The trouble with my Barry is that he’s so messy.  If it isn’t the top left off the toothpaste, it’s the tea bags just dumped on the side of the worktop near the sink. The spoon would be lying beside them, and a residue of tea surrounding them both.  It’s all so stupid.  A quick wipe with a sponge is all it takes and everything is clean again.  And if there’s a persistent deposit then some of Aunt Agatha’s Cleansing Powder always does the trick.  Occasionally a firm circular motion with the sponge against the worktop is needed to ensure that the stain is lifted, but Aunt Agatha’s Cleansing Powder always works without fail.  On any surface.  On any of life’s stains.  That’s what she always used to say.

            She was what you would call a character, my Aunt Agatha.  I loved her for it.  Never backwards at coming forwards.   I remember on my wedding day she sidled up to me and whispered in my ear, “He’ll give you trouble, mark my words.  You’ll be forever following behind, mopping up after him.”  It took me two years to realise but she was right.

            Aunt Agatha worked at the big Manor House down the road.  Run by the National Trust now it is.  Not as clean as when Aunt Agatha worked there of course, and they close down for winter to enable the staff there to clean right through.  Agatha had to clean everyday, not just winter.  She claimed her cleansing powder worked on every surface there too.  Wood.  Steel.  Iron.  Even more modern materials haven’t defeated its cleansing properties.  Aunt Agatha’s Cleansing Powder will sort it.  No matter what the surface.  She always did say that it worked on life’s little irritants.

            There was a time when Aunt Agatha was sacked from the Manor House.  And she caused a storm when she left because she took her Cleansing Powder with her.  The staff begged her to tell them the recipe but Aunt Agatha refused steadfastly.  She certainly wasn’t going to leave them any when she discovered that it was the Head Butler, Soames, who had arranged her dismissal.  The same man whom she had reported to the Lord of the Manor, for helping himself to the family’s wine.

            It was Aunt Agatha’s cleaning standards and rituals that caused her to stumble across this.  Each staff member was responsible for cleaning their own quarters, but Soames, who enjoyed reminding all of the staff of his status, made Aunt Agatha clean his larger and better furnished room.  She always avoided cleaning the same room at the same time on the same day of the week.  Variety spices up a mundane chore, she always argued.  However, whenever she cleaned his room on a Friday afternoon, she noticed that there were always several circular stains on his dresser unit.  Puzzled at this frequency, she soon uncovered the cause one Friday morning.  Just after the local Wine Merchant had delivered his Lordship’s usual three bottles, Agatha had gone into Soames’ room to clean and found him decanting two bottles of wine into a large jug.  The third lay on his bed.  Soames was adding water, diluting its contents, and returning the solution into three empty and waiting bottles, ready for the wine cellar. 

            Before Soames had a chance to speak, Agatha had withdrawn from the room.  Within the hour she had informed the Lord of the Manor about the discovery of Soames’ fraud, yet before nightfall, it had been her that had been told her services were no longer required.  Clearly Soames had a hold over the Lord of the Manor or was capable of creating a believable story.  She was furious.  But most of all she was irritated.  And that gave her the idea.  She would treat the whole incident as she would with any stain.  She would remove it.

            For the next six weeks, every Friday morning, Agatha sent three bottles of wine to the Manor House as a free mystery gift.  Attached to each parcel was a letter purporting that this was a special trial offer and the Lord of the Manor’s views on the wine’s quality would be sought in the future.  This was quite common at the Manor and much to Agatha’s annoyance some of the free gifts were cleaning products.  But her free gifts were not normal bottles of wine. Each bottle had one extra ingredient.  Something to remove stubborn stains. 

Two weeks later the family at the Manor House were suffering from a mystery illness, causing them sickness and stomach cramps.  Within days, Soames was found dead in his room, having suffered more severely from the mystery illness.  Of course, only Aunt Agatha knew that the family would be all right, because they would be drinking the wine with the added ingredient that Soames had diluted.  Soames on the other hand would be drinking the wine as supplied.  Concentrated, you might argue.

            Within weeks Aunt Agatha was asked to return to work.  In fact she was called in to help clean the rooms ready for Soames’ funeral.  Her Cleansing Powder was now being used for what it was intended for again.  Whenever asked about its ingredients, Aunt Agatha always touched the side of her nose and winked.  No one would know what it consisted of.

            It was the recipe and her diaries that she bequeathed to me in her will.  Having read the diaries I now know what to do.  I’m sure that’s why she left the recipe and her diaries to me.  She remembered her poignant words of wisdom at my wedding, bless her.  The recipe itself was a revelation, but that’s all you’re going to find out.  I could make a fortune marketing the powder, but happiness isn’t always about money.  It’s about being in control of your life.

When Barry sneezed all over the dining table, I knew immediately what my next cleaning job was.  No, not the dining table, although it was the easier of the two jobs I had in mind.  Aunt Agatha was right.  Her Cleansing Powder would remove all life’s irritants without fail.  And Barry had irritated me long enough.

THE END