Accepting Fate - (Slums to Riches, Book one)

Chapter 2

It took a further four hours to sweep the faded, brown carpet, clean the boys' and girls' bedrooms and all three the bathrooms. She found some comfort in being poor when she did not have a bunch of silverware to polish or racks full of ornaments to dust.

Her back and joints popped when she stretched her arms over her head. For the first time since breakfast ended, she breathed with ease as she sat on the edge of the bath.

From there, she leaned across the basin to turn on the cold tap. She wanted to lie down in a hot bath, but the house rules stipulated they could fill the bath with hot water only once a day, and Robert enforced that rule by turning off the geyser after everyone bathed each night.

So, standing in the bath, she doused herself, scrubbed her skin with honey scented body wash until it turned red, then used the rest of the freezing water to rinse.

Her hair took longer since she had to release thirty-six braids and, while hanging face down over the bath, attempt to scoop water from a basin hidden behind her thick curls. She once stuck her head under the faucet and then swore to never cause herself that much pain again. Now she froze her scalp in short bursts, even though it took longer.

While rinsing the shampoo from her hair, a door creaked somewhere in the house. She held her breath to listen for Thomas and Patricia's footsteps, but only the water dripping from her hair broke the silence.

She had memorized every creak and groan around the house. As she lay in bed on windy nights, and the roof rattled above her, her thoughts turned to the day their home would crumble and bury them alive. When Robert waddled down the passage each morning, a soft hiss followed him as he sprayed insecticide throughout the house, though no bugs plagued their home. If asked, he would say it was because he sprayed regularly, not because Angelique cleaned every spare moment. Footsteps droned over the floorboards, like a herd of stampeding animals, when the kids arrived home from school or work.

Doors did not creak by themselves unless someone left them open. Angelique secured each of the doors with heavy objects, like the marble rolling pin and its stand—both parts of a trophy she won during her first year as a senior—and the large tomb-like novels and encyclopedia from their small book collection. The floors still needed to dry and the rooms would smell musty if she closed the doors, since she could open none of the boarded windows.

With her heart thumping in her ears, she stuck her head under the cold tap of the bath to remove the last of the suds, hissing as the frigid water once more sent needles through her brain. Then wrapped her hair in a fluffy, blue towel; along with her body wash, she allowed herself only that luxury. Every other penny went to her savings or to pay Michael and Jenny's school fees, since she enrolled the two youngest kids in schools suited to their needs. Robert would have enrolled them into the government school the other four, including Angelique, attended.

When the door creaked again, she set aside the washing basket, keeping that bathroom door closed, and peeked into the passage.

Only three doors had locks and doorknobs: Thomas and Patricia's bedroom, which remained locked even with them inside; Robert and Freda's bedroom, which she refused to clean; and the front door.

As per the three older kids, Andrew, Ty, and Jamie, who all arrived before her, the locking mechanisms and handles rusted and fell off, along with the kitchen door. The two younger kids, Michael and Jenny, arrived two years later, after Angelique's tenth birthday, and she had taken care of them ever since.

Without the basket securing the door, it opened wider. The front door remained closed, and the creak of the door came from her right. Goosebumps rose on her honey scented skin, but this time, not from a chilly breeze.