Unsuitable (3 page)

“Sit
down Reece, you’re not wasting my time.” Audrey patted the couch cushion.

“You
don’t want me.”
Shit
, that sounded pathetic.

“Why
wouldn’t I employ you? You have all the right qualifications. Plus you’re
catnip to Mia.”

No
point not being honest now. “You want a woman.”

“I
want the best person for the job.”

“You’re
saying that because you know that’s what you’re supposed to say. It’s
politically correct.”

“Sit
down, Reece. You’re blocking out the sun.”

He
scrubbed at his head and looked from Audrey to Mia. Mia was making an O face
again, then she said, “Mum, apple.”

Audrey
focused on Mia. “We don’t have any apples. But you can have a mandarin. You
like mandarins.”

“No.
Apple.”

“Draw
another picture and I’ll get something to eat in a minute.”

“No.
Apple.”

“Mia,
honey.”

“No.”

This
was a useful distraction. “I’ll go. Really, I understand you’d be more comfortable
with someone else. I don’t want to waste your time any longer.”

“Apple,
Mum. Apple now.”

“You’re
not wasting my time. Mia, in a minute.”

“No.”

“What
do you like least about being a nanny, Reece? Do you prefer manny?”

Like
a mermaid, he was trapped in the undersea world of this interview. He sat, but
on the floor beside Mia, cross-legged like before. “I hate manny. Male nurses
are still nurses, not murses. The words have the same etymology. It’s the
function, not the gender.”

“Oh.”
He’d spoken sharply. Audrey sat on the floor as well. She put out her arms to
Mia, but Mia shied away, opting to stand on Reece’s shins, holding onto his
shoulders.

“What
I like least is when I can’t work out what a kid is going through. If they’re
upset and I can’t soothe them.” Mia hummed and walked up his leg, holding on to
his hair. “If they’re sick and I can’t make them feel better on my own.” Mia
stood on his thigh and he moved his arm so she could lean over his shoulder. She
poked her finger in his ear. “That’s what I hate. The not being able to find
the answer.”

“Sometimes
the answer is they’re going to scream.”

“Yeah,”
he ducked his head to dodge another ear poke, “but if you know they’re
screaming because you’re out of apples or they’ve been bitten by a mosquito, or
they only want something that’s purple, you can try to distract them with a—”

“Human
climbing gym. Mia, don’t hurt Reece.”

“Not
hurty him.”

“You
don’t need to let her—”

He
looked around Mia to Audrey. She wore an expression that suggested she
empathised, but that wasn’t enough.

“I
want this job. To be able to concentrate on one kid, to have the job for at
least twelve months like you’ve said, with an option to stay until she goes to
school. That’s what I want. I thought I wanted to build houses, but I’d rather
help build people.”

Maybe
that was too much. Audrey reached for Mia and dragged her off him. But she
studied him with eyes that were unguarded for the first time. “Living in when
needed is not a problem?”

“No.
I still live at home. I pitch in with the girls. My baby sister, Pippa, is ten and
my oldest, Etta, is sixteen so it’s her turn.”

“Sometimes
there might not be much notice.” Mia crawled from Audrey’s lap towards the TV.

“I’d
cope.” Should’ve made that ‘I’ll cope’. Should’ve spoken as if he already
gotten the job because this interview was tilting, maybe he wasn’t done yet.

“How
long have you been looking for a nanny job?”

She’d
know it was four months since he finished with the Flannery’s. “This is my eleventh
interview.” He lifted his hands, rough and calloused, despite using gloves and
Etta’s moisturiser. Audrey could make of that what she wanted. He’d never
figured the hardest part of choosing to work with kids wasn’t the mocking he
got from mates, or the pay and conditions; it was the assumption he couldn’t do
the job as well as a woman, and worse, that he was somehow deviant, unsafe. “I’ve
been bricklaying.”

“You’ve
been unlucky.” And there it was, not so much a tilt in his favour but the whole
thing had tipped over. That was sympathy, not what you wanted to elicit in an
interview. Audrey was too smart to hire him because she felt sorry for him.

He
shrugged. “It’s how it goes.” What could he do, other than give it up like Sky
and Polly wanted him to? This interview was definitely done now. He pressed a
hand to the floor to stand.

“I’d
want to talk to the other families you’ve worked for.”

He
was halfway to his feet. “Their numbers are on—”

“Your
résumé. I know.” Audrey stood too. “I want to talk to your youngest sister as
well.”

“Flip.”
That came out like a swear word, because he was still in this, and that was a
surprise.

“Is
that a problem?”

“No,
no, we call Pippa Flip. She came out backwards.” Absolutely no need for Audrey
to know Flip’s name for him was Flop. That was more embarrassing than being
able to sing with the crab, or knowing all the words to
Let It Go
from
Frozen
.
“Are you saying I have a chance here?”

Audrey
nodded. She looked at Mia. “I know what it’s like, Reece. Not to get the job
you qualified for, for reasons you can’t control. But there are some really
wonderful candidates. I need to think about this, about you and how it might work.
I’m not making any promises.” She offered her hand and he took it. “Let’s move
to the second stage.”

“A
play date in the park.”

“Apple,
Mum. Now.”

Audrey
smiled, her first genuine smile. It made her look younger, less like a woman
who had a rocking career, owned this house, and a very cute daughter. He liked
this smiling Audrey. She’d make an interesting boss.

“Do
you have any questions for me?”

He
had a list of questions, from Mia’s favourite food to preferred activity to
allergies and medical history, but what he most wanted to know about was her
mother. What work did Audrey do that allowed her to pull the kind of salary
that paid for this house, and could afford a full-time carer? Yeah, he wanted
to know that, and it was partly a question of job security. But he also wanted
to know how she ended up a single parent, and whether he’d meet a boyfriend
over cereal at breakfast time, because Audrey Bates was attractive. She was a
mix tape of hotshot, no-nonsense executive and disapproving exam supervisor; at
least that’s how she sampled. He needed more of her to see her clearly.

“I
have heaps of questions about Mia.”

“Apple,
prese. I need, badly.”

Audrey
eye-rolled.

If
he’d have had an apple in his pocket she might’ve given him the job on the
spot. As it was, this had turned out a whole lot better than any Reese
Witherspoon movie he’d been forced to sit through.

4:       Godzilla
in the Garden

Merrill
brought food and wine and Audrey put Mia to bed, twice. Once for ‘my tummy
hurty’, and five minutes later for ‘there’s a scared’. The scared turned out to
be a possum sitting on the fence Mia could see from her bedroom window. Uncle
Joe chased the naughty possum away and sleepy Mia finally stayed put.

If
only Cameron was staying put. Audrey had all afternoon to think about her
replacement. She made notes after each interview and she’d ranked the
candidates in order of preference, except for Reece. She didn’t know how to
rank Reece. He was beyond any ranking system she’d anticipated.

First
thing she did after he left, after tears, Mia’s, and a mandarin she ate
herself, after a nap that didn’t happen, and a dozen games of Hungry Hungry
Hippo, was re-read Reece’s résumé for clues to his gender. She didn’t like
surprises and Reece was dry rain, the sun rising at night, Mia eating what was
put in front of her.

That
he was a man who wanted to care for small children was shock enough, but he was
this enormous tank of a man in a pink shirt, under which his muscle structure
bulged and rippled, like he was smuggling a whole other person under his polo,
and that other person was a body builder. He had these huge hands and snowshoes
for feet, thighs that looked too thick to allow him to sit cross-legged, and the
trapeze of his shoulder muscles was almost wider than the doorway. He could
very well block out the sun and be a human shelter. He could probably lift the
whole house and orient it slightly more to the north as easily as she
straightened the hallway rug with a foot.

He
should’ve moved awkwardly for all his bulk, lumbered, gone through her floorboards,
broken her couch, but he was graceful and moved with slow ease. Instead of
being giant in all things, he kept his movements small and spoke softly, as if
he was worried about alarming you. He could easily be alarming, Godzilla in the
garden, and yet Mia took to him like a bee to a fruit tree.

She
considered the possibility he was gay, that unexpected softness, that
consideration and self-awareness he showed, and she certainly couldn’t be sure
he wasn’t, but she didn’t think so. Nothing she could point to as evidence, except
a kind of twinkling regard he’d directed at her that was supernumerary to the
deference he showed her as a potential employer. Not that it mattered. His
sexual preference had no bearing on his ability to act as a qualified carer, it
was just that he was fascinating, not only the size of him, and the way he
negotiated the world of everyday midgets, but his obviously complex childhood, and
his decision to buck everything his physical self shouted and take on a
traditionally feminine role.

Presumably
he was safe from sticks and stones style threats to his manhood, but she
wondered how he handled the more insidious swipes at his masculinity. Maybe he
was oblivious to them, simply didn’t care. He had to have copped flack growing
up, for the whole I need to change the baby’s nappy thing when other kids
needed first cigarettes and French kisses.

She’d
expected him to terrify Mia, had braced for hysteria and that would’ve been a
convenient end to it, saved the effort of making a decision about where Reece
ranked. Next to the Shetland pony Mia had ridden, Reece was the biggest living
thing she’d ever seen. But he’d had the magic touch and she’d reacted to him as
if he was handmade for her convenience and amusement. And his résumé, since
he’d left out the bricklaying, you’d have to know your spelling.

“Where
are you, Aud?” Joe waved the bottle of red.

Merrill
waggled her empty glass. “She’s mentally plotting how to prevent Cameron
leaving.”

Joe
poured. “Still?”

Audrey
shook her head and put her hand over her glass. “No, I’ve moved on. Now I’m
trying to imagine having one of the short list candidates hanging out here and
managing Mia. Who do I want to share air-freshener and fridge rights with? It’s
like picking a roommate with the added complexity of knowing they’re the single
most influential thing in your kid’s life after you.” She made a strangled
noise and held her glass out. “Oh God. I haven’t moved on.”

Joe
filled her glass. “Managing Mia, sounds like one of those lonely heart romantic
comedies Merry goes to on her own.”

Merrill
grunted. “Which one of us cried during
The Notebook
?”

“I
had something in my eye.”

“Yeah,
those wet salty things that dribble,” Merrill gave a theatrical sniff,” they’re
called tears, Joe.”

Audrey
swirled the wine in her glass. “Which is what my life will be made of if I
don’t get this right.”

“You
said all the applicants were good,” said Merrill.

“They
are. The right qualifications, excellent experience. It’s hard to pick between
them. They were all pleasant people, but this is not a ninety minute movie,
this is Mia turning four and five and being healthy and happy and well cared
for. I need to hire someone she’ll love and who’ll love her.” She emptied her
glass in three long swallows and knew she’d regret it at 5am when Mia woke,
assuming she stayed asleep that long.

Joe
gave her raised eyebrows. “Isn’t that what relatives are for, the love thing? Isn’t
hiring a nanny a bit more job-like?”

“Wait
till it’s your kid.”

Merrill
tipped a slug of wine from her glass into Audrey’s. “You can’t feel guilt over
this. It’s a big decision.”

“I
do though. I know it’s not my fault Cameron is going, but it’s my fault Mia
needs a carer who’s not me in the first place.”

“What
are saying?”

“When
you two finally get pregnant, what’s the plan? Wait,” she sipped and looked from
Merrill to Joe, who was fishing for leftover nuts in a takeaway container. “I
know what it is. Merry stays home until sprog goes to kindy or day care. Then
she works part time until the sprog hits high school.”

“While
Joe slums it at work,” said Merrill.

“Right.”

“What?”
Joe popped a cashew in his mouth. “Yes. True. I’ll be earning the bacon in the
traditional hunter provider model, while my wife and living sperm—”

“Gross.”
Merrill reached over him and removed the container from his reach. “You’re a
gross little boy. Is it any wonder I make you wear a raincoat.”

Joe
cleared his throat and ignored the interjection. “While my wife and offspring
swan about in the sunshine drinking babycinos.” He reached over Merrill and
took the container back.

“I
take a little pill every day so I don’t have to suffer that attitude.”

Audrey
laughed. “You take a pill and you make him wear rubber?”

“He
won’t come to my movies, and I don’t want any mistakes happening before I’m
satisfied he’s ready.”

Joe
found another cashew and scooped it up with his fork. “She loves me. She thinks
I’m fantastic in bed. She’s gagging for me at the end of the day.” He ate the
nut. “Twice on Sundays.”

Merrill
groaned. “He is so full of himself. Do you know what I saw him do the other
night? He licked a spill off the microwave turntable. He licked it, and he put
the thing back in the microwave. And I know he drinks milk straight out of the
carton. And this man thinks he’s ready to have a baby. Now you see why I go for
extreme protection.”

“Oh
Merry, baby, you know I take a pin to all those rubbers while they’re still in
the pack.”

“Grrr.
You have no idea how clever you were going it alone, Aud. No small-minded lump
of unevolved man flesh to second-guess you as they’re explaining how they’d do
it better while they can’t work out how to empty the bag on the vacuum cleaner.”

Audrey
laughed. She knew they were trying hard to get pregnant. This routine was for
her, so she’d stop obsessing about whether she’d done the right thing having
Mia. It was a familiar riff. Her guilt, Merrill and Joe’s support, red wine and
takeaway. Having Mia hadn’t changed the practice, only deepened the friendship.

Joe
stacked the empty food containers. “Vacuuming, huh; women’s work.”

“Gagging
for you, am I? You’ll be the one gagging when I hold a pillow over your face later
tonight.”

“That’s
my loving wife. She’s such a dominant in the bedroom.”

Merrill’s
disapproving facade cracked. “Oh my God, Joe.” Her ears went red, she laughed. “Too
much information.”

Time
for a subject change. Audrey poured herself a glass of water. “One of the
applicants is a man.”

“Not
any kind of man I know,” said Joe.

“A
manny.” Merrill smacked Joe on the arm. “If I catch you slugging from the milk
carton again I’m going to let your tyres down.”

“Yes,
although he was adamant about hating that word.”

Joe
shook his head. Audrey could see wickedness slide across his expression; he
kept the thought to himself, though the very look earned him another smack. “What
makes a man want to be a nanny?” he said.

“That’s
my problem with it.”

“Why
can’t a man be a nanny?” said Merrill.

“They
can, and he has all the right quals, in fact he has an excellent résumé. Mia
was either hiding behind me or she totally ignored the other applicants, but
she and Reece got on like old friends.”

Joe
screwed up his face. “A man nanny.” The whole concept was a bad taste to him.

“How
is that so different from a man father?” said Merrill.

“Well,
it’s just, hell, full-time, five days a week, out of choice. The guy wants to
do this, like professionally.”

Merrill
looked at the ceiling. “Yeah, that would freak you out.”

Audrey
watched Joe. It was bad enough Reece confused her, but Joe was genuine in his
puzzlement. Her own father had been hopeless, putting the farm, his dogs, his
tractor above having anything to do with raising her. Might’ve been different
if she’d have been a boy, but as a girl she was only good for staying out of
his way. And Barrett, for all his intelligence, loyalty as a friend and
attractiveness as a sperm donor, professed to be allergic to kids.

“It’s
freaking me out. I know there’s no reason why a man can’t want to be a nanny
but it’s just so unusual and—”

“Kind
of squicky,” said Merrill.

“And
there’s that.”

“Do
you do police checks on these guys?” said Joe.

“Yes,
I do. And he checks out completely, and I feel like the biggest fraud for even
having doubts about him.”

“But
squicky,” said Merrill.

“But
discrimination, Merry. If he turns out to be the best candidate and I don’t
hire him because he’s male, I’m doing what every guy in authority does when
they hire or promote a less qualified man over a woman. I’m doing what was done
to me when I came back from maternity leave. I’m making assumptions and I’m
sidelining someone incredibly unfairly.”

“Well,
that sucks,” said Merrill.

Joe
leaned forward, elbows on the table. “But there are some jobs that women are—”

Merrill
slapped his arm again. “If you expect to put your thing inside my thing again, don’t
finish that sentence.”

“Bu—”

“Ever
again, Joe. You will die without ever grunting ‘oh God, merry hell, babes’
again if you so much as utter another syllable.”

Joe
put his forehead on the table with a thump.

Audrey
laughed. “He doesn’t—?”

“He
does.”

“It’s
kind of sweet.”

Merrill
laughed. “The first hundred times.”

Joe’s
shoulders were shaking. “Stop picking on me.”

Merrill
rubbed her knuckles across his bald head. “Poor baby. Tomorrow I’m going to
teach you how to use a paper towel to clean up spills.”

“What
do I do tomorrow? Do I call Reece and let him down nicely, or do I let him stay
in the mix until after the second round?”

Joe
sat upright. “This Reece character has the right quals, good experience, and
his references check out?”

“Yes.”

“And
Mia took to him?”

“Duck.
Water.”

Joe’s
bottom lip protruded, his mouth mushing as he considered. “Put gender aside, he’d
still be on the list.”

“He
would, but I can’t put it aside, even though I know I should.”

“Squicky.”

Joe
turned to Merrill. “You keep saying that, by which I assume you mean you don’t
trust a man to take care of small kids, which means, jokes aside, you don’t
trust me to be a good father.”

“It’s
not the same thing.”

“How
is it not the same thing?”

Merrill
sucked her lips into her mouth. Audrey knew exactly what she was hesitant to
say. Joe said it for her.

“You
think there are some jobs women are better at.”

“Damn
it, Joe.”

“He’s
right.” Audrey sighed. Keeping Reece on the short list was the right thing to
do, even if it made her anxious. And what was her anxiety about anyway? Did she
honestly think Reece would molest a child, molest Mia? It was a horrific
thought. Did that mean she naturally assumed a female carer would never
interfere with a child?