The Lamplighters

Chapter Four

The voice on the phone had been friendly enough, but The Consortium Inc. Building was pure corporate terror. Nestled in among the higgledy-piggledy side streets of the City district, it had taken Marla three bus routes to find it. And so here she was, craning her neck up at it, a modernist megalith of black marble cladding and smoked glass. She took a breath, licked her lips, and stepped into the revolving doors.

Sealed off from the hustle and bustle of outside, the foyer was calm and still. Marla’s footsteps echoed as she approached the reception desk. The receptionist peered at her through layers of make-up, took her name and directed her to the sixth floor. Marla shuddered as she stepped into the elevator—any minute now and they’d find her out, pull her file, hear from the agency about her Big Mistake. It’d be a blessed relief, she thought, then I wouldn’t have to go through with the damn interview.

Ding. The elevator doors opened and Marla found herself in another reception area. This time, the desk was vacant, with a closed door just beyond it. Marla sat down in a brown leather sofa and waited. She was still, miraculously, five minutes early. The voice on the phone had seemed delighted that she could make it that very afternoon. Wouldn’t be so delighted if they’d read the tabloids, she thought beginning to panic again. Palms sweating, Marla stood up and opted for pacing the room instead of sitting. It helped. Her heart rate slowed and her hands became merely clammy instead of wet hot.

“Ms. Neuborn?”

Marla turned, and the voice on the phone now had a face, handsome and tanned, with a prominent jaw and strong hairline. He’d either had work done, or simply looked after himself. Maybe a bit of both.

“Marla?”

His teeth were so white.

“Yes that’s me,” she spluttered.

He thrust his hand out. Marla discreetly wiped her palm on her hip and shook his hand. What a grip—the guy definitely worked out.

“A pleasure to meet you. I’m Mr. Welland. But you can call me Bill. Come on in.”

Welland’s office was the cleanest room Marla had ever been in. Even her time in hospital had seen more dust than this. He asked her to take a seat and offered her a coffee. Trying not to recline into the soft comfort of the leather swivel chair, she refused the offer of a drink. Probably spill it all over his desk in a matter of seconds. Damn her nerves.

“So, I take it our letter came as something of a surprise?”

Marla cleared her throat, “You could say that, yes.”

“But a welcome one?”

He beamed at her.

“Of course.”

She leaned forward a little, intent now on giving it to him straight. “To be brutally honest, Mr. Welland…”

“Please; Bill.”

“Bill. I had kind of given up on that agency… I’ve sort of, moved on since signing up with them.”

“No problem Ms Neuborn.”

“Marla.”

He grinned again. “Marla. Our company has very specific requirements; the right candidate for the right job. We put feelers out everywhere. We have employees from the world over, offices on every continent. I personally am a firm believer in appointments that are meant to be. Your resume and experience, coupled with your age could make you an ideal candidate for the job.”

Marla braced herself for the questions. So long since she’d done an interview. Deep breath, don’t mess it up.

“This isn’t an interview, as such,” Welland continued, as if clairvoyant. “No, I prefer to keep things as informal as possible. Our meeting is merely an opportunity to tell you more about the position and answer any questions you might have. Okay?”

“Absolutely.”

Marla’s voice betrayed her unmistakable relief. Welland didn’t seem to notice, or care.

“This isn’t your regular job, I can assure you of that. If I were to tell you that it would involve living in real luxury on a Mediterranean island would you have a problem with that Marla?”

His eyes positively twinkled. Smooth bastard. Marla shook her head, smiling.

“Good. Now we’re past that difficult question,” he chuckled. “Onto the details… The Consortium Inc. represents a quorum of very rich clients, who would like to stay that way. Each of the members has a variety of business interests, and the day-to-day running of these is handled largely by us. One such area entrusted to us is the safekeeping of an island community owned entirely by our clients. Are you with me so far?”

“I’m with you.”

Welland rose and continued speaking as he glanced out at the gloomy city sky.

“The mansions on the island are inhabited very rarely, usually when our clients are taking their annual break or attending a special event on the mainland. This makes it very difficult for them to fulfill their resident status requirements; have you heard of those?”

“I’m… No I don’t think I have.”

“No problem, Marla, I’ll explain. The system is exactly the same in Monaco and other…prestigious areas; wealthy homeowners are required to prove residential status in order to qualify for generous tax benefits. If they only use their homes for a week or two a year, they don’t qualify. So, rather than lose out, they employ housekeepers to keep things in order for them. These employees use up a bit of gas, water and electricity each day, tend to the grounds and generally enjoy all that the lifestyle has to offer.”

“Sounds too good to be true.”

“Indeed it does,” he turned smiling from the window. “Especially when you also take into consideration the fee you get paid on top. The Consortium holds a monthly salary in an account for you. Once your contract is complete, the money is yours.”

“May I ask…”

“How much? Of course,” he chuckled. “It’s a little more than double what the agency was offering you, per hour, as a base rate.”

Marla whistled. She could already see the possibilities; a University course, no more debts, no crappy bed-sit… She snapped back into reality. Too good to be true. Has to be.

“I don’t know how to ask this politely…”

“Go ahead.”

“What’s the catch?”

Welland chuckled once more. He reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a folder, sliding it across the smooth surface towards Marla.

“First catch; before we hire you, you must complete this written personality test.”

I already have a personality, Marla was tempted to say. I don’t need to take a test. I hate tests. She bit her lip.

“You don’t have to do it right now. Mail it back to us and we’ll let you know in a few days if you’ve got the job.”

After a pause, he went on. “Second catch; if we hire you, you must agree to be available without interruption for a year. You will not be allowed to leave the island for any reason during this period. That includes illness, and ‘acts of God’. If you break contract, your earnings account will be closed and no monies paid to you. However, I assure you that if your contract doesn’t reach full term for any other reason, then you’ll be paid in full. And the third catch is our secrecy clause; you shall at no point during your employment be advised of the exact location of the island and you will not be permitted to contact the outside world.”

“So, no phone calls?”

“That’s right. No calls, no Internet, no text messages. No physical mail.”

Marla couldn’t disguise her consternation at this restriction. It seemed such a bitter pill after all Welland had offered so far.

The warm smile again. Those white teeth.

“I know it seems draconian, Marla. Believe me, the island is so beautiful you won’t even want to contact the dreary old mainland once you’re there. All our employees say so. Please, take the test with you and give it some thought.”

Marla warmed a little. She picked up the folder and stood up.

“Have you been there? To the island?”

He led her gently to the door.

“You’re kidding, right?” He grinned. “I started out just like you; as a Lamplighter. I loved it so much I joined The Consortium full time. I’m sure once you take the test you’ll work out just fine…”

“A Lamplighter?”

He flicked the light switch off, then on again.

“That’s what we call the island workers.”

Lamplighters.

Marla kind of liked that.