‘Can you work some evenings? Cook for me? Can you cook?’
‘Yes, I can.’
‘And what are you really looking for, out of this position?’
I found myself lost for words.
‘I see,’ said Constance, looking dubious. ‘I’ll be frank, Laura. You’re the oldest candidate the recruitment agency and Rebecca organized for me to meet. I don’t think you’re remotely old, obviously. It’s just all the others are in their early twenties. They look like they want to get on somewhere, you know? This is an interim thing for them. A limbo. And to be quite frank, I think most of them were scared. Would you be able to tell me why you’re here?’
‘Have you read my CV?’ I said.
She batted the air with her hands. ‘I took a glimpse. They all look the same, to be honest. And people always make half of it up, anyway. I’d prefer to talk to a person. I’m a good judge of character, you know.’
‘Of course.’
‘So why do you want this job? Are you just looking for anything at the moment?’
‘No. Something specific,’ I said.
‘Oh? What?’
‘I would like – to be useful,’ I said.
Constance laughed. ‘You would be very useful.’ She leaned back in the armchair and surveyed me. ‘But would I be useful to you?’
‘I’m sorry?’
‘You’re telling me that working here would be an entirely altruistic pleasure?’
‘Well – no. I mean, I need a job. There’s that. And I think this would be an interesting position. And I need a change,’ I added. Feeling some truth upon the air, at last, I felt my cheeks turn hot.
It was as if she smelled it too. ‘A change?’ she said. ‘You’re not happy where you are?’
‘I’ve taken some shifts in a coffee shop. It’s not – stimulating.’
‘But if you worked here, there would be no one else to talk to, except me. And I wouldn’t call making cups of tea any more stimulating than making cups of coffee.’
‘You sound like you’re trying to talk me out of it,’ I said.
‘I just want you to understand. I’m not here to entertain you, to tell you stories. I need – essentially – a maid who can type.’
Her abruptness, her asperity – I understood why many might have been put off by Constance, or might have wilted under her glare. ‘I’m not expecting anything from you,’ I said, and I had to look away, hot-faced from my lie. When I turned back to her, she was waiting for me to speak again. ‘Miss Holden—’
‘Connie, please.’
‘Connie. I would love this job. That’s the truth. I will do what you want. I will leave you alone when you want to be alone. I will cook for you. I will type for you. Your hands are yours, and they always will be. But you can have mine too, if you would like them.’
Constance looked taken aback. Possibly no one had offered themselves to her for a long time, in any shape or form. Her eyes even briefly moistened, but she blinked, and I looked away to save her embarrassment. I suspected she could not countenance the idea of weeping in front of me. In truth, I had not expected such an outburst from myself, but perhaps some unconscious part of me knew that this moment couldn’t be let go. I didn’t know how it would work with the recruitment agency, but I was on the cusp of something that might be here today and never seen again. I was already in too deep – I needed her to want me more than the others. I needed her to want to make this work.
She scrutinized my face, as if she was divining a mystery or looking at a confusing work of art. ‘There’s another thing,’ she said.
‘Yes?’
‘The recruitment agency Rebecca used.’
A sick feeling swooped into my stomach. ‘Yes?’
‘What percentage of your earnings will they take?’
‘Er, twenty per cent?’
‘Mmm,’ said Constance. ‘For doing what, exactly? Every other person they sent me was a wet blanket. They’ve wasted my time.’
‘I guess that’s part of the search, though,’ I said. ‘The match-making process,’ I added jokingly, and immediately regretted it.
‘This is what I’m going to do. I’m going to call the recruitment agency and tell them the search is off.’
‘Oh?’ My heart beat faster. If Connie mentioned my name to this recruitment agency, my cover would be blown. They would have no record of Laura Brown. The only person who knew my name was Rebecca.
Connie misunderstood my hesitation and raised an eyebrow. ‘Do your principles forbid you to agree?’ she said.
My mind was racing. ‘I’ll call the recruiters myself,’ I said. ‘Tell them I’m not interested in the job any more. To take me off their books. I could tell them I’ve found something else?’
Connie nodded. A paranoid part of me wondered if some suspicion she held about me had been confirmed. But if this was the case, why was she so keen to take me on? ‘You should probably do that,’ she said. ‘But I’m going to let them know I’m not looking any more.’
‘OK,’ I said. This couldn’t end well.
‘And then come to me privately,’ Connie went on. ‘I’ll pay you direct, in cash. And I’ll tell Rebecca that the recruitment agency has found me someone and I’m finalizing the details myself.’
I felt slightly lightheaded. ‘But – won’t Rebecca want to sort it for you herself?’
Connie shrugged. ‘Unlikely. It’s hardly her remit, and she was a bit miffed having to deal with it in the first place. She thinks I’m cantankerous and I’m sure she’s scared of me.’
I thought back to Rebecca’s harried manner on the phone, her desire to get this matter off her hands as soon as possible. We need someone urgently. There was every chance these two facts might work in my favour.
Connie smiled. ‘All right. It’s settled. Good to save a bit of money, don’t you think?’
‘Yes,’ I said, feeling the adrenaline drop through me. ‘I suppose it is.’
I was worried, but I decided not to over-think it, and to see instead how far my luck would take me. I imagined the rooms above our heads right now, cupboards and drawers full of letters and diaries – even photos – that might contain a portrait of my mother, and by extension, me. If finding them meant cooking some vats of bolognese, I would take the risk.
‘Excellent, Laura,’ said Constance. ‘Right then. I’ve got a good feeling about you. When can you start?’
*
We said goodbye, agreeing that I would come at ten a.m. in two weeks on the Monday. I walked to the station feeling extraordinary. Connie’s invitation to go inside her world had wrapped its shining bonds around me as if I were a chrysalis she’d spun with her crooked fingers. For thirty-four years, I had offered the world one version of myself. Within minutes of Connie’s company, I’d cast it off.
15
Joe’s reaction to my job news was decidedly underwhelming. ‘I don’t think this is a good idea,’ he said.
‘Why not?’ I snapped. ‘You’re always telling me the coffee shop has no room for development.’