Lynne closed the door quietly behind her and wearily leant against it. She was exhausted beyond measure, yet her mind was wired, frantically turning over the images in her mind like a child's flicker book. Dan wouldn't be back from work for another six hours. At least for the time being he was free from the worry she was coping with. She wondered where he was right now and what he was having to do just to keep their little family ticking over.

She took a deep breath and walked over to the stove, checked the kettle for water and lit the gas. Opening the cupboard to her right she went to take out a mug, but faltered when she saw the old chipped teacup. She picked it up carefully and traced over the slightly raised pink lettering with her index finger. Mummy, it spelled out. Lynne remembered the day that Hannah had so proudly presented it to her like it was yesterday. It was her thirty-second birthday and Hannah had painted it during her domestic skills lesson at school. The cursive writing was extremely neat and Lynne had imagined her young daughter painting it, her hair tied up with a yellow ribbon, her tongue poking out in concentration.

Next to the word Mum, was a beautifully painted Iris. Lynne had only ever seen an Iris once in real life and that was when she was a child. She had gone with her mother to clean a house in the city. An imposing two storey building, the white painted house had looked as cold as it looked glamourous.

"Why do we have to wear our best clothes mummy if we are going to work; won't they get dirty?" Lynne had asked her mother.

"Sweetheart," her mother replied, "even with our best clothes on, we are still not quite good enough to be here. These people have very high standards. You must be on your best behaviour and please don't touch anything you are not supposed to."

Her mother knocked on the door and then stepped back three paces. A few moments later, the heavy door opened onto a sparse lobby with gloss white floor tiles. Lynne's eyes were drawn to the woman who stood before them. Lynne wasn't used to seeing real beauty. She'd been told stories about people who were like this but had never seen one up close. Wearing a smart grey dress, cinched in at the waist with a thin red belt, the woman was tall but slender in frame, with glossy dark hair. Her deep tanned skin, stretched taught over her perfectly proportioned features and her eyes glistened like two emeralds, yet they looked down at Lynne with annoyance. Lynne lowered her own eyes away in reverence.

"I'll be back in four hours. Make sure you are gone by then. If I'm happy with your work, you will be asked back. If not, I will recommend you for a reduction. Jones is in the kitchen and he'll will provide you anything you need." The woman's voice was soft and well-spoken yet Lynne heard the disdain dripping from every word.

The woman grabbed her bag from the table by the door and then walked out and down the steps. Her mother pulled Lynne back, so she didn't get in the way.

"One final thing." The woman stopped walking and turned back. "Next time, come alone. I can't have that here again," she instructed, pointing a finger with a sharply-honed, highly-polished nail at Lynne. Although Lynne was young and inexperienced around people, she knew an insult when she heard one. Outraged, she looked up to her mother who was a proud woman and knew how to stand up for herself, especially when they were shopping at the market. But this time her mother said absolutely nothing and simply bowed her head. That was the first time Lynne clearly remembered not just knowing she was unworthy, but felt the shame being such.

For the next two hours, Lynne and her mother frantically, but expertly cleaned the rooms that were already spotless. They'd been given instructions to do the bedrooms, all five of them and their adjoining bathrooms. Marble, chrome and polished walnut covered every surface. Lynne was fascinated by the pure, white bedding, marvelling at how soft it was. The housekeeper, Jones, who had had given them their instructions, also set time limits and gave regular inspections of their work. Her mother had explained to Lynne, that although ones was a Flawed, his SPR was obviously in the eighties, allowing him to hold such a prized job and with the added benefit of being allowed to live amongst the Top-5, in a service role only. Clearly pleased to be the highest-ranking person in the house, albeit until the mistress of the house returned, he made it abundantly clear what he thought of Lynne and her mother, constantly criticizing their work and threatening to report them to the owner if they didn't keep up to his schedule.

Having cleaned the first floor, they made their way downstairs to begin on the main living area, although, Jones had warned them not to go anywhere near his kitchen.

"Mrs Cameron likes to see fresh cut flowers in the vase in the lobby when she returns. Here are some shears. Get some." Jones threw the tools at Lynne's mother who only just managed to catch them.

"Yes sir, right away," Lynne's mother replied, but the he had already disappeared.

Turning to Lynne, her mother passed her the shears. "Go and cut some pretty flowers. Try to match the colours up nicely and add in some nice green leaves. Oh, and keep the stems long too. Don't be too long about it either." She gave Lynne a little shove to get her to move. As Lynne went to find the rear exit, her mother called after her. "Enjoy the garden Lynne. Remember everything you see and smell," and with that her mother got down on her knees and began to polish the floor.

Lynne walked down the long corridor towards the utility area described earlier by Jones, while pondering her mother's last words. Lynne had never seen a garden in real life before. There were only a few grassed areas where she lived, used rarely for social activities, and mostly covered by ragwort and brambles. Indeed, Lynne and her parents were considered lucky to live in a house, with rear outside yard where her mother dried their laundry and grew a few pots of herbs for medicinal purposes. Most people had little outside space at all, but a garden, never.

Lynne had seen pictures of gardens in books, but they did not do the sight that now fell before her eyes, justice. Nervous, she stepped out onto a large tiled area. Ornate sculptures were dotted here and there. In a slightly more normal situation, Lynne might have been captivated by the stone water maidens, eternally pouring from a water jug or holding an artistic pose on one leg, but beyond them was the most beautiful sight Lynne had ever seen. Her heart began to race and happiness soared within her as she ran down the stone steps onto the manicured lawn; which looked like a lush carpet of the finest, greenest grass. Carefully planted around the edges of the lawn was a rainbow of colour. Flowers and shrubs in every shade, size and shape, waved gently in the calm summer breeze. The different perfumes of each, wafted around her as she danced about, trying to look at everything as quickly as possible.

Suddenly remembering herself, she set about selecting and cutting the flowers, which was a tall order when there was so much to choose from. Finally, she decided upon some tall green foliage with waxy green leaves, little white flowers- their heads smaller than her little finger nail- and broad yellow flowers with crimson hearts.

Just as she was about to walk back to the house, she saw them, by a curved metal arch. Upon tall, delicate stems, she saw flowers in the most intense purple she could ever imagine. Each purple petal was accented by bright yellow veins. These flowers, she learned later, were called Irises. Out of everything she had seen that day, these were by far the prettiest. She was about to cut a few to put in the bunch that she was creating, when she stopped. She was hit with a sense of outrage and a feeling she wasn't used to- jealousy. Why should this woman have everything when her poor family had nothing? This beauty shouldn't be for these despicable horrible rude people but be shared by all. Lynne stared longingly at the flower in her hand and made a snap decision. Just this once they wouldn't have everything. Just this once she would have something nice. With that thought in mind, she took the shears and cut off just one of the flower heads, apologising to the plant in the process. She carefully tucked it into her coat pocket, smiled to herself returned reluctantly to the house carrying the rest of the flowers in a haphazard bouquet.

Once inside the house, the housekeeper took the flowers from her immediately, making it clear Lynne was not allowed anywhere near the tall crystal vase. Not wanting to spend a second longer with Jones, she went back through the house to find her mother, who was finishing off cleaning the marble staircase.

"Did you like the garden, Lynne?" her mother asked quietly.

Instantly, Lynne regretted taking the flower. She could almost feel it burning its way out of her pocket. She should never have taken it. Maybe she could find a rubbish bin and...

"I am instructed to search you before you leave."

Lynne's heart missed a beat.

"I can assure you we haven't taken anything," her mother replied.

"That may be, but the mistress insisted I should check and check I will." The housekeeper's eyes gleamed with the power he was holding over them. "Empty your pockets on this table, while I check your bags."

Terrified, Lynne looked up at her mother, who knew instinctively something was wrong.

"Pass it to me," she mouthed. "Quickly!"

Lynne looked over to Jones, who was happily throwing the contents of her mother's bag out onto the floor. Hurriedly, Lynne palmed the flower and deftly passed it to her mother. Her mother briefly glanced at it, shook her head just a little and then dropped the delicate flower onto the floor, stepping on it immediately. Lynne gasped as the small piece of beauty she had decided to keep for herself, lay crushed beneath her mother's shoe. That small purple flower was the only thing she had ever wanted for herself and now it was now gone. She wanted to cry, not just for the flower but at threat she had posed to her family. From that day, Lynne knew that to survive, you had to follow the rules. You didn't question them either. It just wasn't worth the risk.

Lynne checked that the back door was locked and returned to Hannah's bedroom. Shane was now sleeping in the armchair in the corner of the room, draped in scratchy, worn blanket. She decided not to wake him; the curfew was still on and she had taken enough of a risk visiting old Mr Roberts. Lynne carefully sat down on the end of Hannah's bed and watched the gentle rise and fall of her daughter's chest. Again, she couldn't help but think about the Iris. Beautiful, fragile and never truly hers. It pained her to think how alike that her daughter was to that simple flower.