started earning your keep, Baby Girl, come with me,” says Maggie, locking the door behind John and walking back out to the shop. I’m guessing it’s just me and her tonight. John goes out sometimes and doesn’t come home. I’m not sure where he goes, but it makes Maggie sad and cross at the same time. She calls it his “disappearing act,” and for a while I wondered if John might be a secret magician.
The shop is a mess. The big black leather stools are all over the place, and there are betting slips and cigarette butts and chocolate-bar wrappers all over the floor.
There is also a broom.
“I want you to sweep all this up, put the stools back against the walls, then, when you’re done, come and get me,” Maggie says, and walks through the open metal door that leads upstairs to the flat. I hear the television turn on up there, then the sound of the TV show she likes so much where they all speak like John: EastEnders.
I start with the stools; they are taller than me and very heavy. I push them back against the walls where they are supposed to be, and they make a horrid scraping sound against the tiles. When that’s done, I pick up the broom, pretend to fly around the shop on it like a witch, then start to make little piles of rubbish. I don’t know how to make the piles go inside the black bin bag Maggie left behind, so I use my hands. When I am finished, they are dirty and sticky. I stand at the bottom of the big stairs and call her name several times.
“Maggie!” I yell on the third try, but she still doesn’t reply. I’m tired and hungry. I think we’re having spaghetti hoops on toast tonight; we normally have something on toast for dinner. It can be beans or cheese or eggs, but whatever it is, we eat it on toast. Maggie says toast goes with everything. I think of something and try calling her again. “Mum!”
“Yes, Baby Girl?” She appears at the top of the stairs as if by magic.
“I’ve finished sweeping.”
She comes down and looks around at the shop floor, nodding. “You did good. Are you hungry?” I nod. “Would you like McDonald’s?” I nod again, twice as fast. McDonald’s is what she buys me when her face is happy. McDonald’s is way better than anything on toast. It comes in a box with a toy and I like it a lot.
“Well then, just you wait there.” She walks to the back of the shop, through the door that leads behind the glass counter, and out back behind the phone room where I can’t see. I hear the sound of water, then she comes back with a mop and bucket; it’s steaming and has bubbles like a minibath. “I want you to mop this whole floor, including the customer toilet, and I’m going to go and get you a Happy Meal. You just do it like this.” She drops the mop into the bucket, then lifts and twists it, squeezing out almost all of the water, before sliding it backwards and forwards across the floor. She puts the mop in my hand and walks to the front of the shop. Then she takes out the enormous set of keys that she carries everywhere, unlocks the door, and slams it shut behind her. I have never been through that door, I don’t even know what’s out there. I haven’t been outside at all since I first arrived. I wait for a little while after Maggie has left before looking through the letter box. I can see a row of houses, a road, an old man with white hair walking his dog, and a bus stop. I wonder if I caught a bus from there whether it might take me all the way home.
I start to mop the floor. It’s pretty big and dirty so it takes a long time, and the bucket is too heavy for me to lift, so I have to keep stopping to push it around with both hands. I have never been inside the customer toilet before. It smells bad, so I stay standing in the doorway. The toilet seat is up, there are lots of yellow and brown stains on the inside of the white bowl, and little puddles on the floor. I don’t want to go in there wearing my favorite socks, so I just mop