Still Me

He pushed a piece of paper towards me. It was a bank statement, with the totals blacked out. My eyesight was a little blurry but just one thing was visible, a trail of figures, five hundred dollars a day under ‘cash withdrawals’.

It was then that I noticed Agnes’s expression. She was staring fixedly at her hands, her mouth compressed into a thin line. Her gaze flickered towards me and away again. I stood, a fine trickle of sweat running down my back.

‘He told me something very interesting. Apparently in the run-up to Christmas a considerable sum of money was removed from our joint bank account. It was removed day by day from a nearby ATM in amounts that were – perhaps – designed not to be noticed. He picked it up because they have anti-fraud software designed to identify strange patterns of use in any of our bank cards and this was flagged up as unusual. Obviously this was a little concerning so I asked Agnes and she told me it wasn’t anything to do with her. So I asked Ashok to provide the CCTV for the days concerned and my security people matched it up with the times of the withdrawals and it turns out, Louisa,’ here he looked at me directly, ‘the only person going in and out of the building at those times was you.’

My eyes widened.

‘Now, I could go to the banks concerned and ask them to provide the CCTV from their ATMs at the times the amount was taken, but I’d rather not put them to that trouble. So really I wanted to know whether you could explain what was going on here. And why almost ten thousand dollars was removed from our joint account.’

I looked at Agnes but she was still looking away from me.

My mouth had dried even more than it had that morning.

‘I had to do some … Christmas shopping. For Agnes.’

‘You have a card to do that. Which clearly shows which shops you’ve been in and you provide the receipts for all purchases. Which, up to now, I gather from Michael, you have done. But cash … cash is rather less transparent. Do you have the receipts for this shopping?’

‘No.’

‘And can you tell me what you bought?’

‘I … No.’

‘So what has happened to the money, Louisa?’

I couldn’t speak. I swallowed. And then I said, ‘I don’t know.’

‘You don’t know?’

‘I – I didn’t steal anything.’ I felt the colour rising to my cheeks.

‘So Agnes is lying?’

‘No.’

‘Louisa – Agnes knows that I would give her anything she wanted. To be frank, she could spend ten times that in a day and I wouldn’t bat an eyelid. So she has no reason to sneak around withdrawing cash sums from the nearest ATM. So I’m asking you again, what happened to the money?’

I felt flushed, panicky. And then Agnes looked up at me. Her face was a silent plea.

‘Louisa?’

‘Perhaps I – I might have taken it.’

‘You might have taken it?’

‘For shopping. Not for me. You can check my room. You can check my bank account.’

‘You spent ten thousand dollars on “shopping”. Shopping for what?’

‘Just … bits and pieces.’

He lowered his head briefly, as if he were trying to control his temper.

‘Bits and pieces,’ he repeated slowly. ‘Louisa, you realize your being in this household is a matter of trust.’

‘I do, Mr Gopnik. And I take that very seriously.’

‘You have access to the most inner workings of this household. You have keys, credit cards, intimate knowledge of our routines. You are well rewarded for that – because we understand this is a position of responsibility and we rely on you to not betray that responsibility.’

‘Mr Gopnik. I love this job. I wouldn’t …’ I cast an anguished look at Agnes, but she was still staring down. One of her hands, I saw, was holding the other, her fingernail digging deep into the flesh of the ball of her thumb.

‘You really can’t explain what has happened to that money?’

‘I – I didn’t steal it.’

He looked at me intently for a long moment, as if waiting for something. When it didn’t come his expression hardened. ‘This is disappointing, Louisa. I know Agnes is very fond of you and feels you have been very helpful to her. But I cannot have someone in my household whom I do not trust.’

‘Leonard –’ Agnes began, but he held up a hand.

‘No, darling. I’ve been through this before. I’m sorry, Louisa, but your employment is terminated with immediate effect.’

‘Wh-what?’

‘You will be given an hour to clear your room. You will leave a forwarding address with Michael and he will be in touch regarding whatever is owed to you. I would take this opportunity to remind you of the non-disclosure element of your contract. The details of this conversation will go no further. I hope you can see that this is for your benefit as much as ours.’

The colour had drained from Agnes’s face. ‘No, Leonard. You can’t do this.’

‘I am not discussing this further. I have to go to work. Louisa, your hour starts now.’

He stood. He was waiting for me to leave the room.

I emerged from the study with my head spinning. Michael was waiting for me, and it took me a couple of seconds to grasp that he was not there to see if I was okay but to escort me to my room. That from now on I really was not trusted in this house.

I walked silently down the corridor, vaguely conscious of Ilaria’s stunned face at the kitchen door, the sound of impassioned conversation somewhere at the other end of the apartment. I couldn’t see Nathan anywhere. As Michael stood in the doorway I pulled my case from under my bed and began to pack, messily, chaotically, pulling out drawers, hauling things in as quickly as I could, conscious that I was working against some capricious clock. My brain hummed – shock and outrage tempered by the need not to forget anything: had I left laundry in the laundry room? Where were my trainers? And then, twenty minutes later, I was done. All my belongings were packed into a suitcase, a holdall and a large checked shopping bag.

‘Here, I’ll take that,’ said Michael, reaching for my wheelie case as he saw me struggling to get the three bags to the bedroom door. It took me a second to realize this was less an act of kindness than efficiency.

‘iPad?’ he said. ‘Work phone? Credit card.’ I handed them over, along with the door keys, and he put them into his pocket.

I walked along the hallway, still struggling to believe this was happening. Ilaria was standing in the kitchen doorway, her apron on, her plump hands pressed together. As I passed her, I glanced sideways, expecting her to curse me in Spanish, or to give me the kind of withering look that women of her age reserve for alleged thieves. But instead she stepped forward and silently touched my hand. Michael turned away, as if he hadn’t seen. And then we were at the front door.

He passed me the handle of my case.

‘Goodbye, Louisa,’ he said, his expression unreadable. ‘Good luck.’

I stepped out. And the huge mahogany door closed firmly behind me.

I sat in the diner for two hours. I was in shock. I couldn’t cry. I couldn’t rage. I just felt paralysed. I thought at first that Agnes would sort this out. She would find a way to convey to her husband that he was wrong. We were friends, after all. So I sat and waited for Michael to appear, looking slightly awkward, ready to pull my cases back to the Lavery. I gazed at my mobile phone, waiting for a text message – Louisa, there has been terrible misunderstanding. But none came.