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They started at the front door. Her dad swept and her mum washed, or maybe it was the other way round. The floor was a checkerboard of black and white lino tiles. The black ones had skid marks, of grey and white, like bird shit running through them. She had to stay behind, on the doormat, and wait for the tiles to dry first. They let her be the polisher.
The polishing machine was huge. It was made of moulded solid steel. The Commonwealth Post Office, that's what it was called then, had invested in the best of Empire; it was built to last. The first time she used that polishing machine it took off sideways and crashed into the next solid surface it encountered, ...