Story: The Trials of Kate Tillotson

The original story, The Humbling of Kate Tillotson, was so well received Jane decides to treat to us to this unplanned sequel. Enjoy!

(1)

It was late. Emily and Chloe, after a stint of tidying and washing up as the party wound down, changed out of their uniforms and went to get paid. Kate gave them each a little extra, along with thank you notes she’d written by hand. ‘Good work, girls. It all went very well. I know Mr and Mrs Kinley were pleased with your efforts, both of you.’

Finally the last guest had left. Emma flopped down on a chair in the dining room and kicked off her heels. ‘Oh, Kate, there’s so much to be done. But give my feet a rub first, would you? I’ve been standing around all day.’ She wiggled her toes at Kate, who went and sat down beside her. ‘Oh no, don’t sprawl all over the floor like that! Whoever heard of a person sitting to rub her mistress’s feet?’ Emma drunkenly giggled. It was not a word she often used. ‘I want to look down and see my faithful good Kate kneeling obediently as she caresses my sacred feet, staring up at me with devotion and joy!’ She could be a little grandiose when she’d had a few. But Kate, who had had nothing to drink except water all day, simply said, ‘Yes, ma’am,’ kneeled up at Emma’s feet and began rubbing, all the while looking up at her with devotion and joy. Occasionally Emma would prod and caress Kate’s face with her sweaty toes.

‘Ahh, that’s so much better! When you’ve finished have a sit down and a glass of champers if you like. You’ve earned it. Lord knows you’ve served enough of them.’

After Kate had finished her wine, she got up, sighing with weariness, and declared, ‘I’d better start the cleaning up.’

‘Stop the sighing, right now. Yes you had. Lots to be done before bed.’ Emma looked around, issuing orders as her eyes alighted on dirty items. ‘Right. All the bottles are to be washed out and packed neatly for the recyclers. Finish the rest of the glasses and get started on the pots. Clean out the ashtrays. Get all the food out of the bins into the caddy, as I think the collection’s tomorrow, isn’t it?’

‘Day after, ma’am.’

‘Oh. Well, do it anyway. Sweep up outside, then in here. Well bring a torch then, you can’t leave it till the morning. Then the kitchen floor needs a good scrub, it’s filthy. We’ll take care of the gifts tomorrow. But first take off my mum’s apron and wear one of your working ones. Maybe the grey one, it will go best with your uniform. Which by the way I want washed and ironed tomorrow, along with Chloe’s and the other girl. They started off a bit nervous, didn’t they, but they were good as gold in the end. I remember being a timid little waitress at that age. We’ll give them good references. Anyway, got all that?’

‘Yes, ma’am,’ said Kate as she changed aprons; she curtseyed loosely and got to work. As she was scrubbing the kitchen floor, Tom came down from upstairs. ‘How’s my lovely new wife?’ he kissed Emma, who giggled again. ‘How lucky we are, Tom. Imagine having to clear all this up by ourselves!’

‘Well, I’ve got a surprise for you my darling.’ He reached into his jacket pocket and brought out two plane tickets.

‘Thailand! Oh, Tom, I’ve always wanted to go. How long for?’

‘Two weeks. Good honeymoon length, I thought? Catch some sun, see the sights.’

‘Oh, you’re the best, thank you! I can’t wait.’ She hugged him and they kissed passionately. ‘But what’ll we do with Kate?’

Kate looked up from her work. ‘Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine. You go and have fun. It sounds amazing.’

‘Actually, I’ve thought of that too,’ said Tom. ‘I had a chat with Rosie Ennis at the party today. She said she’d be delighted to take her on at the hotel for the fortnight. I thought it would give Kate something to do, keep her busy. She’d just get bored on her own here, even with lots of books. Plus,’ he grinned, ‘by my estimation her wages will just about take care of our holiday expenses. Won’t you enjoy that, Kate?’

‘Yes, sir, that’s very thoughtful of you.’

‘What a good idea Tom. But can she really pay it off, on minimum wage?’

‘Well… she’ll have to do two shifts a day. Early start, late finish.’

‘Oh, you are so clever, Tom. Kills two birds with one stone. Or should that be one bird,’ she added, gesturing at Kate, ‘with two stones?’

It was an evening flight, and Kate accompanied Emma and Tom to the airport, carrying most of the luggage. ‘Have fun!’ she said as they went through into departures. ‘Thank you my dear, now you be a good girl while we’re away.’

The next morning she arrived at the hotel—running from the bus-stop, she was able to report by seven sharp. ‘Miss Tillotson, how nice to see you again. Now, Mrs Ennis has said you want to work two shifts a day for the next fortnight. It’s an unusual request but we can accommodate it. You’ll go barmy doing the same thing all day, so let’s give you some variety. You can start now with something nice and easy, breakfast service—wait tables, tidy them up, keep the buffet stocked. Then you can work housekeeping with a break for lunch. Then another break for tea. Have a rest, shower, get changed. Then dinner service, you can work in the kitchen. We’ve got a room you can stay in overnight. It isn’t big but it will save you rushing back and forth. How does that sound?’

‘That sounds ideal, thank you.’

‘Good. Do you have any questions?’

‘No, ma’am. I’m eager to get started!’

‘I’m glad to hear that. Welcome to the team.’ She extended her hand. ‘Now let’s get you into a uniform.’

Even with the breaks, it was an exhausting day. Turnover at the Belleview, like most hotels, was high, so Kate recognised few of the staff from her weekend the previous year. But one or two remembered her, and even those that didn’t were extremely welcoming; they were all impressed by her politeness, her eagerness to please, and her dedication to the job. Most new waitresses were flustered in unfamiliar dining rooms; Kate was not. Most new chambermaids flinched at the state of the worst rooms; Kate did not. She just got on with the work, and always took orders and served customers with a smile.

The next morning, as she was scrubbing out a bath on the seventh floor—her thirteenth so far, and the worst yet—her phone buzzed. She wasn’t supposed to have it on her, but she kept it because she already missed Emma and Tom, and was hoping to hear from them. She took it out of her apron pocket. It was a picture of them in sunglasses, with colourful drinks in their hands and their feet up on the beach, the azure sea glittering in the background. ‘Love you! xx’ Looking down at herself, she couldn’t help but laugh, and duly texted back a picture of her gloved hands and the half-cleaned sinkhole. In the afternoon, as she munched a plain cheese sandwich, leafing through a biography of Thomas Edison under the fluorescent lights of the staff canteen, her phone buzzed again. Another picture—a dinner table heaving with curries, exotic vegetables and fresh seafood, and bedecked with candles and purple flowers. She smiled to think that her labour was paying for all of this. ‘Wish you were here xx. Are you behaving yourself?’ ‘Yes, ma’am,’ she typed carefully.

As the pictures indicated, Tom and Emma were having a fine time. They visited the Grand Palace and the Buddhas, rambled over mountains and waterfalls, browsed the floating markets, golden with lamps, saw the elephants, gorged themselves on rich meals. Every night they made love and every day they talked and kissed and held hands. The office and the hotel felt like another lifetime, distant and uninviting.

But they did miss Kate. As for her, the work was long and tiring, and each night she slid into her small bed with relief and fell asleep immediately. But the housekeeper was kind enough to give her some variety, sometimes sending her to laundry, sometimes to clean the common areas, sometimes to provide turndown or room service or to serve behind the bar. Sometimes she would work the kitchen in the morning and wait tables in the evening. Although the staff were friendly to her, the guests treated her with indifference, or even contempt. One evening she brought up a dinner trolley to one of the bedrooms. A young woman in a négligée answered the door. ‘You’re late,’ she snapped.

‘I’m sorry, ma’am, I came up as soon as I was given the order.’

‘Don’t argue with me. Honestly, some people’s manners!’ The woman lifted the cloche. ‘This isn’t what we ordered. It looks like risotto. We wanted the chicken.’

‘I’m so sorry. I’ll take it back and find out what went wrong.’

The woman huffed. ‘No, leave it. Just come in and serve the food and the drinks. Hurry up! What’s the matter with you? Can’t you find a real job? You don’t talk like an oik. You must be thick.’

It took all of Kate’s resolve to hold her tongue and politely pour the wine as the woman and her boyfriend ate. ‘It’s no good taking pride in my service,’ she thought, ‘if I can’t cope with a difficult customer. How unhappy she must be.’ The chef later assured her that the woman had, indeed, ordered the risotto. It was what hotel staff dealt with all the time, and by god, it was tiring. Nonetheless, she began to get a feel for the general running of the place, and for how the different departments worked together, for which she was grateful. And she was always glad to learn new skills. It was certainly a great deal more worthwhile than sitting at home twiddling her thumbs. The only trouble was constantly changing uniforms depending on the work, although she did receive new ones from the laundry every day.

She had the Sundays off, and she continued to volunteer at the care home. There was a new resident this week. Kate introduced herself and asked if she could bring him anything. He asked for a pot of tea. When she returned, he said, ‘You seem like a nice young lady. What do you do when you’re not here?’

‘At the moment I’m working in a hotel, sir. Cleaning mostly, among other things.’

‘Not much rest for you on a Sunday, then! What makes you want to come here? Can’t be much fun tending to us old codgers.’

‘Well, I’m happy to do it. It’s rewarding work. With all due respect, I don’t agree with how little it’s valued by society.’

‘You’re right there. I didn’t mean to put it down.’

‘No, I know, sir. It’s not you.’ Kate smiled as she stirred in the sugar and handed him the cup. ‘There’s just so much contempt for service and care work and cleaning. I used to feel it myself, but then someone helped me see things differently. Really, it’s just as important as better paid jobs. But the rich don’t see it, politicians don’t see it. Left or right. No wonder people feel so looked down on. Look at the mess the country’s in now.’

‘So much wisdom in one so young. You’re a treasure.’

‘Thank you, sir. Just let me know if you need anything else.’ She knelt down and tied his shoelace, then got on with her work.

At the end of the fortnight Kate brought letters of thanks she’d written to the housekeeper, the head chef and Mrs Ennis, handed in her uniforms and packed her things. She was glad to get back home, have a rest and finish her book. The next morning she took the train to the airport to meet Emma and Tom; she’d never been so glad to see them, or anyone, in her life. They both gave her big hugs, and Emma allowed Tom a lingering kiss.

When they arrived back home, Emma said, ‘Oh dear, we’re both exhausted. Go unpack our things and put the suitcases in the loft. Then serve coffee for two in the bedroom.’

Kate curtseyed. ‘I’d rather missed that,’ remarked Emma.

‘Me too, ma’am,’ laughed Kate. ‘I’ve actually started to enjoy it. It’s such an open and unambiguous gesture, isn’t it? And personal. Working at the Belleview can be impersonal. You’re invisible. No one takes any notice of you unless they’re berating you. The managers tell you to do the pillows like this or that, or arrange the cutlery or fold the corners of the toilet paper. But you don’t get the sense any of the guests care one way or another. Whereas you see the way I do things, and you’re pleased with it, and wouldn’t be pleased if I did them any other way.’

‘At the moment all I see is you waffling on when I told you to unpack. And it sounds like you’re complaining about the work at the hotel, which I don’t appreciate. Hop it!’ Kate hastened to obey Emma’s orders. When she’d served the coffee, Tom exclaimed, ‘All that delicious fresh food we had! But now I really fancy some crisps. Go bring some, would you?’

‘Yes, sir.’ Kate fetched a large bowl of crisps on a tray. As she brought them in, Tom had her kneel by the side of the bed, quietly holding up the tray, as he reclined with a book, occasionally dipping his fingers into the bowl and chatting to Emma. ‘You know,’ he said, finally; ‘it feels a bit cramped in this house. I think we should look for a bigger place.’

(2)

Over the next few months they did indeed look for, find, and move into, a bigger house, one nearer Tom’s mother, who was feeling a bit lonely now that his sister had moved out, and who, moreover, was not getting any younger. Kate, of course, organised all the removals, and helped the workers carry furniture down and up the stairs. The new place had a larger garden and a much more spacious kitchen. ‘Can I have a dishwasher now, ma’am?’ Kate asked when she saw the size of it. ‘There’s ample room.’

‘Oh, but why? You do the dishes so well by hand.’

Emma insisted that Kate should have a bigger bedroom, and one not next door to theirs. So her quarters were now in the basement, making it easier for her to get up and fix breakfast without waking them up first, and to finish any chores after they’d gone to bed.

Kate was sad to leave the care home. She laundered her uniform and went to return it before they moved out, but the manager said it was looking a bit worn so she could keep it as a memento. In every other respect she easily settled into a daily routine much like her old one: she still did the chores listed on the fridge, she still kept the place spick and span, she still wore her chastity belt, she still cooked dinner most evenings and waited in attentive silence by the wall, though the credenza had been replaced with an antique serving table, the wedding gift of a rich friend of Tom’s family. There was the odd new chore, such as polishing new silverware, another wedding gift, and the garden required more maintenance.

As the months wore on in the new house, Kate studied new ways to serve Emma and Tom; she took up sewing and learned to hem a dress, she taught herself massage techniques, and finally, after Tom bought a piano, learned to play a little. Sometimes in the evenings after dinner she would play and sing for them, especially if they had guests. Every so often something new would be introduced into the routine of service. Browsing in an antiques shop one day, Emma came across a little silver handbell, and took to ringing it when she needed something from Kate, who would drop what she was doing and come running with a bob and a ‘yes, ma’am’. Everything, all the work and the reading, felt entirely normal by now, and if she was not as blissful as she’d once been, the routine gave her a steady calm and happiness.

And despite no longer volunteering, two opportunities arose for service outside the home. It was this that perhaps brought Kate the most pleasure of all, for it made her most confident and proud in her devotion to Emma and Tom, whom she now always thought of in that order, and no longer as Tom and Emma. She loved others to see her obedience and her labour, and to make use of it, and she loved to feel that her contributions could bring the same joy or peace of mind to those outside the family.

The first opportunity arrived quickly. Soon after they’d moved in, Tom’s mother popped round and all four went for a walk in the local park. Emma was shocked at the state of it: there was litter everywhere, and it was flowing out of the bins provided. Nor, apparently, had anyone bothered to use the bins for dog waste—it was all over the place.

‘The park used to be lovely,’ said Agnes. ‘But there have been so many cuts in the last few years, the council just can’t pay for the maintenance any more. It’s such a shame. I blame the government.’

As they passed the public lavatories, Emma said, ‘Will you excuse me? I really need to go.’

‘I wouldn’t recommend it, darling. I made that mistake a few months ago, and won’t make it again.’

Emma emerged so hurriedly that she had evidently not relieved herself. ‘I see what you mean. It’s horrible. Let’s get back home as soon as we can. Won’t you come for dinner soon, Agnes? We can show off our beautiful new kitchen.’

‘I’d be delighted to.’ She looked at Kate. ‘I’ve yet to sample your maid’s cooking.’

Tom rolled his eyes. ‘Don’t call her that, mum. Can’t you be nice? Sorry, Kate, don’t listen to her.’

That evening, Emma chatted with Kate as she fried some chicken for dinner, and the conversation drifted onto the state of the park. ‘Ah, yes, thanks for bringing that up. It’s absolutely disgusting, and I want you to start taking care of it.’

‘Me, ma’am? What do you mean?’

‘I’d like you to start going round the park picking up the litter. You’ll take a couple of bin bags and when you’ve filled them up you can leave them by the bins. Oh, and you’ll have to take little bags to scoop up all that dogshit. We’ll get you some disposable gloves.’

‘Yes, ma’am, what a good idea,’ said Kate as she started making the glaze for the chicken. ‘How often would you like me to do it?’

‘Let’s try once a week. Maybe… Saturday, before breakfast? Give you a bit of exercise before you start the day. Oh, but also those toilets. You’ll have to clean those, my God. I think that should be done every day. I want them as spotless as ours.’

‘Yes, ma’am. It would be an excellent way to serve the community.’

‘That’s my good girl. You’ll need to take some cleaning things, of course. But the question is what to wear; I don’t think your nice clothes would be appropriate.’

‘I still have my uniform from the care home, ma’am.’ Kate washed a few dishes at the sink as the food cooked; she had learned to use her time as efficiently as possible.

‘Ah yes, good idea. You can wear that. It’s already pretty shabby. And it might attract less attention.’

At dinner, as always, Kate stood silently by the serving table, eyes down, hands folded in front of her, as her masters ate. Usually the position put her at peace, unburdened by responsibilities, her mind empty, her hands ready to obey if needed. Tonight she anxiously wondered how unpleasant the toilets might be the next morning. What if anyone should see her? What would she say? It could be very embarrassing. Nonetheless, she resolved to do her best, and to make Emma proud.

Next morning at seven, Kate made up a bucket with a mop, some rags and various cleaning products, and walked down to the park. As she arrived, the keeper was unlocking the lavatories. ‘I didn’t know the council had hired a cleaner,’ he said. ‘I must say, you don’t look like the ones we used to have. But about time, the loos are in a right state these days.’ Once inside, Kate had to agree—she’d never seen anything so revolting. The floor didn’t look like it had seen a mop in years, and the sinks were covered with grime and encrusted with remnants of soap. The toilets were caked with dust and dirt, and various splatters in the bowls had obviously been there for some time. Kate gritted her teeth, put on the gloves she’d brought, and got to work as quickly as she could, since she had to be back in an hour to serve breakfast. It was good of Emma to let her do this, she told herself. She was really making a difference. Half an hour later, it was rewarding to see everything gleam. But she groaned when she saw the men’s bathrooms—they were twice as bad.

By the time she got home it was half past eight. Emma and Tom were in the living room looking cross. ‘You were supposed to have breakfast ready half an hour ago.’

‘I’m sorry, sir. The loos took ages.’

‘It sounds like you’re making excuses.’

‘You’re right, sir, I’m sorry. I’ll get them done faster tomorrow.’

‘Good, see that you do,’ said Emma. ‘And look at the state of you! What is that all down your front?’ Kate looked down. ‘I’m not sure, to be honest, ma’am.’

‘Quick, have a shower and put those in the wash. And then get breakfast on. We won’t be so lenient tomorrow. Go on, dismissed!’

Kate curtseyed, a somewhat less than elegant manoeuvre in her work trousers. As she was leaving the house the next morning, she noticed the spatula sitting on the trestle by the front door, a quiet warning. She hadn’t been smacked since long before the wedding, and she had no desire to refresh her memory of it. Luckily, the toilets were, indeed, faster that morning, mostly thanks to all the work she’d done the day before, and she was able to get back in time to shower and change into smart clothes for breakfast service.

When Saturday rolled around, she put her tunic on as usual, gathered the bags she needed and the gloves Emma had bought her, and started exploring the park with her eyes on the ground. Before long she was gingerly scooping up turds, food wrappers, plastic bags, cigarette ends, remains of fried chicken, used condoms. It was about the limit of what she could stand. How could people be so thoughtless? At least nobody was there to see her. But she remembered her own words to the gentleman in the care home: ‘just as important as better paid jobs’. If someone should see her, she ought to be proud.

The work in the park became part of her normal routine. ‘Tom and I want you to know,’ said Emma to her one weekend after a run through the park, ‘we’re both so proud of you. It looks so much better. We know it’s unpleasant work, but someone’s got to do it, and you do it with more grace than I could manage.’ Gradually she became used to it, and was always back in time to shower and serve breakfast the way Emma and Tom liked.

The second opportunity for Kate to represent Emma and Tom outside the home was of a very different nature, and proved even more challenging. Agnes finally came for dinner. Guzzling two large gin and tonics before dinner, each served on a tray with a smile, she marvelled at Kate, hardly able to contain her amazement and delight at her deference and obedient service. ‘Isn’t that the pinny I got you all those years ago?’

‘Yes, ma’am. I get very good use out of it.’

‘It looks darling on you. Isn’t your birthday coming up?’ Agnes had an excellent memory for such things.

‘Yes it is, well remembered.’

‘Then I shall have to get you another. You’re obviously quite the homemaker.’

‘That would be very kind of you. Now, if you’d all like to come through to the dining room.’

They filed in, and Kate started bringing the food from the serving table to dish up. ‘But Kate, why have you only laid three places?’

‘She doesn’t eat with us, mum. It’s not her place to.’

‘But it’s extraordinary! And you don’t pay her?’

‘No, Agnes. She likes it.’

‘Whoever heard of such a thing? Extraordinary! I know you told me about this but I just had to see it for myself.’ She looked up. Kate was standing beside her with a ladle of rice. ‘Oh, yes please, dear. Thank you very much.’ Having served all three, Kate went and stood in her usual place, determined to be even more rigid and attentive than usual—to make Emma and Tom proud of her. As she waited, they talked about her.

‘Gosh, this is delicious. And she does the cleaning?’

‘Yes, the house is always spotless.’

‘And the ironing?’

‘Yes, mum! She does everything.’ Kate silently glowed with pleasure.

‘Extraordinary. And all you had to do was not marry her. Oh, that’s naughty of me to say, what would my feminist friends think of me? Anyway, I wanted to ask you Tom, Elena’s quit. Gone back home to be with her parents. She did such a lovely job. But now the place is getting into a bit of a state. Do you think I could borrow Kate?’

Tom looked at Emma. ‘I don’t know…’

‘Oh it would only be for a bit. Just a day or two a week. I’m so jealous of you two.’

‘I don’t see why not,’ said Emma.

‘Don’t you think we should ask Kate?’

‘No I don’t, she’ll do as she’s told. Won’t you Kate?’

‘Yes, ma’am.’

After dinner Kate cleared the plates and got to work in the kitchen. When she heard the bell she rushed into the living room. Agnes was holding it with the look of a child who has discovered a new toy. ‘Look at that! She just comes! Do you have any decaf?’

‘Yes, ma’am.’

‘Well go bring me some then. Also Tom says you do shoes. I think I stepped in something on the way here. Would you give them a clean before I leave?’

‘Of course, Mrs Kinley.’

A week later she went round to Agnes’s house in a neat grey dress. She had been many times before in the capacity of girlfriend and fiancée, but never as cleaner. ‘Come in, darling. Don’t you look smart. There’s lots to do.’ Emma had reminded her before she left that she was representing them. ‘I want you to treat her just as you do us. She may not respect your work as much as we do, and I know you have history with her, but that’s no excuse. Do you understand? The same respect, the same courtesy, the same attention to detail.’ She fussed with Kate’s hair and the collar of her dress, evidently anxious to impress her mother-in-law. Now, as Kate stood in Agnes’s front room, she remembered those words and folded her hands across her dress as she stood listening to Agnes going over the things that needed doing. It was the usual, and it was everything: the hoovering, the kitchen, the bathrooms, the dusting—so much dusting—the laundry, the ironing, the garden, the outside bins, and, unlike at home, the Range Rover. While she was there a friend came over. ‘Oh Kate, would you mind making some tea? It would be awfully good of you.’

‘Yes, ma’am, of course.’

As she left the room she could hear the friend gasp and say, ‘Gosh, she is very polite. And she’ll serve tea, really? And wherever did you find an English cleaner?’

After the friend had left Agnes went round the house inspecting the work, running her finger over picture-frames, mantelpieces, doors, and cornices, not all of which Kate had gotten to. When she’d finished work she reported to Agnes’s study. ‘Good work today, Kate. Not quite up to Elena’s standard, a bit more attention to detail needed, but not a bad effort.’ There was a bite in her tone, and Kate guessed, correctly, that Agnes was thrilled to finally be able to boss about her son’s wastrel fiancée, whom she’d never really liked.

‘Thank you, ma’am, I’ll try to do better next time.’ Agnes, pleased with her reply, nodded. Kate handed her a notebook out of her bag. ‘If it’s not too much trouble, Emma asked if you would sign this?’

The open page read, ‘I, Agnes Kinley, am satisfied with Kate Tillotson’s work today’, and then the date. There was a space for a signature. Agnes looked up. ‘My daughter-in-law’s keeping you on a tight leash, isn’t she? What if I’m not satisfied?’

‘To be honest I don’t know.’ Kate laughed, nervously. She was not eager to find out. Agnes signed it and returned the book. ‘Well, you’ve been a good girl. Oh, and I almost forgot, I got you a present.’ She held up a gorgeous deep blue apron with a design of leaves and birds, and turquoise ties. ‘Since you liked the last one so much. Not for dirty work.’

‘Gosh, thank you very much, it’s very pretty. I’m sure Emma will love it.’

The next morning, which was Kate’s birthday, she woke up groggily, got dressed and went upstairs to the kitchen for a bite to eat before leaving for the park. To her surprise Emma was already up and cooking. ‘Good morning, ma’am,’ said Emma, and executed a neat curtsey with a grin. ‘Oh!’ was all Kate could say.

‘Since it’s your birthday, Mr Kinley suggested you could have the day off. And luckily I have a day off my work today. So I’m going to be the maid. Oh sorry, I’m not supposed to say that. Ma’am.’

Kate went and sat down at the table; Emma served her coffee, eggs, bacon, pancakes, and then went to stand, as Kate usually did, by the serving table. She was wearing the new apron over a blue dress. Then Tom joined them, full of beans, and somewhat aroused by the sight of his wife’s new, if temporary, status. Kate stared at him; it felt very strange to be sitting at the table with him. Then she glanced over at Emma. ‘Stop fidgeting!’

‘Sorry, ma’am,’ Emma giggled.

‘Well, if it’s my day off you’d better go clean the loos in the park after breakfast.’

Emma hadn’t thought of that. ‘Ma’am, I don’t think—’

‘Do as you’re told!’ snapped Tom, playing along with glee.

‘Er… yes, sir.’ Emma sighed, flinching at the thought.

‘Your uniform is hanging up in the utility room,’ said Kate. After breakfast Emma changed—the clothes were rather large on her, as she was three inches shorter than Kate—and went down to the park to clean the loos. Kate had obviously been doing an excellent job, as they were no longer unbearable at all. But as she walked back to the house she imagined having to do it every morning, and felt more grateful than ever for Kate. For the rest of the day, Kate had her working flat out, not, as might be supposed, to get her own back for being worked so hard herself the rest of the time, nor out of delight at seeing her mistress labour for once, but rather because she judged her own demands to be in accordance with the spirit of Emma’s game. In other words, she tasked Emma out of the same obedience with which she served her every other day. Tom was delighted, though also disappointed that he didn’t get the chance to discipline his wife. Because, to Emma’s credit, she obeyed with the same love as she had commanded before; what else could she do to show Kate how much she valued her service?

After dinner Emma cleaned the kitchen and Kate came in to speak to her. ‘Thank you, Emma, you’ve done a great job today. It’s been a pleasure to relax for once, but I must say I’m looking forward to getting back to work tomorrow.’

‘You’re quite welcome, Kate’, said Emma, putting the last things away and taking her apron off. ‘You deserved it. But next year Tom can serve you. He will definitely earn the spatula. I’ll make sure of it.’

As with the work in the park every morning, the weekly trips to Agnes’s house, and Emma’s inspection of the notebook, became part of Kate’s routine. Agnes seemed increasingly to forget that Kate had ever been her daughter-in-law-to-be, and correspondingly to take less and less interest in criticising her. But one week she did show her mettle. Kate accidentally knocked a china figurine over as she was dusting, and it smashed on the hard floor. Agnes came at the sound. ‘Oh look what you’ve done, you stupid girl.’

‘I’m sorry, Agnes, it was an accident.’

‘It was careless. Your work is all careless. Look how you’ve put everything back.’ She gestured around the room, which was filled with knick-knacks that Emma had dusted underneath. ‘Everything’s out of order and in the wrong place.’

‘Well there are a lot of them. It’s hard to remember.’

‘And I suppose it was hard to remember to clean the oven too? It’s still caked with grease.’ Agnes had a point there. She’d forgotten to do that. ‘Tom told me you took such pride in your work. Is my house not worth taking pride over too?’

‘That’s not fair. I’ve been working hard for you.’

‘’Not fair’! You sound like a spoiled child. You always did sound like that.’

Suddenly Kate forgot the past two years, and memories of old, pent-up, simmering feuds with Tom’s parents came rushing to the fore. ‘And you always sounded like a stuck-up, pompous old cow! You never liked me.’

‘No, I didn’t. But I was just beginning to now. And then you do this. I suppose you’d better finish for today.’

Kate went off to fetch her coat and bag, quickly feeling awful for how she had behaved; Agnes was quite right that she’d been careless and forgetful. It was her fault. When she returned she apologised and offered to do the oven. Agnes sighed.

‘Oh, Kate. You really are a silly girl at heart. But you’ll grow up. Come back next week. I’m very sorry, but I can’t sign your book today. I hope you understand.’

‘Yes, ma’am. I’m sorry I let you down.’

‘I know you are, dear. You’ll do better next time. I’ve no doubt Emma will see to that. Now, off you go home.’

Of course, Emma was not happy. But to Kate’s surprise, Tom was even more unhappy. ‘We just had a phone call from my mum. She was very displeased with you. It was really embarrassing, both for me personally and for us as a couple—we’d been so proud to recommend your work!’ He was conveniently forgetting that only Emma had put Kate forward to Agnes. ‘Can’t you see how bad that makes us look? This is why Emma gave you the notebook, Kate! To remind you.’

‘Yes, sir. I don’t have any excuse, I’m sorry.’

‘You’ll have to write a letter of apology.’

‘Please don’t make me do that, sir. She already looks down on me!’

Emma chipped in. ‘Do as you’re told and stop arguing. It’s not up for discussion.’ She was still thinking of being made to clean the park loos. ‘You can write it tomorrow. I’ll sign it and you can take it to her next time you go.’

‘Yes, ma’am.’

‘And that’s just for upsetting Agnes. That still leaves us.’ Kate hadn’t been punished in so long, she had forgotten the shame of it.

They conferred for a moment. Then Emma said, ‘All right, come with me.’ Kate meekly trotted after her to the kitchen. Emma opened the French windows out to the garden. ‘Come and sit here.’ She pointed to the drainpipe that led down the bricks into a gutter. Tom came out holding a length of chain. ‘We got this a while ago. Just in case.’ He fastened the chain to a bracket of the drainpipe and handed a leather collar to Emma, who locked it around Kate’s neck. It was tight and rough. ‘There. Not getting out of that any time soon.’

Kate looked up at them. ‘How long will I be here, sir?’

‘As long as we deem necessary, of course. You’ve let us both down, and I want you to think about what you’ve done and how you’ll improve.’ They went inside and locked the French windows. She kept waiting for them to come back but they didn’t. An hour later Tom appeared with a bucket, and vanished again without a word. Kate lay there thinking about her behaviour. When she looked into the house, she could see them eating dinner and talking. She longed to be standing by the serving table, in her new apron, ready to help. It was dark by now, and she was freezing. Then it started raining. Surely they would come and fetch her now? But they did not. Before long she was soaked and shivering, and she needed to shit. She eyed the bucket. It was only a matter of time before she relieved herself into it, but unable to wipe herself, she just lay there on the concrete in the cold, wet dark. Eventually she fell asleep.

In the morning Tom came to release her. ‘Rise and shine, Kate. Have you learned your lesson?’

She yawned, and looked up into his eyes. Her back was aching and her hair and clothes were filthy; she longed for a shower, for food, and for a warm bed and a cuddle. Her belt was especially sore, and the lingering wetness made her skin chafe. ‘Yes, sir. I need to take pride in my work, even when I’m at your mum’s.’

‘That’s right. Consider yourself forgiven.’ He gave her a big hug. ‘Thank you for correcting me, sir. Please don’t do that to me again. Anything but that.’

‘I’m sure we won’t have to. We’ll be getting glowing reports from my mother from now on, right?’

‘Yes, sir.’ And they did.

(3)

A few months passed. One day, as Kate was leaving a condom on the nightstand, as she still did every day, Emma said, ‘Thank you, but you can stop leaving them out now.’

‘Oh! Does that mean what I—'

‘We’re going to try for a baby,’ Tom interrupted.

‘Oh that’s wonderful news, sir, congratulations!’

‘Yes, well don’t just stand there, get back to work.’

Kate was shocked by Emma’s curt tone at what must, surely, be a happy moment. But she said nothing and did as she was told, gathering the laundry from the hamper in the bedroom and closing the door behind her. As she did the ironing, Kate began to feel something she hadn’t experienced in months, or even years—hurt. It wasn’t what Emma had said. So what was it? She wasn’t sure. But there it was: she felt hurt, and angry.

Later, as she was starting dinner, Emma came marching in and held up one of her dresses. ‘Does this look ironed to you?’

Kate did not look up from her work. ‘I ironed your clothes. So I’m sure it is ironed.’

‘How dare you speak to me like that? Put that down at once.’

Kate grunted with annoyance and turned to face Emma, and immediately got a slap across her face. It was the first time since long before the wedding. ‘I will not be spoken to like that. You’ve been a good girl for a long time and we’ve had our fun and games, but I’m not going to have any backsliding. Don’t think I won’t punish you, I will.’

‘What’s the matter? I did the ironing, as I always do.’

‘Does this look ironed?’

Kate looked at the dress and could see a few wrinkles towards the hem. ‘It looks mostly fine to me, to be honest.’

‘I don’t expect ‘mostly fine’ work from you, Kate. I expect finished work. And this dress isn’t finished. You’ll do it again before bed. And you’ll do all the rest of the ironing you ‘mostly’ did earlier. Do I make myself clear?’

‘Fine.’

Emma stared furiously at her. ‘Excuse me?’

‘I said, fine.’

‘I see. Back to the sullen teenager. I thought we’d put that behind us. Well we’ll nip that in the bud. Tom!’

Tom came bounding down the stairs. ‘What is it, darling?’

‘Kate’s having a temper tantrum. Like the bad old days. Would you get me the spatula?’

Astonished, Tom fetched it. Emma marched Kate into the dining room, pushed her head down against the table—Kate resisted, but Emma was surprisingly strong—hiked down her knickers, and started laying into her bottom. ‘Ow, ooww, stop, Emma!’ But Emma did not stop. Eventually Kate stopped resisting and started sobbing. Her bottom was red and glistening, far worse than it had been the first time.

‘What do you have to say for yourself?’ Kate said nothing, just continued sobbing. ‘Right, get in that corner. Nose against the wall. Hands on head.’ Kate obeyed, whimpering into the wall. ‘Looks like we’re cooking dinner tonight, Tom. You keep an eye on this one and I’ll start the food.’ After a while, Kate’s crying died down to silent weeping. She stood there all through dinner, and while Tom did the cleaning up afterwards. ‘Christ,’ he said, ‘I’ve almost forgotten how to wash a dish!’ His cheerfulness met a deathly silence.

‘Come here,’ said Emma sharply. Kate came out of the corner, her face red and puffy, and her arms aching. ‘Kneel down here. Do you think your behaviour has been acceptable?’

‘No.’

‘No, what?’

‘No, ma’am,’ said Kate reluctantly.

‘And what do you have to say for yourself?’

‘I’m sorry, ma’am.’ She did not sound sorry.

‘And what are you going to do now?’

‘The ironing?’

‘You’re going to do whatever you’re told. And if you address me discourteously again, so help me God. Do you understand?’

‘Yes, ma’am.’

‘So now you’ll go to the utility room and do the ironing again. All of it. And then you’ll write a page of A4 on why you were punished and what you’re going to do about it. And then you’ll leave it on my desk. And then you’ll go to bed.’

‘But I’m really hungry, ma’am.’

‘Too bad. No dinner for you. And you’d better not disobey me; I know exactly what is in the fridge. You may come to me tomorrow morning when you get back from the park and ask me if you may eat breakfast. Do you understand?’

‘Yes, ma’am.’

‘Good, dismissed. Do not test my patience tomorrow. You will not win. And don’t even think about failing to acknowledge your dismissal appropriately.’

Kate curtseyed, rather limply, and went off to do the ironing. She was exhausted, but still hurt and angry. How could Emma treat her this way after all the months, no, years of devoted service? It was unconscionable. She obviously didn’t care about her at all. All she thought of was herself and her damn baby. Kate had to get out of there. That would show them. Then they would miss her. Tom would have to remember how to wash dishes, and Emma how to iron dresses. She wouldn’t be their slave any more.

The next morning she was so tired she didn’t hear the alarm clock. She was woken up by Tom at eight o’clock. ‘Kate, what’s got into you? Why haven’t you gone to the park? Why haven’t you made breakfast? Emma’s really upset. She loves you, you know. So do I. What’s going on?’

‘I don’t know, sir. I’m sorry. I just feel so upset. Can’t you cuddle me?’ Tom got into bed and they snuggled warmly, but she did not try to kiss him. ‘I feel really, really angry. I don’t even know why.’

‘Emma’s not been in the best spirits either. At least I feel all right!’ he laughed ruefully.

‘I don’t know if I want this any more. All this. What am I doing with my life?’

‘Are you joking? You’re giving two people a wonderful, easy life. In fact, more, now that you’ve started working for my mum and cleaning up in the park. It’s really noticeable work. And you’ve made us two feel so loved. It will be three soon. We’ll need all the help we can get. I thought you understood all this.’ He kissed her tenderly on the forehead.

Kate shook her head. ‘I don’t know what I understand any more. It all seems so pointless.’

‘Well if you want to leave I won’t stop you. You[ve got to do what you think is right. And if that’s your decision I’ll do what I can to find you somewhere to live. At least you’ll have no trouble getting a job now.’

Kate burst into tears at this thought, and Tom stroked her head. When she calmed down and went down to the kitchen to make breakfast, she found Emma had already made it. There was a little left. ‘May I have some porridge?’

‘Yes. And there’s a list of work on the fridge, I suggest you’d better get on with it.’

‘Yes, ma’am.’

‘Well, that’s a start.’ Emma went upstairs without another word. Kate started on the work, but her heart was not in it. The love and the joy seemed to have gone out of the whole business. Emma remained cold to her through the evening, and though she permitted her to cook and serve this time, there were no smiles between them, no warmth. It was as if Kate truly had become just a servant, just staff. After dinner Emma called her into the living room and handed her an envelope. It contained a cheque for five hundred pounds. ‘Those are your wages for the week. I hope it’s a fair remuneration.’

How could Emma be so cruel? She’d never been so hurt in her life. Tom was taken aback too. For one thing, they could hardly afford it every week. Kate handed it back. ‘I’m not your housekeeper, ma’am.’

‘Well, what are you then?’

‘I’m—’ The words failed in her mouth. What was she?

‘Well, whatever you are, I’m not going to put up with shoddy work and especially attitude from you. Maybe you need more discipline. Clearly I’ve been too lenient with you. Would a weekly smacking help you grow up? Maintenance.’

Kate stared balefully at her, not sure what to say.

‘Tell you what, you want to stay under my roof, you’ll ask me for your maintenance every Sunday night, after dinner. Got it?’

Kate stared down at her feet. ‘Yes, ma’am.’ She was furious, but impotent.

‘Good, dismissed. Go to bed.’

They got used to a new routine. Kate continued to serve all week, earning Emma’s ire and complaints on a regular basis for poor work, and on Sunday night meekly asked for her maintenance—sometimes she was made her beg for it—whereupon Emma thrashed her, reducing her to tears. Each week the memory of the spatula kept her from any more rebellion, but her resentment and fury swelled inside. When Emma was at home during the day, she would often put Kate in the corner for long stretches. ‘I don’t want you around. Just stay there out of trouble and leave me alone.’ Kate could barely manage a bit of ironing and cooking in the time left; the cleaning didn’t get done, and dust began to build up around the house. She was like an appliance that had been put away, out of use. One afternoon Emma came to get her to make dinner. ‘What’s that all down your leg?’

‘What do you think? I couldn’t help it. What did you expect?’ She was deeply embarrassed.

‘Oh my God. You can’t even stand in the corner without making trouble. You’re a fucking disgrace! Go have a shower at once!’

But Emma did not stop keeping her in the corner; the next week she simply got her disposable pants. ‘There, now you can wet yourself to your heart’s content!’ And so she stood there for hours, until she was unable to hold it in. Emma made her clean herself up and serve dinner; Kate didn’t think she could be any more humiliated. She was at the end of her rope. Emma didn’t care for her at all. And now she longed for the days she went to Agnes’s and was treated at least with some patrician civility. Even Tom was growing distant, constantly trying to soothe his raging wife and exhausted by the effort. It was too much for everyone to bear.

Then, one day, Kate arrived home from Agnes’s, and the two were screaming upstairs. She went down to her room and tried to read a book. An hour later Tom knocked on her door and sat down beside her. She’d only read two pages.

‘We’re not having a child.’

‘What? Why? What do you mean?’

‘Emma can’t.’ Tom was very quiet. ‘I think she knew all this time. But I didn’t.’

Suddenly things began to make sense to Kate, and not only that, but her own anger faded away almost immediately. It left a boundless feeling of compassion and love. She put her book down and jumped to her feet. ‘Where are you going?’

‘Don’t worry, sir. I’ll be back.’ Kate went and changed into the uniform she’d worn at the wedding, since unused, with the pretty white apron Emma had given her. It made her remember the reception and how loved and loving she had felt then. She went upstairs to the master bedroom, knocked, and found Emma sobbing in bed. She went and knelt at her feet and began kissing her legs softly.

‘I’m sorry, Kate, I’ve been so horrible to you. I’m so, so sorry.’

‘Put it out of your mind, ma’am. I was angry too, and now I understand why.’

‘Oh Kate, you don’t understand. We’ll never have children. The tests came back today. But I already knew, deep down. I have the eggs but I can’t carry them. I’m so… I don’t know what to do.’

‘I have an idea, ma’am.’

‘What could you possibly do? And why would you do anything for me? I’m awful, I’ve been so awful, how can you forgive me?’

‘Because I love you. And I want to carry your child, if you’ll let me.’

Emma was speechless. ‘I could never ask that of you.’

‘But I can offer it. It would be my privilege, ma’am.’ Emma had stopped sobbing. She looked down, and saw her faithful good Kate kneeling obediently as she caressed her sacred feet, staring up at her with devotion and joy. Then she leant down over the bed and kissed her, on the mouth. For a moment Kate tasted her mistress’s tongue, and was filled with happiness. ‘It’s all I wanted,’ she said. ‘I’m getting old, I’ll never have one of my own. Just let me love the child. Your child.’

‘Our child.’

Tom agreed enthusiastically when they told him. Kate spent the next few days, when she was not cleaning and serving, which she now did with her old dedication, researching surrogacy. It was easier than she had expected, and it was not long before they had arranged a consultation with a private clinic, which Tom’s salary just about stretched to. Kate was fertilised with her masters’ egg and sperm—for which the belt had to come off, of course, though she had very little desire to touch herself any more—and within a few weeks could feel the first kick. She continued working right up until she couldn’t: ‘Please, Kate, sit down. I’ll take over from here.’ She waddled to the sofa, unused to Emma and Tom working on her behalf. But it seemed like the right time, at least; she had been forced into loose dresses, and struggled to tie her aprons. Scrubbing floors and bathtubs had become impossible, and she’d had to give up the work in the park and at Agnes’s house.

Although she huffed and struggled for the final weeks, Kate was glad she could give Emma the child she’d wanted without any of the pains and discomfort. As for Emma, to her delight she had discovered that she would be able to breastfeed the baby as well as Kate, and started a course of hormones during the pregnancy as her doctor recommended.

The day came. It was a beautiful, healthy girl, and they named her Isabel—Emma had the final decision. When Kate came back from the hospital, Emma and Tom threw a party for her. All their friends came, and Agnes; Emma had made a cake, and there was champagne. Already on the mantelpiece was a framed picture of Kate and Isabel in the hospital bed. ‘Thank you very much, ma’am, this is so lovely of you. I’m glad to be home.’

‘Well, you deserve it. This was your most devoted service of all. We will never be able to thank you enough. And we’re both so glad you’re home now. After all, who else is going to clean all this up?’

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