The Nanny Part 11

A fortnight later, back in Niblet, Shaun reached the pub before dusk. He saw Sheila before she saw him, ducked behind the bar, and ordered himself a swift pint.

"Heard from Jo yet?" greeted the landlord.

"Yeah," said Shaun. "She's rushed off her feet."

"Ah, poor girl. Usual? h.e.l.lo there, Sheila, what can I get for you?"

Shaun turned to Sheila, who was standing right behind him.

"h.e.l.lo!" he said. "Didn't see you there."

"Pull the other one," said Sheila, "it's got Big Ben on it."

They stood at the bar.

"Spoke to Jo today," he said eventually.

Sheila smiled at him. "How long did you hold out then?"

"How d'you know she didn't phone me?"

"Because in two weeks she's only phoned me twice. And I don't care what they say about true love, there's no way she'd have phoned you more than me."

Shaun took a swift drink.

"I'm right, aren't I?" she asked.

Shaun took his pint and went to sit on his own. Sheila got herself a drink and followed him.

"Don't take it personally, Shaunie," she said, joining him by the fire. "I'm sure she'll be phoning much more important people than both of us now she's living in London." Shaun downed half his pint, took a deep breath, then downed the other half.

"I bet you're really p.i.s.sed off," he said eventually. "Knowing she can cope without you."

Sheila shrugged. "Oh, I'm fine. It's good for her to get away. Branch out."

Shaun let out a laugh. He wiped his mouth.

"So," said Sheila. "How are you keeping yourself busy of a Sat.u.r.day night?"

"Don't look at me," he said. "How the h.e.l.l are you keeping yourself busy of a Sat.u.r.day day? No all-day-long shopping expeditions to tempt her away from me."

"I never had to tempt her actually."

Suddenly Shaun shouted out at James, who'd just appeared in the pub doorway. James nodded and came over.

"Usual?" Shaun grunted at Sheila.

Sheila nodded. Shaun went to join James at the bar.

Meanwhile, miles away, in a heaving City bar, Jo's phone calls were the subject of another, rather more animated conversation.

Josh had just done his impersonation of Nanny on the phone to his mates. Sally from Accounts had joined them tonight, and it wouldn't have been arrogance on his part to claim that he knew why she was there. The more the gang laughed at his imitation, the closer Sally got, until her stockinged thigh was practically on top of his. The day was getting better and better. First a phone call from his dad for a man-to-man chat, and now Sally from Accounts practically on his lap.

"So where did they get this nanny from then?" asked Jasper.

"f.u.c.k knows," said Josh, growing distracted. "The Tight-a.r.s.e Nanny Academy I suppose."

"I've got to talk to this woman," said Rupert. "I'm getting a b.o.n.e.r just thinking about her."

"How much is it worth?" asked Josh.

"A tenner."

"Hah!"

"Twenty!"

Josh laughed again.

"Fifty! But if she's not as good as my dreams, you owe me."

"Done!" shouted Josh, and they all cheered. "Next time I talk to her I'll put her on speakerphone and when I tip you the wink, you can have a word."

And with that, Sally slid herself onto Joshua's lap, her skirt momentarily rising so high he caught a glimpse of dappled, bronzed thigh. And for the rest of the evening, the tight-a.r.s.e nanny was completely forgotten.

Over the next couple of weeks, the tight-a.r.s.e nanny's life was reaching a new and somewhat spectacular low. By the end of her third week in the Fitzgerald household, she found herself lying on her bed, staring at her open suitcase, abandoned rucksack and still-packed box, too exhausted to move and trying not to cry.

Technically, Jo had weekends off, unless previously arranged as paid baby-sitting. But she'd spent her first weekend catching up on sleep, the second being cajoled by Vanessa to just pa.s.s her this and just pop something into the dishwasher and just nip upstairs and bring down something. On the third weekend, she was reduced to going to the cinema on her own just to make the point that she wasn't technically meant to be working. She was surrounded by rowdy crowds of teenagers who kept staring at her and young couples who didn't; then she fell asleep at the feel-good climax, waking with a start and saying aloud, "Are the cats in?" which felt like the least humiliating two minutes of the whole evening.

She'd have loved to go home for the weekends, but she knew that if she did, she'd never come back, which would mean the end to her dreams and the beginning of a life of being reminded "I told you so" by all her loved ones. As for Shaun coming to visit, his firm was still in the first all-important month of their biggest-ever contract, so she knew he'd practically be living on-site, weekends included. If he hadn't been able to take time off to pop to the station to see her off, he would hardly be able to come and stay. Occasionally, very occasionally-and usually at night-she did find herself wondering if her parents' generation had got it right by insisting that the woman's career was to follow the career of the man who'd chosen her. Okay, in some circ.u.mstances it may not have been as pleasant for the woman, but it was certainly less complicated.

She'd contacted her parents nearly every day, and as long as she did so when there was at least one child in the car she didn't feel tempted to cry. Apart from the exhaustion and early nights giving her very little free time to make long personal calls, she simply didn't have enough energy to phone Shaun and was rarely in the right frame of mind to phone Sheila. In the rare moments of quiet, she missed her parents; in all the other moments she ached for the familiarity of Niblet.

On the Friday morning of her fourth week at the Fitzgeralds', Jo waited in the schoolyard, pondering on her learning curve since leaving home. She had known that the Fitzgerald household was going to be different from her own, but she had thought the differences were only in the details. She now realized that details were what made a house a home. And the Fitzgerald house wasn't a home, it was a station for remote controls. There were so many remote controls in it that they needed a remote control to find them. There was one for each stereo in each room, one to dim the lights in each room, one for the fireplace, even one for the lounge clock-an unnerving light-effect number that you had to, of course, point your remote control at for it to work. A small mound would then rise, phoenixlike, from the coffee table and shine at the blank wall ahead. And lo, there would slowly appear, Cheshire-cat-like, a wall clock. Usually by the time it had appeared to show you the time, you were late. And of course, there was a remote control for every television in the house. If there was a robbery of their remote controls, the house would no longer function. It would just be a sh.e.l.l.

As for Jo's suite of rooms, television, and enormous wardrobe, it was proof, if proof were ever needed, that money does not bring happiness. Her body yearned for the easy comfort of her tiny room, its stirring view of the River Avon, and the rea.s.suring sound of her parents' yelling from downstairs.

As she watched the queue in front of the nursery it occurred to her that she might not be strong enough for this. After only one month, she might have to go home, defeated. "Cheer up," came a voice behind her. "You look like you've just lost a baby and found three."

Jo a.s.sumed the voice wasn't talking to her, but took a sly glance behind her anyway.

There stood an expensive-looking, tall, blond, tanned girl about her age, holding a car seat in which dozed a baby the size of a doll.

"You're a new nanny aren't you?" the girl asked, with an amused grin. Jo nodded.

"Thought so," the girl said. "If you were a mum, you'd just be looking bored, not brain-f.u.c.ked. I'm Pippa, and this," she said, holding the car seat forward, "is Sebastian James."

Jo looked at Sebastian James. He must have been weeks old.

"Say h.e.l.lo to the nice lady, Sebastian James," said Pippa.

Sebastian James's left eyebrow fluttered briefly. It wasn't much, thought Jo, but it was more than she was used to.

"Pleased to meet you Sebastian James," she said, and held out her hand.

Sebastian James's bottom let out a ripple.

"The youth of today," tutted Pippa, swinging the car seat back onto her hip. "No respect."

"Well, they haven't lived through a war."

"His mother's having her piles done." Pippa grinned.

"Ooh, lovely."

"Well, it is for the Harley Street specialist. Twelve hundred smackers for forty minutes."

Jo whistled long and low.

"Mind you," confided Pippa, "he does have to locate them. Probably needed a finder's fee."

Jo discovered that Sebastian James's sister, Georgiana Anne, was in Tallulah's cla.s.s.

"Their parents are nanny virgins," explained Pippa. "I'm their first, bless them. And I've been with them for three years, so I'm now technically their boss. I have three aerobics cla.s.ses a week and a facial on them, they're so terrified of losing me. And the guilt! It's amazing. There are people out there murdering children and all this couple do is work every hour G.o.d sends to earn enough money to bring up a small family and go private, and you'd think they'd committed genocide. Poor sods. Mind you, very useful. Got my own attic flat in Highgate, with separate front door and a south-facing terrace garden. And I've just come back from a prebaby 'work' holiday with them all in the Bahamas. They wanted to do Antibes, but I said it had to be the Caribbean. Do yours work?"

"Yes."

"Excellent."

Sebastian James belched. Pippa and Jo looked at him.

"Men," tutted Pippa. "Time for a coffee?"

Jo's eyes went round.

"Actually," she said, "I haven't got time for a c.r.a.p."

"Oh dear, that's not good."

"No," agreed Jo. "It's not good."

"I wondered why you were standing like that."

Jo's laugh was sudden and loud, as if she'd forgotten how to do it. "Oh, that's just how I stay upright after walking up Highgate Hill."

"What have you been doing weekends?"

"Oh you know, odd jobs for my boss, weeping in my room, falling asleep in cinemas, that sort of thing."

"What are you doing this Sunday?"

"Resigning and going home to marry my boyfriend."

Pippa squeezed Jo's arm. "Meet me for coffee this weekend," she urged. "Costa Coffee, Highgate High Street, 11 a.m. Lesson number one, if you don't have set plans at the weekend, they treat you like you're working. But never make it too early in the morning, because then they'll act like it's a weekday."

"Oh," said Jo, eyes even wider.

Pippa beamed at her. "You have much to learn, Gra.s.shopper," she said.

"Thank you," said Jo.

The nursery door opened, and one by one, ten eager little bunnies came out, blinking in the sun. Behind them wandered Tallulah.

Georgiana Anne approached Pippa, kissed her baby brother hard on his forehead, her teeth leaving marks in his crepe-paper skin, handed Pippa a papier-mache objet d'art that looked like a p.e.n.i.s in a wig, hitched up her tights, and announced, "It's for Mummy."

"Wow!" exclaimed Pippa. "Lucky Mummy!"

"I want chicken nuggets for lunch."

Jo knelt to Tallulah's height to hear her better. Tallulah looked her straight in the eye.

"h.e.l.lo," said Tallulah.

"h.e.l.lo, did you have a good day?"

"Yes, thank you. Georgiana's my friend."

"That's nice."

Tallulah looked over at Georgiana.

"Sometimes," she allowed.

Halfway home, Tallulah looked up at Jo.

"Can I skip?" she asked.

"Of course you can, poppet. Just wait for me at the curb."

"I like your hair," said Tallulah, before focusing her mind on more important things. She had skipping to do.

Back at home, while Ca.s.sie and Zak were busy with their homework, Tallulah needed occupying after a busy day of tumbling like a tot.

"What would you like to do?" asked Jo, hoping the little girl would say "Find you a new job while you call your boyfriend and make him the happiest man in the world."

"I'd like to paint," announced Tallulah.

"Right," said Jo. "What would you like to paint?"