The Secrets We Keep

By Donna Jay

If anyone had told Sadie she'd be homeless and living out of her car at age twenty-five, she'd have laughed in their stupid faces. She'd have laughed even harder if she’d been told her new, uptight, beauty parlour boss, Victoria, would steal her heart and stamp all over it. Because Sadie's way smarter than that.

The saying “You don’t know what you have until it’s gone” has become Victoria's motto ever since Sadie stumbled into her ordered world. Victoria just needs a cleaner. But apparently Sadie has other talents—the sort that can crack open Victoria's heart and shatter her equilibrium.

No, Sadie and her chaotic charms absolutely will not do. Victoria’s strict no-workplace relationship rules exist for a reason.

But what if Victoria can’t live without her? Is it too late to win back the intoxicating young woman?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Donna Jay
• Release date: Mar 28, 2021
• ISBN: 9781005452759

Donna Jay

Donna lives in the land of the long white cloud, otherwise known as New Zealand. Living in a picturesque country and enjoying the outdoors has provided many opportunities for her to write ‘naughty stories' featuring strong women.

Book preview

Part 1

CHAPTER 1

I stood under the powerful jets of water, my heart racing and my gaze locked on the rivulets of water cascading down the shower door. Unable to shake the feeling someone was going to burst in, I rinsed off and climbed out.

My nerves were shot. Last night I’d barely slept. Every bang, every rumble of an engine, had me bolting upright. I was continually waiting for a rap on the window and wondering what I’d do when it came. Feign sleep? Face whoever it was head-on? Both options terrified me and left me exhausted.

In the back of my mind, I knew bad people preyed on the vulnerable at all hours of the day. But the world never seemed as scary when it was light out. My dad used to joke about things going bump in the night. He thought it was funny until something actually went bump in the night—the cops rapping on our door. I’ll never forget the sight of my old man being dragged away in handcuffs. He looked devastated, like he’d failed us.

He had.

Mum told me she knew about his gambling. Apparently, she used to hide money so we’d have enough to pay the bills. What Mum hadn’t known was that he’d been thieving to fund his addiction. She also didn’t know he’d been fired from his job and missed a court hearing.

I don’t know if my old man ever did time for his crime. I only know that it was just Mum and me after that. She got really sad if I asked when he was coming back, so I stopped asking.

Shaking off the thoughts, I took one last look at the marble bathroom—it was fucking gorgeous and a shame I couldn’t relax enough to enjoy it. Once I was sure it was spotless, I descended the staircase.

The wooden banister gleamed, and the lemony scent of furniture polish lingered in the air. At the bottom of the stairs, I ducked into the kitchen, picked up the envelope marked ‘The Cleaner’—that was me—and was out of there.

I’d only met Mrs Taylor once in passing, and I didn’t know how she’d feel about me using her shower. I hoped I never found out. What I did was risky but necessary.

My car didn’t have a shower. It didn’t have running water either. Before I could depress myself any further, I pocketed the envelope and set the alarm.

I always wondered about that—people who gave out their alarm code to the cleaning company. What if I was a crook like my old man? I wasn’t, although some would argue I was stealing Mrs Taylor’s hot water. If my boss found out, my arse would be grass, and I was living on the bones of my backside as it was.

I jumped in my car and headed to the next job on my list—an auto garage with one office lady and six mechanics. Just the thought of cleaning the foul-smelling urinals made me nauseous.

There were some smells I’d never get used to, and those tablet thingies they gave me to make them smell pretty only made it worse. The opposing odours blended together, leaving behind something that smelled like fragrant flowers thrown on a compost heap.

By three that afternoon, I was dead on my feet. I really needed to grab an hour’s sleep, but if Rowena had another job for me, I’d take it. God knew I needed every cent.

I grabbed my cell phone, hoping I had enough credit for the call. Other than work, I had no one else to call. My ex could go fuck herself, and I refused to run home. When I moved in with Ella, my mother had told me not to return home to her when things went tits up. I took her words to heart. I had no idea if she knew I was currently homeless, or if she even cared.

Hello, Spick and Span Cleaning.

Hey, Rowena. It’s Sadie.

Hey, Sades.

I fucking hated her calling me that, and she knew it. But for the time being, I had to play nice.

Do you have any more jobs for me today? I was barely doing thirty hours a week, and I needed all the hours I could get.

Let me check.

There was the rustle of paper and the sound of Rowena smacking on gum. I pictured her overly made-up face with thick black mascara and cherry-red lipstick.

Oh, here’s one. Soccer clubrooms, seven o’clock tonight. You want it or is it past your bedtime?

I’ll take it. I didn’t bother replying to her smarmy remark. I couldn’t afford to lose my job. I was also relieved I’d be able to grab three hours of sleep while it was still light out.

I tossed my phone on top of my clothes on the passenger seat and headed for Lake Terrace. There were numerous spots I could park for free and not look out of place. I pulled into an angle park, killed the engine, and unclipped my seatbelt. I stuffed the sunshade across the windshield and towels in the window, plunging the interior into semi-darkness.

I didn’t want anyone watching me while I slept. It also gave me the illusion I was safe. Safe in a soft, warm bed with no seat springs digging into my side and gear lever banging against my knees.

I reclined the driver’s seat and closed my eyes, but my mind refused to shut off. After two hours of drifting off and waking up, I gave up on sleep. With an hour to spare before my next job, I went in search of food. I couldn’t afford to waste money on takeaways, so I headed to the supermarket. I bought a packet of buns from the bakery, some sliced ham, and a tub of coleslaw.

I saved a couple of buns for breakfast. My cooler bag was hopeless for keeping things cold, but I could smear some Vegemite on them with my plastic knife in the morning. If I was braver, I’d have a real knife, but if someone tried to attack me, I’d probably be the one who ended up stabbed.

I headed for the clubrooms and people-watched for a while since I was early. Women and men poured out of the place, all full of smiles. I hoped it wasn’t long before I could enjoy the simple things in life again.

It was at times like this I wondered how things went so terribly wrong. Never in a million years had I pictured myself as homeless. Some would argue I could tuck tail and crawl home to my mother, but that wasn’t an option for me. I was pigheaded and determined to make it on my own. I didn’t want to give my mother the satisfaction of saying she knew I’d run home at the first sign of trouble.

Perhaps I was cutting off my nose to spite my face, but I’d rather that than have a brown nose. I’d never kissed anyone’s arse, and that included my mother’s.

Once the crowd thinned out, I cracked open the car door and made my way into the clubrooms. The first thing that hit me was the stench of beer, not fresh and crisp but stale as if it was embedded in the carpet. Spotting a guy stacking glasses, I weaved between tables and made my way to the bar.

Hi. I’m Sadie. The cleaner.

He smirked.

Yeah, I got that a lot. My nana used to sing ‘Sadie, the Cleaning Lady’ to me when she looked after me for my folks, which was often. But unlike Johnny Farnham’s Sadie, I didn’t intend to always be a cleaning lady.

Don’t worry, I won’t let you get bored, dear old Sadie.

At least he didn’t sing the version I got at school. Sadie the cleaning lady, picks her nose and feeds it to her baby.

My primary schoolmates were real comedians. I gave as good as I got, though. We were just kids having fun, no responsibilities. If I’d known how quickly those days would be over, I might’ve paid more attention in class.

I smiled at the elderly gentlemen. You’re showing your age, you know?

He set down a glass and flung a red and white tea towel over his shoulder. You ever watch the seniors play soccer? They would give some of you kids a run for your money.

At twenty-five, I was hardly a kid, but I’d given soccer a go when I was at intermediate. After a good kick in the shins—no shin pads, we couldn’t afford them—that left me bruised for days, I hung up my second-hand soccer boots and took up badminton instead. I was done chasing a ball around. With that said, I didn’t have much better luck chasing after a shuttlecock.

Sports and I parted ways when I started high school. I became the netball team’s biggest cheerleader. Watching the girls dart around the court, shooting hoops with their skirts practically around their ears, had been the highlight of my day.

If you point me in the direction of the cleaning cupboard, I’ll get out of your hair.

The elderly gent leaned an elbow on the benchtop and pointed, looking straight down his finger as if lining up the sight on a gun. Storage cupboard next to the sign pointing to the ladies’.

Thanks. I did an awkward walk-waddle back the way I’d come. The mention of the ladies’ had me busting to go. That was the other thing I quickly learned about sleeping rough. Just needing to pee took planning.

By nine-thirty, I was back in my car and headed for God knew where. I hated this time of night. My heart raced, and my stomach churned. Last night, I heard someone wandering around outside my car. Too chickenshit to look, I kept deathly still, praying they would go away. They did, and that told me it was someone lurking.

If it’d been a traffic warden—as if they worked at midnight—or a cop, they wouldn’t have given up so fast. I was on Rifle Range Road before I knew it, heading towards work, which was just a small office Rowena ran her business from.

There were two parks. Both were empty. I pulled into one. Why I hadn’t thought of this before now was beyond me. I picked up my water bottle and put it back down. I didn’t want to have to pee during the night.

After blacking out the windows, I grabbed a blanket and hunkered down for the night.

CHAPTER 2

I woke with a start and bolted upright, smacking my head on the door handle. I rubbed the sore spot, trying to get my bearings.

A second rap on the window made my heart thump madly. Whoever was there wasn’t going away. Resigned to my fate, I climbed from the back seat into the front and slid behind the wheel. At least if it was someone I felt threatened by, I could fire the car to life and speed away.

I pulled the towel out of the driver’s window and froze. Fuck. My boss was staring back at me. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Not only had I been caught sleeping in my car, but I was in her parking spot.

I wound down the window. Morning, boss. I was starting to wonder if you were coming in today.

Rowena pursed her lips. What the hell are you talking about?

I was winging this. It was the first time I’d had to bluff my way out of a situation. I’ve been waiting for you for the last half hour. You start at seven-thirty, right?

Eight. The answer was as tight as her pursed lips.

Oops. I turned the key in the ignition. My car coughed to life, and Rowena batted at the air. I bit back a smile. I was just keeping your spot warm. I reversed out of the spot, full of smiles and false cheer.

Rowena marched back to her car and got in. By the time she pulled into her park, gathered up her things and got out, I was standing by her car.

What are you doing here, Sadie?

I was up with the birds and thought you might have an early job for me. The first one I had that day wasn’t until ten.

I did, but when you didn’t answer my text, I gave it to someone else.

That would teach me for thinking I was one step ahead of her. The saying ‘you needed money to make money’ applied the other way as well. Having no money compounded the issue. I needed money to pay for credit on my phone. I needed credit on my phone to make money. What a fucking mess my life was. I coughed to stifle a groan.

You okay? You’re not getting sick, are you?

Just a tickle in my throat. I didn’t have the energy to thank Rowena for her concern. I doubted she cared, anyway. I could be wrong. I’d never been a good judge of character. I took people at face value until they fucked me over—something that happened more than I cared to admit. Not anymore, though.

Mrs Taylor’s going away for a week and wants the house cleaned from top to bottom while she’s gone. The job’s yours if you want it.

Images of Mrs Taylor’s marble bathroom came to mind, and I almost swooned. My head felt light, and I rested my hand on the roof of Rowena’s car to steady myself. Can I get back to you on that? It was meant as a joke, but Rowena’s funny bone had abandoned her long before we met.

Never mind. I’ll give the job to Penelope. I’m sure she’ll appreciate it.

There was that snarky fucking voice I hated so much, but I was in no position to bite the hand that fed me.

I forced a smile. There’s no need to do that. I’d be honoured to scrub Mrs Taylor’s home. I didn’t have to fight to keep my smile in place. Thoughts of soaking in her bathtub, knowing she would be out of town, had me wanting to jump for joy.

Better. Sort your phone out…and your attitude, and I’ll throw all the work you need your way.

I wanted to ask what the hell was wrong with my attitude. But I also didn’t want to rock the boat, so I swallowed the words.

I won’t let you down.

Good. Make sure you don’t. And that tip she leaves, it belongs to the company. You owe me twenty bucks. Her tone was full of self-righteousness. I’ll take it out of your next pay.

Like bloody hell she would. That money had been left for the cleaner—me—and I intended to spend it wisely.

Taking a gamble, I called her bluff. What money? I was either about to lose my job and the tip or keep what had been left for me. It wasn’t usual to tip in New Zealand, so I was betting on the fact Mrs Taylor hadn’t told the cleaning company she’d left one for me. Why would she?

After a brief stare-down, Rowena’s key fob beeped, and I almost jumped out of my skin. My nerves were shot. Lack of sleep did that to a person. Never again would I take someone else’s word for it that they were paying the rent.

Off you go. Rowena waved her hand at me like a pesky fly. And don’t park in my spot again.

Yes, boss. I saluted, taking a small piece of satisfaction from the scowl that crossed her face.

I backed out and took one last look at Rowena. Without heels on, she was barely over five foot tall. Six inches shorter than me. I hadn’t worn heels for months. Maybe even years. I had no need to. My ex was shorter than me, and she insisted I wear flat shoes. She insisted on a lot of things. Like that I tell my mother to get stuffed and move in with her. Not those exact words, but I got the picture. At the time, I’d felt like a rebel. I quickly learned I wasn’t.

If I could turn back time, I would, but my car wasn’t a time machine, so I headed for the local park instead. After making sure the coast was clear, I grabbed my toilet bag and ducked into one of the public loos. I had ten minutes until the door auto-opened.

My nostrils revolted against the horrendous odour of defecation and stale urine. After a tepid sponge bath and a quick brush of my teeth, I was out of there, gulping in a lung full of fresh air.

A dude walking his dog eyed up my toilet bag.

In no mood to explain myself, I stared pointedly at his hands. I hated it when people let their dogs crap wherever they liked and continued on their merry way. You got a poop bag with you?

Yep. He pulled a plastic bag out of his back pocket and held it up. You need it?

I shook my head, grinning all the way back to the car. You never could judge a person by their looks. I thought the guy was going to be a total douchebag, but he’d put a huge smile on my face instead.

CHAPTER 3

The following week was rather uneventful. I finally had forty hours of work. I made sure my phone was topped up, so I had no need to go into the office and ruffle Madam Rowena’s feathers.

The night after she told me not to park at work again, I drove around Taupo aimlessly. I almost headed to my mother’s, but pride stopped me. When hunger kicked in, I found myself at the supermarket. At ten o’clock at night, it was like Christmas. Perishable foods in the bakery and deli were priced to clear.

I bought a feast for a steal, and the store and car park became my nightly resting place. So far, no one had tapped on my window in the middle of the night or the wee hours of the morning. It happened a couple of times when I used to park up at the lake, and the fear that gripped me every time was something I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy.

I didn’t have many of them, but then again, I didn’t have many friends either. Not true friends, anyway. They hadn’t walked away from me. I’d walked away from them along with Ella and her love for partying.

Yes, I knew she drank and liked to shout her friends, buying them drinks as if she was made of money, but not to the extent she did until the landlord turned up on our doorstep with an eviction notice because our rent was so far in arrears.

Perhaps I was more like my mother than I knew. Love had made me blind.

I was nearly out of credit on my phone, but since I planned on topping it up with the tip from Mrs Taylor—fuck you, Rowena—I sent Mum a text.

Hi. I hope all is well. Miss you. Love you. I meant it too. But life happened. People drifted apart and people said shit they wished they could take back but couldn’t.

When are you coming to see your mother?

Mum didn’t know Ella and I had split yet, but it didn’t escape my notice her message didn’t include Ella. It never did. There was no love lost there.

I’ll call in on Sunday, okay?

I’d like that.

Me too. Pride stopped me from sending those two little words. I didn’t know who I was punishing more—myself or my mother—and I didn’t have time to think about it. There was a marble bathroom and a bathtub with my name on it. A smile split my face as I started the engine and exited the supermarket car park.

I pulled up outside Mrs Taylor’s, then backed up and pulled into her driveway. If I was going to use her hot water, I might as well go all out and do some laundry too. But first, I needed to make sure the coast was clear.

Hello? a voice called out, and I spun around. A woman stood at the end of the driveway, shielding her eyes from the sun. Who are you?

The cleaner. I flashed her the company logo on my polo shirt.

Oh, okay, honey. Mavis asked me to keep an eye on the place while she’s away. You never can be too careful.

Absolutely. I poured all the sincerity I could into that word.

Beats me why she needs someone to clean the house when they’re not even home. Some people have more money than sense.

Not me. I smiled widely. I need the work, so I’m not complaining.

Oh, right. Sorry to keep you.

The woman disappeared from the gate, and I turned my attention back to the two-storey house before me. I peered up at the balcony off the master bedroom. I’d love nothing more than to sit out there with my feet up on the rail, sipping wine, but I wasn’t that bold.

Luxuriating in a bubble bath with the house locked was about as daring as I got. Oh, and tossing on a load of laundry while I was at it. I’d planned on letting it dry in the breeze, but now that I knew the neighbour was watching, I’d have to make do with the clothes dryer.

I punched the key code into the alarm panel, and nothing happened. Certain I’d got it wrong, I tried again. Still nothing. God-fucking-dammit. I’d been looking forward to this all week.

Not ready to walk away, I pulled out my phone and dialled work.

Rowena answered on the third ring. Hello, Spick and Span Cleaning.

Hi, it’s me.

Oh.

Damn, I hated that. Would it really be so hard not to sound like I was the last person in the world Rowena wanted to hear from? I’d sorted out my attitude—as she liked to say—and kept my phone topped up. Maybe she was a bitch to all her employees. I’d never met the others, so I didn’t know for sure.

What have you done?

And the accusation. The sooner I could blow this job the better. I’m at Mrs Taylor’s, but the alarm code won’t work.

What number are you putting in?

I told her.

Just a minute.

I waited, wishing I’d texted instead. I got a hundred free texts a month, but talk time was money I didn’t have to spare. Not on someone as obnoxious as Rowena.

A bumblebee buzzed by and I stepped back, tucking my chin into my neck. It landed on a flower and got to work. I relaxed, wishing I could do the same. Get to work.

Rowena came back on the line. That’s the code we have on file. Are you at the right address?

I clenched my jaw and counted to three before replying. Yes, I’m at the right house.

Give me a minute.

Dollar signs ticked by as the minutes on my phone ticked down. I propped the phone between my ear and shoulder and tried the alarm code again.

Elation stole over me when I heard the lock click. Never mind. I’m in.

Well, thanks for wasting my time.

You’re welcome. I clicked off before I realised what I’d said. When it hit me, an image of Rowena scowling at the phone came to mind.

I took way more pleasure from that mental picture than I probably should have. But not as much as standing in Mrs Taylor’s grandiose house.

Family portraits hung on the walls. Not photos or pictures. Portraits. Like hurt-your-wallet professional studio portraits. A couple stood behind two girls who looked like they lived a life of privilege. They did. I didn’t envy them; I was happy for them.

Their smiles looked legit, like they were genuinely buzzing with happiness and not just posing for some twat telling them to smile. I hadn’t seen any sign of teenage life in the house, so I guessed the portrait had been taken several years ago.

Bypassing the living room,