was Ruth’s parting shot, accompanied by one last incredulous glance back at him.
He grinned his wide, happy grin, kissed Eloise lightly on the cheek, told her that he’d chat to her soon, and like that, was gone.
Eloise insisted on rehearsing, prepping and grooming him over and over again for the interview like they were training him for an Olympic hundred metres, and not just a half-hour chat in a language school on Camden St. Ever meticulous, the night before the interview she even called round to Jake’s flat late one night after work, so she could role play the part of the interviewer and really put him through his paces this last and final time.
‘Right then, so tell me what first made you want to teach English as a foreign language?’ she asked, sitting opposite Jake at the tiny kitchen table, legs crossed, hands neatly on her lap, interrogation style.
‘Funny you asked me that,’ he replied lazily, legs stretched out, yawning. He’d been studying for his looming exams since early morning, his head was melted and frankly the last thing he was in the mood for was yet another game of interview charades with Eloise.
Didn’t she ever give up? Or even, God forbid, clock off early from work? Ever?
‘Come on Jake, answer me.’
‘Ah well you see, I was doing a two-year stretch in Wheatfield and figured that doing a TEFL course would be a far jammier way of passing the time than working in the prison laundry, washing manky, cack-stained underpants.’
In one lightning, quick gesture, Eloise immediately whipped her briefcase up off the floor and stood up to go.
‘If you’re not going to take this seriously, then neither am I,’ she all but snapped. ‘Are you aware that interview coaches out there charge up to two hundred and fifty euro an hour for this? And here I am, wrecked after yet another endless day and you seem to think I’m doing all of this for the good of my health? Honest to God, sometimes I wonder why I even bother putting myself through all this for you, if you’re not even prepared to make an effort …’
‘Sit down for feck’s sake, will you relax?’ he said, arms folded, blue eyes teasing her. ‘I was only messing. Come on, you’ve had a long day, can’t we just chat normally like people do, instead of working the whole shagging time?’
‘Now that’s another thing I’ve been meaning to say to you. Your language. Talk like that in the interview and you’ll be out the door so fast …’
‘Eloise, will you calm down? You think I don’t know all that? You think I’m going to go in there and tell them I’m looking forward to teaching Spanish students how to say feck off and call each other gobshites, so they can really blend in on the streets of Dublin? Just chill out for two seconds, will you? Everything’s going to be fine. I haven’t come this far to let you down now. Now come on, it’s half ten at night,’ he continued smoothly. ‘You’ve had a killer of a day by the look of you and so have I. Just have a glass of wine and relax. The interview will be fine; sure I’m prepared upside down, inside out and sideways. I’ll end up grilling the interviewer and not the other way around, you have me so primed for it.’
‘Need I remind you the interview is tomorrow morning,’ she answered curtly in her best don’t-even-think-about-contradicting-me tone of voice. ‘After that, you can relax and chat all you like, but don’t think you’re getting off any hooks for tonight.’
Jake did a fake Nazi salute at her and just shrugged when she glared furiously back at him. By now he’d learned that whenever she got up on her high horse like this, the best thing you could do was tease her out of it. Laughing at her seemed to make her see how loony she was acting, far more so than taking up the cudgels with her.
‘Jake,’ she turned to ask him wearily, red behind the eyes by now. ‘Have you any idea what it’s like out there at the job-hunting coalface? I know you’ve been out of circulation for the past two years, but let me tell you something. We’re in the throes of the worst economic slump since the Great Depression, there are virtually NO JOBS and you’re going in there tomorrow up against the crème de la crème; candidates with diplomas and MBSs and masters degrees hanging out of their earlobes. And another thing, none of them will have, let’s just say, the inkblot on their past that you’re dealing with. So you take this seriously or else I’m out of here, I’m not coming back and you can go back to driving taxis, or working in an all-night garage, or wherever your ambition takes you. And you can spend your spare time daydreaming about getting a degree and having a better life, but that’s all it’ll ever amount to. Tuppenny-ha’penny daydreaming. And by the way, don’t think my walking out of here is an idle threat on my part either, because, I don’t make idle threats. My head is splitting and I no more want to run through interview questions than you do, but you’re going to and so am I.’
‘Okay, okay, you’ve made your point,’ he said softly, arms in an ‘I surrender’ gesture. ‘Right then, I’ll run through the whole shagging thing if that’ll make you happy, yet again …’
‘What did I tell you about your LANGUAGE!’
‘For the thousandth time, if you’ll just have a glass of wine and chill out a bit first,’ he brokered gently.
By now Jake understood this driven side of her character, the ruthless, stop-at-nothing side. He knew just where she was coming from and could see that she only had his own best interests at heart. It still didn’t mean he liked it particularly, but at least she did what he asked and sat back down again with an exasperated sigh. He took that as his cue to go to the fridge and pour her out a glass of that fancy white wine she drank.
‘Out of curiosity,’ he asked, passing the glass over to her and watching her take a big, nerve-calming gulp, ‘do you ever, just once, switch off?’
‘What are you talking about?’ she asked him, genuinely puzzled by the question.
‘The fact that it’s late at night, you’ve probably been at your desk since first light and yet here you are, still on the go, go, go, still not clocked off for the night. We’ve already worked so hard to get me ready for tomorrow but, here’s the thing. From here on in you just need to trust me. It’s okay to surrender control every now and then Eloise. Now can’t you for once just unwind for five minutes and tell me about your day?’
She gave him a tiny half-smile. But then, apart from Helen, who was usually sound asleep by the time she crawled in late from work, Jake was the only person who ever asked her about how she was feeling and coping and about the ten thousand minor skirmishes that made up a typical day at the Post. These days he was fast becoming the one person she could really open up to, someone who never judged her or automatically expected her to be on top of things, always. He just listened and let her talk her problems away.
‘You really sure you want to hear this?’ She sighed deeply.
‘Yes,’ he said looking at her thoughtfully and sitting down opposite her, ‘as a matter of fact I do.’
‘Oh God,’ she sighed almost painfully, slumping forward and covering her head with her long, thin, white fingers. ‘Where do I start?’
At it turned out in retrospect, there was absolutely no need whatsoever for her to stress and fret about Jake’s big interview. Because the interview hadn’t just gone well – it had gone swimmingly. Far, far better than he himself ever would have thought. His past hadn’t come up at all, but taking Eloise’s advice, he’d raised the subject himself and told his interviewer everything, honestly and openly. Made it clear
