Chapter 2 #4
He hasn’t judged me for the window disaster, and he might be the only person in the universe who will employ me with that on my record.
This would be a chance to… not exactly erase it from my CV, but bury it further down and have a good reference from someone who has no partiality to aardvarks, and that slow smile makes something tingle into life inside me.
He seems genuine, and I relate to the predicament he’s got himself into.
It’s easy to imagine how something like that can spiral into a huge web of lies just because you want someone to think you’re different than you are…
And I think about how much I’ve laughed over the course of this conversation.
How easy it’s been to talk to him. What started out as a job interview has quickly become a friendly chat of empathising with each other, and I feel lighter somehow.
Plus, the idea of getting to decorate a castle is ridiculously appealing.
A month to do something different and spend Christmas somewhere magical…
‘You know how when you look at a swan gliding along a lake, it’s all calm and serene, but if you looked under the water, you’d see its flippers going a hundred miles an hour? These visitors need to see the swan, not the flippers.’
It’s a perfect description of window dressing.
The window is the swan. Perfect, pristine, enticing, and the customer must never see the flippers – the hours of night work, of preparation and planning, of designs and arguments with Head Office and sourcing the stock, to ensure the perfect window appears, as if by magic when the shutters roll up in the morning.
I spend my life making sure no one ever sees the flippers.
It’s a metaphor I feel in my soul, and it makes me take leave of my senses. ‘I’m in. On both counts.’
For a moment, I think my soul leaves my body because I’m looking down on myself and wondering why the hell I said that when my brain is screaming, ‘Of course you’re not in! You’re not going to pretend to be some random stranger’s wife for the next month!’
Even through the screen, the gigantic smile that spreads across Oliver’s face is a sight to behold. ‘Are you sure?’
‘No, of course not! This is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever agreed to in my life!’
‘We’re in luck then because it’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever suggested in mine.’
He’s laughing as he says it, and it makes me laugh again and feel that same sense of companionship. If I can help him out, be paid nicely, and have an adventure in the process, then why not?
‘I’ll pay for your travel, of course. It’s a long way and we’re very remote.
’ He sits forward and focuses on his screen instead of the camera, like he’s trying to do it quickly before I have a chance to change my mind.
‘So, it’ll be a train from London to Glasgow, and then you connect to a plane from Glasgow airport, and—’
‘A plane? You’re not on the mainland?’
‘We’re hanging onto the mainland by a thread, but the bus from Glasgow takes four hours and only runs twice a day if the weather’s good enough for the roads to be open, whereas the plane is reasonably reliable and only takes half an hour.
’ It sounds like he’s on the train ticket website already.
I can hear the clicks of his keyboard as his fingers tap it. ‘When do you want to leave?’
‘I don’t know, when do you want me to start?’
‘As soon as possible. I have a storage room full of decorations, but there will be plenty you need to buy and have delivered and organise. You’re going to have a lot to do. We’ve all got a lot to do.’
Presumably the decorating, not the… wife-ing.
‘Tomorrow?’ It sounds weird coming out of my mouth, but at the same time, what do I have to stay for?
I have a new job waiting for me in Scotland – there’s no point milling around here for another few days when I could be up there, making a start on…
everything. I’m daunted by the prospect of decorating an entire castle on my own when I’m used to working with a team, so the sooner I get to grips with exactly what it entails and start organising things, the better.
‘Tomorrow works for me.’ His attention is still on the website he’s looking at. ‘The guests are arriving on the 23rd and leaving on the 27th, so I’ll book a return for… the 28th?’
I nod when he looks back into the camera questioningly, and wait while he makes a few more clicks.
‘Right, ticket booked for tomorrow, Euston to Glasgow, from there you want a taxi to the airport, and hold on… I’m going to book you a place on a flight in advance, and then I’ll arrange a taxi to collect you from Campbeltown airport and bring you here.’
‘That’s very kind of you. I can pay for—’
I’m pretty sure I actually couldn’t pay for that kind of travel right now, but he waves the offer away. ‘You’re doing me a massive favour. It’s the least I can do. I didn’t know how to get out of this mess, but then… there you were. The answer I’d been looking for. All expenses will be covered.’
It’s a nice thing to do, something that makes me feel wanted and important, and I watch him in silence as he focuses on whatever travel booking website he’s on.
No one could deny that he’s very nice-looking, with a bright smile and an accent that makes him go from handsome to drop-dead gorgeous every time he speaks.
‘All done. I’ll email everything you need over now.’ He clasps his hands together and looks back into the camera. ‘See you tomorrow, internet stranger who’s saving my backside.’
‘See you tomorrow, unexpected stranger and purveyor of the strangest job interview I’ve ever had.’
He’s still laughing as he ends the meeting, and when the screen goes blank, I can feel that excitement buzzing inside me again.
If everything happens for a reason, then maybe Paddington Bear’s demise was not in vain after all. Maybe it was the universe’s way of sending me to the Mull of Kintyre for Christmas, to decorate a castle, pretend to be a stranger’s wife, and whatever else is to come in the next thirty days.