Miriam stared into her morning coffee. Last night’s date was the best and the worst she’d ever experienced. She was never dating again. 

 Jerry was a feast for the eyes and mind. She couldn’t remember how many topics they’d discussed, only that he’d listened to her opinions as if they mattered rather than bulldozing through her words. It felt like she’d known him forever.

 She swiped a tear from her cheek in annoyance. One evening with a man was not worth heartache, and yet she was crying into her coffee, stomach too knotted to eat, brain rehashing everything. 

 Miriam’s flatmate thumped her shoulder

 ‘Girl, why are you still here? You’ll be late for work.’

 Miriam glanced at the clock on the wall and swore. Her first client was a dragon, but she paid well. She couldn’t lose this job mooning over a man she’d just met.

 ‘You best cough up later, girl.’ 

 Miriam grabbed her keys. ‘Sure, I will. Pizza and beer? My treat.’ She hurried down the stairs.

 Her little car coughed into life and Miriam thanked the car gods. She wished she could afford a new one. Her blue beast drank fuel and spat out more nasties than she was happy with, but the rising living costs meant her meagre savings were melting away like an ice cube on a hot bonnet. 

 ‘Oh, come on,’ she shouted at the slow driver in front. ‘You could get a bus through there.’ She slapped her hands on the wheel, tension building through her body. One minute late, and she’d lose money. One minute. 

 A gap in the traffic allowed her to risk overtaking, although it meant giving the other driver heart palpitations. A horn blared behind her, but she zipped away, almost running a red light before swerving into the avenue and slamming her brakes on to avoid hitting Buster. Killing her client’s pet would not be a good idea, even if it meant less cleaner for her.

 Miriam parked in the driveway with seconds to spare, but still had to grab her cleaning equipment and hurry to the back of the house and through the utility door, ready to blast away any dirt or germs. She never skimped on the products she used, but after last night, she shuddered at the amount of harsh chemicals in her box.

 Her client’s scowl and tapping foot told her all her efforts had been in vain. It didn’t matter how strong or expensive her cleaning products were, it would not be good enough. She was late. There would be a speck of dust somewhere, a smear on a mirror, or an imagined crumb wedged in a corner. A reduction would be demanded, and one rule of being a self-employed cleaner was you never argued with your client.

Miriam dumped pizza and two opened beers onto the table in front of Rose and flopped onto the sofa.

 ‘Spill, girl,’ Rose said, grabbing a slice and waving it in Miriam’s face. ‘And don’t skimp on the details or fob me with nothings. I saw your glum this morning.’

 Miriam laughed. ‘Great date, hottie, conversation, no awkwardness, perfect, disaster.’

 Rose picked up both beers and held them out of Miriam’s reach.

 ‘Okay. He was lovely, we chatted about everything, and he listened. Can you imagine? He didn’t steer the conversation back to himself or football. He listened. And his big brown eyes that saw me and didn’t judge, well I guess they did in the end, and he has gorgeous hair, natural, you know and sort of flopping in his eyes.’ She stopped as Rose passed her a bottle and laughed.

 ‘You dated a puppy, girl?’ 

 ‘Ha, no. Maybe I should next time.’ She grabbed a slice of pizza.

 ‘Why no rematch?’

 Miriam shook her head. ‘You should’ve seen the disgust on his face when I told him I was a cleaner.’

 ‘Get out. What a snob. You’re better off without that one, babes.’

 ‘No, not a snob. He cares about the environment.’ Miriam explained what had happened, and her stomach ached at the thought of never seeing him again. ‘He’s got a point, too. I looked it up when I got home.’

 ‘What you on, sister? The man trashed your hard-earned business.’ 

 ‘But he didn’t know he was slagging off my business. He was just citing an example.’ 

 ‘You didn’t tell him?’ 

 Miriam shook her head and dumped the pizza back on the table.

 ‘How could I? Oh, Rose, what have I done?’

 Rose peered at her. ‘Oh girl, you got it bad. There’s better out there for you. Forget the opinionated dude.’

 ‘But there isn’t, and he wasn’t. He’s the first man I’ve connected with since, well, you know...and he ordered dessert first.’

 ‘No way.’ Rose’s voice softened.

 ‘He did.’ Her stomach fizzed at the memory, how their eyes had met in surprise when they both asked for the dessert menu first.

Sleep was not an option. The horrified look on Jerry’s face loomed large in her head, and giant bacteria waving flags with murderer written on them, these were followed by red bills, and sleeping rough on the streets. She threw off the bedclothes, grabbed a coffee, switched on her computer, and trawled through everything she could find on cleaning products and bacteria.

 After eliminating hype and adverts, she came across a college website which shocked her brain awake. There were more bacteria cells than human cells in the body? What? Most bacteria are good, and over cleaning with strong chemicals can kill the microbes that fight off the harmful ones. Her knee bounced up and down so fast she ended up with cramp in her calf muscle. 

 Her job was doing more harm than good, but she needed her job. It had taken years to build up her client list. She paced the room. 

 ‘You’re buzzing, girl. I’ll have whatever you had for breakfast,’ Rose said with bleary eyes, and a yawn. ‘Wait. Did you even go to bed?’

 ‘No,’ Miriam flicked on the kettle. ‘You’ll never believe what I’ve found out, and it’s all because of Jerry.’

 ‘Oh, Mirri babes. He’s a bad guy, after all? Men are not worth crying over.’

 ‘No. Not about him.’ Although she’d been tempted. ‘Those super strong “kills ninety-nine percent of germs” chemicals I use are doing more harm than good. I’m probably making my clients sick, and me too. All those migraines I get could be my fault. And I must tell them. My clients.’ She slumped into the chair, resting her forehead on her hands. ‘But then I won’t have a job, and I’ll be on the streets.’

 ‘Too much caffeine and not enough zeds have addled your brain, love,’ Rose said, and patted her on the shoulder. ‘I’ll make you a camomile tea and you reschedule your appointments for today and rest.’

 ‘No, I can’t.’ Miriam groaned. ‘If I tell my clients, they won’t want me, and if I don’t, I’m harming them. Oh, Ms Winter’s asthma? What if it’s my fault?’ Her chest tightened and she couldn’t breathe. Karma?

 ‘And they say I’m the drama queen,’ Rose muttered, and handed Miriam a cup of tea. ‘Go to work, finish the week, rest on the weekend. I’m sorry I won’t be here. But don’t you do anything rash, girl. Promise.’ 

 Miriam promised. 

 She spent the weekend experimenting with lemons, limes, white vinegar, cider vinegar, baking soda, tea tree essential oil, peppermint essential oil, Castile soap, a rosemary plant and olive oil. By Monday her body ached, but the flat was clean despite a slight lingering vinegar smell, and she had several bottles of natural cleaning products ready to fill her car.

 She was sticking on the last label when Rose slammed through the front door.

 ‘Damn it, girl, you didn’t have a dirty weekend, that’s for sure,’ Rose said. ‘Cleaning on your days off is a sign of something seriously wrong. We need to talk, but I’ve only time for a shower before work. Later, babes, it’s a must.’ She glared until Miriam nodded.

 Rose vanished into the bathroom and Miriam smiled at her exclamations. The white vinegar and tea tree oil mix had dissolved the ever-growing mould around the shower base and window, with a little elbow grease thrown in. And it smelt fresh rather than chemical.

As Miriam’s car spluttered it’s morning protest, she was still pondering what to tell her clients. Her business ‘The SUPER STRONG CLEANER’ - guaranteed to remove ninety-nine percent of all bacteria and one hundred percent of grime–was now a lie. Homemade cleaners would only eliminate the bad bacteria, leaving the good ones to live happily ever after. 

 Should she use the new cleaning products and see what her clients said? Could she cope with making them rather than ordering online? It was much cheaper, but time consuming. Although, once she’d perfected the recipes, it would be quicker, and they’d last longer if she didn’t clean as much. What else did she have to do with her time? Dating was out. Jerry’s face filled her head, and she wanted to cry. She was a bacteria killer, destroying the ecosystem one evil cleaning product at a time.

 A horn blared, and she flinched. The light was green. She almost stalled the car in her haste to move. Damn the man for getting in her head, and not in her knickers. She blushed. What was wrong with her? She had to stop thinking about him. He’d probably looked her up and was even more disgusted with her. 

 ‘But I didn’t know,’ she said, but then shook her head. Ignorance was not an excuse.

Miriam parked in time to see her first client strapping her third child into the car, the youngest was screaming and scratching her arms, the poor kid had terrible eczema. There was no opportunity to talk to the frantic mum about using a different cleaning product, but when Miriam entered the house, she stared at the work surfaces. Should she use the new stuff without asking? Was it her fault the child had eczema? Or was she blowing this all out of proportion because her libido had awakened like a volcano, as Rose said? 

 Miriam clung to the kitchen island and made her choice. She couldn’t risk harming a child. She’d use the new products in all her client’s homes, but say nothing, and see what happened. And after a month, she’d send a letter to explain what she was now doing, and how she was going to change her business name and slogan, and then she would probably be signing on for universal credit. 

She was right, her clients were furious she’d not informed them before changing her products. Letters condemned her as a fraud, misleading advertisement, a hippy, jumping on the green bandwagon, using them as an experiment, and betraying their trust. Some refused to pay her for the last month as they didn’t want any germs growing in their house, thank you very much. 

 Only two clients kept her as their cleaner. Two. Her most demanding, who claimed she preferred the smell of the new products and whose asthma had lessened over the month, and the hurried mum, who said her daughter’s eczema had calmed down. She’d invited Miriam to come to the mother and toddler group as many of the mums worried about the rise in asthma, eczema, and tummy bugs in their children despite keeping surfaces clean with anti-bacteria products. 

 Two clients, and both had listened to her advice. They only wanted her once a fortnight.

 ‘Girl, you’re screwed,’ Rose had said when she’d told her. ‘I can cover your share of the rent this month, hon. Give you time to see sense.’

How was she going to pay the bills? At least she had time to design her new business name and slogan, but what should she do with the chemicals stored in boxes in her bedroom? The company didn’t do refunds, and she didn’t know how to dispose of them.

 ‘Sell ‘em on eBay, girl. That’s the easiest way,’ Rose said, but Miriam’s conscience wouldn’t let her.

 ‘It’s money you need, love,’ Rose said with a shake of her head. ‘I’ll sell them for you.’

 ‘No, it’s the same thing. Now I know what it does, I can’t.’

 Rose patted her shoulder and left for work. 

 Work. Miriam sighed. At least she wasn’t spending much on fuel or cleaning products. She had plenty of ingredients left to make more and had a good idea of which worked best.

 She flicked through the local paper looking for people wanting a cleaner. There were several, but after a closer look at their numbers, she blinked away tears. They were her old customers. A wave of despair and regret turned into fierce anger. Miriam threw the paper in the bin.

 ‘Stupid woman. Why did you listen to a man and destroy your perfectly good business?’ Although it wasn’t a good business, just one that paid the bills. She grabbed the paper back out of the bin and tucked it in to her cleaning basket. It was brilliant for cleaning windows, and better for the environment. Man-made cloths leaked tiny plastic fibres. She froze.

 ‘Oh, no. Rose is right. I’ve turned into an eco-nerd.’ Tears plopped onto the table. Why was it so hard to do the right thing? Or find the right man? Wait. Had she jeopardised her business for a man? She shook her head. No, she was doing this because it was important and felt right, and what was wrong with being an eco-nerd anyway? She could share her knowledge at the toddler group and maybe get more clients, but she wasn’t an expert and what if their children got sick?

 She stared at her cleaning basket, which was prettier than a plastic box, and the word mental stared back from an advert on the back page of the newspaper. 

 ‘That sums me up.’ She pulled the paper back out. 

 ‘Oh. Environmental Answers. Ha. Let’s see if you can answer my list of questions.’ She picked up her phone and tapped in the number. 

 ‘Environmental Answers. Zara here. How may I help you?’

 Fifteen minutes later the woman had convinced Miriam to meet with their environmental projects manager, despite her protest that her problem was about her job, not a community project, and one week later, Miriam was walking into town through the park, with a folder full of research and ideas. It was so pretty, and the fresh air eased her mounting panic.

 She stopped. When was the last time she had sat on the grass and read a book, or had a picnic? She listened to the bird song and the buzz of insects. How could she ever use strong chemicals again? This was the right choice, even if she became homeless.

 The Environmental Answers offices were above a café in a side street and the scent of coffee was tempting, but she couldn’t waste a penny. She swigged cold water from her flask, wiped her sweaty hands on her dress, and entered. She felt like an imposter, but before she could run away, ‘please call me Zara’ said, 

 ‘You must be Miriam. You can go straight in.’

 Miriam walked through the open door and froze.

 Jerry stood. His face mirrored her surprise.

 ‘Miriam?’ 

 ‘Oh, I think this is a mistake,’ she stepped back and bashed her elbow on the door frame. ‘Ouch, ow.’ She blinked away tears. What a twit she was. ‘I’ll leave, and I’m sorry to waste your time. It was such a great night, and I spoilt it and after I looked everything up, and… sorry.’ Shut up, brain. She turned to leave, but Jerry was closing the door and taking her arm, not the one that throbbed, and leading her to a comfy chair.

 ‘Sit down. Elbows hurt like hell. Can I get you something, ice maybe?’

 She shook her head.

 ‘I’m fine.’

 He sat in the chair opposite but didn’t meet her eyes.

 ‘I guess you’re here to shout at me,’ he said. ‘Go ahead. I deserve it. Slagging off your company, although I didn’t know it was yours until the next day. I was so embarrassed, and the look on your face. I should have called, but I knew you’d never want to see me again.’ He scratched his neck. 

 Miriam stared. Was he blushing? 

 ‘But I did,’ she said, and it was her turn to blush. ‘I didn’t think you’d want to see me. You were horrified when I said I was a cleaner.’

 ‘No, I was horrified I’d insulted you.’

 His mouth twitched and within seconds, they were both laughing, although Miriam didn’t know why. Her heart thumped louder than a steam train when, somehow, they ended up holding hands.

 ‘Then why are you here, Miriam? Zara said something about mothers and toddler talks, but…?’

 He pulled his hand away, raised his eyebrows and looked at her, melting away any coherent thought she had. 

 ‘Um, yes, sort of.’ She fumbled in her bag for her folder. ‘I did some research and changed my products to natural ones. Now I don’t have a business, but I do have lots of nasty chemicals I can’t dispose of. I can’t pay my rent, but I can’t sell the stuff. One of my clients wants me to talk to mums about microbes, but what if I say the wrong thing?’ Her hands shook and all the pages fluttered out of the folder.

 Miriam grabbed the nearest sheets.

 ‘Stop,’ Jerry said, picking one up and reading, ‘Gentle Green Cleaner–a healthier clean home. Wait, you risked your business because of me?’

 ‘For the environment,’ she said. ‘But mostly for you.’ She groaned. ‘Did I say that out loud?’

 ‘You did.’ He grinned. ‘Shall we discuss your ideas? Zara thinks they have potential for a grant, and after we could try that new desert café, if you’d like?’