The young girl is dead, and the family’s maid keeps their secrets in silence for seven years. It’s a story about Cleana new novel by Alija Trabucco Zerán translated by Sophie Hughes that is as suspenseful and suspenseful as the atmosphere in the house in which it takes place.
Zerán’s latest follows Estela, a village girl who wants to earn enough money to take care of her mother at home. For seven years, she cooked, cleaned and raised the family’s daughter. And – as the housekeeper often does – she also “kept their secrets, witnessed their quarrels and frictions, heard the rats scratching on the ceiling, saw the glances the señor gave the señora, knew about the poison in the cupboard, the gun, the daughter’s rebellion as she grew up , mother’s coldness [and] father’s distance,” reads the synopsis of the book.
So when tragedy strikes and Estela finally breaks her silence, the dominoes begin to fall.
Read an exclusive excerpt from the “engaging, penetrating exploration of power, domesticity and betrayal” below.
‘Clean’ by Alija Trabucco Zerán.
Riverhead books
The ad read as follows:
Looking for a housekeeper, polite, full-time.
They gave me a phone number, which quickly became an address, and I went to that address dressed in a white blouse and this very black skirt that I’m wearing now.
They met me at the door, the two of them. I am talking about the señor and señora, the owners of the house, the employers, the relatives of the deceased. You’ll come up with your own name for them, I’m sure. She opened the door, pregnant, and as she went to shake my hand, she looked me over from head to toe, taking in my hair, my clothes, my still white sneakers. A thorough examination, as if it would reveal some important detail about me to her. He, on the other hand, didn’t even look at me. He was texting on his phone and, without even looking up, just pointed towards the kitchen door.
I couldn’t reproduce their questions word for word, but I remember one rather interesting detail. He was clean shaven and had a wisp of light shaving foam just below his right sideburn.
Hello? What is it? The maid doesn’t know how to use the word ‘strand’?
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I thought I heard laughter, and not a friendly one, on the other side of this wall.
Like I said, that mark on his skin bothered me. It was as if a tiny piece of skin had been torn from his face, but underneath, instead of blood and flesh, there was something white, artificial. Señora noticed that they couldn’t stop staring at it, and when she finally saw the foam, she licked her thumb and wiped it with her saliva.
You may ask: how is any of this relevant? No, that’s the answer, besides, I clearly remember his reaction, the way he removed his hand from his wife, resenting her for showing intimacy in front of a perfect stranger. A few weeks later, I was making the master bed when the señor suddenly appeared from the bathroom. I thought he had already gone to work, but he was standing completely naked in front of me. He didn’t jump, he didn’t even flinch. Without batting an eye, he went to get his underpants, returned to the bathroom and closed the door behind him. Now explain to me what happened between our first meeting and that.
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They needed someone to start ASAP.
Señor said:
Ideally on Monday.
Senora:
Perfect today.
There was a piece of paper taped to the fridge with a list of all the chores I should do. That way, they wouldn’t have to directly ask their potential maid if she could read, write a shopping list, or write phone messages. I went over, read the list, took a piece of paper and put it in my pocket. Neat, assertive, sufficiently educated maid.
I can start on Monday, I said.
They accepted immediately, without even asking for references. I later learned that everything happened against time in that house, although I never understood what the big rush was about. Haste makes waste. That’s what my mom used to say whenever I ran out of the house to school late and crossed the vegetable garden. You’ll never beat time at your own game, she warned me. That race is determined from the day we are born. But I was sidetracked… I was telling you about how there were never enough hours in the day in that family and how few days remained until the birth of their first daughter.
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I know what you’re going to ask me, and the answer is no. I had no experience with children, nor did I lie to them about it. Mom told me over the phone: Don’t lie to them, Lita. Never lie on the first day. So I told them, quite frankly:
I have no children. I have no nieces or nephews. I never changed diapers.
But they made a decision. Señora liked my white blouse, my long, neat braid, my clean, straight teeth, and the fact that I never once dared to hold her gaze.
As soon as the questions were over, they showed me the rest of the house:
This is the broom closet, Estela.
Rubber gloves, cloth.
Here’s the first aid kit.
Sponges, bleach, detergent, fresh laundry.
Here’s the ironing board, the laundry basket.
Soap, washing machine, sewing basket, tools.
Nothing should be left to mold, Estela.
Don’t let any food expire.
Deep cleaning on Mondays.
Water the garden in the evening.
And never, under any circumstances, open the door to anyone.
I don’t remember much else from that day except for one thought that stayed with me. As I made my way down the hall, glancing over the bathrooms, looking in each of the rooms, as I looked at the living room, the dining room, the outdoor terrace and the pool, I thought, very clearly: this is a real house, with nails hammered into the walls and frames for pictures hanging from those nails. And that thought, I don’t know why, caused pain between my eyes.
Like a flame that burns me in this space right here.
From CLEAN Alia Trabucco Zeran. Published by arrangement with Riverhead, a member of Penguin Random House LLC. Copyright © 2022 Alia Trabucco Zerán; English translation copyright © 2024 Sophie Hughes
Clean by Alia Trabucco Zeran is out on October 15th and is available for pre-order now, wherever books are sold.
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