I looked back at the doorway and seeing that he had gone, I blew out a long breath.
Fifteen minutes later I had wiped down all the shelves and sides of the fridge with a spray gun of antibacterial cleaner and the cleanest cloth I could find. I decanted oven trays of food into smaller containers and labelled them, then I wiped all the bottoms of the jars of jams, marmalades and pickles and put them all into the side compartment of the fridge, freeing up another shelf. I stood back and admired my work. It was as good as Mrs Clean’s posts, so I pulled out my camera and snapped an image of the inside of the fridge, wishing I had done one of the damn tap-to-tidy photos that Mini had told me about. I posted it on my own Instagram wall and tagged Mrs Clean. Maybe she would see it, maybe she would reply.
I looked at the time. It was getting on for six and I needed to eat. I warmed up a can of soup and sat down at the table. The sound of the doorbell trilling through the hallway made me jump out of my skin. I walked to the kitchen doorway and waited to see if anyone else would answer it. But Karen and Steve were out, and I could hear the sound of the shower from the bathroom and music playing from Mini’s room. I edged closer to the door, knowing I would have to answer it if no one else would. I felt an unease unfurling within me, and so I prepared myself to open and close the lock six times. I worked as fast as I could, not knowing who was behind the other side or what their reaction would be to my behaviour. I took a deep breath and pulled it open.
A man in a fluorescent jacket was standing there. Behind him, his white van chugged away on the road.
He handed me the package, then held out a device for me to sign with my fingers. I shakily gave my signature and looked at the package, which I could see was addressed to me. Intrigue swept through me, but the fear was stronger. I didn’t remember ordering anything other than the storage tubs Mrs Clean recommended, that wouldn’t arrive for a couple of days, and no one knew my address. I carried the box to the kitchen table where I examined it. Footsteps at the doorway made me spin around to see Sophia standing there in her towel.
‘Did I hear the door?’ She edged closer. ‘Cool, Amazon, what you been buying?’
‘I… an alarm clock,’ I say quickly, thinking on my feet.
‘Nice.’ Sophia went to the fridge and opened it. ‘Oh my… wow!’ she turned to me. ‘Is this your work, Regi?’
I felt a sudden flutter of pride. ‘Yes, it is.’
‘Good job. Now I can actually see what the hell is in this fridge. I always look at it and think I must do it but, you know, I never do. Obvs.’
‘I’ve been getting some inspiration from some cleanstagrammers.’
‘Cleanstagrammers. Hey, getting down with this Instagram thing, then?’ Sophia pulled out a jar of pickles and picked one straight out of the brine with her fingers. I looked on slightly appalled, glad that pickles were not my bag.
‘Maybe I’ll have to check her out. I’m glad you have found something to, you know, to ease your mind a little.’
I cleared my throat and nodded. I wished I could speak, say the words to her. Tell her how I became this strange creature that stood before her. I would have loved her to have known me in my former life.
Once Sophia had retreated to her bedroom, I darted to my own room to open the package. Once inside I locked and unlocked the door six times, then tore open the box. Inside was a white box, and on the front it read, Non-stick hamburger press.
I dropped the package on the bed and took a few steps backwards. I had always been a woman of simplistic needs, never requiring materialistic things to make me happy. The memory began to filter back. I had been standing in front of the TV watching as a chef made burgers with this simple device. I remember saying out loud, what a fab gadget it was and maybe it could go on my birthday present list. I received a sneer in return. ‘I can get you more than a piece of cheap plastic for your birthday, babes,’ and it was never spoken about again. Only now here it was, sitting on my bed in a house I was absolutely certain no one else could have known about.
Some people will keep on hunting relentlessly until they find what they want. He was one of those people. I looked at the package on my bed. And today, on the day I turned thirty-six, I knew his small birthday gift was also another of way of telling me he had found me.
8 Then
‘Found you,’ he whispered in my ear. His breathing was ragged, and his speech was slurred. His breath was laced with the sweet tang of yesterday’s drinking and the sharp scent of the shots of brandy he had been on since lunchtime. It was now 3 p.m. He had been calling for me. I had thought to hide, never wishing to be around him when he had been drinking, I had hoped he would eventually tire and fall asleep on the sofa. But he searched the house until he found me in the airing cupboard. I quickly turned it into a game. ‘You found me!’ I said with a tight smile and threw my arms around him. He pulled me out of the small space and lay me on the floor on
