Rise and Fall of a Domestic Diva Read Online Free PDF Page B

Kate and Robert could stretch to eighty pounds a month on a cleaner. Margery knew the Hunters’ finances as well as any accountant because she’d spent the better part of yesterday morning going through their two fiscal files. The Hunters were, in her opinion, in dire straitsshe didn’t know how they kept the show up and running or why they weren’t collapsing under the strain of their imminent financial ruin. She could only surmise that Robert was keeping it from Kate and bearing the burden alone. She didn’t understand her son’s marriage. It seemed unnatural to her; more important still, it was unsustainable. What was it Robert said to her all those years ago: ‘Wait till you meet her, Mumshe’s going to change the worldnot just mine; everyone’s. Kofi Annan beware.’
    Well, personal finances were clearly below the likes of Kofi Annan, but Margery knew bailiffshad had experience of bailiffs throughout her childhood, and she could smell them in the air now. Kofi Annan or not, when it was time they came for you and nothing could keep them from the door. They went where they were sent and didn’t discriminate. Margery stuffed the twenty-pound note into the new envelope as the hoover cut out upstairs, put it back on the bench by the cooker and opened two cans of corned beef that she’d bought with her from East Leeke. When she turned round, Ivan the cat was standing motionless on the kitchen floor, watching her, its back arched. She felt immediately nauseous; cats always made her feel nauseous. They brought her underarms out in a rash and gave her vertigo.
    Then the phone started to ring in the lounge and she wasn’t sure what to do about it because Ivan showed no sign of moving, was in fact now sending out a hissing spit in her general direction. Even without Ivan, the phone alarmed her with its flashing lights and antennae.
    ‘You want me to get?’ Martina called out from the upstairs landing.
    At the sound of Martina’s voice, Ivan relaxed and strolled past Margery towards his bowl, brushing her ankles.
    Margery jogged quickly into the lounge and started to wrestle with the still ringing phone, eventually pressing the right buttonbecause it might be Robert; it might always be Robert…
    It was Beatrice, Kate’s mother.
    ‘Margeryhow are you? I had no idea you were in town.’
    Town? What town? ‘The cleaner’s here,’ Margery said, for no particular reason.
    ‘That’s nice,’ Beatrice said after a while.
    So the cleaner was news to Beatrice as well. Margery relaxed a little. ‘She’s from Czechoslovakia,’ she explained.
    On the other end of the phone Beatrice, unsure why they were talking about the cleaner, said briskly, ‘There’s no such place.’
    Margery baulked. ‘What?’
    ‘There’s the Czech Republic and Slovakia, but no Czechoslovakia.’
    ‘Martina never said,’ Margery carried on, more to herself than Beatrice, ‘but they were Communists?’
    ‘While the Soviet Union was still in poweryes.’
    ‘I was going to ask her if she had any KGB stories.’
    ‘KGB?’
    ‘You knowthe KGBthe secret police.’ Margery had withdrawn an abundance of material on the Gestapo and KGB from East Leeke Library’s well-stocked history section.
    ‘You must of heard about the KGB, Beatricehow they used to come in the night while you were asleep,’ Margery carried on, breathless. ‘The footsteps on the stairs, down the hallway…knocking on doors, doors opening…people disappearing.’ She paused. ‘They came in the night,’ she said again, insisting on this.
    After a while, Beatrice said lightly, ‘So does Freddie Kruger.’
    ‘He sounds Germanwas Czechoslovakia covered by the Stasi?’ Margery asked, interested.
    ‘Margery,’ Beatrice reined her in. ‘How long are you staying for?’
    This brought Margery up short. Always sensitive to any hint of expulsion or the fact that she was outstaying her welcome, she said quickly, ‘Not longit’s just while I’ve got the decorators