Now You See Me Read Free Page B

for months now and I got the work by lying and writing false letters. It is surprising what people will believe. And it is OK the cleaning, rubbing things, sweeping them, smoothing them. Being in the houses of people and usually alone. And even to have that little money which is clean money earned cleanly. And to rest my head on a pillow that is my pillow and in the same place every night. These are important things. The things I balance on.
    I am sitting on the bed in my cellar. If you looked that’s what you’d see. If anyone could see but no one can. It looks like I’m sitting on the bed but I am way up there, balancing. Trying to get it back, the balance. Because someone got to me when I was not ready, not looking out. My arms are spread and my toe is pointed and below me is the deep and dizzy world.
    I first met him on a Wednesday at Mrs Banks’. I was hoovering the stairs, watching the fluff whisk into the roaring tube, when I got the feeling that someone was staring at me. I carried on for a minute thinking, don’t be daft but my skin was prickling with the sensation of eyes. There is no scientific explanation for why skin can feel eyes on it but it can. I switched the cleaner off and looked up. And there he was, standing at the top of the stairs. He was wearing a dressing gown and staring down at me. With the dressing gown and his beard and the landing light shining like a halo behind his head he looked like something holy.
    How dare a person be there like that when I thought I was alone? I said nothing, just stood and waited. If you say nothing the other person has to speak first to stop the silence. People can’t bear silence. I wasn’t scared. The door was behind me. I could run if I had to. I could kick.
    He stood there so long I was beginning to lose my nerve but then he broke the spell and said, ‘Who the fuck are you?’ He took a step down and I stepped back.
    â€˜Who are you?’ I said.
    â€˜She’s my mum,’ he said after a while.
    â€˜Mrs Banks?’
    I didn’t know what to think. Mrs Banks has got Roy, who’s four, but she’s never mentioned any other children. Why should she? It’s not as if we’re the best of mates. She doesn’t look that old though, not old enough to have a son with a beard. If it was true though, everything was OK. He had a right to be there. I didn’t know what to think.
    He started coming down the stairs and I backed down with the hoover. He came a bit too close. His hair and his beard were black but his eyes were light in his olive face. They looked odd, pale silvery grey, like razor blades.
    When you’re alone in a place that’s OK, that’s good, long as you know you’re alone. But if there’s someone there, lurking, specially a strange man with such sharp grey eyes you don’t know what to think. No point being mad at him. He was as surprised as me. I didn’t know what to do or where to look. I wasn’t going to switch the vacuum on again, not with him in the house. It makes you vulnerable. A person could creep up behind you in all that roar and you wouldn’t hear till it was too late.
    I went into the kitchen and he followed. He stood there watching me while I shoved the cleaner away. What was I supposed to do?
    â€˜Coffee?’ he said after a minute. I didn’t know if he was asking or offering. I didn’t know what to do with my hands so I put the kettle on. There was definitely something dodgy about him. You might think he was good-looking. Wild but clean. Drops of water sparkling in his stubbly beard and his toes pink on the floor. But it was the clean hard glint of his eyes that got to me. He kept staring till I said, ‘Got an eyeful?’
    He nodded and did a slow smile. ‘Yeah, ta,’ he said.
    â€˜Maybe I’ll go,’ I said. He shrugged, sat at the table and got stuck into the biscuits as if he was half-starved. I took a small sip