She lifts her eyes as I approach. They are small and a startling bright blue, like the bubblegum-flavoured Millions sweets my best friend, Courtney, used to eat when we were younger. Even though she’s sitting down I can tell she’s tall – taller than me, anyway – slim, and looks robust and strong for a woman in her late seventies.
‘Hello,’ she says, without getting up. She doesn’t take her eyes off me, even when Kathryn sits in the chair next to her. ‘You must be Una. An unusual name.’
I smile and nod as she indicates for me to sit on the sofa opposite. ‘My mum was a fan of the actress Una Stubbs. You know, who played Aunt Sally in Worzel Gummidge?’ I perch on the edge of the sofa, crossing my ankles, like her, and pulling at the hem of my skirt, which, in the presence of these two women, now feels obscenely short. ‘I know her best from Sherlock …’ I’m gabbling now.
Mrs McKenzie frowns. ‘I don’t know about that but I do know who you mean. I’ve seen her in the West End,’ she says, without smiling. My eyes flicker around the room. There is no television. She clears her throat and I sit up a bit straighter. ‘So, tell us a little about yourself.’ Her voice is plummy and I make an effort to speak correctly in what my mum used to call a telephone voice.
‘Well … I …’ I swallow. Come on, Una, don’t mess this up. Don’t be intimidated by these people just because they’re posh. I notice Mrs McKenzie’s eyes go to my legs and then back to my face. Maybe I don’t seem responsible enough. I know I look young for my age. I’m forever getting asked for ID. ‘I’ve been working in a care home for the past four and a half years, since I left higher education at eighteen. I’ve several qualifications from the college I went to on day release –’
‘Sounds like prison,’ interjects Elspeth, without smiling.
I giggle nervously, not sure if she’s making a joke. ‘It’s what they call it when your job allows you to have a day off to attend college.’
‘I see.’ She glances down at the notes on her lap and I realize it’s my CV.
‘I’ve got NVQs … and first aid.’
She looks up again. ‘So I see. Go on.’
‘And … um … I’d like a new challenge.’
‘You do understand that this is a live-in position?’ she says. ‘You’d have your own bedroom. I would need you on Saturdays but you get Wednesdays and Sundays off. We really would prefer someone without any … commitments.’
‘Commitments?’
‘Husband. Children. That kind of thing.’
‘No. I’ve no commitments.’
‘Family in the area? Boyfriend?’
I glance towards Kathryn, who is staring at her hands in her lap but something I can’t read passes over her face. Are they worried I’ll be bringing men back to the room?
‘No. No boyfriend or family. It was just me and my mum but she … well, she died. Last November.’ I can feel my cheeks grow hot. I didn’t want to mention Mum. When I tell people about her their expressions change, their voices soften and they look at me with pity, not knowing what to say.
Although that’s not the case with Mrs McKenzie. ‘I’m sorry to hear it,’ she says crisply, not sounding particularly sorry. ‘So,’ she continues, after a beat of awkward silence, ‘a little bit about me.’ She sits up straighter. ‘I’m eighty next year …’ she pauses, presumably for me to tell her that she looks good for her age, which of course I do ‘… but have suffered from ill health since a fall two years ago.’ She looks in great health to me. ‘I’m not as agile as I once was,’ she continues, and Kathryn gives a little harrumph from across the room. Elspeth ignores her. ‘So, I need someone to help me dress, bathe, et cetera. To accompany me to events – I go to lots of events and I want to continue with that. Trips to the theatre, shopping. Anything, really.’
Excitement bubbles inside me. It sounds so much more interesting than my current job, where the highlight of my day is accompanying one of the residents out into the small garden, weather permitting.
‘Does that sound acceptable to you?’
I nod. ‘It sounds perfect. What … um, what about cooking? I’m a terrible cook – I even burn cheese on toast.’ My cheeks flame as I realize I said that out loud.
She laughs. A proper laugh this time. ‘Oh, you wouldn’t have to worry about that. I have a cook. And a cleaner. No, it’s just a companion I need. You’re probably thinking I have a daughter for that. My one and only child.’ She glances at Kathryn sitting mutely in the chair, then fixes her eyes on me again. It’s an odd thing to say. ‘But Kathryn has a family and two very demanding boys. She doesn’t have the time.’