The Nanny (4 page)

“Oh come now, sweetheart,” Dick murmured. “You remember my block. It hasn't been
that
long, surely?”

Vanessa seemed to consider this before giving him a conciliatory smile and turning back to Jo's CV.

“Anyway,” said Dick, turning to Jo suddenly, “Josh pops in from time to time—”

“—when he's visiting us,” interrupted Vanessa, “from Planet Josh.”

Jo had absolutely no idea how to react, so she did the first thing that came into her head.

“Ooh, how lovely!” she enthused. “He sounds…
perfect
. I mean, I can't wait. I mean…” she trailed off.

They both eyed her suspiciously.

“What I mean
is
,” she said, considerably slower, “that sounds nice.”

Their eyes shrank, as if to focus past Jo's face, on her mind.

“For you,” said Jo quickly. “And of course for the children.”

“Not really,” said Vanessa. “He's been known to get them so excited they vomit.”

Jo nodded seriously. She felt her control of the interview slipping out of her hands. Something had to be done.

“I have a boyfriend,” she told them. “We've been together for six years.”

Vanessa's and Dick's eyes widened again.

“So I take it it's serious?” asked Vanessa.

Jo thought. “Yes,” she said at last. “But it used to be fun.”

Dick laughed loud and strong, until Vanessa said dryly, “I know the feeling,” and then he stopped.

“I like your goldfish,” said Jo desperately, nodding at the vast rectangular goldfish bowl high up on a wide shelf above the kitchen counter. “Isn't he big!” The shelf must have been built specially because it was exactly the shape of the bowl, allowing nowhere for the cats to climb or perch. In the bowl darted a single large goldfish, eyeing the cats.

“Thank you!” said Vanessa. “He's the children's. He's called Homer.”

“Oh I love
The Simpsons
!” said Jo eagerly.

“He wrote
The Odyssey,
” explained Vanessa.

“Do you have a criminal record?” Dick asked Jo gravely.

Vanessa put her head in her hands.

“No,” said Jo with a polite grin. She attempted a joke. “Although if I did, I don't suppose I'd tell you. Especially not in the actual interview.”

Vanessa turned to Dick.

“See? I told you that was a stupid question. Ask a criminal if they've got a—”

“I'm not a criminal—”

“Of course you aren't,” said Vanessa, “but the point is—”

“The point is she's not a criminal,” said Dick.

“The point is you're an idiot,” answered his wife.

“Don't pick a fight in front of the staff, dear,” he replied, with a smile so forced Jo could almost hear his teeth grind. “It might make you look uptight. We don't want them all leaving as quickly as Francesca, do we?”

Vanessa bristled.

“At least I
have
staff, darling,” she replied.

Jo was staring at them both. She'd never before seen an argument achieved with smiles, affectionate names, no screaming, and the odd allusion to a sex life. She felt like she'd stepped into an alternate universe. When her parents argued you knew where you were. As did most of the neighborhood. Her parents' messy, explosive rows were usually set off by the fact that they simply couldn't understand one another. Jo had always thought that was their fundamental problem. Yet here was a marriage where the highly developed knowledge of the potential enemy served simply to improve the aim of the deadly, heat-seeking verbal missiles.

Meanwhile, Vanessa was staring hard at her: Jo cast her eyes around the kitchen, politely letting her stare, wondering what on earth she could be thinking. Vanessa was in fact beginning a relationship with her. And as with so many relationships, it began all in the head.

Hmm
, Vanessa was thinking.
Pretty, but in an endearing, girlish way that the children will be able to relate to and Dick won't. Bright, but open and honest. And, unlike any of the others, has done A-levels, so not only can she speak English, she can write it, too. Doesn't talk like a docker, smell like a fishwife, or look like a troll. She has a clean driver's license. And perhaps most important, she is almost completely sane. Is she too good to be true?

Jo sat watching Vanessa and Dick in tense silence. Vanessa and Dick
watched
her
in tense silence. Then Vanessa turned to Dick, tensely. Silently, Dick turned to his wife. For a good minute no one breathed out. If there had been plants in the kitchen, they'd have died of lack of carbon dioxide.

At last, Vanessa spoke to Dick.

“Well? Darling?”

Dick smiled.

“You're the boss,” he replied. “Darling.”

Jo had never heard the word “darling” used as a term of abuse before. There was so much to learn.

Finally, Vanessa turned to Jo.

“Do you have any questions?”

Jo pondered this. Yes, certain key questions did surface. Have you two considered couple counseling? Have you ever used the bread maker? Will I have to use the bread maker? Will I be able to watch the TV? Can I bring my dad to watch the TV? Can I bring the village to watch the TV?

“What are your ideas of discipline?” she asked gently.

Vanessa smiled sweetly. “If he has an affair, I'll cut his dick off.” She proceeded to giggle suddenly at her own joke.

“I think she meant with the children, dear,” said Dick, crossing his legs.

Vanessa took a deep breath. “I don't like lying,” she began, “more than two hours' television a day, intolerance of others, and I can't abide laziness. Chocolate only once a week—to prevent late-onset diabetes—and homework to be done immediately after school, to prevent Sunday evening tantrums.”

Dick attempted a smile. “We just want them to be happy.”

Vanessa turned on him. “Are you criticizing my parenting skills?”

“God no,” he replied. “It's only aesthetics that keep me wearing the trousers, darling.”

Vanessa's eyes shrank. “Don't you dare turn this into a gender issue, Dick,” she said.

“Our parental hierarchy is based strictly on effort and results.
I'm
the power base because
I've
put in the hours,
I
hold ultimate responsibility—emotional and financial—and
I
didn't go to Klosters while they were gestating, unlike someone I know in this room.”

Jo shrank in her seat. She was fairly certain she'd never been to Klosters, but the urge to apologize was almost overwhelming.

“Children are like life,” Vanessa muttered under her breath. “You get back what you put in.”

“Perhaps I could see the children?” asked Jo in a small voice.

Vanessa and Dick both looked at her in surprise.

“They're upstairs in the attic, playing,” said Vanessa, while Dick walked out to the hallway and bellowed their names so loudly that when he returned, his face had turned the same color as the walls. Within moments, Jo became aware of the sound of a herd of buffalo trampling through her brain.

“Hark! Do I hear the sound of angels singing?” said Vanessa, as four children launched themselves into the kitchen. The room seemed to shrink.

“This is Cassandra, or Cassie,” said Vanessa, as a tall, thin eight-year-old with a shock of red hair glared at Jo. She wore combat trousers, a tight little T-shirt which announced
psycho-bitch
, and glittery hair accessories. She looked like a warrior pixie. “Only my friends call me Cassie,” she announced.

Standing slightly behind her, literally in her shadow, was a four-year-old, staring intensely up at Jo. To their right slouched the boys. Toby, at thirteen, was clearly a god; Zak, at six, his happy cult member.

“Yeah,” Toby sneered at Cassandra. “That's why no one calls you it.”

Zak giggled behind Toby, and Cassandra stuck her tongue out at them both with a movement that used up her entire body.

“Oh, well argued, darling,” Vanessa congratulated her daughter. She turned to Jo. “As you can see Cassie's going to be a politician when she grows up,” she said. “And Toby's going to be a pig.”

“Did you see
Hannibal
?” Toby asked Jo. Zak grinned.

“No I didn't,” said Jo.

“He eats a man's brain,” said Toby. “My friend's got it on DVD, and he eats a man's brains out and cooks it while he's still alive.”

“Ooh!” said Jo. And then in the ensuing pause, she said, “Ooh!” again.

“There's blood trickling down his face,” added Cassandra helpfully.

“And he starts gibbering like a baby,” added Zak.

“It's
brilliant
,” concluded Toby. “I've seen it twice.”

Jo turned to the four-year-old.

“And you must be…?”

“This is Tallulah,” said Dick softly, as if presenting a prize jewel.

Tallulah edged back slightly, behind Cassandra. “It's okay,” she told Jo extremely quietly and slowly. “I'm fine. Thank you.”

“Would you like to see my Roving Willy?” asked Zak, stepping forward in front of Toby. “He's a robot.”

Before Jo could answer, Vanessa interrupted.

“I'm sure Jo would love a guided tour, darling. But not now.”

“Up you go,” said their father.

To Jo's astonishment, the buffalo faded away into the distance. In the peace and quiet, Jo turned back to Vanessa and Dick. They smiled proudly at her, waiting for her comment.

“They're…they're
darlings,
” she said, enjoying the sound of the word in her mouth.

“They're brats,” said Dick with false modesty.

“Which is how we know they're all yours,” said Vanessa.

Dick turned to Vanessa. “Oh, well argued, darling.” He turned to Jo. “My wife's going to be a politician when she grows up,” he said.

“And Dick's going to be a pig.”

Jo laughed nervously.

“Do you have any other questions?” asked Vanessa.

Yes,
thought Jo.
What's the quickest way out of here?

“You mentioned use of the Clio?” she said.

“Yes,” said Vanessa keenly. “It's yours, sole use, air-conditioning, central locking, and sun roof. Do you want the job?”

Jo blinked for a nanosecond and felt her head nodding.

“Can you start next month?” asked Vanessa.

Another nod.

Dick and Vanessa smiled at their new nanny. Jo's mouth smiled back at her new employers. They smiled wider at her. She smiled even wider in return. Would now be a bad time to back out?

“You'll be pleased to know there's a television like this in your suite,” said Dick.

“Come and have a look.”

“Really?” beamed Jo, winning the smiling competition. “Perfect!”

 

The bunk beds in what was once Tallulah and Zak's room were perfect for secret meetings, even though Zak no longer slept there.

Monday morning school hung over them like three little dark clouds. They somehow knew that sharing their feelings would only make it one big one; Monday morning school was one of life's inevitabilities, like new nannies.

“I thought she looked alright,” said Cassandra.

“So did Francesca,” said Zak. “She hadn't seen
Hannibal
.”

“So?” asked Cassandra.

Zak racked his brain for a suitable answer. He wished Toby didn't have to go back on Sundays. Toby would have known what to say to that one. Toby knew everything. Although not as much as Josh. Josh was even better than Toby. Josh looked like a man but acted like a boy. Josh was funny.

“I liked her hair,” whispered Tallulah through her thumb, which had come home to her mouth after a hard day's work. “When I grow up I'm going to have black hair.”

Already under her duvet, she was half-asleep, her strawberry blond hair fanned out against her
Tweenies
pillow.

“I wonder what
her
brain looks like. Zak said, grinning.

“We could take yours out and guess from there,” said Cassandra.

“Oh ha-
ha
,” said Zak. “I'm a boy, so my brain's different.”

Toby would have laughed at that. Josh would have said “Touché, mate,” then winked.

“Yeah. It's smaller,” said Cassandra. “With a willy on it.”

Tallulah laughed a delicious, half-asleep, baby laugh.

“Oh ha-
ha
,” repeated Zak, aware that repetition rendered this witty rejoinder relatively useless.

Cassandra hated Zak on Sunday evenings. By Monday morning he was his old self again, but every Sunday evening he was filled with an uncharacteristic, bullish cockiness after spending twenty-four hours with Toby.
Unfortunately
, she thought,
Zak doesn't have Toby's intelligence, because his brain is still growing, whereas Toby's stopped growing years ago.

Zak frowned heavily. Sisters were crappy. Why did he have to have two, while some people got to keep their big brothers all week long? He would ask Mummy tomorrow if he could have a baby brother.

He got off Tallulah's bed and readjusted the ankles of his Arsenal pajamas. “I'm going to bed,” he said, and left. “Night, Lula.”

He took the stairs up to his room two at a time. Toby would have been impressed, though he'd never have said. Josh would have cheered and thrown him round the room till he felt dizzy. The physical effort of such heroic stair-climbing resulted in two small trumpet sounds echoing from his nether regions, and Zak was forced to admit to himself that they rather ruined the skill of his footwork. Perhaps it was better Toby and Josh weren't there after all, he thought, as he opened the door to his own bedroom. Sometimes it was nice to be alone.