Eleven and half. Autobus very busy. Estoy harta ya. No puedo mas, Juan, te lo juro! He sleeping, pobrecito. Two hundred pound for this life. He put the money in my hand, Senor M, embarrass. This morning. For four day of cleaning shit. Dios me perdone. Todo el tiempo, limpiando, limpiando, limpiando sin fin. He no respect mi. Nada de respeto, maleducado que es. He live the fast life, the cocaina, different women – men tambien, I see all – Dios mio, que vida tiene. Y yo, a good woman del pueblo, from Murcia, why I clean up his shit? La pasta. For the money. Two hundred pound, doscientas libras, para este. Four morning a week. To clean whisky, condom, vomito. Is sin. Never General Franco would permit. This England – un pais sin Dios. No god in here.

‘Inme’, he say. ‘Inme, what would I do without you? There’s some umschka in the bathroom, treasure. Sorry, nasty in there. Things got a little out of hand last night…’ Tresur. Tresur! No soy su tesoro. And umschka, what is this? Umschka is Senor M word for ‘shit’, mierda. Dios me perdone. Yo le digo: ‘Si, si, Senor M. Y me llamo Inmaculada. My name is Inmaculada’. But he no listen. He no care my name. ‘Immaculate, yes! Make the bathroom immaculate! I have the company of another special lady to look forward to this evening. Is there champagne in the fridge, or did I drink it all last night?’ He laugh. Horroso!

Special lady. Hmph. Senor M can go to fuck hiself, Dios me perdone. I am special lady of Juan, mi marido. A good man, no like Senor M. 40 years married. But he malito, not well, mi Juan. He has tired in the head. Doctor in Wilmslow (mucha pasta!) say dementia, lose his mind, but he only tired. I know. Yo soy su mujer. He sleep in chair. Yo escucho la radio, but no understand all. I know the city: Manchester, Londres, Edinburgo, Belfast, Brighton. I like the radio voices. Me ponen tranquila. No like la voz de Senor M. Hostia! Is nearly twelve! The news on radio; time to make the tortilla. My Juan he look still handsome. He open his eyes. Two hundred pound, Juan! I think in Senor M: manana I tell him no more, nada mas, nunca, de ninguna manera. Juan, tortilla ya viene, mi amor!