Page 4 of Companion Required

While the man began to process Kieran’s words, his face went through a series of expressions, starting with incredulity, to irritation, and ending with what Kieran assumed to be humour.

“Do you know what I’m advertising for?”

“I think so. A personal assistant, isn’t it?”

“Yes. But a very specific kind of personal assistant. More of a specialised travelling companion.”

“I’m not sure I understand.”

“Maybe if I ask you a few questions first, to determine your suitability?”

“Fire away,” said Kieran, grinning and leaning back in his seat, arms folded.

“Smoker or non-smoker?”

“Non-smoker.”

“Good. Do you drink? Alcohol?”

“Occasionally, but not to excess.”

“Excellent. How old are you?”

“Twenty-nine.”

“Hmm, I see. How tall are you?”

“Six-one.”

“Okay. And how long have you been out of the closet?”

“I—I’m sorry?” stuttered Kieran.

“How long have you known you were gay?”

“I’m not gay,” said Kieran, quietly.

Folding his arms, the man let out a sigh and leaned back. At first he appeared to be waiting for Kieran to clarify, until something across Kieran’s shoulder caught his attention.

“I believe my four o’clock has just arrived,” he said, pulling a document from a file. “I’ll tell you what. Why don’t you take this printed copy of the advertisement and this list of other requirements. I’m sure you’ll find it helps clarify certaincriticalelements of the role.”

While Kieran stood, the man beckoned the new arrival over. A buff, good-looking candidate came to a halt next to him and gave him a coolly assessing once-over. This one had curly golden hair—clearly dyed—and looked to be a biracial mix of Caucasian and West Indian. Kieran moved back to his seat across the shop and began to skim the details, starting with the advertisement.

Even before the end of the first paragraph, he let out a huff, knowing he didn’t fit the bill—not even close. The problem was, once Kieran West made up his mind to go for something, nothing short of an alien invasion could stop him. Besides, his funds had all but dried up. Five thousand pounds would keep the wolves from the door for a good while. He might even, finally, be able to offer his sister something for allowing him to doss down on her couch for the past three weeks. It was far from perfect, but better that than being on the streets. His girlfriend, Jennifer, had kicked him out of her apartment because he would not—could not—commit to anything more serious. ‘Ring or road’ had been her mantra. Wisely or not, he had chosen the road.

As he scanned the last page—details of the cruise and places they’d be visiting along the way—the cold trickle of premonition stopped him. The ship would be stopping at the island of Koh Samui in Thailand. Although he would never tell another living soul about the experience, would never admit to being intrigued by something so fanciful, when he was twelve his group of four friends had taken turns to see the fortune teller at a school fete. Even now he remembered the old woman’s crinkled face. She had been the grandmother of one of the friends, wearing a red silk scarf around her head, silver hoops like curtain rings in her ears, and using an upturned fishbowl as a crystal ball. He remembered sitting patiently opposite as she spouted a lot of vague nonsense until she stopped and took a sharp, surprised breath before looking up, deep into his eyes.

‘I know this may sound strange and might not make sense right now, but there is something you must always remember. It doesn’t happen often, but I have just glimpsed an image of you from the future. You are on an island in Asia standing beneath a giant Buddha. You are waiting to meet your destiny.’

One way or another, he had to get this job.

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