Dave is not home.

"Hello? Dave?", you call, once you reach the living room. But nobody answers. Strange. You check your watch. He should be home normally at this time. But there is of course always the chance that he had to work a bit longer. Both of you are quite keen on your careers, of course.

You drop your handbag and sit down in the chair, as the young maid appears in the door.

"Good evening ma'am!", she says assiduous. "I hope you had a good day. May I serve you tea?"

She carries a tray with a pot, a steaming cup, milk and sugar. It really feels like being the Lady of a Scottish manor in the 19th century.

"Have you seen my husband?"

"No, ma'am, I haven't seen him since he left this morning."

You sigh and sign the girl to leave the room. She sets the tray next to you on the coffee table, curtesies and vanishes. You watch her leave, brooding. Is it true what all those people claimed? That the Happy Maids are some kind of fifth column?