Obviously, we wouldn’t stick to an exact rota every day, but it was a good idea to work out who could get in the shower first. I usually annoyed Paul by jumping in ahead of him. I held it up for Peter to look, but as his eyes scanned my words he shook his head vigorously.
‘No, no, Terrie,’ he tutted. ‘You’ve only put approximate times. You can shower quicker than that. It doesn’t take five minutes to brush your teeth. No, this is all wrong. I want something more like this.’ He picked up the pen and started writing furiously.
6.45 a.m.: Up
6.47 a.m.: Bathroom to shower
6.50 a.m.: Exit shower and immediately clean teeth
6.51 a.m.: Go to bedroom and put on clothes; tidy room
7 a.m.: Make breakfast
‘After your breakfast, you will immediately clear away the dishes and do the washing up. Paul, you can get up at 7 a.m. and follow the same timetable. As Terrie washes up you can dry,’ he said, his words firing like a machine gun. ‘Following this, you can do the hoovering, and clean the floors so I’m not walking through your crumbs all day.
‘One of you can walk the dog and the other can make coffees for myself and your mum and bring them to our room. Is this understood?’
At the bottom he also wrote a list of chores we each had to do.
‘It’s only fair,’ he said. ‘Takes the pressure off your mum.’
I felt uneasy, as he tapped his pen on the pad. He looked very pleased with himself, but it just made me feel more uncomfortable.
‘This is a proper timetable,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘Minute by minute. Every second counts. No time is wasted.’
I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came out. Inside all I could think was: What the hell?
Still wanting to please Peter, we nodded, but in the lounge as we were playing a game of Mouse Trap we spoke honestly.
‘What the fuck’s all that about?’ I said angrily to Paul.
Paul was furious too. ‘I don’t like it either, Terrie.’
But we both knew we’d have to go along with it. There was something about the way Peter had spoken that made us know we weren’t to complain.
I overheard Mum talking to Peter through the air vent as she made him a coffee.
‘Look,’ she said. ‘I know you’re doing your best, and I appreciate it so much. But try not to be so hard on them. They’ve been through a lot the past year.’
Peter sighed. ‘Of course, Cynth. I’m just learning as I go along.’
A little later, as I was walking out of the bathroom, Peter appeared in front of me.
I stepped back as he reached out with both hands to tickle me. He was smiling, but there was a gleam in his eye that I didn’t like.
‘Stop it,’ I snapped. As he brushed the sides of my breasts, I just wanted him to leave me alone, but he seemed determined to make me join in. At that moment, Paul appeared, but just as quickly he glanced over and disappeared. He no longer took part in Peter’s tickling games; I wished he would. I hated Peter being anywhere near me, especially when I was on my own.
I wasn’t looking forward to Monday morning and the start of our new schedule, but Mum seemed to support Peter’s idea.
‘They might not make it to the very second, Peter,’ she said. ‘But thank you for helping.’
‘No problem,’ said Peter. ‘You just focus on getting ready for work in the mornings and I’ll deal with the kids wherever possible.’
‘That is good of you,’ Mum said, looking relieved.
That Monday, Paul and I raced around, bumping into each other on the landing as our paths crossed as we cleaned our teeth and showered. But we were up and out of the house fast and things were a bit more organised even if we did have to rush.
Back home that afternoon we had our jobs as Peter had assigned. I was to do the hoovering and washing up, while Paul had to walk Sam. Peter had left a pile of plates and stained coffee cups from his day at home.
But nobody was home when we got back so we decided to relax for a bit.
‘Guess as long as we get the jobs done by the time he gets home it’s fine,’ I said to Paul. He nodded, heading off to the kitchen to get a drink. I was famished, so I made a beeline for the kitchen too, raiding the cupboards. Then Paul and I had a bit of a chat as we looked at the schedule.
‘Best get on with this then,’ I said, munching. By the time Peter was back, the dog had been walked, the cleaning was done, and we’d started our homework.
‘How did your schedule go?’ Peter asked, as soon as he came in.
‘Fine, thanks,’ I nodded.
That week, we felt things ran like clockwork, apart from Peter complaining about our cleaning. We both really hated how fussy he was: he’d carefully examine every item that had been washed up and he would put the whole lot back in the sink if he found anything with a speck on. He’d also wander around, his finger lightly dragging over surfaces searching for dust. We’d have to restart the jobs if they weren’t to his satisfaction. By the end of the week we were relieved it was Friday. Time to relax at last.
As I washed up, Paul dried. It was the last thing on our schedule for the week, thank goodness. Paul couldn’t resist having a mess around as we finished the last plates, flicking the tea towel around. I yelled at him to stop, but threw some bubbles from the sink at him when he didn’t.
‘Terrie! Paul!’ cried Mum. ‘Will you quieten down.’
‘Sorry,’ I laughed, as I dodged an incoming flick from Paul.
Then Peter appeared at the door, a frown on his face.
‘How did the schedule work out this week?’ he asked. ‘Did you stick to it?’
Paul and I dutifully nodded.
‘Really?’ pressed Peter.
‘Yes!’ we said, nodding in unison.
‘Can you please come into the living room?’ he said. ‘You too, Cynth.’
Puzzled, we all followed him. Paul and I exchanged confused looks.
We sat dutifully on the sofa facing the TV.
‘What’s this about, Peter?’ asked Mum.
‘Now, kids,’ started Peter, smoothing his moustache. ‘Did you stick to your specific timetable?’
‘Yes,’ I said. Though in my head I was thinking, not quite the way you wanted me to.
‘What about you, Paul?’ he asked.
‘Erm, yeah, me too,’ said Paul, glancing nervously at me. ‘We followed it exactly.’
‘Exactly, hmm,’ said Peter. ‘So you got home on Monday, came straight in and did the hoovering and dusting, did you, Terrie?’
My heart beat a little faster. I felt a bit nervous now; something wasn’t right.
‘Yes, of course!’ I said, shifting uncomfortably on a cushion.
‘Okay,’ smiled Peter. ‘Let’s see, shall we?’
He picked up the remote and pressed ‘play’, his eyes not leaving my face.
We all turned and watched the TV as an image of me walking into the kitchen flickered onto the screen.
I gasped audibly, as I realised what Peter had done. The video camera that always sat in the same position in the dining room wasn’t just there collecting dust. It had been carefully