Wiping away her tears Martina stood up, feeling strangely calm and cleansed. Replacing the jumper in her bag she walked with stiffened resolve through the busy streets. Eventually her eyes lit upon a window filled with pasted job advertisements. Sidling closer she scanned through them, discounting one after the other based on qualifications and experience. Finally her eyes fell on a small piece of note paper near the bottom of the window.
‘Babysitter required to care for two girls, aged 6 and 2 respectively, £4.50 an hour, must be able to work at least 18 hours a week. Contact details below.’
Curious, Martina noted the details down, loving as she did to be around children, this job seemed no less than perfect. Puzzled but pleased by the lack of requests for previous experience Martina rummaged for her mobile phone. Switching it on she delicately typed in the contact number, holding her breath as the phone began to ring.
Moments later a quiet, slightly cold voice answered. ‘Natalie Wilson speaking.’
Martina cleared her throat, forcing her nerves back down into her belly, hoping her voice would remain steady. ‘Hi Mrs Wilson, my name is Martina...’ she paused, realising a false surname might well be necessary to prevent her family from tracking her down. ‘Martina Jones. I’m ringing to, erm, ask about the babysitting job.’ Natalie Wilson’s voice warmed considerably at these words. ‘Oh that’s great; we were beginning to think we wouldn’t get anyone, now if I can just ask you a few questions...’
'Never forget what you are. The rest of the world will not. Wear it like armor, and it can never be used to hurt you.'
['There is only one thing we say to death. Not today'.']
'We are each our own devil, and we make this world our hell.’ – Oscar Wilde
‘It’s hard to dance with the devil on your back.’ Sydney Carter
“The good things don’t always soften the bad, but vice-versa, the bad things don’t necessarily spoil the good things and make them unimportant.”
“Nobody important? Blimey, that’s amazing. Do you know, in nine hundred years of time and space I’ve never met anyone who wasn’t important before.”
“If it’s time to go, remember what you’re leaving. Remember the best. My friends have always been the best of me.”
Hours later, unable to believe her luck Martina boarded a bus, counting out change with a little more abandon than she had previously handled her money. She was sure now that God was smiling down upon her, this job would be hers, and she would be self sufficient, a two fingers to the family she had left behind.
The journey was not long, hardly fifteen minutes, although to Martina the journey seemed much longer, eager as she was to rush headlong into adulthood which, she was sure, with a secure job and independence would clad her in an armour so strong that no future hurt could penetrate.
Disembarking from the bus Martina walked with quickened footsteps, following hastily scribbled directions. Almost before she knew it, Martina found herself standing in front of a quaint burnished brown brick building with a neat grey roof and carefully kept garden. Stepping cautiously down the garden path she reached tentatively for the door knocker. A cautious knock resounded once, twice.
Almost immediately the door was swung open, making Martina jump slightly. A tall, willowy woman with immaculately styled hair opened the door, a questioning look upon her beautiful face. Behind her a child scuttled forward, standing just behind the woman, a perfect porcelain miniature of the woman who could only be her mother.
‘Natalie Wilson?’ Martina inquired, although she was sure this was the woman with whom she had spoken. The woman studied her appraisingly, taking in the faded blue of Martina’s frayed jeans and glancing over her faded green T-shirt. Finally she met Martina’s gaze, her startling blue eyes finding Martina’s chocolate brown ones. She nodded. Martina, more nervous now than ever hesitantly explained her less than perfect presence to this woman who was, it seemed, the very embodiment of perfection.
‘I’m Martina Legree, we spoke on the phone, about, you know, the babysitting job? She shifted nervously from foot to foot. The woman nodded slowly, then beckoned her inside. As she did so she nearly fell over the small child hovering behind her. ‘Lucia!’ she hissed in annoyance, stepping briskly around the child and sweeping past her with chilling indifference.
The child, Lucia, quietly followed. Once they were all seated in a luxuriant living room of soft pastel colours and smooth creamy carpeting, Martina studied Lucia properly. Rarely had she seen such an enigmatic child. Her shoulder length hair fell in delicate wisps, and looked for all the world as though each strand had been spun from pure gold. Set into skin so white it was almost ethereal in appearance she gazed solemnly up at Martina with her mother’s piercing blue eyes. However, as cold and appraising as her mother’s gaze had been was as pensive and mysterious as this little girl’s stare was. Martina smiled encouragingly at her. The girl’s stare remained solemn.
‘So Martina have you had any previous experience in caring for children?’ inquired Natalie, in a matter of fact tone. Martina hesitated took a deep breath and then firmed her resolution to sell herself well enough to win herself this job. ‘Well although I have no formal qualifications regarding child care,’ she began, surprised how in this sleek stylish room her voice seemed to have become smoother, the words falling easier, a professional veneer settling upon her small shoulders. ‘I have had experience as a teacher’s assistant on several work experience programmes when I attended high school.’
The woman nodded, encouraging Martina to continue. For the next few minutes Martina somehow managed to weave her meagre child care experience into an extensive and detailed CV, by the end of which Natalie appeared favourably impressed. Her cold demeanour warmed slightly and she offered Martina a smile. Crossing one long leg over the other she leaned back in a relaxed manner and began to explain the system of wages, and which hours Martina was needed.
‘Of course with such a number of hours you are needed to myself and my husband’s work commitments I thought it might have been as well to employ a live in au pair,’ she announced, ’However, Jonathon, that’s my husband, felt uncomfortable about the arrangement, feeling that if the person were living here it would become natural for them to always attend to the children, meaning that we would little chance for interaction ourselves.’ She gave a slight disapproving sniff, as though she found her husband’s views childish and of little value. ’If however you live a significant distance away, given the large amount of time you will be working with us we will be happy to subsidise travel fare. Other than that your wages will be…’ Martina’s eyes widened at the prospect of the riches that this woman was holding out on a platter. With that amount of money she could afford a place to live, food on the table, even clothes, books, music, cigarettes.
‘Do you have any questions?’ Natalie asked finally, studying Martina. ‘Because if you want it, the job is yours.’ Martina nodded, still slightly dumbstruck.
‘When can I start?’
'Never forget what you are. The rest of the world will not. Wear it like armor, and it can never be used to hurt you.'
['There is only one thing we say to death. Not today'.']
'We are each our own devil, and we make this world our hell.’ – Oscar Wilde
‘It’s hard to dance with the devil on your back.’ Sydney Carter
