Free Me and My Sisters by Sinéad Moriarty

People had always taken advantage of Julie. She was far too nice.
    It’s not that I was mean to my staff. I treated Mimi very well, but I never made the mistake of becoming her friend. Once you crossed that line you were screwed. I’d seen it a million times with friends who got too close to their nannies or housekeepers. They’d start asking for loans of money, days off, extra holidays, sick days … They’d start telling you their problems and expecting you to solve them. Olive, a good friend of mine, had a housekeeper who asked if her daughter could come over from Hong Kong, stay in her room and go to college here. Olive agreed to it. When the housekeeper came back from the airport, she had her sister and her niece with her too. Olive ended up having to put them all up until she could find jobs and accommodation for them. I told Mimi when I hired her that I didn’t want any family members coming to live with her in my house. If they wanted to come over, they had to get their own place. I was very good to Mimi: she had her own little apartment within the house – a bedroom, bathroom and a small lounge with a TV and computer. I gave her my old clothes, shoes, handbags, even some jewellery that I no longer wore, and I paid her more than any of the other housekeepers were paid. It was a win-win situation: everyone was happy. Gloria wouldn’t have lasted two minutes in my house. I didn’t want a new friend: I wanted a clean house.
    ‘Come on, Sophie, don’t look so pissed off. I’ll take your suggestion on board,’ Louise said. ‘I’m just not sure about the car-crash ending.’
    ‘Why don’t you keep it close to the truth, but make yourself sound less like a slut?’ Julie suggested. ‘You could tell her that you met her dad at a conference in Venice, which is true, that he was gorgeous, also true, and irresistible – she’s the living proof of that. Explain that you had a weekend of romance and passion in Venice, but that her dad hadn’t left any number or address or surname. That you just knew him as Giovanni. That’s a nice Italian name.’
    ‘Not bad. I may use that. But can I remind you that the baby hasn’t even been born yet, so I won’t need to come up with a story for at least three or four years? I’ve got plenty of time to figure something out.’
    ‘What are you going to do about Mum? You know she’s going to keep at you about the father being involved,’ Julie said.
    ‘If I was you I’d pretend I was really upset,’ I said. ‘If she thinks you’re devastated about being dumped and are just doing your best to get on with it and to put the relationship behind you, she’ll back off … for a while.’
    ‘Good idea,’ Louise said. ‘Anything to get her off my case.’
    I felt a bit sorry for Mum. I knew she yearned to have a better relationship with Louise, but my eldest sister never let her in. She kept her firmly at arm’s length. Mum didn’t know how to handle Louise. She was so intelligent, strong-willed and capable, she could be a bit overwhelming at times.
    Louise was impatient and dismissive of people who were weak or indecisive or not very clever. Sometimes she made me feel like a total idiot, especially when she talked about business or current affairs. I had no interest in either. I never had had and I never would. They bored me. I’d much rather talk about fashion or interior design or new restaurants or which celebrities were dating each other. I didn’t want to talk about boy soldiers in Africa. I didn’t want to talk about which bank shares were up or down. It bored me rigid.
    Louise thought my life was frivolous but I thought hers was empty and lonely. All she did was work. She never even had time to spend all the money she earned. She had a stylist who knew exactly what she liked and came to her apartment three times a year with a wardrobe already picked out. Where was the fun in that? Shopping gave me such a high – I loved it. The buzz I got when I found