Beat That One

                                                                                       

Beat That One

It was her day off and Maria had gone through the house from top to bottom, dusting cleaning and polishing. She’d put new sheets and covers on the bed, taken down the winter curtains and put up the new flowery summer ones. The house sparkled, the carpets were cleaned and vases were full of heavily scented spring flowers. ‘That should do it,’ she murmured to herself.

She and Rob had quarrelled the night before over something stupid and like all arguments it had escalated into an almighty slanging match. Each had accused the other of ridiculous things.

‘You spend more time with you mates from work than you do with me,’ she complained.

‘Aye well I might come home sooner if I thought my tea would be on the table on time.’

‘You bastard, I work too and I don’t see you giving me a hand.’

‘You only work part time.’

‘Yes I do. I also do the cleaning, the washing, the ironing and the cooking too.’

‘So did Helen and the house was like a new pin.’

That did it; she wasn’t having his ex thrown into her face. ‘No my house couldn’t be as clean as your sainted Helen’s.’

‘You said it. Not me.’ he replied with a sneer.

That really hurt and from then on the insults from both sides became ever more hurtful until finally she had thrown a lamp at him and flounced off to lock herself in the bedroom. He had slept on the sofa and had already left for work when she had come down this morning. Well, she wouldn’t be beaten by him or his holier than thou ex wife. The arrogance of him, she’d show him. By the time he came home from work she would have the house gleaming and his favourite dinner would be on the table. 

The cleaning done, she prepared the casserole, checked the time on the kitchen clock and satisfied that it would be ready on time, slipped the dish into the oven. A quick cup of coffee and she went up to have a bath; she was looking forward to a nice long soak before getting ready. The bath was full, she had poured in her favourite bath oil and she was about to step into the water when she froze. She couldn’t for the life of her remember whether she’d switched on the oven. It was no good. She would have to go down and check.

Dressed as nature intended she hurried downstairs. Reaching the kitchen door she bent almost double, scurried across to the oven, turned it on and set the dial. That was when someone knocked on the backdoor. She glanced at the clock; it would be Bill from the farm shop, delivering her box of organic vegetables and if she didn’t answer the door he would walk in and leave the box on the kitchen table. Scurrying back the way she had come she only just managed to slip into the hall cupboard as the back door began to open. Pulling the cupboard door shut, she held her breath and waited. The footsteps crossed from the backdoor, came straight through the kitchen into the hall, stopped and the cupboard door swung open. Rob, about to hang up his coat stood there gawping at her.

Oh God what was she going to do now? Then suddenly she had the answer, she leaned forward kissed the tip of his nose and said, ‘The house is spotless, your dinner is cooking and if you come with me you can have your dessert first.’

She smiled as she led him upstairs and whispered to herself, ‘Let Saint Helen beat that one.’

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