Weeping on Wednesday

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“Hello? Is that Mrs Meade? Mrs Lois Meade?” The voice was hesitant, quiet.

“Yes, this is New Brooms. ‘We sweep cleaner! ‘ Can I help you?” Lois was sitting in her office, feet up on her desk, reading the classified section of the Tresham Advertiser. She was looking for new staff, and had an advertisement in today’s issue. Her question was met with silence. She tried again.

“Hello, Mrs, er?…Are you there?”

A throat was cleared, and then the quiet voice said, “Um, yes. I saw your advertisement, and thought I might suit. I…er…haven’t done anything like this before…” The voice trailed off again.

“Well, d’you want to give me some details about yourself? Or I could call in and see you?”

The answer was quick this time. “Oh, no, that won’t be necessary. I’ll put something down on paper today and get it in the post, and then I could come and see you, if you think I might be suitable.”

Lois frowned. She liked to interview prospective cleaners in their own homes. It was always more revealing than pages of autobiography. She remembered only too well a previous applicant, smart on the streets but a slut at home. Fortunately Lois had not employed her, and just as well. That one had turned out to be enemy number one, and was now safely behind bars.

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