms around her neck like a baby. “Thanks,” I added, calming down a little.
We set off, walking down the street hand in hand. My stomach lurched when I thought of Chloe saying all those rude things about Sylvie and me, but I cast her out of my mind as I ate fish and chips with green peas. The delicious food calmed me down and I relaxed, sipping a coke float topped with vanilla ice cream, followed with pudding; a warm toffee fudge brownie and white chocolate sauce dripping over it like cream over strawberries.
That night I couldn’t sleep (I had bagged the single bedroom – Sylvie was sleeping on the living-room floor, with just a threadbare rug to keep her warm). I just lay there, tossing and turning, worrying all the while, lost in a bleak world of grey. My mind
was racing yet I felt empty and cold, shivering even when I pulled the frayed covers right over my head. But I couldn’t get rid of that sick feeling that I had in the pit of my stomach, no matter how hard I tried. At about three o’clock in the morning, I suddenly sat up and was violently sick. Sylvie came running through, treating me like a baby, cleaning me up and helping me get changed, then hugging me close like she hoped we could stay like that forever. But eventually, when she was yawning and my fever had gone down, she left me and I felt even worse. That empty feeling became so big it took over; my head, throat, neck, chest, stomach, arms and legs started to ache terribly, even though I was resting in bed, reading a little and sipping fresh water regularly.
I woke to the sound of Sylvie singing in her high, sweet voice. It was such a lovely sound I lay in bed for ten minutes, listening contentedly. My stomach was still empty, and I certainly did not wish for any breakfast, but I could lie still quite happily now.
“Hello, my Sapphy,” Sylvie whispered as she padded into my room in her soft silk slippers. “Oh darling, how are you feeling?”
“Better,” I mumbled shortly, giving her a ghost of my own normal smile.
She smiled half-heartedly back at me, her forehead creased in worry lines. She bent over my head, kissed me and left the room, shutting the door.
I tried to fall asleep again, but my eyes had opened and weren’t going to shut until tonight. Sighing heavily, I sat up and wondered what I should do. What could I do? How could I bring in good money? Where could I go? Sighing again, I remembered my two jobs that I had stopped. Oops. Now they might not take me back. But if I explained my present situation, maybe they would take pity on me and let me stay, providing I never stopped for short periods again? I would work doubly hard …
I had to get them to take me back! Feeling suddenly determined, I got up and pulled on some leggings and a dark top. I washed my face and brushed my teeth, combing my hair and clipping my fringe back, slipping on gold sandals too.
“Oh, Sapphire, no! No work today, sweetie!” Sylvie saw me coming down the stairs, dressed. She tried to usher me upstairs, but I stood my ground firmly.
”No,” I pushed her away, saying, “I’m OK. Please, Sylvie, just a few hours.”
“Hmmmmm,” Sylvie replied, but let me go. “All right! Sapphire, promise you’ll come home by ten, missy,” she added, pulling my side ponytail cheekily.
“OK. See you!” I ran off, hearing the clock chime nine.
As I rushed to the nail salon, I knocked on the pink door hopefully, trying to clean my face and hair quickly.
“Hello?” Amy answered the door, letting me in. Her pale smiling face ceased into a frown when she saw me.
“Oh dear! Sapphire Burne! Where on earth have you been? Why didn’t you call us?” Eve didn’t give me time to answer.
“I’m really sorry. But I found my sister, you see, and was living with her and her friend until … until … we fell out, big time,” I explained, trying my best to keep my head up.
“Oh. Well, you could have called us, but I guess you can resume. It was only three days,” Eve let me know, smiling regretfully.
I hugged her then calmed down and saw my new workmate, Ayesha Marimba. She was simpering away to her new customers, telling them about her and her ‘amazing’ life. The customers were concentrating on her totally, but seemed a little bored when she got to her beloved pets and very close family.
“Wow, dear, it seems your life is very interesting, Ayesha.” A large woman holding a crying baby sighed, burping the baby continuously. But she didn’t seem very interested: I saw her worry lines deepen, her frown stay, her tired eyes stare. Her sad mouth did not move.
Ayesha showed off for about half an hour until finally someone told her to be quiet, and she shut up and sulked sullenly for the next hour, until mid-morning break.
“Ayesha! Stop being a sullen brat! Honestly! You should have shut up hours before that man asked you nicely to be quiet,” I informed her, a little snootily.
“You shut your mouth, Miss Stupid Sapphire. It’s not like you’re a professional here. I shan’t do what you tell me. You’re not the boss,” she hissed in retaliation.
“Huh! Miss Fiery! Calm down, calm now,” I teased, holding in my laughter.
She snarled fiercely at me, while I sat demurely in front of Eve and Amy, painting my nails red to silver, putting a reversed colour heart right in the centre of my thumbnails. After an after-coat and gold glitter, I blew them dry and then squirted a longer-lasting spray over them. Sitting back in satisfaction, I sipped my tea and ate a few pink wafers, thinking how lucky I was to be able to come back and work.
“Break’s over! Come on! Sapphire, Ella, go to the stock room and sort the nail varnishes, polishes, removers, stickers. Ayesha, you’re on customer service, please, no chatting from you now! Amy, I want you to show people all the different nail designs and top-coats – give them samples if you like!“ Eve called out from a list, marking off people’s names as she went.
I ran to the stock room along with Ella, a fair-haired girl with a pixie-like appearance; she was good fun and we all liked her. She went up to the store room in the dark attic to find the three boxes of polishes. Tipping them out, I sorted the red ones, the orange ones, the yellow, the green, the light blue (we sorted light and dark blue separately because there were so many) the dark blue, the violet, the lilac, the indigo and purple together, the gold, the whites, the beiges, the creams, the pale pink and dark pink separately, the silver and sparkles. Then we had the task of putting them in the nail ‘wheel’, which had one hundred and twenty slots. After twenty minutes of confused slotting, we sat back and rested, then tackled the second huge wheel, which was only for sparkles and glitter. They were harder to sort because of the neon colours, and we weren’t sure which group to put them in. But in two hours we had sorted both of those, the nail stickers (which were like mini nail tattoos and went in little cases for paper), the nail gems, which went in tiny plastic wallets so the colours wouldn’t peel off, the nail pens, which we had about a hundred of, and the skin tattoos, which we sometimes used on children for a full hand manicure.
“Well done! Good work, both of you.” Amy came to check on us, and we followed her out of the dusty room to our new shift. Amy lugged the two wheels to another storage room, and carried the other nail products downstairs to use.
Ella and I were both on manicures now, so we hurried off to the queue, heating up the steaming bowl.
“Hello. What can I do for you?” I asked a rich-looking lady, eying her bulging purse hopefully.
“A nail manicure and full paint. And stop looking at my purse, you cash-eater!” She ordered, slipping it into her bag and offering the change to Ella, who took it and put it in the cash box.
I blushed at her remark, and behaved off-handedly for the rest of the procedure. Ella made up for me, chatting away to the lady and heating her steam bath to the right temperature before adding rose and lavender scents, along with the usual bubble bath potions.
“Well, quite the stroppy cow, aren’t we?” the lady asked, grinning at me slyly.
I wanted to say, “No, you are, but I’ll go along with it if you really want me to, Miss Moo-moo!” But settled for a cold, “I’ll thank you to keep your personal opinions to yourself, Madam.”
She raised her blacked eyebrows, but looked embarrassed and didn’t make a further comment. I gave her a little nod of triumph, as if to say, “Well, that put you in your place!”
She gave Ella an extra-big tip – almost as if she wanted to make it clear she would never spend a penny on me. But once she had turned her back, Ella pressed the note into my hand.
“You deserve it more than me,” she murmured, noticing the dark rings around my eyes and seeing my scraggly, knotted hair in a messy ponytail. “I know you have moved to somewhere slightly … harder to live in. So take this now, Sapphire, and don’t think you need pay it back.”
I smiled happily, pleased that I had such a
generous kind friend. Ella was really nice to me all that day, and even gave me her lunch-break sandwiches.
“Sapphire and Ayesha, go downstairs immediately. The nail-painting queue is getting bigger and bigger! Now, please!” Eve urged.
We glared at each other ferociously, while rushing down the stairs two at a time. We saw the necessary polishes and sparkles were already set out on the table, and sat down, ready to begin.
I painted eight people’s nails; a tiny Chinese girl aged about eight who decided on deep red polish with silver and gold sparkles on the top; a middle-aged lady with three kids who had hot pink with black nail pens in swirls; a young teenager with short cropped hair who wanted black sparkles; a blonde-haired beauty aged about twelve who chose deep purple with pale blue tips and red hearts on the centre; two tiny twins who both liked pearly pink; an adult about twenty with lovely long hair who had lilac and pink; and a pretty girl aged about five who decided on deep blue and purple.
Ayesha was still chatting to her customers, although they seemed more lively this time and chatted back, nodding in approval whenever she said something. Many took a shine to her and tipped her, and she collected £3.80 from all her six clients. I managed to raise £4.35, and pocketed it gladly to take back to Sylvie.
At 2:30, Eve doled out our wages. She gave me the full day’s money, and I thanked her, knowing that I had been late.
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