She saw him twice a week when she cleaned for them and she always treated him like she hadn’t seen him in aeons. He snuffled and snorted at her in greeting. The front door was still standing open and Helen could see the postman at the bottom of the driveway. She didn’t want to walk down to see what little surprise was in the letterbox today. She could leave it, let Hugh collect whatever was in there when he got home, but then he would see if there was another white envelope addressed to her. He’d want to know what it was all about. Like ripping off a plaster, she slipped her feet into Hugh’s Crocs sitting by the door and stepped outside. Clive let out a half-hearted bark, but the postman held no exciting thrill for him anymore. The postman looked up and waved, his hand a blur at the bottom of the lengthy driveway.

Helen waved back, but he had already turned away.

There was another white envelope in the postbox. Helen’s hand shook as she ripped it open on the spot, not even waiting until she was back inside.

It was just the phone bill.

Nothing more sinister than that.

*

Matt’s bedroom door was closed. Helen stood outside it, feeling ridiculously invasive.

This is my house, she reminded herself. She pushed open the door.

It smelled musty inside, as though the windows hadn’t been opened in weeks, and there was an undertone of sweat and testosterone, like the smell of a brewery on a hot day.

His bed was unmade, the curtains still closed. She picked her way across the floor and pulled them open. The sea stared back at her from behind a large tree in the garden, the white horses visible on the swell, the tide rumbling in quickly now.

The carpet was completely obscured by discarded clothes, magazines and textbooks. Helen began the process of picking through the debris for dirty pants, stray socks and stained shirts. It was a thankless task, wading through someone else’s dirty underwear, and she could feel resentment bubbling in her throat at Matt’s laziness. She couldn’t understand how Pauline could clean other people’s filth for a living. A thankless, never-ending job.

I don’t have time for this. I’ll be late opening up at this rate.

Her frustration was building. After ten minutes the laundry basket on her hip was full. She put it in the doorway and began to tidy everything else. Pauline was instructed to leave the kids’ bedrooms and only clean their en suite bathrooms. They were supposed to tidy their own rooms. They never did though.