The Nanny (16 page)

Josh tutted. “Why the fuck are you sorry?” he muttered through his cereal. “You're allowed to have a boyfriend.”

“Fuck!” cried Zak, as Tallulah poked him in the eye with her pink glittery wand.

“Josh!” yelled Dick and Vanessa.

“Whoops. Sorry guys.”

“If you can't keep a civil tongue in your mouth in front of the children, perhaps you could just not talk at all,” said Vanessa.

“I said sorry!”

“I'm sure it was an accident, darling,” said Dick. ‘Much like your eloquent “shit.” '

“Shit!” repeated Tallulah, as Zak threw cereal in her face.

Josh turned to Jo.

“You need to stop apologizing for your personal life, you know,” he told her. “I hate to break it to you, but no one here gives a damn.”

“Thank you, Josh,” snapped Vanessa. “I don't think we need your help here.”

“Well you need someone's help,” countered Josh, “or you may end up with a child who feels abandoned, which can have nasty long-term effects.”

“I'll do it,” said Dick quickly. “I'll come home from work early. No problem. It'll be nice to spend some quality time with Josh, too.”

Josh smiled. “There, that's all sorted then. Cassie won't feel aban
doned, Dad and I get to spend time together and Jo gets to do whatever the hell she wants to do in her own personal life. Everyone's happy.”

Jo blinked hard.

“Josh,” said Vanessa. “Please try not to use the ‘f' word in front of Cassie.”

“Why?” asked Cassandra. “It's not as rude as the ‘c' word. Even though that refers to a perfectly natural and beautiful part of the female body.”

There was a moment's silence.

“Zak!”
screeched Dick suddenly. Zak nearly fell off his chair.
“Eat your cereal! or Daddy's going to get angry!”

 

When Jo sat in the Clio on her way to pick up Shaun from Highgate Station, she paused and took stock. This was her private space—much more so than her room, which almost felt like a shared room with Josh. She'd put her collection of small, cuddly toys in it as her lucky talismen and stared at them now to try and stabilize her thoughts.

It was the first time she'd been on her own for weeks and she was about to see Shaun for the first time in over a month, in just five minutes. And her head was jam-packed full of Josh. She wanted to apologize to him, but she wasn't sure which bit of her behavior she was apologizing for. And anyway that hadn't seemed to work last night. It was all so disconcerting—not just his Jekyll/Hyde turn, but how much she was letting it upset her.

She looked at the car clock. She was going to be late for Shaun. She tried staring at her cuddly toys again. They stared right back at her. None the wiser, she started the engine. As she drove down the steep slope toward Highgate Station's entrance, she wasn't surprised to feel a knot of tension in her stomach. And then she spotted him, sitting on the wall, reading a magazine.

Cheekbones like ice and eyes that matched his denim jacket and jeans. He'd washed his hair too.
Goodness me
, she thought.
Ambassador, you are spoiling us
. He didn't spot her for a while, and she parked nearby and watched him. After a moment, he looked up. They looked at each other for a second, and then both grinned as familiarity slowly seeped back into their lives.

As he got up and walked toward the car, Jo's breathing calmed. Everything was going to be alright, she was safe again. He opened the car door and leaned in, eyes twinkling in the sun.

“I wondered who that gorgeous girl was in the posh car.” He grinned. “And then I realized it was my gorgeous girl.”

To her surprise, Jo felt a wave of emotion wash over her, and she started crying.

Shaun quickly put his bag in the back and got into the car. “What's wrong?” he asked, looking straight ahead.

Jo flung her arms round his shoulder. “It's good to see you,” she said, hugging with all her might.

Shaun closed his eyes, then held her tight until someone began hooting.

Jo really didn't want to take Shaun straight back to the Fitzgeralds', but she had the ironing and tidying to do, and Shaun said he didn't mind at all. Thank God Josh had gone out.

As it transpired, what Shaun meant was that he didn't mind seducing Jo while she tried to do the ironing. She finally gave up and they had a quick catch-up session in her bedroom. It had been nice, but she'd have preferred it if she hadn't been listening for the door with one ear, worrying about the ironing with half her mind and thinking of Josh with the rest of her body. She did enjoy the novelty aspect of making love to Shaun after such a long time. Even though they followed their well-practiced technique, it didn't feel predictable, it just felt safe and comforting, like coming home.
Or rather
, she thought,
coming
at
home.

As soon as it was over, she leaped out of bed, dressed, and started the ironing again.

After ten minutes, Shaun joined her in the kitchen, pulling his shirt over his head.

Half an hour later, he watched her iron her fourth Barbie vest with impressive speed. He looked up at the kitchen clock occasionally, sipping his tea.

“There's something wrong with this tea,” he said.

“It's leaves. Proper tea leaves.”

“Tastes like shit.”

“You get used to it. I'll get some PG Tips in.”

“Thanks, babe.”

He stared at the tiny items of clothing that Jo still had to iron. Eventually, he got up and washed his mug in the sink. He'd seen taps like this in some of the new houses his teams had been commissioned to build. He mastered how the tap worked in only a few minutes. Afterward, as calmly
as he could, he tore some kitchen towels off the chrome holder on the wall and wiped his groin.

He turned and watched Jo.

“Why are you ironing the boy's pants?” he asked.

Jo glanced over.

“Can you take the paper off your groin while you talk to me, please?”

He grinned. “Come here and say that.”

“I'm ironing them because he won't wear them otherwise,” she answered. “It's difficult enough to get him to wear them when they are ironed. Downright impossible if they're not.”

Shaun shook his head wearily. “What's wrong with kids today?” he muttered. “What he needs is a good clip round the ear. He'd wear them then.”

“Mm,” agreed Jo. “And a woman's place is in the home.”

“If he was your own kid, you could do it. No child of mine would ever expect his nanny to iron his pants.”

Jo put Zak's pants on the table and picked up the Tweenies pillowcase. “But then no child of yours would have a nanny would they?” she asked. They'd been through this so many times, but today they were both saying it with half a smile on their faces. It was nice to know that some things never changed.

“Nope,” he said, adopting the tone of a Texas cowboy. “I'd find me a real woman who could be a real mother.”

Jo stopped ironing for a split second and looked up at him. “You mean you'd expect her to do all this for no money?” She grinned. “Tell me, Shaun—”

“Oh dear—”

“—do you think the child's father isn't a real father because he's not ironing his son's pants? Or is it just the mother who's fighting her genetic programming by not ironing?”

“Don't start,” said Shaun. “You know what I mean.”

“Oh yes,” said Jo. “I know exactly what you mean.”

“I mean a nice, happy family.”

“Where the woman's life gets shrunk to fit her home, and the man's expands—”

“Where the man earns the money that puts the roof over their heads, that's what I mean.”

“Ooh,” said Jo. “It sounds lovely. Just like in
The Waltons.”

“That's right.”

“That anachronistic fictional escapism. For children.”

“You know, you don't need to use posh words to impress me. Your arse is doing a good enough job already.”

Jo smiled. “Oh you sweet-talker, you.”

Shaun came and stood behind her and kissed her gently on her neck. Then he gave her another, even softer kiss further down her neck. Then he twisted her body round to face him and softly brushed his lips over her front. Then he pushed her up against the ironing board and started messing up the ironing. Then Josh came home.

“Don't mind me,” called Josh, and they both jumped. As it happened, they both minded him very much. Jo spun back to her ironing, her face burning. She could hardly bear the new coldness in Josh's eyes. She felt like some scarlet woman in a bad movie. Shaun waited a moment before stepping forward to Josh.

“Shaun Casey,” he said, holding out his hand. “Jo's better half.”

“Josh Fitzgerald,” said Josh, shaking his hand firmly. “Half brother, half human.”

“Oh right,” grinned Shaun. “So not one of her charges then?”

“God no.”

“So she isn't tucking you up in bed, too?” he laughed.

Josh let out a short sharp laugh. “Nope. If anything, it's the other way round.”

The laughter stopped. Shaun looked over at Jo.

“I-I got a little drunk last night,” she explained.

Shaun tensed. “Right,” he said between his teeth.

“Then she got a little homesick,” explained Josh, “you know the thing, missing her mum, missing her dad, missing”—he gave a little shrug—“her mum and dad.”

Shaun nodded. “Right,” he said slowly.

“Anyway,” said Josh tightly, “don't let me interrupt what you were doing. I know Jo always puts everyone's needs before her own. Nice to meet you, Saul.”

“Shaun.”

“Shaun.”

And Josh left them to it.

Jo ironed three pairs of Zak's pants before Shaun spoke.

“What the hell was all that about?” he whispered.

“What?” she answered innocently.

“Don't play games, Jo.”

Jo sighed.

She spoke very quietly. “I don't know what he's talking about. I got drunk last night and told him all about you. That's all. It must be hurt ego. Probably expected me to fancy him, you know, poor little homesick nanny.”

She wondered who she was turning into as Shaun settled back down to watch her finish the ironing. After five minutes, they heard the front door slam shut. Josh had gone out for his afternoon walk.

“So why's he at home then?” asked Shaun.

“I got him maimed because I thought he was going to kill me with an ax, so he's been working from home to avoid getting his twisted ankle broken in rush hour. He's back at work soon, thank God.”

“No I don't mean that. I mean why's he living here at all?”

“God knows.”

“What does he do?”

“He's an accountant.”

Shaun sucked in a vast amount of air between his teeth, a trick he'd learned from years in the building trade.

“So he's loaded, right?”

Jo shrugged. “No idea.” She finished the laundry and put the ironing board and iron away in the utility room. “Apparently his flatmates went traveling,” she called out. “Left him homeless.”

“They must all be made of money,” shouted Shaun. “If I had that sort of money, I'd be putting it into the future. Put a deposit on a house. Invest it.”

Jo loaded the washing machine.

“Maybe they can do both,” she said quietly.

“I bet that's not the real reason he's here,” shouted Shaun.

Jo came back into the kitchen, put down the empty laundry basket and started filling it with piles of neatly folded ironing.

“What do you mean?”

“I don't trust him.”

“I told you, there's nothing to worry about. I just got drunk—”

“Not about that,” interrupted Shaun. “Just generally. His eyes are too close together.”

“They look fine to me,” said Jo quickly. “I'm going upstairs, follow me.”

Shaun followed her up the stairs into Tallulah's bedroom, and leaned against the doorframe as she tidied up the child's toys. Jo picked up the orgy of naked Barbies and Ken and dressed them all. Then she placed Tal
lulah's Barbie Doctor, Barbie Civil Servant, Barbie Social Worker, and Ken Architect in their allotted space underneath the stationery shelves, checking that the 0.6mm lilac pens abutted the 0.6mm purple pen and not the 0.8mm blue.

“Why would a grown man,” continued Shaun, “with money to burn, come back home and live with Daddy and Daddy's new wife and precocious kids if he could afford not to?”

“They're not precocious,” she said, returning the dolls' house figures to the library by the Dickens classics.

“I think,” said Shaun slowly, “that our Josh is a bit of a sponger. I take it he's not paying rent?”

“No,” said Jo. “Vanessa said he was rent-free. How did you know that?”

Shaun laughed. “I've done up houses for blokes like him. So spoiled they don't realize they're grown-ups.”

Jo looked at him. “Follow me,” she said, and went up the next flight of stairs.

“Bugger me,” said Shaun. “How many floors does this house have?”

“This is it.”

Shaun followed her into Zak's room and stopped at the door. He gave a slow, appreciative whistle at the toys.

“Shit,” he said. “I could be very happy in here.”

A top-of-the-line scooter sat beside the myriad robots, signed Arsenal football memorabilia, dinosaur collection, and racetrack. Gameboys littered the room. Above the bed hung a hammock full of more toys. In the corner was a small television and some more Gameboys. Shaun tore his eyes away and got back to the point.

“I've got it!” he cried.

“Well don't come near me,” muttered Jo from under Zak's bed, “I can't catch it. Can't take time off.”