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She can't recall what started her collection. Maybe it was in a fragment of conversation overheard as she cleaned a sink? Before long (as she dusted a sitting room or defrosted a fridge) she noticed people were telling her their stories. Perhaps they always had done, but now it is different, now the stories are reaching out to her and she gathers them to her… When Janice starts cleaning for Mrs B - a shrewd and tricksy woman in her nineties - she meets someone who wants to hear her story. But Janice is clear: she is the keeper of stories, she doesn't have a story to tell. At least, not one she can share. Mrs B is no fool and knows there is more to Janice than meets the eye. What is she hiding? After all, doesn't everyone have a story to tell?