Read Online Size Matters by Judy Astley - Free Book Online Page B

to be here all day, Jay thought, fighting the urge to look at her watch. Her phone was vibrating in her pocket too; it might be a new client. Perhaps she could sneak off to the loo (left of front door, under the stairs, walls decorated with cases of gloomy stuffed trout caught by Mr C. To be taken down fortnightly and all glass polished) and see if Mrs Caldwell could be dealt with by a pleasing deletion from the rota.
    â€˜Ironing.’ Mrs Caldwell pointed a square-nailed sapphire-ringed finger at the assortment of items in front of her on the table. ‘Your girls don’t seem to get the hang. I’ve left notes, I’ve had words – not that they understand, most of them – I’ve even shown by example, as here. But do they take notice?’
    Both Barbara and Jay opened their mouths to reply but Mrs Caldwell was in first. ‘No they do not. Shirts.’
    â€˜We’ve taught them the right order: collar, cuffs, sleeves and body.’ Barbara defended her trade, her voice as crisp as starched fine linen.
    â€˜Oh I’m sure. But then
they hang them up
!’
    â€˜Well yes, of course. As instructed.’
    â€˜No, no, no! I want them
folded
, I want them presented as if they’ve just come from the shop, freshly bought. You must tell them. And blouses and pyjama tops.’ Mrs Caldwell patted the top of one of the folded heaps.
    â€˜It sounds rather time-consuming,’ Jay commented slyly. Time wasted on one job was time taken from another.
    â€˜But it’s how I want them!’
    â€˜Of course. We’ll have a little chat with the girls. Now is that . . . ?’ Barbara made amove toget up but Mrs Caldwell hadn’t finished. Outside the window cleaner clattered down his ladder and Jay heard water swooshing into the outside drain. For his sake, she hoped the man hadn’t carelessly slopped any over the doormat or he’d be joining them in the kitchen line-up for a telling-off.
    â€˜Not it’s not all, not quite.’ Mrs Caldwell reached for another garment. ‘Underwear,’ she declared, holding up a pair of fine mesh pants, pink-flowered on a blue background and edged with cornflower lace. ‘They should be folded
thrice
like so . . .’
    The window cleaner knocked on the kitchen door and pushed it open, putting his head round and grinning at Jay and Barbara. Mrs Caldwell whirled round, knickers still held aloft.
    â€˜All done, love. That’ll be thirty quid.’ He gave Mrs Caldwell a lascivious wink. ‘Nice knickies darlin’, but I think I’ll give our usual little extras a miss today, ta, if it’s all the same to you.’
    â€˜Well that went well, I thought. Not,’ Barbara said to Jay as they sat in Starbucks celebrating their telling-off with some much-needed coffee.
    Jay stirred her skinny latte (plus two sugars) and laughed. ‘It is
her
, isn’t it? I mean, it is Mrs Caldwell who’s overdemanding, not us who’re sloppy and hopeless?’
    â€˜Are you serious? The woman’s obsessive. Barking. She told Monique off once for winding the flex on the iron the wrong way. I mean, for heaven’s sake, geta life, woman. Some of them . . .’ Barbara shook her head.
    â€˜Some of them you just want to shake.’
    â€˜And vac,’ Barbara spluttered. ‘I had a dream once that the Dachshund Man had been freeze-dried, scattered on the floor and hoovered up. Gruesome.’ She grabbed Jay’s hand suddenly. ‘Don’t tell anyone that, please, you promise?’
    â€˜You got it. It’s just between us, that little fantasy. What shall we do now? I don’t much feel like going home and adding up how many bottles of Mr Muscle we’re going to need next month – it’ll probably start me on some mad train of thought about why it isn’t called Mrs Muscle, or Ms at the very least. How about you? Have you got cats to de-flea or de-worm or shall we