Captive

Chapter Ten

The bathroom would have given her dad an apoplexy Juliet considered when she had finished scrubbing it until it gleamed. It hadn't been dirty as such, but it was clear that whoever had been cleaning it previously simply kept it at a very basic level of hygiene. There had been thick dust on the stalls and around the skirting boards which her keen eyes had found straight away. That was certainly not the case now. The black paintwork had been washed over, the white ceramics polished and everything looked clean and fresh. The ladies bathroom was basically untouched and hadn't taken quite as much scrubbing though it too had the thick layers of dust. Jim eyed her with slightly narrowed eyes when she finally emerged from the bathrooms but when he went through to check out her handiwork he was happy; he didn't think it had been that clean when it was first installed. He watched her put the cleaning products away in the cupboard and head through the door behind the bar to the small kitchen area where there was a sink, a table and chairs, the dishwasher and a few lockers for the staff's belongings. She was standing at the sink scrubbing her hands with soap and water in a slightly obsessive way which Bret had had the foresight to warn him about.

"You'll wash away your skin," he couldn't help but comment and she looked over her shoulder, giving him a small smile.

"If you had cleaned those bathrooms you would want to wash away your skin too," she said lightly. Jim shrugged.

"I've cleaned them plenty of times," he replied and she smiled, shaking her head. "What?"

"You missed a bit," she said dryly, thinking of the dust  and he shrugged.

"They were clean," he said, somewhat defensively. "But maybe not quite as clean as they are now. Clients won't recognise the place when they come in. I'll be opening up in five minutes. You ready?" She dried her hands and turned to face him, her expression clouding a little and he could see she was nervous about when the bar opened. "Look there won't be much to it. You're not serving at the bar so you don't need to remember where all the bottles are or take money or anything. All you do is collect the empties, see to the dishwasher, wipe down the tables, give the bathroom a once over regularly and that's pretty much it. It's mainly men that come in here to be honest; there's usually a game or a match up on the screen for them and they drink, watch the screen and then go home. It's not a rough bar or anything like that and anyone gets out of line they'll have me to deal with ok?"

"Ok," she said, but she didn't look all that convinced. Her hand reached to her chest briefly and then she went to her locker, taking out the small bottle of pills. Jim watched as she took a couple before putting the bottle away and placing the glass which she had used straight into the dishwasher.

"It's unusual for someone so young to have angina," he commented and she glanced at him. "Sorry, Bret told me. Figured I should know as you'll be working here."

"I'm not sure why he felt you needed to know," she said, in a breezy tone that told him she was not at all happy that this had been shared with him. "As long as I take my pills and watch what I eat and drink it is perfectly well controlled and does not require sharing with everyone who comes into contact with me."

"He just thought it best I knew," Jim said again. "That way if you ever need anything I'm at least aware. Like if it was too much one night and you needed to sit down for a bit or something..."

"I am quite certain I can manage the cleaning here without it effecting my heart," she said, a little stiffly. Jim held his hands up in surrender.

"Alright have it your way. I'm going to open up. You get the glasses on that tray back through to the bar, but don't get under my feet." His surly tone was almost a relief though; she didn't want him feeling sorry for her. She had managed her condition well enough the last ten years and didn't need someone treading on eggshells around her. As the bar filled up she was kept busy all night collecting glasses, mopping up spills and keeping on top of the bathrooms and other cleaning duties. Jim had been right about the clientele; they basically left her alone and ignored her much to her relief. By the time Brian arrived to collect her she felt a lot more comfortable about the job because it didn't appear the work would be anywhere near as bad as she had feared. Juliet had limited experience in bars. The university she had attended was in a sleepy town where the local pub with it's cosy nooks and black painted beams did food and quiz nights, a world away from this streamlined bar with its neon pink lights and black and white paintwork. She had rarely gone into London and when she had she and Cara had generally gone to the theatre, had a meal in a restaurant and then headed back to Merriton by the last train, avoiding the pubs and clubs scene. Cara had accepted that she didn't enjoy that scene and had the idea that something had perhaps happened to Juliet to put her off of close contact with others but she didn't ask any questions. Cara was a pretty straightforward girl; she liked Juliet's company and never delved into her past which was probably why they got on so well.