There was something a bit strange about the way Mrs Traynor was looking at me.
‘Sorry,’ I spluttered, as I realized what I had said. ‘I’m not suggesting the thing … the paraplegia … quadriplegia … with … your son … could be solved by a cup of tea.’
‘I should tell you, Miss Clark, that this is not a permanent contract. It would be for a maximum of six months. That is why the salary is … commensurate. We wanted to attract the right person.’
‘Believe me, when you’ve done shifts at a chicken processing factory, working in Guantánamo Bay for six months looks attractive.’ Oh, shut up, Louisa. I bit my lip.
But Mrs Traynor seemed oblivious. She closed her file. ‘My son – Will – was injured in a road accident almost two years ago. He requires twenty-four-hour care, the majority of which is provided by a trained nurse. I have recently returned to work, and the carer would be required to be here throughout the day to keep him company, help him with food and drink, generally provide an extra pair of hands, and make sure that he comes to no harm.’ Camilla Traynor looked down at her lap. ‘It is of the utmost importance that Will has someone here who understands that responsibility.’
Everything she said, even the way she emphasized her words, seemed to hint at some stupidity on my part.
‘I can see that.’ I began to gather up my bag.
‘So would you like the job?’
It was so unexpected that at first I thought I had heard her wrong. ‘Sorry?’
‘We would need you to start as soon as possible. Payment will be weekly.’
I was briefly lost for words. ‘You’d rather have me instead of –’ I began.
‘The hours are quite lengthy – 8am till 5pm, sometimes later. There is no lunch break as such, although when Nathan, his daily nurse, comes in at lunchtime to attend to him, there should be a free half an hour.’
‘You wouldn’t need anything … medical?’
‘Will has all the medical care we can offer him. What we want for him is somebody robust … and upbeat. His life is … complicated, and it is important that he is encouraged to –’ She broke off, her gaze fixed on something outside the French windows. Finally, she turned back to me. ‘Well, let’s just say that his mental welfare is as important to us as his physical welfare. Do you understand?’
‘I think so. Would I … wear a uniform?’
‘No. Definitely no uniform.’ She glanced at my legs. ‘Although you might want to wear … something a bit less revealing.’
I glanced down to where my jacket had shifted, revealing a generous expanse of bare thigh. ‘It … I’m sorry. It ripped. It’s not actually mine.’
But Mrs Traynor no longer appeared to be listening. ‘I’ll explain what needs doing when you start. Will is not the easiest person to be around at the moment, Miss Clark. This job is going to be about mental attitude as much as any … professional skills you might have. So. We will see you tomorrow?’
‘Tomorrow? You don’t want … you don’t want me to meet him?’
‘Will is not having a good day. I think it’s best that we start afresh then.’
I stood up, realizing Mrs Traynor was already waiting to see me out.
‘Yes,’ I said, tugging Mum’s jacket across me. ‘Um. Thank you. I’ll see you at eight o’clock tomorrow.’
Mum was spooning potatoes on to Dad’s plate. She put two on, he parried, lifting a third and fourth from the serving dish. She blocked him, steering them back on to the serving dish, finally rapping him on the knuckles with the serving spoon when he made for them again. Around the little table sat my parents, my sister and Thomas, my granddad, and Patrick – who always came for dinner on Wednesdays.
‘Daddy,’ Mum said to Granddad. ‘Would you like someone to cut your meat? Treena, will you cut Daddy’s meat?’
Treena leant across and began slicing at Granddad’s plate with deft strokes. On the other side she had already done the same for Thomas.
‘So how messed up is this man, Lou?’
‘Can’t be up to much if they’re willing to let our daughter loose on him,’ Bernard remarked. Behind me, the television was on so that Dad and Patrick could watch the football. Every now and then they would stop, peering round me, their mouths stopping mid-chew as they watched some pass or near miss.
‘I think it’s a great opportunity. She’ll be working in one of the big houses. For a good family. Are they posh, love?’
In our street ‘posh’ could mean anyone who hadn’t got a family member in possession of an ASBO.
‘I suppose so.’
‘Hope you’ve practised your curtsy.’ Dad grinned.
‘Did you actually meet him?’ Treena leant across to stop Thomas elbowing his juice on to the floor. ‘The crippled man? What was he like?’
‘I meet him tomorrow.’
‘Weird, though. You’ll be spending all day every day with him. Nine hours. You’ll see him more than you see Patrick.’
‘That’s not hard,’ I said.
Patrick, across the table, pretended he couldn’t hear me.
‘Still, you won’t have to worry about the old sexual harassment, eh?’ Dad said.
‘Bernard!’ said my mother, sharply.
‘I’m only saying what everyone’s thinking. Probably the best boss you could find for your girlfriend, eh, Patrick?’
‘Sorry,’ I spluttered, as I realized what I had said. ‘I’m not suggesting the thing … the paraplegia … quadriplegia … with … your son … could be solved by a cup of tea.’
‘I should tell you, Miss Clark, that this is not a permanent contract. It would be for a maximum of six months. That is why the salary is … commensurate. We wanted to attract the right person.’
‘Believe me, when you’ve done shifts at a chicken processing factory, working in Guantánamo Bay for six months looks attractive.’ Oh, shut up, Louisa. I bit my lip.
But Mrs Traynor seemed oblivious. She closed her file. ‘My son – Will – was injured in a road accident almost two years ago. He requires twenty-four-hour care, the majority of which is provided by a trained nurse. I have recently returned to work, and the carer would be required to be here throughout the day to keep him company, help him with food and drink, generally provide an extra pair of hands, and make sure that he comes to no harm.’ Camilla Traynor looked down at her lap. ‘It is of the utmost importance that Will has someone here who understands that responsibility.’
Everything she said, even the way she emphasized her words, seemed to hint at some stupidity on my part.
‘I can see that.’ I began to gather up my bag.
‘So would you like the job?’
It was so unexpected that at first I thought I had heard her wrong. ‘Sorry?’
‘We would need you to start as soon as possible. Payment will be weekly.’
I was briefly lost for words. ‘You’d rather have me instead of –’ I began.
‘The hours are quite lengthy – 8am till 5pm, sometimes later. There is no lunch break as such, although when Nathan, his daily nurse, comes in at lunchtime to attend to him, there should be a free half an hour.’
‘You wouldn’t need anything … medical?’
‘Will has all the medical care we can offer him. What we want for him is somebody robust … and upbeat. His life is … complicated, and it is important that he is encouraged to –’ She broke off, her gaze fixed on something outside the French windows. Finally, she turned back to me. ‘Well, let’s just say that his mental welfare is as important to us as his physical welfare. Do you understand?’
‘I think so. Would I … wear a uniform?’
‘No. Definitely no uniform.’ She glanced at my legs. ‘Although you might want to wear … something a bit less revealing.’
I glanced down to where my jacket had shifted, revealing a generous expanse of bare thigh. ‘It … I’m sorry. It ripped. It’s not actually mine.’
But Mrs Traynor no longer appeared to be listening. ‘I’ll explain what needs doing when you start. Will is not the easiest person to be around at the moment, Miss Clark. This job is going to be about mental attitude as much as any … professional skills you might have. So. We will see you tomorrow?’
‘Tomorrow? You don’t want … you don’t want me to meet him?’
‘Will is not having a good day. I think it’s best that we start afresh then.’
I stood up, realizing Mrs Traynor was already waiting to see me out.
‘Yes,’ I said, tugging Mum’s jacket across me. ‘Um. Thank you. I’ll see you at eight o’clock tomorrow.’
Mum was spooning potatoes on to Dad’s plate. She put two on, he parried, lifting a third and fourth from the serving dish. She blocked him, steering them back on to the serving dish, finally rapping him on the knuckles with the serving spoon when he made for them again. Around the little table sat my parents, my sister and Thomas, my granddad, and Patrick – who always came for dinner on Wednesdays.
‘Daddy,’ Mum said to Granddad. ‘Would you like someone to cut your meat? Treena, will you cut Daddy’s meat?’
Treena leant across and began slicing at Granddad’s plate with deft strokes. On the other side she had already done the same for Thomas.
‘So how messed up is this man, Lou?’
‘Can’t be up to much if they’re willing to let our daughter loose on him,’ Bernard remarked. Behind me, the television was on so that Dad and Patrick could watch the football. Every now and then they would stop, peering round me, their mouths stopping mid-chew as they watched some pass or near miss.
‘I think it’s a great opportunity. She’ll be working in one of the big houses. For a good family. Are they posh, love?’
In our street ‘posh’ could mean anyone who hadn’t got a family member in possession of an ASBO.
‘I suppose so.’
‘Hope you’ve practised your curtsy.’ Dad grinned.
‘Did you actually meet him?’ Treena leant across to stop Thomas elbowing his juice on to the floor. ‘The crippled man? What was he like?’
‘I meet him tomorrow.’
‘Weird, though. You’ll be spending all day every day with him. Nine hours. You’ll see him more than you see Patrick.’
‘That’s not hard,’ I said.
Patrick, across the table, pretended he couldn’t hear me.
‘Still, you won’t have to worry about the old sexual harassment, eh?’ Dad said.
‘Bernard!’ said my mother, sharply.
‘I’m only saying what everyone’s thinking. Probably the best boss you could find for your girlfriend, eh, Patrick?’
