The Nanny (25 page)

“I'm very grateful. Please look at my books and let me know if it's worth carrying on. I can't live like this for much longer.”

“You'll take my professional opinion?” asked Josh.

“Of course.”

“But…you didn't when I told you not to fall for Jackie's sales pitch. Remember?”

Dick smiled. “You were still studying then. Give me a break.”

“I just needed to check.”

“I trust and respect your professional opinion.”

“Wow,” said Josh. “And what will you do if I suggest the worst?”

Dick took a deep breath. “Sell.”

“And then what?”

“I'll jump off that bridge when I come to it,” said Dick. “One thing at a time, eh?”

Josh nodded again. Dick came across and shook his new accountant by the hand.

 

Friday evening and Jo was more nervous about seeing Shaun than she had been when he visited her in London. Still at home, she brought down the dinner tray and placed it on the kitchen table. Her dad, wearing a pinny, put the dinner plates straight in the sink.

“Oh good,” he said, looking at Hilda's leftovers. “She's eating much more isn't she?”

“Well it's so delicious,” Jo said, looking up at the kitchen clock.

“It's Nigella.”

“Ah.”

“Will you give me a hand carrying the TV upstairs before you go, love?” asked her dad. “She wants to watch
Midsomer Murders
.”

“Course.”

“I don't want to make you late for Shaun,” he added.

“No worries. He took long enough to call me back.”

Bill followed her into the lounge. “You're not playing games with him, are you? Men don't like that.”

“Dad,” breathed Jo, lifting the TV. “How old am I?”

“Old enough to know better.
Steady
.”

“No, that's you. I'm old enough to make my own decisions. I've got it, stop pushing.”

“Alright alright. Left a bit. I just don't like to see a good man treated badly.”

Jo decided to concentrate on maneuevering the television round the tight corner of the stairs instead of maneuvering her father round the twisted corners of her mind. Half an hour later, she lounged upstairs on her mum's bed watching TV, while her dad chatted to Shaun downstairs.

“Don't…stay…” murmured Hilda.

“I suppose I'd better go,” agreed Jo. “Before Dad bores the pants off him. Have a good night. Enjoy the TV.”

As she got to the door, she turned round and looked at her mother. Hilda opened her eyes wide.

“Good…luck,” she whispered.

Jo smiled and made her way downstairs.

She stood outside the lounge for a second before opening the door. She was terrified of Shaun being indifferent to her, cold or just strange.

She needn't have worried. He looked terrified.

“Alright?” he said.

“Alright.”

There was a pause.

“Right, well,” said Bill, leaving the lounge. “I'll leave you lovebirds to it.”

They all went to the hall, Bill going upstairs as they opened the front door. “See you when we see you Jo,” he called from the stairs.

Jo considered smiling at Shaun, but didn't.

“They're watching what my mother wants on TV tonight,” she explained to the cold spring evening.

“Oh.”

“Quite a night, as you can imagine.”

Shaun did something in between a smile and a laugh.

By the time they reached the restaurant, Jo was beginning to fear that Shaun was planning to propose again. All the signs were there—he'd gone quiet and pale like the other times, and she was filled with a vague sense of foreboding.

They sat down at their restaurant table and faced each other.

“Jo,” started Shaun.

“Don't, please—”

“Don't what?”

There was a pause.

“I don't know,” said Jo. “Sorry. What were you going to say?”

“Don't
what
?” he repeated.

“I don't know—”

“Then don't
what
?”

The waiter appeared.

“Would you like some drinks?” he asked.

“Yes,” they said.

The waiter took their orders, and they started again.

“Jo,” said Shaun.

Jo took a deep breath.

“Yes,” she answered with a bright smile.

“I'm not going to propose again.”

She let out a heavy sigh of relief.

“After this one last time,” he finished.

She stopped breathing altogether.

“I don't understand what's happening in your world,” he said, gesturing vaguely near her head. “I don't know how you're feeling, I don't know why you went to London, I don't even know what you think of me anymore.”

“I—”

“Let me finish, please, Jo.”

“Sorry.”

“All I know is that I can't go on like this any longer.”

“God, I'm sorry—”

“Please, let me finish.”

“Sorry.”

“It's really very simple, Jo.”

She blinked and waited.

“You either want to be with me or you don't.”

She blinked again.

“You either want to marry me or you don't.”

She nodded.

“You just have to tell me so I can get on with my life.”

She blinked and nodded.

“So,” he said. “You have to decide.”

She stared at him.

“What's it to be, Jo?”

The waiter appeared. “Are you ready to order?”

“Yes,” said Shaun.

“No,” said Jo.

“I'll come back when you're both ready,” said the waiter.

Jo looked at Shaun.

“I love you Shaun,” she whispered.

She saw him take a deep breath.

“But I can't marry you.”

She watched him let out a heavy sigh.

As they sat there, she realized Shaun was right. It had been very simple after all. Now all she had to do was work out who was going to help her make big decisions like that in future.

 

After the last meal Jo and Shaun were to have together, it occurred to Jo that she had never loved him more than she did then. When he asked for the bill, she loved him for his quiet ability to take control; when he helped her into her coat, she loved him for his little gentlemanly acts. When he drove her home, she loved him for his kindness. When he kissed her gently on her lips for the last time, she loved him for having shared an intimate world with her. Sitting in the passenger seat of his car, she began to ache with loneliness.

“Bye, Shaun,” she said, sniffing.

“Bye, Jo. Always remember that I love you.”

She got out of the car and walked to her parents' house.

 

She shut the front door and leaned against it. She could see a crack of light from upstairs, which meant that her parents were still awake. She knew they hadn't expected her to come home that night and yet at the same time, they had. She climbed the stairs. When she reached the top, she heard her father call out from their bedroom. She tapped on their door.

“Come in,” he called.

Her parents were sitting up in bed together, a sight that made her feel envious and comforted at the same time.

“Your mother wants to know if you had a good evening,” said her father. “I told her to mind her own business, but…”

Jo sighed and nodded, the tears speaking for themselves.

“I'll be fine,” she said eventually. “Night.”

“Your mother says to tell you we're here if you need us,” her father said gruffly.

“Thanks, Dad.”

Her mother made a gesture with her right hand. Jo waited.

“No…matter…what,” whispered Hilda.

Jo smiled at them both and blew them both a kiss. She shut their bedroom door behind her and went to bed.

Monday morning came bright and breezy. Hilda had come downstairs for the first time since her stroke. Jo had been home for two whole weeks and it felt like she'd never been away; the sun was out, and it looked like summer was coming early. Which, of course, meant it would rain the next day.

Jo had phoned Vanessa the night before to explain that she couldn't come back yet, but would as soon as her mother was able to walk upstairs unaided. She'd begged Vanessa to keep her job open for her and told her how much she missed them all, and had felt hugely relieved when Vanessa had sounded emphatic about wanting her to come back whenever she was ready. She'd even alluded to giving Jo a raise. But Jo had felt as if she was phoning another world. She wondered who else in the family was in the room while Vanessa spoke to her and felt a yearning to be there.

Without a downstairs toilet in their house, Hilda either had to stay upstairs twenty-four hours a day or start using a commode. She had gone for the latter option and Jo had offered to be her commode emptier—“just like in the olden days,” she'd winked at her mum—when Bill had proved too squeamish. Jo was happy to do it as long as he kept up the cooking regime. She was convinced her mum would improve fast—she could sense her fingers itching to get back to feeding her father, especially after a night when he'd made himself steak and chips.

While Bill settled Hilda into his armchair, Jo put the kettle and her mobile on for the first time that day. While she was pouring hot water into the pot for her parents and the new cafetière she'd bought for herself, her mobile rang.

At first she didn't recognize Pippa's voice, but once she did, she was delighted to feel a surge of warmth toward her new friend. After a whole fortnight away from London, Jo was relying on her gut instinct to see if her life there had been genuinely good or had been her putting on a brave face. She had wanted to phone Pippa often, but had felt too guilty about phoning her before speaking to Sheila. She could have hugged Pippa.

“Hi, stranger!” cried Pippa.

“Hi!” Jo almost laughed the word out. “How are you?”

“I'm fine! I'm having sex! With a policeman!”

“Which one?”

“Nick, of course! I've been Nicked!'

“So you're going out with him now?”

“Um,” said Pippa. “Actually I'm staying in with him, more than going out with him. If you get my drift.”

“I'm
so
pleased for you, Pip.”

“Well, it was all due to you.”

“Don't be daft. I only introduced you. The rest was all your own work.”

“I know. And I owe you big-time. We really miss you!” said Pippa. “When are you coming back?”

“Oh God, I miss you, too!” replied Jo. And then, inexplicably, her happiness tipped over straight into misery. Like a baby trying to hide the fact that she's ready for bed, Jo suddenly found herself crying. She decided it would be a fine time to tell Pippa about Shaun and her.

“What shall I tell Nick?” asked Pippa, after making all the right noises, then leaving a long enough pause.

“Why?” Jo sniffed.

“Because, honey, Gerry's still after you,” explained Pippa. “And he's a cop who's used to getting what he wants.”

“God,” sniffed Jo. “How terrifying.”

“I'm just letting you know the way the land lies in Boy World.”

“Does it make any difference what I want?”

“Apparently you don't know what you want.”

Jo sucked in some air. “That's outrageous!”

“They had a bet on you and Shaun finishing before summer, and Gerry getting in there before autumn.”

“Oh God.” Jo closed her eyes. “You've put me right off my breakfast.”

“I told Nick you weren't interested,” continued Pippa, “but he said you may have been playing hard to get and not telling me the truth.”

“I
wasn't
interested,” said Jo slowly and clearly, “I
wasn't
playing hard to get, and I
was
telling the truth.”

“That's what I said. I told him girls don't think like boys.”

“Thank God.”

“He said everyone thinks like boys, girls just hide it better.”

Jo made a face into the phone. “You have a very special man there, Phillipa.”

“I know,” said Pippa. “
And
he's good in bed.”

“He'd better be.”

“I'll tell him to tell Gerry you're not interested.”

“Whatever.”

“So,” said Pippa, “how did you leave things with Josh?”

“Oh God,” said Jo. “Have you got an hour?”

“That bad eh? You two looked pretty cosy at the cinema.”

“I know. He went all nice on me again. And he was so wonderful when I got the call from my dad. He spent all Sunday helping me pack, helped me work out how I should tell Vanessa, he even stayed with me till I fell asleep the night I heard. I woke up the next morning, and he'd fallen asleep next to me.”

“Blimey.”

“But…”

“But?”

“I don't know.”

“What's to know? You're single, he's single.”

“That doesn't change what he said to me, about only wanting a shag because I was on tap. And he's a hypocrite because he hates infidelity but is helping his dad have an affair. And he's living at home rent-free in his midtwenties. And—”

“He looks like Hornblower—”

“—he…” Jo came to a halt. “I've forgotten what the fourth one was.”

“How you feel about him?”

Jo groaned. “Don't confuse me.”

“How do you think it'll be when you go back?”

“I've no idea. It feels more and more like it was all a dream, and I'm never going back. Like Dorothy—you know, I went looking for an answer, it was all Technicolor, but the answer wasn't really there, and now I'm back home again. Where everything's black-and-white.”

“Oh my God. Profound.”

“I think I've had too much time to brood.”

“Listen,” said Pippa, “as my mum always says, it'll all come out in the wash. You just have to believe it; otherwise, you'll go mad. How's your mum?”

After the call, Jo stood at the kitchen sink for a while. When the tea and coffee were both nicely stewed, she took them into the lounge on a tray. She felt a lot better after talking to Pippa. She realized that it was a new experience, talking openly and honestly to a friend who actively listened and who genuinely cared about making her feel better. Yes, Sheila had always been fun, and always been there, but Jo knew she could never have told her any of the things that she'd just told Pippa.

Too many new thoughts were shooting through her brain, and it felt like it was in danger of short-circuiting. She knew she was in a mood that needed a long walk by the river. She poured her parents' tea and her coffee and decided that her walk would be full of what she called Menu Moments; small but important decisions that always took her ages to make. She hadn't been to the river for a long time, it would probably do her a world of good.

 

Meanwhile, Vanessa felt like a bird released. Terrified that her wings wouldn't work and struck by her own frailty in the suddenly vast world. She put her head round Cassandra's door. Cassandra was silently dressing.

“How we doing?” asked Vanessa.

Cassandra smiled. “Fine.”

“Give your old mum a hug before she goes in to her horrid office.”

Cassandra squeezed her hard as they sat on her bed together.

“Why do you have to go to work?” she asked quietly.

Vanessa kissed her daughter's uneven parting. “Because it makes me feel good about myself.” She redid Cassie's hair. “It makes me feel right. And it helps me be a nicer person.”

There was silence.

“When will I feel like that, Mummy?” whispered Cassandra.

Vanessa clasped her child to her. “Ah, sweetheart. That can take a lifetime to work out.”

Five minutes later, she rushed downstairs to give Josh some last-minute tips. He had surprised them all by announcing that he'd happily take time off to look after the children.

She couldn't work out whether she was pleased to see Dick so determined to work at his business and Josh so unusually generous, or whether she was furious that Dick had got away with it again. She decided to plump for the former for the sake of her marriage.

When she got downstairs, Josh was standing in the kitchen, frowning at the timetable on the fridge door. He looked at her like a hunted rabbit.

“Where's the pizza?” he asked.

“In the freezer.”

“Where's the nursery?”

“Address is in the diary.”

“Where's the diary?”

“Next to the telephone in the dining room.”

“Do I have to make chips from scratch?”

“Only if you want to set the house on fire. Microwave ones are their favorites.”

“Where are—”

“In the freezer.”

“When do I give them their packed lunches?”

“Now.”

“Superman one for Zak, Tweenie one for Tallulah, Buffy one for Cassandra.”

“Correct. Well done.” Vanessa smiled. “Thanks Josh, you're a star.”

“It's a pleasure. Thanks for trusting me with them.”

“If you swear in front of them, hit them, or let them die, I will hunt you down and kill you.”

“Have a nice day yourself.”

Vanessa took one look round the kitchen.

“Wish me luck,” she said.

“Likewise.”

As the front door slammed, Josh took a long, slow breath. He scoured the fridge door, his eyes resting for a moment on Zak's drawing of Jo as Catwoman before spotting Jo's phone number. His fingers itched to phone her, and his stomach squirmed at the idea. No. He could cope with this job. He was a man who had climbed the slippery slope of corporate accountancy, he could manage this rocky terrain. It was survival of the fittest, and he was going to win. This was not
Survivor
,
The Krystal Maze
and
The Krypton Factor
—this was Real Life, the toughest game of all. He rolled up his sleeves, flexed his proud muscles, took a deep, manly breath, and opened the dishwasher.

“Josh,” came Tallulah's voice. “Will you wipe my bottom?”

The room went cold.

 

By the time Josh was driving toward Cassie's school, he was already running twenty minutes late and had sworn four times in front of the children. They were loving it. “What the…flippertygibbet is that driver
doing, for…Fffreddy's sake?” he asked. It turned out he swore much more than he realized. “Doesn't he know there are children in this world who need to get to school?”

“Jo usually goes the other way,” observed Tallulah.

“
What?
” cried Josh, looking in the rearview mirror. “Why didn't you tell me?”

“You didn't ask.”

“Stop being a clever-dick!” he cried. “How do we get out of this traffic jam?”

“I could walk,” offered Cassie.

“Would it be faster?”

“No,” said Cassie. “Just more pleasant.”

“Right,” said Josh, swerving suddenly. “I'm parking. Tallulah, you're going on my back; Cassie, you're going on Tallulah's back.”

 

Vanessa, coffee in one hand and briefcase in the other, hurried to work. The sun was almost breaking out from behind the grey clouds, and Vanessa fast-forwarded ahead by a month and imagined the vitamin D and ultraviolet rays skipping like lambs on to her skin. And then her office appeared.

Until that moment, Vanessa had always believed that her job turned the world round through simple economics, and her home life was a sort of fantasy subplot that she felt rather ashamed of believing in. It dawned on her she might have got that wrong. She clacked her way over the marble floor to the lift, keeping her eyes down while she waited for it to reach her. She walked to her office and closed the door behind her.

Before she moved forward an inch, she tensed. Someone had been at her desk. It was a complete mess. Her desk diary was open and her in-tray looked like an ashtray. How on earth was she supposed to start her day in a mess? Then she got a camera shot of how she'd left the kitchen for Josh. Followed by the sickening memory of Jo's weary resignation every morning at the sight of the kitchen. She must, she
would
give that girl a raise. If she ever came back.

No sooner had she sat down behind her desk and caught the framed laughing faces of her children than there was a knock on the door.

“Come!” she shouted.

Anthony opened it.

“Nearly.” He winked. “But it has been two weeks.”

Vanessa's body started humming a familiar tune.

“Oh God,” she muttered.

“Tell me about it,” breathed Anthony, shutting the door behind him.

“No I mean, Oh God, Anthony. I'm a married woman who's just spent two weeks with her children.”

“I hear you, baby—”

“No, I mean—Anthony don't.”

She pushed him away.

“What?”

Suddenly her office door flung itself wide open and Max stood beaming at its center. He stood there, arms wide, belly out, legs apart.

“Vanessa baby! Welcome back!”

Vanessa baby almost fell at her boss's feet. Instead, she turned politely to Anthony.

“Anthony?” she said. “Can we have a moment?”

“Of course.” He smiled charmingly and left the room.

 

Pippa and Nick sat in a traffic jam up Highgate Hill, Sebastian James's car seat strapped into the back.

“If any of my mates from the station see a baby carrier in the back of my car,” muttered Nick, “I'll never live it down.”

“Don't be ridiculous,” said Pippa. “You lived down that haircut.”

Nick stared at her.