The Café, South Kensington

Monica looked at the newspaper clipping placed in the catering job section in her hand, the description above the telephone number, as she sat at the window seat of the cafe she was directed to and supposedly where she was too be working in the future. 

"Supervisor required, must be efficient and observant. Experience not necessary but preferred. Ask for T. Cohen for more details about applying:"

It was an indefinite description, but it was worth trying it for at the time. Nearly five years without a job, anything would do by now to get her out of a silent household.

The Café (literally, that's what it was called. When she told Freddie, he gave an eye roll at the pretence), like many places in London, was a little more upmarket in contrast to Christina's wholesome and warm reception. It had brick walls, leather seats with a barista bar at the back, and a metal spiral staircase leading to an upstairs space.

A waitress offered her a menu the moment she'd seated herself down, but she declined.

It didn't help that Freddie's rendition of moon river had been stuck in her head all morning. Despite how beautiful it sounded she was constantly worrying about how her children were getting on.

"Uh, excuse me, are you Monica Brannigan?" A smooth and familiar American accent that she'd heard over the phone earlier in the week interrupted over the post-lunch time bustle around her.

She turned around to find a tall man with slicked back greyed hair, wide-apart, hooded brown eyes and a five o clock shadow, a perfectly fitted camel coat much like the one she was already wearing, and a striking pair of square black frames sitting on his large, hooked nose.

"Yes, I am" She smiled awkwardly as she stood up.

"I'm Theodore Cohen, the director," he held out his hand with a smile. "But, you can call me Theo if you prefer. Shall we get started?"

She nodded and shook his hand in response, "Theo, got it."

...she wanted to kick herself at how informal that sounded.

"He's a Director? Okay. So this cafe must be part of a company or brand then. A bit more commercial than I thought..." she thought as she followed him up the winding staircase.

"Please come and take a seat. I already ordered a coffee pot to share, I hope you don't mind." he gestured towards a quieter booth at the end of the space, and indeed it was much less congested.

She nodded, fidgeting with her hands as her stomach churned horribly.

"So, What accent is that? Scottish?" He asked as she slipped into the seat, pouring her a cup, "Do you take sugar?"

"Yes please... and no, it's Belfast," she folded a napkin onto her lap, and he nodded silently in interest. "What about yours?"

"Pittsburgh born and raised, but now my wife and I live here," he lowered himself. "What about you, how has your day been?"

"Well, it's been hectic," she replied, and thought that she ought to shoehorn in the fact that she was a mother as soon as she could to see if that'd affect the probability of her getting this job. "My two children started their first day of school this morning, and now there's this, so yeah."

"Two of them? At the same time?" He cocked a brow.

"Yes, I have a son and daughter... they're twins." She played with her collar anxiously.

"Twins eh? Oh yes, I remember the first days of school and how much more silent the house was," he chatted away, to her surprise. "My wife wouldn't stop her crying, even at our eldest son's Bar Mitzvah."

It made her heart wince, but nonetheless she was relieved to get that out of the way.

He continued, "I spy a nice diamond ring on your left finger. You married?"

"I'm afraid not... not yet anyway"

She didn't dare mention that her fiancée was in fact one of the world's most on demand rockstars at that moment.

"How come?" He folded his arms.

"He's-He's busy. And I was tied up with two babies," she then tried to divert the conversation as she stirred sugar in, "So, is-is this what you do now then?"

"Oh yeah, took a decade or so to know it like the back of my hand, but I love it."

"Well, he seems like a nice, fair boss" she thought, and as she eased in a smile played on her lips.

"Is this cafe yours?" Monica looked around.

The man chuckled "Goodness gracious, no! I'm afraid we're not that rich!"

"We're?"  She voiced in her head.

"So, you're a smaller company then?" She sipped her coffee.

"Yeah, uh, basically," he sat back, arms resting across the back of the settee. "We're a bit more independent from other companies."

"Independent is good. Less conspicuous. Not much for the papers and tabloids to gossip about there." She thought, nodding along.

"So, I will get stuck in. Basically I want someone who is organised, efficient, hard working, pays specific attention to detail." He started listing off.

"Sounds doable... if I work hard, that is." Monica thought.

And it is when he continued that she started to grow confused, "and uh, especially with continuity errors in between a scene, seeing as there is a lot included within the mise en scene of our next production and props will get shifted around a lot."

"Scene? Production?! Props?!" She panicked.

"And as long as you're here on time to every shoot," he continued. "Then we're good to go. Makes editing in 'post' a lot easier for us."

All this sudden talk of shots and editing made her extremely anxious.

"Sorry, can I speak please?" She lifted her hand.

"Am I going too fast for you?" He asked, his hands clasped together.

"Well no, the-the job description only described qualities and a desire for someone experienced within the industry. I assumed that this was the catering industry-"

"This isn't the catering industry, oh no. We pitch out to the lottery fund and then we make whatever the hell we want. We are our own bosses." He nonchalantly continued.

"Lottery fund?! If Freddie hears I'm earning tax payer's money he'll insist on giving me a job!"

Monica was having none of it, "Sir, you're-"

"Theo, please"

"Theo... I'm afraid you are being rather vague! I want you to outline what it is that you expect of me!"

"Well, I already did that," he continued calmly. "Surely you walked into this building confident enough to take on the role of our next script supervisor."

"Script supervisor? Oh fuck... Monica, you messed things up..." she panicked. "Oh, you should've looked at the column a bit more closely."

But something didn't sit right. The column in the newspaper definitely was underneath the catering section.

She stood back up, grabbing her bag at her feet, "I'm really sorry to waste your time sir, but this isn't the sector that I was expecting-"

"Ah ahh, sit sit sit..." he instructed firmly as his hand gestured her, not loosing his patience like she'd expect him.

She helplessly sat down, wondering what he wanted from her.

"I know because I deliberately placed the advert with the rest of the catering jobs... the reason being that qualities required in the catering industry are the same as what I want in an employee. I read your CV when it arrived in the post," he waved a familiar small booklet in his hand. "It says that you took on Art and English in A Level, hobbies include taking photographs of your two small children... and your last manager Christina left me a very promising reference over the telephone."

Monica swallowed nervously "She did? After my failed university entry and sudden pregnancy?"

"Yep," He straightened the paper in his hand. "She said that for her things were getting to be a handful and that she would've made you manager if you didn't go on maternity leave."

"Christina said that..." she smiled a little.

"Anyway, you need to give me an answer now otherwise the production studios are going to be pestering me about wasting my contract," the man set the documents down on the table, and then crossed his arms and leaned towards her, a serious gleam in his eye. "You seem to be what I'm looking for. So, uh, what do you say? Will you give the film industry a try?"

"The film industry..."

Monica stared back, feeling her bag slip back onto the floor below her feet...

*****

Garden Lodge

"Moon river..." Freddie hummed as he sat on a passion chair by the koi pond, for the tune from earlier in the morning was still stuck in his head. "Wider than a mile..."

Monica had set off for the job interview, and not half an hour after Phoebe went to collect the twins from their first day of school, leaving only him, his beloved cats, and of course the fishes.

Now he could have a smoke in peace.

But that ended sharply with the sound of the keys turning in the lock, the excited chatter of two small hyper children behind the wall.

"Alright, in you go" Phoebe uttered, their school backpacks on his arm, and the two sped through the front entrance.

"Daddy!" Roshni let go of Phoebe's hand and ran across the grass once she saw her father in the garden.

"Oh hello" the man quickly extinguished his cigarette under his foot and greeted her with open arms.

"Johnny got permanent marker on his face and then had a tantrum on the classroom floor apparently," Phoebe called out across the lawn as Freddie hauled his daughter onto his lap and kissed her cheek, and his assistant continued continued, "The teacher insisted he wait until home time to wash it off. There were no wet wipes."

"It's bloody well always one of them!" Freddie shot back nonchalantly, watching Phoebe drag a reluctant, inked Johnny through the front door.

The man tutted, then bounced Roshni on his knee gently, "How is one of my little loves doing today anyway?"

She curled up in his arms, "Your breath smells like dirt again, have you been smoking?"

"Dirt? Is that what mummy told you?" His forehead crinkled.

"No, your mouth smells like the bin in the kitchen" she innocently squeaked, gently tugging at bits of his chest hair peeping from the collar of his yellow sweatshirt.

"Oh yes, well that still sounds like something mummy would say" he said chillily as he grit his teeth, knowing Monica couldn't stand his habit.

Of course, Roshni was only a child, and like most small children she had no filter. He couldn't stay mad at her, especially at that little face that so resembled his love.

"So tell me, what was your most favourite thing about your first ever day of school?" He asked as he cradled her.

"Painting time!" She cheered.

"Oh, what did you paint?"he murmured intently.

"Nothing" she replied.

"Nothing..." He exhaled. "So... just the usual blob of colours on a page, was it?" He rubbed his eyes with the ball of his hand.

"Yeah."She got comfortable on his lap, and stared into space as she stuck her thumb in her mouth.

"Oh, she's just overwhelmed" he held her close, knowing that she did that when she wanted to be in her comfort zone.

"...Are you alright, baby?" His hand smoothed her hair back, tucking it behind her ears which had plasters on the lobe, covering her studs, "What in the-Why have you got plasters over your earrings?" His brow furrowed.

"Teacher made me wear bandages on them. She says we aren't allowed to wear earrings in school." She explained naïvely.

"The bloody dress code, we forgot! No jewellery!" He looked up anxiously, then started picking at the plastic to peel it off.

"Why am I the only girl who has earrings in my class?" she looked up, then suddenly added. "Why are Johnny and I not like the other children? ...Why didn't you and mummy come to the classroom with us like everybody else's mummies and daddies?"

He stared back, caught out by her words. He never expected that she'd know herself and her brother were different from the other children on the first day of school. Not only were they mixed race and twin brother and sister, they were also being dropped off by a gay man whom they called a woman's name to school in a Mercedes or a Rolls Royce every day. And on a day like today, when Monica required the Mercedes to go for the job interview, the second option was bound to make them both toddle into the school playground unnoticed.

"You and your brother are probably the odd one out for plenty of things," he wanted to say. "...like the only ones who have a famous daddy, the only ones who are half irish and half Parsi in a racially intolerant country..." he looked down at her sadly. "Oh, you two have a lot of things that make you different... if only I could change the price of fame, my little love, for you and your brother Johnny's sake... not forgetting your mother... oh, Monica"

But to answer her question and stay on a lighter note, he explained, "Oh, your Grandmama Jer insisted that you get your ears pierced when you were a baby so that you wouldn't remember the pain, darling. It's a tradition in India where my family are from, although your mummy wasn't too pleased about it."

But even then, her response tugged at his heartstrings.

"Ohh... why would you and mummy want me hurting?"

"Oh no, baby no, not hurt you," he rubbed her head. "We love you both... we only want what's best."

Funny how a simple topic brought out the sadness in him that he wanted things differently for his two small children. He wanted to be there for everything, be the conventional school playground father that Roshni seemed to be talking about...

...But he had no regrets succumbing to the temptation of becoming a father; he had two beautiful babies born to a wonderful woman to cherish in his life, and aside from music, they were another reason worth waking up for.

"The most beautiful people in the whole wide world" he pressed his lips to the crown of Roshni's head lovingly, closing his eyes to take in the moment.

"Sing me the music box song" she suddenly murmured into his sweatshirt.

"The what song?"

She lifted her head from his chest and repeated a little more clearly, "The music box song... please"

He stared back at the little face looking up at him expectantly, then she said her head in the crook of his elbow.

He softly began, "Look into my eyes and you'll see I'm the only-"

"That's not it!" She interrupted suddenly, sitting up on his lap.

"Yes it is, darling," he rubbed her head. "It's from the start of it, even though it's not on the box."

"No, I mean the bit which is like Every time you make a move, you destroy my mind..."  she began to sing.

He chucked, "Alright, daddy will sing you that part of you want"

He begun again, rocking her back and forth gently on that patio seat, "Every time you make a move, you destroy my mind" and then Roshni joined in unison, "And the way you touch, I lose control and shiver... deep inside..."

He chucked, for she couldn't hold a note as long as he could, then they continued, the two of them, "...You take my breath away"

"So please don't go, don't leave me here all by myself," they sang off by heart. "I get ever so lonely, from time to time... I will find you, anywhere you go, I'll be right behind you, right until the ends of the earth..." He tenderly nuzzled her and kissed her button nose, and she giggled as his moustache tickled her face, "I'll get no sleep 'til I find you... to tell you, when I found you..."

Her small hands grabbed onto his stubbly cheeks...

"...I love you"

They giggled when that note ended, and he pulled her close against his chest, "There, how was that?"

Roshni didn't say anything; she just stayed there curled up in his hold.

Their moment was interrupted by Phoebe's voice, "See what happens now when you draw on your face? It's hard to take off"

Johnny pouted as he stomped out the door, rubbing his red cheek that was irritated by the scrubbing as he waded towards his dad and his sister.

"Phoebe is right, my boy," Freddie stated firmly, setting Roshni back onto the grass. "You must do what your teacher says, remember mummy told that to you this morning?"

"Hmph" he simply grunted as his father pulled him onto his lap, Roshni skipping back inside.

Freddie gave him a hard eye, "Look at me, Johnny. School isn't like home where you're allowed to play all day, school is a place to learn"

When he didn't respond, the man smirked and slipped his fingers under his polo shirt, "Is it?!"

"Aaaagh, dad?! Stop!!" He squealed, squirming and thriving on his lap as his dad tickled him furiously.

Freddie grinned and blew a raspberry into his son's neck, "Naughty boy! Don't you remember what I told you about not getting caught?"

Amidst the commotion, neither of them heard the Mercedes pull up into the mews over the wall, nor the back gate opening.

Monica interrupted, hands on her hips, "Hello, boys"

"Mummy!" Johnny leapt off and ran to her, and she chuckled as she picked him up.

"You look... very cheery" Freddie noticed an ecstatic smile on her face that he hadn't seen in a long time as she propped their son on her hip:

"Because I got the job."