So, the au pair story seems to be the idea with the biggest response. Here, I give you "A Sorta Fairy Tale" (and yes, I nicked the title from a Tori Amos song – she is, after all, a Goddess)
BPOV
Thursday, May 1st, 2008
I was about to fall asleep on the tube heading to my job interview.
My name is Bella Swan, a 20-year-old American ex-patriot who has been living in London for the past two years.
As soon as I was legally considered an "adult," I left the States and headed to the UK; something just always told me I belonged here. But, without much college education, I find myself simply picking up odd jobs while trying to go to school. Today, I'm going to talk to a young widower who needs an au pair for his two kids.
Being an only child, I was a little nervous about taking on a job like this – plus, I've never really liked kids -- but, the pay was right. 800 pounds a week, plus free room and board! This guy must be pretty loaded – which could also mean that his kids are complete spoiled brats. But, I guess that's something I can live with; after all, this will only be temporary. The ad for the job said it will only be for the summer.
I was guessing that his man, Carlisle Cullen, had decided to make the appointment at 7 in the morning in order to test how committed I really am. I'd show him; it doesn't get more committed than leaving home at 18 to live in a country more than 4,000 miles away from my family.
I arrived at this beautiful house in Kensington and rang the bell at the gate; a voice came over the intercom: "Yes?"
"My name is Isabella Swan; I have an interview for 7 a.m. for the au pair job."
"Come in, Miss Swan."
The gates opened; I took a deep breath and walked up the massive driveway to the door. I lifted the huge door knocker and slammed it down, wincing at how loud a sound it made. I hope he doesn't hold that against me.
A woman answered, "Miss Swan?"
I nodded.
"This way."
She led me down an enormous corridor and into an office where a man sat at a large, mahogany desk. The lady coughed to get his attention.
"Mr. Cullen, your 7 a.m. appointment is here."
"Oh," he said, sounding a bit frazzled. "Send her in."
I walked up to the desk as he reached out to shake my hand; I accepted it with a bit more aggression than I had intended. Calm down, Swan; don't blow this.
"Hello, Miss Swan, right?" He asked, taking out a piece of paper I assumed was his copy of my resume.
"Yes, it's very nice to meet you, Mr. Cullen."
"Please, Isabella, call me Carlisle."
"OK...and it's just Bella."
"Bella," he smiled at me. "I really like that name."
"Thank you."
"So, do you have much experience with kids?"
"A bit," I said. "I've been working at a daycare center for about a year now. I'm trained in CPR and first aid, and I'm studying to earn a teaching certificate at City University."
"You want to be a teacher?"
"Yes."
He nodded as he made a note on my resume; I hate it when prospective employers are so cryptic.
"Are you on break now?"
"Yes, for the summer."
"When do you have to be back in school?"
"Not until September."
"Excellent; so tell me a bit about yourself. You're an American, right?"
I nodded.
"Where does your family live?"
"My parents are back in Washington."
"D.C.?"
"No, Washington State."
"Any brothers or sisters?"
"Only child."
"What made you decide to come to England?"
"Adventure, I guess. I felt I had outgrown Washington – and the U.S. for that matter – and needed to find a place where I could really test myself, you know? I wanted to see if I could make it on my own."
"How long have you been here?"
"Two years."
"Well," he smiled. "You seem to be doing alright for yourself."
"Can't complain."
"Well, would you like to meet the children?"
"Oh," I said, surprised. "Sure."
He led me out of the office and up a massive staircase; we stopped outside of a door that had the name Emmett written across it in bold letters.
"This is my son, Emmett, he's nearly 11; he's a bit surly, doesn't think he needs a nanny."
We entered the room to find a rather tall young man lying on his bed reading a magazine with his iPod ear buds firmly in place. He regarded me and his father with indifference.
"Emmett? Son, take those out of your ears."
Emmett rolled his eyes, but complied.
"This is Bella, she may be your new au pair this summer; be polite and say hello."
"Hi," Emmett grunted.
"Hello, it's nice to meet you, Emmett."
Another eye roll before putting the buds back into place.
"See what I mean?" Carlisle asked after he closed the door.
"Just a typical 11-year-old boy, right?"
"I guess," he laughed, taking me to a room down the hall. "This is my daughter, Rosalie; she's 7 and a bit of a princess, if I do say so myself."
Great
, I thought, just like all the girls I went to high school with.
"Rosie, darling, this is Bella; come say hello," Carlisle called as he opened the door to a room that looked like it housed every piece of Hello Kitty paraphernalia known to man.
A little blond girl in a pink dress sauntered over and raised an eyebrow at me. "Who's she?"
"She may be your new au pair," Carlisle said. "Say hi, please?"
"Hi," she huffed, crossing her arms over her chest.
"Hi Rosalie; I like your dress, it's very pretty."
"Thanks," she said with the same about of enthusiasm. She appraised my outfit with a sneer, "she dresses like she's homeless, Daddy."
I looked down to my long, black skirt and red button up shirt and suddenly became very self-conscious. I have to admit, I'm not one for fashion.
"ROSIE! Do not be rude to our guest, young lady! Now, apologize."
"No!"
"Rosalie Cullen! You apologize to Bella at once!"
"I'm sorry," she said, unconvincingly.
"That's better," Carlisle said.
He was just about to close the door when the little princess piped up, "sorry you dress so ugly!"
Carlisle's face went bright red as he shut the door and led me back down the stairs. "I'm so sorry, Bella; she's usually much more well behaved than that. When their mother died last year, it left them both a bit...moody."
"I understand," I said. "I'd probably be the same way if my mother died at their age."
He smiled at me as we approached the office. I grabbed my things and he guided me back to the front door.
"I'll understand if you don't want to take the job," Carlisle said. "They're a bit difficult to deal with."
"Oh; no, no, no, I still want the job," I said. "I mean, if you're still offering."
"Yes! Of course, if you want the job, it's yours," he said. "I think you'd do very well with the kids. I'll call you this evening to give you more information."
"Thank you so much," I said, shaking his hand vigorously. "This means a lot to me."
"To me, as well."
That evening
Carlisle called around 6 p.m., he told me I would stay in their guest house on the grounds, where I would have my own bathroom and kitchenette. This was good news, as I was already packed because my lease was up at the end of next week. In fact, all of my stuff was already in boxes.
I order some Chinese take-away and went to bed happier than I had been in years.
I awoke to a loud banging at my front door the next morning. It couldn't be the landlord, could it? I already gave him my last month's rent.
I flung the door open to find a group of large, sweaty men in my hallway. I nearly freaked as I tried to remember if I owed any outstanding debts or something. These guys weren't here to break my thumbs, were they?
"Bella Swan?" One of them asked.
"Yeah," I said hesitantly.
"We're here to help you move."
"What? Move where."
The man pulled out a clipboard and perused it, "Says here you're moving to Kensington. Very nice little area, innit?"
It all suddenly dawned on me, "Oh, did Carlisle send you?"
He looked again, "Yep; a Mr. Carlisle Cullen arranged for this appointment."
He glanced at my sweatpants and my old WashU Huskies jersey, "is this a bad time?"
"No," I said, letting them in. "Actually, everything is ready to go."
The men walked in to find all my possessions boxed and ready to move.
"Well then," the appointed ringleader said. "Let's just get you moved outta here."
While they carried my boxes downstairs, I picked up my phone and dialed Carlisle's number.
"Hello?" He answered.
"Mr. Cull...I mean, Carlisle," I said.
"Yes, is this Bella?"
"Yeah."
"Oh, are the movers there? I told them 8 a.m., but sometimes they are not that reliable."
"Oh no, they're here alright."
"Good, good! They haven't broken anything? I swear, I'll pay for it if they did."
"No, nothing's broken...yet, I think."
"So...is there something amiss?"
"I just wasn't expecting them."
"Oh, I'm sorry," he said, flustered. "I just thought that since you're already packed and have to be out before the end of next week that I'd send them round to move you in here. That way, you don't have to wait; you can start here straight away."
"Oh, well...thank you," I said; after all, it really was kind of thoughtful of him to do all of this. "I guess I'll be around later today, then."
"Yes, yes; and, as soon as you get here, we'll go over the children's daily routines with Mrs. Cromwell. You met her the other day, the housekeeper?"
"Yes, I remember."
"She has been the one in charge of the children for the past couple of months, since the last nanny quit."
"Alright, well, I should be there around 10 or 11, I'd say."
"Wonderful," Carlisle said. "See you then."
11 a.m.
The movers had packed their last box and I dropped the keys off to my salty, old landlord before I caught the tube to Kensington. I arrived a little after the truck to find the men pulling out boxes and taking them to the little house in the back. It was very nice, just the right size for me; It was certainly bigger than my studio in Potter's Bar. I walked inside to find it pretty well furnished; it already had a sofa and most major kitchen appliances. My reverie was interrupted by the sound of an old lady clearing her throat: Mrs. Cromwell, I presume.
"Hello again, Miss Swan."
"It's Bella."
"It is inappropriate for me to refer to another servant by their Christian name." Christian, I thought, psh.
"Sorry," I replied.
"If you'll follow me, we can proceed to the main house where we will go over your weekly schedule." I love the way they say ssschhed-ual. I could never get away with that without sounding hilarious or pretentious.
I followed her into the office, where Carlisle was waiting for us.
"Hello Bella, how are you?"
"Really great," I said.
"Shall we then?"
Mrs. Cromwell took out what looked like a pegboard with every day of the week planned out for the next couple of months. Can you say anal-retentive, micro-manager?
"Now," Mrs. Cromwell began, "The children are out of school for the summer, and we must keep them in an almost constant state of activity, or else they're minds will turn to mush. On Mondays, it's up at 6 a.m., sharp, for breakfast; some quiet reading from 7 a.m. until 11 a.m.; Emmett has his piano lessons at 11:30 a.m. in the study with Mrs. Badcrumble; lunch is at 12:30; Rosalie has ballet lessons at 2 p.m. at the Kensington dance studio on Exhibition Road. Tea is served promptly at 4 p.m., every day; then the children may have some quiet time to themselves before dinner at 8 p.m. After that, it's straight to bed."
I couldn't quite pin-point exactly when my brain went numb, but I think it was around the piano lessons part. God, did every facet of these kid's lives have to be planned out in such excruciating detail? There 10 and 7 years old! They should get to play during their summer vacation.
My brain's reaction time had become so snail-like, that it took me a moment to realize I had said that last part out loud.
"Excuse me, Miss Swan; what did you say?" Mrs. Cromwell and Carlisle were both staring at me like I'd grown an extra head.
"I...I...I mean, do the children get to go to a park and play at any time during the week? I don't see any time scheduled for anything, you know, fun."
Carlisle choked back a laugh as Mrs. Cromwell glared daggers at me.
"Miss Swan, I assure you that the children's activities are quite enjoyable! Know, let us continue."
Cromwell continued to drone on about lessons and meal times and structure; I sat back and imagined myself throwing those little pin-tacks at her while she ran around like some Monty Python sketch. I almost laughed at loud at the imagery.
"Now," Cromwell said finally. "It is half-past noon on a Friday, Miss Swan, what should the children be doing at this very moment?"
I looked to the board, "It says it's lunch time."
"Well then, we'd better get a move on."
She hustled me out of the room and led me to the kitchen where she instructed me on making sandwiches as if I'd never even seen a loaf of bread before; I fought the urge to cut her.
"Oh dear," Mrs. Cromwell said. "I forgot to inform you about the trip."
"Trip?"I said as I laid the sandwiches on the table for the children and turned to her.
"Yes, from May 9th until the beginning of July, the family takes a trip to Ireland."
That was a big piece of info to leave out.
"Oh, what do we need to do to prepare?"
"Oh many things, but don't worry about that right now. On Monday, we shall finalize the children's schedules and activities on the trip. I will write them all down for you to take with you."
"You're not coming?" I said almost too eagerly.
"No, I don't accompany the family on holiday; I'm the housekeeper."
Just then, Rosalie came twirling into the kitchen in yet another pink dress. She stopped twirling when she saw me.
"What are you doing here?" The brat was back; I instinctively straighten up and became self-conscious about my ensemble again.
"I'm working here, now; I'm your new au pair."
She sneered, but went to eat the lunch I prepared for her anyway.
Emmett tromped loudly down the stairs and gave me a glare similar to his sister's; yet, he was more polite than yesterday.
"Hello," he grunted. At least he didn't need prompting this time.
"Hi Emmett, how are you?"
"Fine."
"I made you a sandwich; it's on the table."
"Thanks."
He stalked over to the table and I finally realized just how tall he is; at only 10-years-old, he was already as tall as me (5'4"). And if the size of his feet is any indication, he is going to be well over 6'5" when he stops growing.
"Do you kids want anything to drink?" I called from the kitchen.
"Milk," called Rosalie.
"Coke," called Emmett.
"Emmett, are you allowed to drink sodas?" I know some parents are picky about those kinds of things.
"Yes," he said warily.
"OK, you better not be lying to me."
I grabbed the drinks and took them out to the table. Rosalie made a face.
"What's wrong, Rosalie?"
"This isn't my Barbie cup! I won't drink out of anything but my Barbie cup!"
"OK, calm down."
I returned to the kitchen to find the cup, but couldn't see it in any of the cabinets. Figuring it was probably dirty, I searched the dish washer and found it; I scrubbed it in the sink and dried it, then poured the milk from the first glass into the new one -- no sense wasting good milk.
I set the Barbie cup in front of Rosalie who sat with her arms crossed. "What took you?"
I bit back the snotty remark on my lips and took on my best mom-tone. "Now, Rosalie, I wasn't gone that long. Please drink your milk."
She turned up her nose at it; I reached down and snatched it up.
"OK, if you don't want it, I'll drink it."
"NO!!" She screamed. "NO ONE DRINKS FROM MY CUP!!"
She tugged at my arm, almost making me spill it; I set it back down and she gulped it right up. I couldn't believe that worked so easily.
Emmett finished his Coke and stood up, "I'm done, can I play Playstation now?"
"I don't know," I went to where the chart now stood on an easel in the dining room. "It says here that you two should be reading quietly in your rooms. I guess you better do what the chart says."
"We hate the chart!" Rosalie cried. "Please, Bella, can we go to the park or something."
"I think for now, we'd better stick to this; at least until I can get Cromwell to drop some of the restrictions she has on you."
Rosalie pouted and stomped to her room; Emmett slouched his way up behind her.
I sighed; we were off to a rocky start.
Wednesday, May 7
I was walking behind Cromwell with a shopping trolley while she piled things in we would need for the trip. It was 1 p.m., so Emmett was at football training and Rosalie was on a play date; I shuffled my feet behind Cromwell and tried my best not to fall face first into the trolley as I started dozing off. This trip couldn't come fast enough.
"We've some sun block, but I don't know if it's enough; mustn't let the children get melanoma now..." The whole hour went by like this.
I did manage to sneak a few things for myself into the trolley: a magazine, some chocolate biscuits and some new lip gloss.
We went to the check out and Cromwell was so enraptured in drilling me on holiday protocol, she completely missed the contraband I snuck in; I smiled inwardly.
Once we had picked up the children we headed for home; it was nearly tea time, so I sent the children to have "quiet time" in their rooms while Cromwell and I made cucumber sandwiches and tea. Cromwell surprised me by putting out a plate of biscuits -- even if they were the digestive kind. It was out of character for her to let the kids eat anything at all unhealthy.
But, I didn't feel like broaching the subject, for fear of an hour-long lecture.
I called the kids down and we sat around the table waiting for Carlisle. He entered with a phone attached to his ear; he seemed upset.
"That's wonderful, just wonderful, Jessica! You want me to just let your bad seed son tag along on my nice, quiet holiday? I can't believe you sometimes! Fine, you know what; it will take longer to argue with you than to just give in, so fine! Let Edward come along! But, if he gets into trouble, that's not my fault!"
He flipped his phone shut angrily and slammed it on the table before taking a breath and looking up at all of our concerned faces.
"Sorry, everyone; that was my sister informing me that she wants us to allow her son, Edward, to accompany us on this trip. So, Emmett and Rosie, you get to spend some time with Cousin Eddie."
"Yay! Cousin Eddie!" Rosalie squealed. Emmett, as always, looked indifferent.
I started to get worried; another kid for me to look after? And a hell-raiser at that! I decided to bring it up indirectly.
"So, is Edward close to Emmett's age?"
"No," Carlisle said. "He's your age, actually. Why my sister thinks he want to hang around with us to begin with is a mystery to me."
I breathed a silent sigh of relief; at least I'm not going to have to worry about taking care of this Edward guy.
What do ya'll think? Good so far?