Having helped her mum vacuum and mop the tiled hallway of the Old Rectory, she had taken the bucket outside to empty it on the flowerbeds, taking a moment to look down over the valley at the wide sweep of the fields that led all the way down to the cove. The garden, and the view for that matter, was one of the most beautiful she had seen.

‘Ah, Merrin, dear!’ Mrs Mortimer had called from the lower slope, in the way that she did, sounding and looking very much as Merrin imagined a head teacher might, if the head teacher were loud and had a fondness for floral fabrics, suede gardening gauntlets, pearls and velvet headbands. ‘Such a lovely day!’ She approached with a wide wicker pannier on her arm in which nestled a glorious combination of lavender and roses with a heady bouquet. The woman looked like something from a perfect-house magazine. Even in the heat of the mid-morning sun, her lipstick was pristine and her skin without a bead of perspiration.

‘It really is.’ She turned to face the sea. Mrs Mortimer made Merrin nervous, despite being so very nice. The Mortimers had been in residence at the Old Rectory for generations. Loretta and her elderly husband had, some years ago now, filled it with antiques, squidgy sofas, potted plants and large, heavy mirrors. Merrin knew the house well. She had on more than one occasion tagged along when her mum cleaned it, running her hands over the broad bend of the dark wooden bannister rail and the old iron locks that led to more rooms than two people could possibly need. The view today from the brow of the manicured garden was beautiful. The sun was high and sea diamonds danced on the water’s surface. From a distance, Merrin thought she saw shapes: seals, swimmers and boats, which always, upon closer scrutiny, turned out to be no more than the dart of a silvery fish or the swirl of water as it navigated a rock. She was, as ever, gripped by the moving images of the ocean.

‘How much do I owe for today, dear? I’m sure it’s more than usual, as your mother has had help.’ Mrs Mortimer walked towards her, removing her gauntlets as she did so.

‘Erm . . .’ Merrin wasn’t sure what to say. ‘Mum’ll be out in a minute. She’s just finishing off.’ She thumbed in the direction of the house.

‘Yes, of course. Would you like a drink? It’s jolly hot.’

‘No, no, I’m fine, thank you.’

Her mum had reminded her in no uncertain terms of the protocol when in a client’s house: ‘No break and no slacking. They might offer a drink or snack, but won’t be thankful if you accept. We go in and out as quickly as we can with the least fuss, noise and interruption, and we do the very best job.’

‘Like cleaning ninjas.’