Story: Departing from Milan. Part 5.

by Monica Graz

I was pushing my huge cleaning cart emptying the waste baskets and getting ready to visit the three toilet complexes that I was responsible for. It was about 11.30 am, peak time for Malpensa airport and people were wheezing around me without paying any attention to the cleaner. 

I stopped briefly and looked at the passport queue. The EU citizens were moving very fast, their passports barely checked. The non EU citizens’ queue was at a standstill, passports thoroughly checked, visas required.

A faint smile appeared at the edge of my lips as I remembered myself arriving in Milan some months ago as Julia a UK citizen looking at the exhausted migrant cleaner pushing her cart.

Now I was this exhausted migrant cleaner. I looked at the plasticized card that I had to wear around my neck. ‘Molegunda Apuya – airport cleaner’ it said and the photo attached was my Filipino passport photo the one in which I was dressed in a maid’s uniform. Today I had to start my shift at 6.00 am and I was going to finish at 1.00pm, seven continuous hours of hard manual labor except for a fifteen minutes break at 10.00 am for a coffee and sandwich courtesy of the airport catering services.

Story: Departing from Milan. Part 4.

by Monica Graz

“Molly, go and change this instant, Miss Connolly will be here in about half an hour and you still have to set the table,” Conchita said to me as I was helping her with the preparations of the meal basically cleaning after her. She was the cook and I was her skivvy for sometime now.

It was past midday and I already felt tired and dirty. I was as usually up at 6.30am and I was solidly working except for a break at 9.30 to share a quick cup of coffee and a small snack with Conchita in the kitchen.

“Make sure to wear a clean uniform dress without stains and use the nice white half apron with the frill all around it. Also have a white band around your hair. Miss Connolly has to see what a nice Filipina maid you became.”   

“Yes Ma’am,” I answered to her realizing as I said it that by this stage I fully meant it. Conchita became somehow my immediate boss, the one to whom I was referring all the time, the one who was telling me what to do in the house on a daily basis. Signora and signorina Bonifacio were above that, they wouldn’t tell the ‘help’ what to do; they had the senior maid for that.

Caption: Permanent Disguise

When war broke out in Europe Lady Elizabeth Grosvenor - and her dutiful maid Julia - were caught vacationing in the Swiss Alps. Going back home seemed almost impossible, but when news came that Elizabeth's father died, leaving his only daughter all of his wealth, she had to act. Crossing the border with Italy illegally seemed like a good idea, but the plan spectacularly backfired after Elizabeth - dressed as a peasant girl - was arrested by the Carabinieri. Julia, with all of her mistress's gowns and jewels, managed to escape capture...

Story: The Demise of Lady Charlotte Rhodes

By Jackie J; edited and expanded by Robyna Choleton (re-published October, 6 2016)

How could Lady Charlotte have known the consequences of that casual subtle touch on her breasts that morning by her maid Miss Jacobs?

Lady Charlotte Rhodes, recently widowed, could have resisted her base instincts and passed off what she now knows to have been a devious plan by Miss Jacobs, for what it first appeared, just an innocent accidental touch as she adjusted the bed linen prior to serving Lady Charlotte her morning tea.

Aroused by her maid’s delicate touch, stroking her fingers across Charlotte’s firming nipple Miss Jacob’s scheme was in motion, and having heard the soft sigh from Charlotte’s lips and seeing the wanting look in her eyes, it was now just a matter of time.

Miss Jacobs always had affections for Henry, Charlotte’s late husband, which were frequently returned before he married Charlotte.  With Henry now departed, following an accident in Kenya, which left the estate to his widow, Miss Jacobs’ dreams of one day making Henry and his wealth her own, were over.

Charlotte was not a bad Mistress of the house and she had no problem retaining Miss Jacobs when she married Henry.  She just had no idea of the history between Miss Jacobs, or Jenny as she was known to Henry, and her new husband.

Story: Departing from Milan. Part 3.

by Monica Graz

“Molegunda Apuya, Molly for short, this is your new identity, girl,” Signorina Bonifacio said as she handed me my new Filipino passport.

I picked it eagerly, slightly curtseying as it was automatic for me now and I started opening it. Of course I instantly looked at the photo. I more or less knew what to expect but what I saw was even beyond that.

A young dark woman with Asian characteristics looked back at me; the skin was Indian dark, the eyes moderately slanted and the hair jet black, straight and long, kept in the back with a simple elastic band. Signora and Signorina Bonifacio wanted my hair to be short and easy to maintain for a domestic, but Conchita convinced them otherwise saying that as a Filipina I should be a devout Catholic and the Catholic Church was discouraging women to have short hair.

I could see the white collar of my blue uniform dress and the frilly edge of my white apron bib. I was obliged to wear a maid’s uniform when the photo was taken. Even in my passport photo I couldn’t escape what I became so rapidly in the past few months.

Story: Departing from Milan. Part 2.

by Monica Graz

I was standing in front of Signora, head slightly bowed, hands crossed in front of my apron. As usual, I was all messy after a whole morning of scrubbing and cleaning, but Signora couldn’t care less. I was there to serve her and strictly follow orders regardless of how demeaning they could be.

- How are you doing with your Filipino education, Molly? - she asked rather casually. - Is your Tagalog improving? Conchita believes that you are an eager pupil though you have so much Western influence in you that becoming an Asian girl requires probably more drastic steps.

I looked at her timidly, not knowing once more how to answer to that, not to mention that my poor Italian was a constant obstacle to fully expressing myself.

Story: Departing from Milan. Part 1.

by Monica Graz

PART 1

I was dressed in a quite simple manner when Conchita took me out to meet her Filipino friends that warm Sunday afternoon. It has been the first time I wasn’t wearing my maid’s uniform since I arrived in Signora’s house two months ago; the first day I had the chance to go out as a ‘normal person’.

Since I had no other clothes except my maid’s uniforms, Conchita gave me an outfit to wear and I was dressed following her instructions. A pair of black cropped trousers, a pink polyester blouse of some sort of cheap glittery material, a pair of canvas shoes, a silver cross around my neck as my single piece of jewelry. I kept my jet black hair in a tight high ponytail and I had very little makeup on simply to emphasize my more oriental looking eyes.