Page 19 of The Book Swap

I call Georgia on the walk home from my trial afternoon at Just Stitch. “Job number two is no more,” I say, smiling as I wait for a car to actually stop on Lordship Lane and let me cross.

“You quit? On your first day?”

“An optimist would call it my last day,” I say, my brain immediately landing on Mystery Man.

“Definitely a pessimist.”

“Whatever. It wasn’t for me. She did this creepy role-play where she left the shop and then came back in as a totally different character, with a different voice and a scarf around her head, and started firing questions at me. It was...so weird. Anyway, I’m not hanging around in jobs that don’t serve me anymore. I’m channeling Bonnie.”

Georgia sighs. “What does channeling Bonnie consist of, exactly?”

“It’s my new mantra. What Would Bonnie Do?”

“Oh God. Are you going to start wearing one of those bracelets like that group of girls who fancied our religious studies teacher used to at my school? Except instead of a J for Jesus, it’ll say WWBD?”

“Bollocks. Should have stolen some thread and beads before I quit, and I could have made one.”

“That’s the spirit. Stealing and quitting. Really make Bonnie proud.”

I walk up the hill toward the big Sainsbury’s, swerving around a woman in a woolly hat and scarf charging toward me at quite some speed, pushing a stroller with two babies in.

“She honestly would be proud of this. I’m finding out what I don’t want to do. Moving closer toward what I do.”

“Which is?”

“Not PR, and not selling silk.”

There’s a pause.

“That’s it? That’s all you’ve got? You’re good at so many things, you must have some idea?”

“Did you just...pay me a compliment?” My joke doesn’t land the way it should because my breath is coming in short gasps as I take on the hill toward the flat. Thank God I turned down that job; there’s no way I could have done this commute home every day.

“I was channeling what Bonnie would say. Okay, wait...” Georgia disappears for a moment, her voice sounding farther away when she next speaks.

“Would you describe yourself as talkative, steady, kind, quiet or assertive—and you can only choose one?”

“Is this an online quiz?”

“Just answer.”

“What the hell does steady mean?”

“Erin.”

“Fine, kind.”

“I put steady. Okay next...”

Georgia proceeds to lead me through a string of questions as I struggle to make my way home, each more patronizing than the last. When pushed I’m apparently thoughtful, with good writing skills, a laid-back attitude and slow to change. The majority of those Georgia answers for me.

“Okay, drumroll please...”

I’m minutes from home by this point. I’ve been answering her questions for the majority of the walk.

“According to this you should be... Ha!”

“Oh God, what?”

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