The wind howled, echoing through the thin walls of the apartment building as Grayson released an exhausted sigh. The exhale became voiced as he groaned, smoothing a hand over his thick curls as he glanced at the letter and the words that were staring back at him.

Dear Mr Colby,
Thank you for attending the interview for the position of bookkeeper at our Coventry store, with Waterstones.
After careful consideration and reviewing your qualifications, we regret to inform you that you have not been selected for this position.
The human resources team would like to thank you for the time you have invested in this process. We encourage you to apply for any future openings for which you qualify.
We sincerely wish you the best in your ongoing job search.
Kindest regards,
Hannah Smith
HR Director at Waterstones ltd.

"It's just one setback," he muttered to himself, feeling the familiar burn of tears at the back of his eyes. One setback that was now forcing him to evaluate every decision he had made in the last three years. Simultaneously he considered what influence this hindrance might have on his undetermined future. Permitting a sniffle, Grayson rolled the paper into a perfect ball, expertly throwing it into the paper bin, where the growing collection of rejection letters had now reached the brim.

It had been four months since Grayson had been in any form of employment, and the stress of searching for a job was beginning to show its impact. He had lost a significant amount of weight; his average clothing now appearing baggy, and his jeans were struggling to be held by their paired belt. His dark afro curls were now overgrown and hung limply, depressed by his ongoing anxiety. The four walls of Grayson's apartment were beginning to cave in, giving the impression that he lived in a prison of sorts.

Grayson had reached out to every possible job he could be licensed for. Retail shops, fast-food franchises, and he even frequented the local jobcentre to secure employment. The problem for him, unlike many of his unemployed counterparts, wasn't that Grayson didn't have credentials; it was that he was over-qualified. In a sector that he knew he could never return and therefore apply to. He was trapped in an endless cycle of knowing the truth but raising his hopes, anyway. It was the only way he had been able to survive the last four months, but today's letter had indeed been his last chance.

The remains of his bank account would be wiped out by the end of the month, with his rent. His dietary intake had already been limited to a can of tomato soup, shop brand- not the good stuff, or beans on toast. It was highly repetitive, but when one did not choose, they ate whatever they could. Grayson was running out of options. Fast. And today's letter had only confirmed the worst news of all.
If a miracle did not occur in the following days, Grayson would have to move back to his childhood home. Though his mother had pleaded, he moved in with her; at least while he got back on his feet, it was still something he found very difficult to consider. Let alone actually do. It would be another source of prison, and he was nearing the breaking point. Returning to his family, where sympathy would mar their expressions, and whispers would follow him out of rooms would only push him over the edge.

The thought alone transported Grayson back to his apartment, where he was standing, half-dressed, his legs clad in pyjamas bottoms whilst a hoodie donned his chest. Exchanging the cotton for denim, he wiped the tears that had mistakenly leaked before compelling a smile on his face. Ensuring he had his wallet and keys, he shrugged on his coat and strolled down the avenue towards the city centre that was brimming with life.

The late September breeze teased his face and forced Grayson's hands into his coat pockets as he marched onward; the small smile now a permanent fixture on his expression. As he so aptly named him, the pensioner fed the local gulls and tipped his hat in greeting as Grayson offered a polite wave. Raj Sharma, a man he once attended school with, now operated a sweetcorn cart, locals gathering to warm their insides with the buttery goodness, and he too grinned in acknowledgement. Meanwhile, Carol-Anne turned the sign to 'open', alerting customers that her charity shop was now exposed for business when she also waved.

They were all faces Grayson had become acquainted with during his weekly trek to the office that stood tall in the centre. It had become somewhat acceptable for him to meet and make small talk with them as he passed. It was kind that these acquaintances seemed ready to involve them in their world as he escaped his own.

The smell of stale biscuits and coffee greeted him as he pushed the bar, passing through the heavy doors and joining the growing queue of many, who like him, were unemployed for one reason or another. Taking a ticket from the small machine, he took a seat in the corner, selecting a newspaper from the pile on the coffee table that he only minded during his visits to the Job Centre. It was better to read than observe the faces of many, some hopeful, some lost, and yet all experiencing the same antagonising pain.

An hour passed before the number '87' was called. Grayson was guided to a small familiar office towards the back of the building.

"Hello Grayson, early as always," Jimin greeted in recognition as the young man nodded. He removed his coat and folding it on his lap as he seated himself opposite the desk, his angst forcing the words to roll off his lips.

"Hello Jimin, how's it been?"

"Same old, same old," she beamed. "My daughter's due in labour any time now, so it's been quite an exciting few days,"

"Well, I wish her well for her delivery and the baby," Grayson smiled, adjusting slightly in the hard chair. It was a discreet way of pleading that they got straight to work.

"Right, so in the last week we haven't had many vacancies, I'm afraid," She grimaced, looking at the screen of her computer. "Did you hear back from Waterstones?"

As he recollected his morning letter, the despaired nod of his head told Jimin all she needed to know.

"You simply are far too qualified. Are you sure you don't want to go back into emergency care? You'd be a great asset to the local clinic; I can check if they are hiring?"

"No," Grayson denied quickly. "No, thank you. I am happy to work further afield if there is anything in the surrounding areas. I'm happy with anything, truly, just not that. I am flexible." He added, hoping it would better his chances of securing employment.

"Well," the greying woman tapped the nib of her pen on the desk as she rolled the cursor of her mouse, her eyes skimming the information that reflected off her glasses. "Oh, this just popped up; how do you feel about children?"

"Children? I love working with kids," He stated, reminding Jimin of what was once his role.

"Oh yes," She nodded in recall: Grayson's degree was in children's nursing so whatever position he had mind would be viable. "Well, this may be perfect then; it's a live-in position, full time minding a six-year-old. It's located on the outskirts of Kenilworth...good pay too...."

"What's the catch?" Grayson asked quickly, acknowledging there was no way such a position had been available without someone else trying it first. It sounded too good to be true.

"Former employees have said the child is quite...prickly."

"Prickly?"

"This is the third time the job's been advertised...."

"Oh, that's not—"

"In a month,"

"Oh,"

Jimin nodded in agreement as Grayson sighed, rubbing his index fingers over his thumbnails nervously as he considered the role.
"I still want to read the job spec," he quickly decided. A live-in position wasn't something he had anticipated. Still, it nullified paying rent, which was what was running him dry. With no pennies to spare, the opportunity almost sounded like a dream.

"It seems the employer is Ms Rosie Bhatt. The role is to be a primary carer for her six-year-old. " Jimin explained as she retrieved the printout. "They want someone to start as quickly as possible,"

"I can do this," Grayson nodded after reading the information provided, flicking over the page, and removing a pen from his pocket to begin completing the application before handing it over for Jimin to process.
"Are there any other positions?" Grayson asked, and the older woman shook her head with a sorrowful smile.

"Fingers crossed for this one eh," She sounded optimistic, and Grayson could only smile appreciatively.

"Fingers crossed,"

The walk back to his apartment was brisk, the cold infiltrating the fibres of his coat as his breath misted before his eyes. His nose was beginning to run, just as he shoved his keys through the door, bustling into the room and slamming the entry shut before the chill could penetrate through the thin walls. He couldn't afford the heating bill.

A small sigh escaped his lips as he removed his outerwear and shoes. Sound sourced from his stomach rumbling was another reminder that he was yet to consume anything other than coffee this morning. In response, he placed a slice of bread in the toaster and warmed up the remaining beans from the night before, the acidic tomato scent filling the small space. It was a simple meal, but it was enough to fuel him until at least 18:00...18:30 if he stretched it.

With his food plated and on the table, he turned on the radio to fill the void of silence, scrolling through Twitter as he greedily spooned the yummy goodness into his mouth.

The tweets were mundane. A combination of his friends complaining about the simple things in life, while famous celebrities pouted in new outfits, Grayson deemed unsuitable for the upcoming winter. A few threads on diversity and its impact on the UK caught his attention. Still, even social media had its limitations to keep him entertained.

A glance at the clock told him it was only 3 pm, and the yearning for a cup of tea persuaded him to put the kettle on as he sang off-tune to the song he knew. With his head bopping, he fully immersed himself into the music, his form of escape. Clumsily, he bounced on the balls of his feet, barefoot across the tile, as he added the boiling water to his drink.

The shrill of his mobile cut through the music, and he answered it without a second glance, expecting it to be his mother's voice. She was the only person that rang.

"Hi ma," He greeted, pressing the spoon against the bag, ensuring his drink was rich in flavour. He'd re-use the teabag later in the evening, but the first drink was always the best brew of the day.

"Ma?" An unfamiliar voice questioned as his eyes widened. He glanced at his phone screen to see he was speaking to an unknown number. The response forced him to stiffen as he immediately panicked.

"Hi, I'm sorry, erm, I was expecting—" He quickly moved into the lounge area, reducing the volume of stereo as he perched on the arm of the loveseat.

"Is this Grayson Colby?" She asked, cutting him off rudely as he gaped.

"Erm, yes, speaking. How can I help?" His hands began to shake as he clutched the phone, prayers whispering from his lips as he hoped the woman has called to offer good news.

"Hello, this is Simone James; I am calling in regards to your application for the nanny position."

Grayson's heart stuttered to a halt. And then continued to beat at an intense rate. He'd only just sent the application off two hours ago, he hadn't expected a call back for at least two days, and that was if he was somewhat successful.

"Look, if you're not interested," The woman sighed, and Grayson immediately felt his heart lurch at the sound, desperation coating his voice as he apologised.

"No, I am!" He insisted. "Sorry, I just...I just wasn't expecting your call," He winced, despising his sudden lack of ability to produce coherent, formal sentences.

"Right..." The small silence that followed was awkward, and he exhaled soundlessly, reminding the stranger of her last train of thought.

"So you received my application...." Grayson instigated.

"Correct; I would like to invite you to an interview,"

Disbelief crossed his expression as his heart hammered in excitement. He'd only applied a few hours ago; this was hugely positive. "Oh erm, excellent, that would be great; when would you like to arrange it?"

"Today." She demanded as he blinked in surprise.

"Today?"

"Yes, we like to run efficiently, Mr Colby, and Ms Bhatt likes to hold all of the interviews herself. Will you be able to attend at 5 pm this evening?"

A glance at the clock told him he had less than two hours, but he was quick to respond. "I can make it; where will it be held?" Simone recited an address that he scrawled on a post-it note, and after a curt 'goodbye', she was gone.

Grayson gulped as he ran his index finger over the location he'd scribbled untidily. After so many rejections, this was the first role where the employer sounded positively interested. Based on his clock, he'd have just under thirty-five minutes to prepare and dress before taking the dreaded walk back into the cold.

Without a moment to spare, he quickly turned the radio back on, heading to the bathroom to turn on the hot water before returning to his dresser in search of suitable attire. Based on the application he'd read, the role required someone reliable and trustworthy, and so a suit would be his best option. He quickly ran the iron over the clothes before jumping into the shower, selecting a pair of black slacks, a white shirt, and a black tie.

He dried and styled his hair with a towel around his waist that he now regretted not trimming as the wet tight-curls fell into his eyes. Fortunately, it was just long enough to tie into a respectable man-bun. His lack of shaving seemed to positively affect his appearance.

Still, the reflection showed a man gaunt and weak. Consequently, he quickly turned away to dress, ignoring the physical impact of his adapted life, only returning to the mirror to knot his tie.
Claiming the briefcase that contained his belongings and paperwork, he picked up the job spec that he would read on the bus to familiarise himself with the role.

Luck seemed to be on his side as the 41 approached his stop, and he purchased a return pass with the change he had left in his pocket. Selecting a seat in the back, he annulled the ambient noise of passengers with his headphones, grateful that they were noise-cancelling, as he began to focus. He would have just about time to read the papers weighing heavy in his hands, enabling him to make sense of the job he hardly knew anything about. He could also consider some answers he may be asked at the interview.

The more he thought about it, the more he realised how suited he was for the role. The young girl who potentially would be under his care attended school five days a week. The bulk of his duty would involve taking her there and her extra-curricular activities and ensuring she was dressed, bathed and fed. It wasn't much different to babysitting his nieces that he had minded in the past.

The only negative side of the role that could potentially hinder his application was his gender, and Grayson could understand why someone would have their reservations. Still, people were open-minded, and men could enter female-dominated fields just as quickly as females into male-classed roles. The world was changing, and it seemed Rosie Bhatt was on board with this ethos. Simone wouldn't have offered him an interview otherwise, and that was the only assurance he needed.

The gurgle of his stomach sounded a second reminder, only this time of how much he needed this role.

Forty minutes later, Grayson hopped off the bus outside of a large Tesco's, and his GPS was successful in leading him to an estate less than 3/4s of a mile down the road. Simone had identified the door number as three, and the breath that escaped his lips was that of awe as the houses in the area met his sight.

The front garden was covered in green grass, and the gravel driveway could have easily fit in six cars of various sizes. A small fountain sprayed water in gushes out of the mouths of baby angels, the image almost creepy the longer he investigated, as a small simper lined his lips.

The house invited guests, with two giant pillars, and glass windows, offering glimpses to curious eyes, of the modern interior inside. Though it wasn't a home one would consider oversized or even a mansion, it clearly belonged to someone of considerable wealth.

The two other houses in the immediate area seemed to express the same, and for a moment, Grayson could only feel out of place. As a man from humble beginnings, this was not the sort of place he had ever considered belonging.

The door swung open just as he climbed the steps, and a woman appeared wearing a polite smile. "Hello, my name is Simone," She raised her hand for him to shake. "You must be Grayson Colby," he nodded in affirmation with a stiff smile.

Her tied-back hair, square spectacles and pencil skirt were all indicators that she meant business. If she appeared strict, Grayson could only hope his potential boss was more welcoming. After requesting his ID, he was finally invited inside the beautiful home, whose interior could only be described as breathtaking. Could he really live here?
Upon entry, he was welcomed into an ample open space, where white marble stairs led the visitor upstairs. To his right, a preview of an open-plan lounge was offered, but he seldom lingered as Simone walked quickly, her 6-inch stilettos, three steps ahead.

"Ms Bhatt will see you now," she explained, outside of the fourth room along the corridor. She knocked on the oak door once, received permission and pulled it open for him to enter.

"Thank you," he smiled as he took in the large study. The shelves were filled to the brim with literature that filled him with excitement. Grayson loved books, and the sight was mesmerising.

He hadn't read in so long, and it indeed was a hobby he'd missed.

"Mr Colby," a smooth voice called his attention as his eyes settled on the petite woman in front of him, behind a desk. Immediately, he noticed her dark brown eyes. They were round in shape and lined with thick lashes that were inspecting him as soon as he had entered. Her black hair was tied back in a tight bun, and her lips were lined with a red that screamed 'stringent'.

"Ms Bhatt," he nodded politely.

"Please, take a seat, and we'll get started," she instructed, gesturing to the armchair sat a fair distance away from her desk. The gap indicated that Grayson was about to be grilled. Taking a deep breath, he clasped his hands together to hide his sweaty palms as he anticipated her first question.

"Why do you want to be a nanny?" He raised his eyes to meet hers, shock crossing his expression as his mind immediately blanked. It was the most obvious question and yet not one he had considered. Why did he want to be a nanny?