A Job From Hell (2 page)

Clare beamed as though I'd just complimented her on her fashion sense. "I'l let you unpack then and shal bring up your dinner in half an hour. Of course you can eat in the dining room, but I assume you're tired and may want some privacy before your first day of work."

"Yes, that'd be great. Thanks."

"Excel ent. The TV remote control is on the night table. The bathroom's through there." Clare pointed at a door on the other side of the room. "If you need anything, I'm in the library, which is on the ground floor, the second door to the right. You can look around the house if you like, but the second floor is off-limits."

Once Clare closed the door behind her, I walked to the bed and pul ed the heavy bedspread aside. The sheet beneath was of a perfect white. I opened my suitcase and threw my clothes haphazardly into the closet near the window, leaving my books and various memorabilia in my suitcase.

Neatness wasn't my strongest point, but what my new boss didn't know couldn't hurt him. From al the competition, funny that I should be the lucky one to land such a wel -paid job. Whatever Dal as wrote on that application form, I could only hope he hadn't pretended I was a domestic goddess.

That might just mean the end of my placement, and I real y needed the money.

I walked into the bathroom and reached for the light switch. The bulb flickered to life, revealing wal s covered in white tiles with tiny, dark blue flowers. I peeked into the mirror above the washbasin and grimaced at my mousy brown hair that lacked a good cut, my chubby cheeks and big hazel eyes. Many cal ed me pretty, but I knew I would never have that extra something that would make a guy fal in love with me. Cameron hadn't, or so he said before making it clear he wanted a break.

Enough dark thoughts already. Pushing my mental baggage to the back of my mind, I sighed and opened a cabinet. A toothbrush, shower gel, lavender soap and moisturising lotion occupied the upper shelf. In another cabinet I found white towels and a bathrobe. I stripped off my jeans, red jumper and underwear, and jumped under the shower. The hot water relaxed my aching muscles and washed away the invisible signs of a long day.

Wrapped in a towel, I walked back to the bedroom, and sank into the clean scent of recently washed sheets, fal ing asleep as soon as my head hit the pil ow.

A thud woke me up in the middle of the night. Disoriented, I looked around in the soft light cast by the lamp I had forgotten to switch off. My head felt groggy as I threw a glance at my phone on the bedside table. It was shortly before three a.m. Everything seemed quiet, and yet I couldn't shake off the feeling that something or someone was in the room, watching me. For a moment I thought I glimpsed pale blue eyes staring at me from the door. I spun around, heart jumping in my throat. No one there. No picture frames on the wal to hide a spy hole either. Shivering, I walked to the window and peeked through the curtains. The moon hid behind thick rain clouds. The room had noticeably cooled down.

I returned to my bed, pul ing the sheets tighter around my shivering body, when I heard a thud outside my bedroom door. It was an old house and the rain and wind would make the wood creak, the living shapes of furniture simulating the threat of approaching danger, so nothing to worry there.

Holding my breath, I listened for more sounds. The house was silent again. My bones felt stiff and tired, but any signs of sleepiness were gone. I slipped into my bathrobe, hesitating in front of the door. Should I real y leave the comforting safety of my room and risk waking up my new employer? He might fire me for disturbing his beauty sleep.

Oh, sod it.

If I didn't check, I'd morph into an obsessive lunatic for the rest of the night. I crept to the door and opened it in one go, cringing at the squeaking sound of old hinges. The light from the lamp threw dark shadows on the thick rug covering the wooden floor. Mental y preparing myself to face whatever loomed in the shadows, I stepped into the cool corridor.

The hal was empty.

It had been a long night of tossing and turning. In the morning, I stretched under the sheets, enjoying the pleasant heat of the room, when I realised it was already after nine. I was supposed to start my first day of work, not sleep in. Darn it. Trust me to lose a job because of some lavender-scented pil ows.

I threw the sheets aside and rummaged through the closet to find a pair of black jeans and a white shirt. I pul ed one out, al crumpled. Smel ing the armpits, I grimaced. Why did it reek like I just finished a double shift at McDonald's? With one arm I retrieved another shirt while brushing my teeth with the other hand, then stopped to take another sniff and scowled again. This one didn't smel much better, but I had no more time to waste. I put it on and dashed down the stairs to the large kitchen.

The sun spil ed bright rays through the double glazed windows. I peeked left and right and inhaled, relieved that no one was about. Perfect. If no one waited, then no one would know I was late. Whoever lived here was either stil asleep, or they had left already. I snorted to myself. As if. The mansion was situated in the middle of the Highlands—where would they go? The forest extended for miles behind the back of the house. There were only two options: either McAl ister worked from home, which wasn't likely. What with those high trees and probably no Internet connection. Or he drove to the nearest city, Inverness, which was two hours away. I chuckled, feeling enlightened because everything suddenly made sense. The name rang familiar, as though I somehow knew him without ever meeting him. I figured McAl ister had to be a semi-famous writer—old, afraid of company, preferring solitude—because no one else would choose to live in this forsaken area.

I opened a few kitchen cabinets. The steel pots and pants gleamed in the morning light. The cooking utensils in our family never looked this polished. I peeked inside the drawers, marvel ing at the pristineness of this place. Why did I take this job? As much as it pained me to acknowledge, I knew nothing about housekeeping. Dal as said it'd be easy money so I could save enough to pay my bil s, the yearly travel card and purchase books in my first year of col ege. The student loan covered my col ege fees already, but I gathered a part-time job would be unavoidable if I also wanted to eat. The money made from this summer job was supposed to help me survive until I found one that wouldn't col ide with my classes.

Prepare breakfast, cook dinner, keep the house tidy, wash some clothes. How hard could it be? But peering around, I realised this didn't look like any house I had ever entered. It was too tidy and clean, as though someone had already finished their work for the day. Used to this standard, McAl ister probably expected me to scrub like five housekeepers. With most of the summer temping positions gone, it was too late to change my mind now, but I made a mental note not to believe my brother ever again.

No boss around, no work. I shrugged and went about making myself a cup of tea, then took a seat near the window. For a while I just sat there, watching the woods behind the house, admiring the dark green of the dense thickets stretching out as far as I could see. I felt the cal of the woods, urging me to take a nice, long walk to stretch my legs and inhale the clean air I would never smel in London. I sighed with pleasure. What a beautiful, big house. Okay, given my experience from last night it was a bit spooky, but this was Scotland after al . You simply don't buy a house without one or two resident ghosts. Besides, I gathered I had been imagining things because last night when I final y plucked up the courage to open the door, the floor was empty. The point was, with no one around I could almost pretend I wasn't just an employee. I took another sip of my herbal tea when I heard a voice behind me. "It's beautiful, isn't it?"

Startled, I jumped, spil ing some of the mug's content onto the floor. Slowly, I turned to stare at a woman's dowdy face. She was short, almost as short as me, with wiry grey hair tied at the back of her nape, blue eyes and a welcoming smile. I liked her instantly. "I was just taking a minute to admire the view," I said, pressing a clammy palm against my racing heart.

The woman's eyes creased as her smile widened. "No worries, dear. Take your time. I remember my first day here. I did the same thing.

Couldn't resist the view." She put her large basket on the kitchen counter and took a seat at the nearby dining table. "I'm tel ing you, it's getting harder by the day to carry those things. You must be Amber. Thank goodness, Aidan's employed a housekeeper. I'm Greta."

I nodded. "Nice to meet you."

Greta jumped to her stubby feet and started rummaging in her basket. "I've brought some eggs and bacon to make you a nice breakfast.

There's hardly anything to eat in this house. Aidan's always away, never eating in. Most of the time, I have to throw away what I cook." She opened one of the cupboards and pul ed out a large saucepan, then placed it on the stove and retrieved a bowl to blend the eggs.

"Do you need help?" I asked, standing.

"No, you sit, dear. You must be tired from the long journey." Greta tossed several stripes of ham into the hot pan and turned to me. "Where did you say you came from?"

"London."

"Ah." Greta nodded knowingly. "Such a big place and so far away. Been there a few times." She shook her head. "Didn't like it one bit."

"I can see why."

"Aidan said you'd be staying for the summer?" Greta shot me an inquiring look. When I nodded, she laughed heartily. "I thought I'd be staying for a few months, but ended taking care of this house for the past five years now." She placed a plate in front of me and went about scrubbing the saucepan.

"Thank you," I said, a little shy. The aroma of eggs and bacon made my stomach rumble. I dug in. The bacon was crisp, but not dry. The eggs were stil moist. My usual McDonald's breakfast never tasted this good. How the hel was I going to prepare something this delicious for McAl ister?

I almost chocked on my food at the thought. Damn! Dal as said McAl ister would be easily pleased with a bit of toast, butter and jam. Trust my brother to mess up my future job prospects because of a bad reference.

"How's the bacon, dear?" Greta inquired from the kitchen sink.

I forced my mouth into a smile. "Al 's great, thank you. I just realised I need to give my brother a cal ." And kil him.

Greta patted the saucepan dry and put it away. The kitchen looked as sparkly clean as before. I made a mental note to remember to wash the dishes rather than let them soak in soapy water overnight, which was my usual procedure.

"So you have family nearby? How lovely," Greta said.

"Just a brother. Dal as. He moved to Inverness a few weeks ago." I finished my breakfast, dropped the plate into the sink and looked around for washing up liquid.

"Leave it, dear. We have a dishwasher." Greta opened a cupboard door to reveal a large dishwasher smel ing of lemons.

I placed my plate on an empty tray. "If you'l excuse me. I should get started on the housework."

"Of course. I'd better dash too." Greta picked up her basked and made a beeline for the hal . "One last thing. Just a word of advice, stay away from Aidan's friends." The old woman inched closer whispering, "Most of the time, it's only him, Aidan's brother and the blonde girl. But I've seen the others hovering outside the gates, glaring at me when I pass." She made a disparaging gesture with her hand. "I keep tel ing him they're strange."

I stared at her, gobsmacked. The job advertisement didn't mention visitors. For how many people was I supposed to cook? "How many people are we talking about?"

"Ah, the housework," Greta said, ignoring my question. "You should start with the washing. God knows what Aidan does with his shirts. They're always so dirty from the woods. If you need anything, you know where to find me." With a wave of her hand, she walked down the narrow, paved path behind the house.

I stared after her for a while. What was that al about? I hadn't seen anybody the evening before, but now I remembered the noises that woke me up. Could there have been other people in the house and Clare hadn't told me? Come to think of it, I was just an employee. No one had to tel me anything. Shrugging, I went in search of the laundry room.

Ten minutes later, I found it in the basement next to a locked door marked DO NOT ENTER. The laundry pile on the floor next to the washing machine stood almost as high as the ceiling. I kicked the pile and lowered to pick up a white shirt, my lips curling in disgust at the large brownish stains on the front. Either McAl ister was into rol ing in the mud, or he just enjoyed making my life a living hel because I sure had no idea how to get the dirt out of his clothes.

My phone vibrated in my pocket, startling me. Strange to have reception in the basement, but not in a bedroom. A smile stretched across my lips as I peered at the cal er ID. Dal as dressed in diapers—he cal ed it his Cupid outfit—at the last Hal oween party after a glass too many.

"Hey, sis. How's life?"

"I should be barking mad at you for sending me to this forsaken part of the world. Do you have any idea what you got me into? I can't cook, or clean, or do anything around a house, and you know it."

"You'l be al right. You weren't that bad at home." Dal as paused. "Come to think of it, you were. But that's not the point. Don't worry about it, just listen."

I sighed. Of course he wouldn't show any sympathy. My brother couldn't care less about my job because he didn't like any kind of work. Part-time job or placement, he had never been one to stay in the same job for more than three weeks. "What do you want, Dal as?"

"I can't talk over the phone. Let's just meet and I'l tel you everything."

"It's my first day. I can't take off already."

Dal as snorted. "I wasn't expecting you to. I'l be there in half an hour."

"But—" I couldn't have guests over already. Was I even al owed to have visitors?

Dal as cut me off. "And keep me some of your boss's glorious lunch, won't you? I'm starving."

"No, you can't pop over just like that," I said, but my brother had already hung up on me.