A Suitable Companion

Chapter 1: An Accidental Interview

"What previous experience do you have of taking care of a convalescent?"

Truth is - none, but when I open my mouth, I lie so fluently that I almost believe myself, to the blonde, cool woman who for some reason is interviewing me for a job I have no intention applying for.

"I was taking care of my sickly grandmother for many years, almost like a part-time job. I was there for every single day until her very last moment and then I sat by her side, holding her hand as she left this world. Everyone was so sad because she was the most beloved person, but their grief was at least relieved by knowing she had company until the end by someone who loved her."

I believe myself so much that I can feel a tear finding its way out from the corner of my eye and run down my cheek. This is total bullocks. I'm not a naturally care-taking person, nurse is one of the professions I first ruled out back in the day when one discussed possible career options with the school counsellor. Furthermore, my Nan is alive and well, probably shouting out loud in the bingo-hall as we speak, but no need for the interviewer to know that. I don't know why I bother. I shouldn't even be here for this interview, it's a mistake, but her haughty way of looking at me like I'm unlikely to qualify strikes a competitive nerve in me and now I suddenly want this job more than anything. Even though I don't know for sure what it actually is.

-O-

This morning started like any other morning in the Dawes household. Except I got up a bit late because I had put the phone alarm on snooze too many times, hurried for the bathroom only to find it occupied by Bella. It is hopeless in our house if you for some reason miss your "slot" in the bathroom. We are so many sharing this bathroom that we have spontaneously fallen into a pattern where everyone follows a schedule for using it in the morning. Usually Nan is first, she is one of them elderly people who for unknown reason wakes up fully alert at 5.30 am even though she does not have to get up for work, which leaves her plenty of time in the bathroom before it is my turn. Then is gets busy; me, followed by my sister Bella, then Mum together with Bonnie, Charlie, Liam and Ella to get the little bleeders ready for school. Last comes dad. He does not really have anything special to get ready for, so like Nan there is plenty of time for him and I think he likes to just sit there for an hour. But me, now, I'm colliding with Bella. Luckily, she is in a good mood and lets me brush my teeth and put on makeup while she is in the shower, saving me from arriving to work more than ten minutes late, breathless after biking faster than usual.

The café owner, Louie, is waiting impatiently for me, demonstratively looking at his watch as I enter the door and hurriedly put on my apron and dive into my place behind the counter. This job is in one way my dream job, yet miles away from it. My dream is to have a café of my own. A really cozy, homely one, with small intimate tables, armchairs, cushions, shelves with magazines, books and games that the guests can borrow, maybe even a fireplace which one can drink hot Cocoa in front of in the winter. Everything will be homemade and made with love, the bread for the tasty sandwiches, the delicious the cookies, cakes and pies. It will smell great, obviously, from the newly baked pastries, the freshly grounded coffee and the tea. I will be circling around, chatting to the many regulars and convince them to try the new cake recipe I have invented. Of course, this is nothing but a dream so far and the only resemblance with my current job is that the place I work is called a café.

Firstly, I do not own it, Louie does. He is a short, chubby Italian who thinks he has irresistible Italian charm but actually is quite creepy and has a foul temper. Secondly, the café is far from cozy. So much could be done with this room, the lighting, the furniture, right now it is sparse and cold with a mixture of ugly plastic chairs and metallic tables, with unmatched cloths and vases with hideous fake flowers, a ghastly greenish shade on the walls. Thirdly, what we serve is not homemade. Some of it Louie orders ready from a supplier, some is so-called 'bake-off' which means it comes here half ready, we bake it some more in our oven and present it as our own. It does not taste bad, but I'm not very proud of it either. Obviously, the customers know the difference too. By-passers come in and we have enough guests to make ends meet, but it is not like it is a popular and crowded place, or people make an extra detour to get here because of positive reviews on TripAdvisor.