Hanging Hill Read Online Free PDF Page B

think, Cleaners – that’s what they’re doing now and that’s what they’ll be doing when they’re eighty. But you? You’re different, you’ve seen better and you hate cleaning. You hate it with a vengeance. Every floor you scrub, every stained pair of sheets you pull off a bed, it kills you.’
    The colour crept across Sally’s face, the way it always did when she didn’t know what to say. She tried to keep her mind on the shirt – shaking it out, laying the collar flat, testing the button on the iron. It shot out a hissing jet of steam, making her jump a little.
    David watched her in amusement. He used his feet on the worktop to jiggle the chair from side to side. ‘See, Sally, I think a quality girl like you deserves a proper job.’
    ‘What do you mean, “a proper job”?’
    ‘Let me explain. Let me give you a little bite-size lesson in David Goldrab. When I go out to work – not that I do have to much, these days, Gottze dank – but when I do , I have to deal with people. And hands-on deal with them, if you get my drift. So this is my retreat, the place I come for solitude, and the last thing I want is Shangri-La crowded with people – you can understand that, can’t you? I like my space. But I’ve got ten acres, and more than four thousand square feet of living space, and I don’t need to tell you a spread like that takes TLC. The outside’s sorted – the pool man comes every two weeks, and there’s some half-wit lives down at the cottage between this estate and the next. He deals with the pheasants, arranges a shoot for me if I’ve been stupid enough to invite people down from London. I leave them a list of jobs, like I do with you, pay their wages direct into their bank accounts, only have to speak to them by phone. Great. Except it’s not enough – because of the house. You only have to turn your back on it for a second and before you know it the place is falling in around you. Now call me a snob,’ he put a hand over his heart, a martyred look on his face, ‘but I can’t bear talking to the fucking yokels who come out here to do these jobs, dragging their disgusting knuckles along the floor and blinking their one fucking eye.’
    He chucked more peanuts into his mouth, waved the champagne glass around.
    ‘I don’t want to have to even look at these monkeys. I want to sit upstairs, watching Britney Spears get her kit off on MTV, and be completely oblivious to the half-wit rodding my drains downstairs. Now that’s where you’d come in. I still want you to clean, but I also want you to go round the house every week and make a list of what needs to be done. Then I want you to organize it, monitor it, let the fuckers in, make them coffee – whatever their inbred little hearts desire, pay them and keep a record of what I’m forking out. Get my drift?’
    ‘Basically, you’re looking for a housekeeper?’
    ‘Yeah, well, don’t make it sound like “Basically, David, you’re looking for a dick-sucker.” I’m offering you twenty quid an hour – off the books. No tax. Six hours a week over two afternoons. Say, Tuesdays and Thursdays. After I give the agency my fifteen quid an hour for you, how much do you go home with – in your pocket?’
    She lowered her eyes, embarrassed it was so little. ‘Four pounds an hour. They take emergency tax from me.’
    ‘See? You’d have to work five hours to earn what I’m offering you for one.’
    Sally was silent for a moment, doing the sums. He was right. It was a lot of money. And she had free slots on both of those afternoons that she’d been wanting to fill for a long time.
    ‘Come on, Sally. Tell the agency you’re not available two afternoons a week and come to me instead.’ He tipped back his head and emptied the bag of nuts into his mouth. He crunched them up, swallowed and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. ‘You can wipe that look off your face. It ain’t a trick and I’m not proposing to you.’
    ‘What about them?