The following week on Tuesday, Daniel does his usual routine, starting in the bedroom and finishing in the lounge, then on the fridge is listed his additional chores which include tackling a large stack of ironing, plus cleaning all the interior windows, frames, and sills. “This might take me ’til about 2 pm Mrs Haverthwaite,” Daniel says. Mrs Haverthwaite tells him she’ll pay for the extra hour and asks if it’s OK that he stays a little longer. “Yes of course Mrs Haverthwaite,” he says.

On Friday, as well as his usual chores, Daniel weeds tidie’s the border between the drive and front lawn and sweep the entire drive which being in Pluston, is much longer and wider than the average drive. After his usual chores on Tuesday, she has him dust and vacuums the study which she uses as a home office, and the following Friday’s additional task is cleaning the front door, scrubbing the front doorstep, and polishing the brass house number, letterbox, bell push, and door handle until they’re all gleaming. When he returns home, he notices a number of pale patches on his pants and recalls Mrs Haverthwaite advising him not to get the cleaning solution on his clothes as it contains bleach and will stain them. The splashes are all below the knee so he turns them into a pair of cut-off shorts, but essentially, it’s one less pair of smart pants he has.

After a fruitless Monday going door-to-door and being offered not a single job, Daniel makes his way to Plushton on Tuesday morning, over which an ominous black cloud lurks. He hopes he’ll avoid the rain but as he strides up the hill through the greenbelt between the run-down town and up-market village, the heavens open. Now’s the time he wished he’d packed an umbrella or at very least, invested in a jacket that is actually waterproof. The rain has stopped by the time he’s tramping up Mrs Haverthwaite’s driveway, but Daniel is absolutely drenched.

The warm a friendly Mrs Haverthwaite insists he gets out of his wet things so she can hang them to dry over the radiators. She’ll find him something to wear whilst his jeans, socks, shoes, shirt and not very waterproof jacket dry… “I know this may seem unusual but… this is the only thing I’ve got that should fit you.” Mrs Haverthwaite hesitantly tells him.

“I can’t wear that!” Daniel gasped as she presented Jolanta’s old housekeeping uniform on a hanger.

“It’s only for a few hours whilst your clothes dry,” she said. “…it is the only thing I have that will fit you.” she frowned. “…and you did say Jolanta was about your size.” she reminded him, adding “I very much doubt you’d fit into anything of mine.”

Daniel gulped as he glanced from the housekeeping uniform to Mrs Haverthwaite’s stout rotund frame. “I guess I don’t have much choice.” he conceded.

Daniel changed out of his sodden clothes in the utility room and donned the frock; jet black, knee-length with press studs up the front. Its short sleeves are gathered a little on the shoulder and trimmed with white cuffs to match its white rounded collar. He felt so incredibly shy as he opened the utility room door to present himself to Mrs Haverthwaite. She was standing at the kitchen sink with her back to him. “Erm…” he said, getting her attention. “Should I wear the apron as well?” he timidly asked.

“Yes I think so,” she said, smiling and looking him up and down.

Daniel was hoping she’d say the opposite since the apron has frilly trim all the way around it and around its little pocket on the front, but he reluctantly donned it and tied its tapes in a bow at the small of his back. Mrs Haverthwaite adjusted the bow a little. “That’s better,” she said as Daniel found an item in the apron’s pocket.

At first, the thought it might be an item of underwear. “Erm… what’s this?” he asked, revealing something small and white and trimmed with lace.

“I’ll show you.” Mrs Haverthwaite replied as she took the item from him. “There.” Mrs Haverthwaite grinned after placing it on his head.

Daniel’s eyes rolled upwards but he couldn’t see the dainty little thing in his head. “I can’t imagine what I look like.” he gulped. “Actually… I can,” he added. “Did Jolanta wear this too?” he asked as his hands found the dainty little cap.

“She didn’t like it.” Mrs Haverthwaite told him. “She said it made her feel like a servant.”

“I know what she means.”

“Have you hung your clothes over the radiator?”

“Yes.”

“Good… they’ll be dry in no time.” Mrs Haverthwaite smiled. “You’d better get started,” she suggested.