The Undomestic Goddess - Sophie Kinsella

“I was working at Marchant House,” Nathaniel replies. “It’s a stately home near Oxford. Before that, university.”

“University?” I say, my ears pricking up. “I didn’t know—”

I halt, reddening. I was about to say, “I didn’t know gardeners went to university.”

“I did natural sciences.” Nathaniel gives me a look that makes me think he knew exactly what I was thinking.

I open my mouth to ask him where and when he was at university—then on second thought, close it and switch the waste disposal on. I don’t want to start getting into details, going down the “do we know anyone in common?” road.

Right now, I could do without remembering the particulars of my life.

At last the kitchen looks a bit more normal. I pick up the eggcup, drain the rest of the Cointreau, and take a deep breath.

“OK. Showtime.”

“Good luck.” Nathaniel raises his eyebrows.

I open the kitchen door to see Trish and Eddie loitering in the hall, holding their sherry glasses.

“Ah, Samantha! Everything ready?” Trish’s face is all lit up with anticipation, and 1 reel a huge twinge of guilt tor what I’m about to do.

But I can’t see any other way.

I take a deep breath and put on my best breaking-bad-news-to-a-client face.

“Mr. and Mrs. Geiger.” I look from one face to the other, making sure I have their attention. “I am devastated.”

I close my eyes and shake my head.

“Devastated?” echoes Trish nervously.

“I have done my best.” I open my eyes. “But I’m afraid I cannot work with your equipment. The dinner I created was not up to my own professional standards. I could not allow it out of the kitchen. I will of course reimburse all your costs— and offer my resignation. I will leave in the morning.”

There. Done. And no casualties.

I can’t help glancing at Nathaniel, standing in the doorway of the kitchen. He gives me the thumbs-up.

“Leave?” Trish puts her sherry glass down on a side table with a little crash. “You can’t leave! You’re the best housekeeper we’ve ever had! Eddie, do something!”

“Mrs. Geiger, after tonight’s performance, I feel I have no choice,” I say. “To be frank, the dinner was inedible.”

“That wasn’t your fault!” she says in consternation. “It was our fault! We’ll order you new equipment at once.”

“But—”

“Just give us a list of what you need. Spare no expense! And we’ll give you a pay rise!” She’s suddenly gripped by a new idea. “How much do you want? Name your price!”

This is not going the way I planned. Not at all.

“Well… we never discussed pay,” I begin. “And really I can’t accept—”

“Eddie!” Trish rounds on him savagely. “This is your fault! Samantha’s leaving because you’re not paying her enough!”

“Mrs. Geiger, that’s not the case—”

And she needs new kitchen pots and pans. From the best place.“ She digs Eddie in the ribs with her elbow and mutters, ”Say something!“

“Ah… Samantha.” Eddie clears his throat awkwardly. “We’d be very happy if you would consider staying with us. We’ve been delighted with your performance, and whatever your salary expectations are… we’ll match them.” Trish digs him in the ribs again. “Exceed them.”

“And health care,” adds Trish.

They’re both gazing at me with a kind of eager hope.

I glance over at Nathaniel, who cocks his head as though to say, “Why not?”

The strangest feeling is coming over me. Three people. All telling me they want me within the space often minutes.

I could stay. It’s as simple as that. For however long it takes to… work myself out. I’m miles away from London. No one knows I’m here. I’ll be safe.

I can’t cook, a little voice reminds me. I can’t clean. I’m not a housekeeper.

But I could learn. I could learn it all.

The silence is growing in tension. Even Nathaniel is watching me closely from the door.

“Well… OK.” I feel a smile coming to my lips. “OK. If you want me to… I’ll stay.”

Later that night, after we’ve all eaten a Chinese take-away, I take out my mobile

phone, call my mother’s office, and wait till I’m put through to voice mail.

“It’s all right, Mum,” I say. “You don’t need to call in any favors. I’ve got a job.” And I click the mobile shut.

Chapter Ten

The only thing is, now I actually have to be a housekeeper.

The next morning my alarm goes off at six fifteen and I arrive downstairs in the kitchen before seven, in my uniform. The garden is misty and there are no sounds, except a couple of magpies chacking at

each other on the lawn. I feel as though I’m the only person awake in the world.

As quietly as I can, I empty the dishwasher and put everything away in the cupboards. I straighten the chairs under the table. I make a cup of coffee. Then I look around at the gleaming granite counters.

My domain.

It doesn’t feel like my domain. It feels like someone else’s scary kitchen.

So… what do I do now? I feel twitchy, just standing here. I should be occupied. My mind flashes back to London before I can stop it, to my regular routine. If I were still at Carter Spink, I would be queuing for a cappuccino by now. Or maybe on the tube, answering e-mails. I

wonder how many e-mails are stacked up, unanswered, in my BlackBerry? The thought makes me feel slightly ill.

No. Don’t think about it. There’s an old copy of The Economist in the magazine rack by the table and I pick it up. I flip through and start reading a piece on international monetary controls, sipping my coffee.

Then, as I hear a sound from upstairs, I hastily put it down again. Housekeepers aren’t supposed to read articles on international monetary controls. They’re supposed to be making breakfast. But how can I do that until I know what the Geigers want?