Child’s Play

If I was as good as my family thought I was, getting a new job should be a piece of cake!

IADJUST my tie and run the flat of my hand across the top of my bald head. “How do I look?” I ask. My wife, Cara, straightens my collar and smiles. “You look like a man who is about to wow the interviewers. Remember what I said, Ryan. If you start to get nervous, just imagine them with no clothes on.”

“I’m not sure that’s particularly helpful,” I say, unsure of who might be on the panel.

“Yuck, Mum.”

Cara and I glance at each other. We hadn’t seen Ethan under the kitchen table. It’s his favourite hiding place at the moment and I should have guessed he was there.

Bending down, I lift the tablecloth.

“What Mum’s trying to do is help me to chill.”

Ethan stares at me with his large brown eyes. “Chill?”

Pulling up the knees of my suit trousers, I crouch down so we are eye to eye.

“You know when we went to visit your new school for the first time, to talk to the headteacher, you were a little bit worried, weren’t you?”

“When I had frogs jumping around in my tummy?”

“That’s right,” I say, placing my hand on my stomach where my own frogs are leaping around like crazy. “Well, that’s how I’m feeling this morning.”

Ethan holds out his Lego model for me to admire.

“But Mummy says you’re the best architect in the whole of Saxon Road.”

“That’s because your mummy loves me, and also because I’m probably the only architect in Saxon Road.” I smile at Cara. “But it was very nice of her to say so. It’s good to have someone on your side.”

“Like when Jamie chose me to be in the blue team?” Ethan asked.

“Just like that. Anyway, get your shoes on. You don’t want to be late for your second week.”

I try to hide my frown of concern when I ask him the next question.

“You are enjoying school, aren’t you, Ethan?”

He looks at me as though I’ve just asked him whether he likes ice-cream or Cartoon Network.

“Of course, I am. Mrs Lavant is only strict with the naughty children.” His eyes slide away from mine and I hope he’s been behaving himself.

At his old school, his teacher would sometimes catch Cara at the school gates to have a word with her about his talking.

“Good luck.” Cara kisses me then runs a hand down my cheek. “You’ll be great. I know you will.”

“Thanks, but I don’t think we should get our hopes up. You know what happened last time.”

“That was just bad luck. It wasn’t your fault the partner had got stuck in a traffic jam on the way to the interview and was in a bad mood. If they don’t give you the job they won’t know what they’re missing.

“You’ve got talent, and if they’ve an ounce of sense between them, they’ll see it,” Cara adds. “Now, do you have everything? CV? Portfolio? Drawings?”

I pat the new leather bag I bought especially for the occasion.

“Yup. All in here.” “Then you’re ready. Good luck and I’ll see you later. And if you get stuck, don’t forget . . .”

Ethan’s gurgling laugh comes from beneath the tablecloth.

“Picture them without clothes on!” he cries.

It’s dark and, through the lit window, I can see Cara at the kitchen table marking books.

Upstairs, the house is in darkness. Ethan’s nightlight isn’t bright enough to show through his curtains.

How long have I been standing here? Half an hour, maybe? I’m putting off the moment when I’ll have to go inside and admit that, once again, I’ve failed.

The call came while I was at the job centre. Just pipped at the post. I gave a solid interview but there was a high standard of interviewees.

I suspected as much when the director failed to laugh at a joke I’d made, his eyes sliding to his watch.

Knowing I can’t put it off any longer, I lift my key and fit it into the lock. As I walk in, my wife looks up, seeing from my face that it’s not good news.

Putting down her pen, she comes over to me and wraps her arms around my neck.

“You didn’t get it?”

I shake my head, unable to speak.

Pulling Cara closer, I rest my chin on her head, wishing there was some way I could change things.

“It doesn’t matter,” she says. “Something will turn up and that will be the right thing.”

“Maybe it’s fate telling me it isn’t the right time to take the next step. Perhaps I should just settle for what I’ve got. What I know.”

“That’s nonsense and you know it, Ryan. You’re not happy where you are.

“Besides, your designs are amazing. You’re methodical, logical and you’re a good communicator. If you don’t keep trying, you’ll never know what you might have achieved.”

“I know, but when I sit in front of the interviewers, I can’t help thinking about all the others who’ll come in after me. How much better they’ll be.”

Cara frowns.

“You shouldn’t compare yourself to the others. Plus you don’t know what they’re looking for. It could be someone just like you.”

I sit down at the table, resting my forehead on the heels of my hands. It’s been a long day.

When Cara hands me a cold beer, I take it gratefully, then smile as I feel her fingers release the tight muscles of my neck. How I wish I had her confidence in me.

“I’m sorry. I don’t think I can face looking at another online application form. Sometimes I wish it was like it used to be in my dad’s day. You’d just stick your CV in an envelope and post it or hand it into reception.”

Cara laughs and rests her hands on my shoulders.

“You could do that with your next one. Cooper Stuart Architects is on your way to Ethan’s school – you could roll it into a scroll and seal it with red wax while you’re about it.”

I sigh.

“I’m not going to apply to them, Cara. There’s no point. The position’s too senior and I wouldn’t even get an interview. Even if I did, I’d just make another stupid joke and the whole thing would go pearshaped.”

“I’m sorry you feel that way. What is it that you’re always telling Ethan? Don’t give up without a fight.”

Cara drops her hands and starts to tidy away her work.

“I think that job would be just up your street. I’m going to bed.”

As she reaches the door, she stops.

“I meant to say, Ethan’s teacher said his writing’s coming along really well. He’s working above the level expected for his age.” I raise my eyebrows. “Really? In his last school he was struggling.”

“He just needs to be motivated, that’s all. It seems that the move has done him good and his teacher knows how to handle him.”

I think of our bright, spirited little boy. Precocious is a word I’ve heard used about him, but I prefer to think of Ethan as a smart seven-year-old who likes to think outside the box.

“I’ll look in on him when I come up.”

I look at the clock: nine thirty. Ethan’s never been quick to settle at night, but there’s been no sound from him. With luck, he’ll be asleep.

“OK.”

I hear my wife’s footsteps on the stairs. Closing my eyes, I stretch my legs out then draw them back in shock as they make contact with something soft.

Cara’s voice floats down to me – something about Ethan not being in his room.

Lifting the tablecloth, I see two dark eyes staring back at me.

Ethan’s voice has a ring of disappointment to it.

“You didn’t think of them without clothes, did you, Dad?”

The office is bright and modern, wide windows looking on to the street where I walk Ethan to school.

Tony Cooper looks up from the page he’s holding.

“So, Ryan, I see you have a bit of an obsession with tracing paper.” He glances at the other partner in the practice, Tod Stuart. “I was going to make a joke about it, but I knew you’d see through it.”

Unable to help himself, he gives a bark of laughter.

I smile nervously, unable to comprehend why I’m here. I’d come home from work the previous day to find a message on the answerphone asking me to come in for a chat, and when I’d asked Cara about it, she’d been just as surprised.

“Are you sure you didn’t answer the advert, Ryan? Might you have forgotten?”

“I might be useless at interviews, but I think I’d remember something like that, don’t you?” I’d replied.

So now I’m sitting in the office of Cooper Stuart Architects and wondering what on earth I’m doing here. Examples of my drawings are on the table in front of us – I brought them just in case.

James Cooper clears his throat.

“I see from your application that you’re logical. Logical is good. The ability to rationalise things objectively is valuable in a profession such as ours.”

He looks down again, adjusting his glasses on his nose to see better.

“Methodical, too. A difficult word that. Almost spelled correctly but not quite.”

“I’m sorry.” I shake my head. “I don’t know what –”

“Apparently, you are the best architect in Saxon Road.” He bites his lip to stop himself from laughing, but the corners of his eyes crease all the same. “Just as well, really, as our practice is in Saxon Road. Looks like we’ll have competition, eh, Tod?”

Tod Stuart nods, his face a mask of seriousness. “Seems so.”

I stand.

“Look, I’m not going to stay here to be made fun of. It was you who asked to see me, if you remember.”

James Cooper holds out his hand.

“Sit down, Ryan. I apologise. It’s just that, when we received your letter of application for the job, we knew we’d have to see you right away.”

“But I didn’t write an application to you! I wanted to, but I –”

“No, your son did.” “My son? Ethan?” James studies the name at the bottom of the page. “Yes, that’s the one.” “Oh, no!” I press the flat of my hand to my forehead. “What did he say?”

“Why don’t you see for yourself? It was pushed through the letter-box yesterday.”

I take the page from him and immediately recognise my son’s handwriting. With heart thumping, I start to read.

Dear Mr Cooper and Mr James,

How are you today? I’m writing cos you’ve a job going at your place but I bet you don’t know what you’re looking for. I’ll help – it’s someone just like my dad. Here’s why.

He’s lojycle and methodicle. I don’t know what that means but I guess it’s good. Also, he has a new lether bag to put things in. Mum says Dad is the best arcytect in Saxon Road but I think he’s the best in the world.

Last tim, dad said he was just pipped at the post. It was like when Lee came first in the hundred meeters and I came second and I wanted to cry so give him a chance or youl miss out. If they allowed arcyitects on Briten’s Got Talent Dad wood win.

Got to go now. Ethan. P.S. If you want to see him and he makes a joke about tracing paper, try to pretend it’s funny. He only does it cos he’s nervous and wants the job.

I stare at James Cooper, my mouth agape.

“And you still wanted to see me after that?”

“Because of that. You have a very loving son there, Ryan, and a very astute one. From the look of these drawings, you have a lot of talent. Are you happy to continue with this as a formal interview?”

I look around me at the bright office and then at the smiling faces of the partners.

“I would indeed,” I say, knowing that just like Ethan’s new school, this place could be just the right fit. n