by
Andy Engines
I
stared in the mirror not quite comprehending what I was seeing or rather the
full extent of what it meant. The dress was black. Fitted but not too tight to
allow a full range of movement. It ended just below my knees and halfway to my
elbows with a white collar around the neck. Combined with the white apron it
could only be one thing.
I
stood looking at myself in the mirror and for the first time since this whole
diabolical period had started I felt beaten. I had seen maids. My family had
employed maids and not once had I thought I would be staring at myself as a
maid. But now I was. I felt the uniform, touching the fabric as if it was one
totally alien to me. I was in shock. This was a badge. This was a huge reminder
of who I was and who I had once been. This was a measure of my defeat.
“Come
child.” I glanced over at the housekeeper as she stood watching me. “You have
chores to do and little time do them.”
And
that was it.
My
chores remained the same and the day was exactly the same but whereas before I
was dressed in my course peasant skirt and top now I was one of the maids. My
uniform was my identity. I was a member of staff. I was one of the many.
As
the day came to an end and we sat in the kitchen the old woman looked over at
me with a tear in her eye. “Marije. I will miss your smile in the mornings but
you will be able to visit on Sundays”
I
jolted upright at her words. “Sorry. What did you say.” A sliver of panic crept
into me.
“My
Marije. You have worked hard.” She smiled across at me. “You deserve this.”
Fear
crept deeper into my chest.
“I
don’t understand.”
“Your
place is here. If you wish to help me you can. A little money will help and
Sundays you can visit. I will still be coming to help but once the family are
here you will be busy.”
“Visit?
Family?” I spluttered. And then in dawned on me. All the days working here
twice a week through the winter had been my apprenticeship. Had been my trial.
Had been leading to this; My employment at the house. Full time employment at
the house.
At
precisely 12 noon James’ cell phone shrilled loudly in the quiet of the
apartment. The sounds of the birds chirping in the square died away as the
sound of hope and answered prayers reverberated around the walls.
I
had expected a morning of noise and turmoil but instead James had studiously
sat at this computer. Mr Gaspar had left early and had only returned 10 minutes
previously. There had been a calm to everything mellowed by the birdsong and
the quiet smell of cherry floating in the air.
“Mark.
James. How are you. Branco and Val are with me.”
“Good.
How has the morning gone? Branco fill me in on your end first. Then you James…”
there was a pause. “And people lets not dress this up. Be absolutely honest. I
need factual honesty. Not wishes or fantasy… ok?”
“Good
morning Mark.” Mr Gaspars voice drifted through the air as he walked to the
table. I was sure he only spoke with one single emotion. Nothing affected his
speech. “I visited the police Inspector and we sat over coffee. The case is
weak, very weak but it would appear that his Chief Inspector wants something to
show he is doing his job.” Mr Gaspar smiled briefly and nodded to himself. “The
inspector is not an issue for us, he has a price and that can be negotiated.
The Chief Inspector is another matter.”
“Branco,
there is no need to negotiate, if you have a price pay it. We can use the
leverage right now –“
“No.
It doesn’t work like that here. If we pay the full price we win nothing…”
“Nothing?
Explain.”
“Respect.
Respect is the key. The Inspector expects us to negotiate. He has a price in
his head that I would imagine is half or maybe a third of what he asked for. I
need to negotiate with him and my aim is to pay him 55%. That way we have his
respect but also he gets more than he initially wanted. Respect and face are
the key elements here.”
“Ok,
you know the ground better than me, go ahead but make it quick ok? And the
Chief Inspector how about him? What does he want to show? Can we help?”
“Hmmm.”
The old lawyer scratched his chin. “Now he is a tougher opponent. Normally
money would work but his drive on this is not purely without reason. He wants
to show the people he is for them. He is attempting to be elected as Mayor
later this year and he feels that this case would guarantee his election.”
“Hold
on Gaspar. You are saying this case is all about the Chief Inspectors ambition
to be the Mayor. Nothing else?”
“Yes
just that.”
“But
we can pay whatever he wants, we can meet him wherever he wants. What can we do
to help. Surely funds for his campaign will help.”
“I
agree but a foreigner brought to justice for the slaying of a local boy will
help him more. Remember respect, if he convicts he will gain respect and votes.
Then as the Mayor he gets the towns full respect not to mention the fact that
he will head the planning committee. And before you ask every mayor has ended
his two year tenure considerably richer and more respected than through any
other endeavour.”
There
was a silence on the line.
“Ok
Ideas. Solutions. Go.”
Mr
Gaspar smiled and sat back. “We have three options. The first is we gain
leverage that we can silently hold over him. On this I am working, I have
feelers out. The second is that if he believes his case will fail then he may
drop it, the bad publicity will ruin his chances of election as sure as a
success will guarantee it…” The old man relaxed in thought, the room went
quiet.
“Branco,
you said three options. What is the third.”
Mr
Gaspar sat stock still and it was as if he was talking to his grand daughter.
“We ruin him. We drag him down so that he has to resign. We remove every ounce
of respect that was ever felt for him.”
“And
how would we do that Branco, set him up with a scandal. I assume he is married.
Is that your idea?”
“No.
Most men have Mistresses. They keep them quietly hidden but it’s like a game,
everyone knows but no one talks about it. A sexual scandal would work though.”
It
was James turn to lean in. “Sorry I don’t understand. What is the difference?
What sexual scandal would work.”
Mr
Gaspar sat and smiled. When he spoke it was chilling at how serene he sounded.
“A child would do the trick-“
“No.”
I jolted upright. The course of the discussion had gone in a direction that I
couldn’t bear to listen to anymore. “Mark. We are not doing that. We are
absolutely NOT doing that. Understand.”
“I
agree with Val. That is going too far Branko.”
“Then
we could use a goat, its been done before.”
The
room went silent for a longest time and then a far away tinny voice came over
the cell phone speaker. “A goat. Did I hear you correctly. A goat?”
The
old man just sat there with the hint of a smile as he quietly answered. “Yes a
goat.”
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