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Teresa awoke feeling anxious. Three more days with her daughter and that included the day she would have to go to the airport. She checked her phone — still no reply from José. According to Facebook Messenger, he hadn’t even seen her message, so at least he wasn’t ignoring her.
When she got downstairs, Annabel was watching TV rather than playing. That was unusual for her.
“Breakfast?” Teresa asked.
Annabel shrugged.
“Where’s your grandma?”
“Out.”
“Did she say where she went?”
“She said we have to wait until she gets back,” Annabel didn’t take her eyes off the US dance reality show on TV to which her eyes appeared glued.
Teresa sighed to herself and went into the kitchen to prepare breakfast, anyway. Every day, thoughts of her UK visa application and being near her daughter filled her head. She focused long enough to populate the dinner table with everything needed for breakfast — cereal, bowls, spoons, milk.
“Annabel. Your breakfast is on the table.”
Annabel screwed up her nose.
“Darling.” Teresa’s tone was a warning. “Come and sit at the table.”
Annabel dragged herself off the floor and made sure she sat at a place on the table where she could still see the TV. Teresa set the table to make this possible. This was not the right moment to pick a fight with her daughter. Teresa sat opposite Annabel, reminding her to put cereal in her bowl, then milk, then reminding her to eat.
As Teresa ate her cereal, she continued to daydream about her visa application. That morning, she had used her phone to register for the online application system. It had redirected her to the site of a third-party company website which handled applications on behalf of the British Foreign Office. There were options to pay extra for faster service and a high price for the third-party company to do the entire application for her. Teresa would need all her spare money for flights and accommodation, so she chose the basic option.
She stopped when she got to the section about where she would live in the UK. She needed to speak to José. But what if he couldn’t help her? She would need to live and work somewhere even if she lived in a hostel until she found cheap rented accommodation. She googled jobs for Brazilians in the UK and found a surprising number of jobs looking for speakers of Brazilian Portuguese. The problem was her disadvantage over Brazilians already living in the UK. She needed to make inquiries now, while she was in the country and using the opportunity while Henrietta was out, and Annabel was engrossed in television seemed as good a time as any.
When Annabel finished her cereal and fruit juice, Teresa allowed her to return to her spot in front of the TV and Teresa made a cup of tea for herself and sat at the table to browse job opportunities.
Content writer, two to three years experience, nope. Contact centre agent, Portsmouth, a long way from Annabel and no mention of salary. Customer service advisor, Poole, even further away and again no mention of salary. Translation, West Midlands, £22,000, better. She narrowed her search to London.
There was a Brazilian Deli in Pimlico. Teresa doubted they would pay £18,600. Journalist, nope. Email compliance analyst, whatever that was. Games Tester. Nanny, cook, more writing jobs, and bar staff. Not promising.
“What is the name of the town where your Grandma lives?” Teresa asked. No response. “Annabel?”
“Uh?” Annabel turned her head from the screen.
“Where does Grandma live?”
“I don’t know.”
Great. Teresa would have to wait until her ex-mother-in-law came back home before she could make any more progress. Time for another cup of tea.
As she was boiling the kettle, Teresa’s phone vibrated. It was José.
“Hey! Good to hear from you,” the message read. “How long are you in London? We should get together to catch up. I’ll ask around about jobs and get back to you.”
Some positive news. Now all she needed was Henrietta to agree to babysit Annabel for an evening so she could meet José. She had just two nights left in England before she had to fly back to Brazil.
“Great. It will have to be tonight or tomorrow night because I fly back on Saturday,” Teresa typed. “And I must ask my ex-mother-in-law to babysit Annabel.”
She pressed send and crossed her fingers that Henrietta would be in a good mood when she returned.