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I watch as Leanne enters the room with her cleaning bucket. She looks neat enough in her black leggings and green T-shirt with our logo on the back, and her hair is tied back as I always insist. All employees go through training before they start working for us – on personal presentation as well as on our methods.
I press fast-forward, watching her as she whizzes around the bedroom, stripping and changing the bedding, dusting and polishing all surfaces with our eco products. She disappears into the adjoining bathroom and then emerges with her little watering can. She adds the plant food and then waters the three plants in the room. From memory, the Morris house has twelve of our plants, and we also arrange a twice-yearly cleaning of all their curtains and carpets, plus a few other housekeeping and maintenance jobs.
I stop the video, rewinding a few seconds and then play it again, this time slowed down. The girl moves some items aside on the dressing table, including what looks like some cash. A set-up by the owners, I’m guessing, to test how trustworthy she is. Not very, I deduce, when I see her slip a couple of notes down her leggings, glancing around the room furtively.
‘Amy, can you get Leanne to come into the office at two?’ I ask, buzzing through on the phone. I don’t want to have to let her go, but I do want an explanation. It’s not the first time an employee has pilfered things from the homes or offices they visit, and there’s always a reason behind it deeper than greed or opportunism – a child to feed, a parent to care for, ill health or debt or an addict partner. And every time, we’ve found a way to address the problem. I don’t give up on my staff.
‘Leanne, come and sit down,’ I say later when she appears in my office doorway. She’s still wearing her uniform and seems paler than I remember. The grainy video I watched earlier didn’t convey her tired, gaunt expression, nor the anxious lines written on her brow. Her face is too furrowed for a girl of nineteen.
She lowers herself into the chair opposite my desk, looking nervously around my office. Her mouth opens, as if she’s about to speak. But nothing comes out. She perches on the edge of the chair, hands clasped on her lap. Her legs aren’t much thicker than her arms and her bony shoulders hunch forward.
‘How’s it all going, then? You’ve been with us, what, six months now?’
She nods, blinking – long lashes that seem out of proportion on her childlike face. ‘Good,’ she says. If I didn’t know otherwise, I’d guess she was about fifteen.
‘And you’re coping OK with the hours? I know you have some very early starts.’
Another nod. ‘It’s fine,’ she says. ‘Mum gets in from her night shift at the hospital as I’m leaving so she can look after Kate.’
Kate, I recall, is her younger sister.
‘What does your mum do?’ I ask, knowing I probably shouldn’t. But in order to help Leanne, I need to know more about her.
She looks at me with a blank expression. ‘Cleaner,’ she says.
I nod as I try to build a picture of her family. ‘And it’s just you, your mum and your sister?’
‘Yes.’ Leanne stares down at her hands. ‘Unless Mum’s latest stops over,’ she adds quickly without looking up.
‘Partner?’
Another nod.
‘Do you like him?’
She shakes her head this time.
‘How come?’
Leanne shrugs. ‘He’s no good for Kate. A…a bad influence.’
‘That must be hard,’ I say, closing my eyes a beat. I see the face of an innocent young girl, eager-faced and wanting to please. One eye has a purple halo around it, fear set permanently behind her wide pupils as she realises she needs to get out, to escape…
I draw in a breath, blocking it all out.
‘He hits her,’ Leanne says, almost flinching as she hears her own words.
‘Oh God, I’m so sorry,’ I say, leaning forward on my desk. ‘And you…does he hit you too?’
The girl lifts her T-shirt, revealing her ribs. The red marks look recent.
‘I’m saving up to get us out. Just me and Kate. She can still carry on with school.’
I nod as her story becomes clearer. ‘You and Kate must be really close,’ I say. ‘You’re lucky to have each other.’ I swallow the lump in my throat. I’d have loved a sister – abloodsister.
‘Mum only lets him stay because he brings drugs and booze.’ Another stoic shrug.
‘That’s tough.’
