All Chapters of Their Chance : Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

ChrisI am apprehensive when Lola sends me the contact information of her friend’s agent. His name is Mr. Lekan and there are all sorts of alarm bells ringing in my head as I dial his number. While one part of me likes the idea of a less expensive child minder with the added advantage of the maternal care from an older woman, I worry about the wisdom of hiring someone illegal. But it’s true what they say about beggars having no choice. Right now, after having exhausted all my other options, this is the next best thing.“Ah, we have plenty nannies. Plenty, plenty good nannies,” the Mr. Lekan raves when we talk, his feigned British accent a thin coating over his thick foreign one. “You will like them, I can promise you that. Is there any particular tribe you prefer? “Umm, no. Not really,” I answer, not having given it any thought.He chuckles. “You parents don’t understand the importance of these things. “But no problem, I have the right person for you!” he exclaims. “A nice, lovely w

Ahana Having thrown in the towel with the telemarketing gig, Josephine and I resume our job search the following week. “You don't know how lucky you are to only have to come for lectures and then go back to your room to sleep,” Josephine tells an amused Tayo as we are seated in class. Tayo’s inheritance largesse is enough to keep her nice and comfortable without having to lift a finger. “You guys are just being greedy,” she teases. “Didn’t your scholarship come with some upkeep? Aren’t you only working just to have extra change? You don't have to if you don't want to, you know.” All I can do is offer a tight smile in response, unable to tell her what happened to the upkeep element of my scholarship money. It’s easier to let her believe I’m being greedy. Later that week, we are notified of vacancies at Poundyard , a variety store chain where most items are sold for £1. But it turns out Josephine does have her limits when it comes to a part time job.“I’d rather die!” she exclaims.

AhanaSitting in the bus headed to South Hampstead, I crack my fingers, my heart racing in anticipation of my interview. What on earth am I thinking applying for a job I know nothing about? There is no way any family will hire a novice like me to care for their children. But I owe it to myself, and my lean bank account, to at least try.My stomach drops as the 113 bus stops at the Finchley Road Station stop. Exhaling, I rise to my feet and step out of the bus, shivering as I am greeted by the crisp breeze. It’s time to face the music.Locating the address, I am relieved that it is less than a two-minute walk from the bus stop. I stand before the terrace house, one in a row of several elegant, two-storey brown-brick houses with window frames and stairs leading to each front door a gleaming white. A well-dressed elderly woman smiles at me as she walks past with a dog on a leash. As I smile back, I feel intimidated anew, and not just because I don't feel qualified for the job. This neigh

Chris Muna says something that makes the woman smile at her, and I marvel at her gap-toothed smile, one that brightens her otherwise plain face.“You’re already here, so there’s no need to wait,” I say, walking up to the door and opening it. I’d really hoped to have a few minutes to at least unwind with a cup of tea.Muna rushes into the house when the door is open and I stand by the door as the woman walks in, her eyes wide. She looks like a deer in front of headlights, and my earlier doubts return.“You can hang your coat by the door,” I say, walking into the living room where I switch on the TV for Muna, who is bobbing up and down on the couch. I frown as I realise she’s on a sugar high and make a mental note to tell Hazel not to give her any sweets after 2pm. Turning to the woman, I beckon. “Come with me.”I lead the way to the kitchen and motion for her to sit on one of the four chairs arranged around a small table where Muna and I eat most of our meals. Apart from last Christma

ChrisOnce out the door and on the street, I turn to look back at the house. What the heck am I doing, leaving Muna alone with someone who is clearly a novice? In a rush of panic, I dart back and open the door, ready to tell her it’s been a huge mistake and she has to leave.But sitting on the couch with Muna, both of them giggling over God knows what, my fears are allayed.“Did you forget something?” the new nanny asks, her eyes wide with expectation… or is that fear?“I thought I left my phone, but I’ve just found it in my pocket,” I lie in response.She smiles and nods, but I’m not sure she’s convinced. I notice again the high undergrowth beneath her braids and the bulky sweater she is wearing. With how high Muna likes the heating in the house to be, it’s only a matter of time before the nanny starts to swelter. I consider turning the heat down, but decide not to. I grin as I walk out of the house, knowing the odds of her figuring out how to adjust the temperature herself are zero