He blinks. “It’s a teeny bit more involved than that.”

I wave my hand airily. “Not much.”

“Okay, then please enlighten me as to how with your atrocious job history you’ll be a boon to me.”

“Well, I’m charming.” He opens his mouth and I wag my finger at him. “I am. You might not recognise it, which probably makes you a bit odd, but few are immune to my charm.” He looks like he wants to argue, so I carry on quickly. “I just have a bit of a problem with my attention span in that I get bored easily. I can’t abide to be backed into a corner and stuck doing the same thing all the time. Which makes me perfect for your jobs. I can do most things I turn my hand to, mainly because I’ve had a job doing nearly everything.” I pause. “Hopefully you won’t need the funeral company experience, but you never know.” His mouth quirks, and I spread my hands. “Ta-da! Perfect match.”

“So, the fact that you’re a jack of all trades and master of none is an attractive quality. Oh, I see now,” he says mockingly. “How can I have been so blind?”

“That’s a potential problem for you,” I say sympathetically.

I can see that the laugh he lets loose shocks him, which makes me smile.

He looks down at the paper again. Damn that CV. “You’re very young,” he says doubtfully.

“I’m twenty-one,” I say indignantly. “I hope you’re not going to be ageist.”

He blinks. “I wouldn’t dream of it,” he says faintly. He leans back in his chair and considers me. “So, if I were to give you this job, how would you approach it?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, every case is different. We help people with their needs. Sometimes it’ll be someone who needs you to do their shopping, sometimes it’s to act as a PA, and sometimes it’s pretending to be a boyfriend for a family party so the person doesn’t lose face. How would you approach all these people with their very different needs?”

I stare at him in surprise. “Well, like they’re people.” I hastily try to cover up the “duh” tone in my voice. “Every person is different, Zebadiah. Can I call you Zebadiah?”

“I really wish you wouldn’t,” he says testily.

“Okay then. Zeb.” I nod. “I like that. Makes you sound less like a manager and more like a DJ in Ibiza.”

“Oh joy, that’s my life goal attained, then.”

“I’m sure sarcasm isn’t appropriate for a job interview.”

“I do beg your pardon.” His face is alight with amusement.

“What was I saying?”

“You were talking about how every person in this world is different. I’m halfway expecting you to launch into the chorus of ‘We All Stand Together’.”