The Nanny Part 5

Below him in Tallulah's bedroom, Ca.s.sandra looked down at her sister, who was sinking into a deep sleep. She sighed. Sometimes she wished she could be four again, when everything was possible and you believed that if you wanted black hair when you were older, you'd get it.

She stomped into her bedroom, kissed her boy band poster, asked G.o.d to make her famous, and went to bed.

Unaware that her sister and brother had left her bedroom, Tallulah breathed softly and evenly. She was already Princess Jo with long, sleek, black hair, beautiful, cat-shaped blue eyes, and long, slender legs.

Upstairs, at the top of the house, Zak lay in his bed staring at the stars. They stared right back at him. He wished Mummy would hurry up. He hated Ca.s.sandra.

He closed his eyes, then opened them again quickly.

Did his brain really have a w.i.l.l.y on it?

Later that night, Vanessa and d.i.c.k got to bed.

"What was it this time?" d.i.c.k asked Vanessa.

"Light saber, little b.a.s.t.a.r.d."

d.i.c.k chuckled. "That'll stop the burglars."

"It'll stop Mummy coming to tuck him up every night."

Vanessa lay on her back, positioned her arms beside her, closed her eyes, and started to breathe very deeply from her diaphragm. Thanks to three years of hypnotherapy, she was able to pull her thoughts away from all things stressful and focus on all things pleasant. Her hypnotherapist always used a beautiful summer garden or a calm, sandy beach. Vanessa preferred Harrison Ford in shorts. Worked for her. She focused hard on two strong, long, tanned thighs.

"So," growled Harrison into her ear. "We got a new nanny then."

Like a schoolgirl creating a fantasy scene with stickers, Vanessa visualized Harrison holding her in his arms after saving her from snakes and n.a.z.is.

"Wasn't there a concluding part of that deal?" whispered Harrison, his scar shimmering in the dark.

Lying perfectly still, Vanessa's mind arched toward d.i.c.k. At least he'd taken a day off and helped her with some of the interviews. At least he'd made the tea. She nodded as Harrison started stroking her stomach.

Chapter 3.

"Leaving?" repeated Hilda. "What do you mean? Leaving?"

"Well," started Jo. "I-I-I thought, I-"

"I'm going to have to have a word with that boy."

"Dad!"

"That man's wasted the best years of your life."

"Thank you."

"Well, you're no spring chicken-"

"It's got nothing to do with Shaun."

"Rubbish."

"Bill!" shouted Hilda.

"Well, I mean!"

They all fumed in silence.

"Are you unhappy living with us, love?" asked Hilda.

"No! Of course not."

"Then why?"

Jo looked at her hands.

"Mum."

Hilda nodded.

"I'm twenty-three years old-"

"I know, love, I was there."

"-and I've never lived away from home."

"You would have if that b.a.s.t.a.r.d had proposed!"

"Bill! Let the girl speak."

Bill started pacing the tiny front room with such ferocity that he looked like a caged line dancer.

"Sit down," ordered Hilda. "It's not good for you to get too excited-"

"I'll tell you what's not good for me-"

"Stop shouting!"

"I'm not shouting!"

"You are! No wonder she wants to leave home."

Bill slumped heavily into his armchair.

"It's all your nagging and fussing," he told Hilda. "It would do anyone's head in. If I had the choice, I'd be off to flipping Highbridge or Gatesbury or wherever it is-"

"Chance'd be a fine thing," said Hilda.

"Eh, do they need a builder, Jo?"

"Hah!" shot Hilda. "They couldn't afford the food bill-"

"Oh give it a flaming rest, woman!"

"You're shouting again!"

"Course I'm frigging shouting!" Bill's face was turning red. "You're driving me mad!"

"Calm down!" Hilda was nearly crying. "It's not good for you!"

"Stop telling me what to do, or so help me, I'll-!"

"Right," said Hilda, standing up suddenly. "I'll put the kettle on."

Jo and her father sat in the living room listening to the sound of Hilda in the kitchen furiously taking out mugs, the milk jug, and the teapot.

Eventually, Jo caught her father's eye.

"I think that went pretty well, don't you?" she asked.

They both snorted, until Bill said, "If Adolf b.l.o.o.d.y Hitler invaded, she'd put that frigging kettle on."

"And you'd shout till you were red in the face."

Bill shifted in his armchair.

Hilda brought the tray in, and they watched her pour the milk and tea into the mugs in silence. They took their mugs meekly. After a few sips, Bill sat forward in his chair and rubbed his hands together.

"So," he said. "London, eh? Big-city lights."

"That's right," said Jo. "I'll just see how it goes. Probably come back home every weekend."

Hilda's lips were a thin line as she sipped her tea, and Jo and Bill tried to ignore how much her hands were shaking.

Bill gave Jo a little wink.

"Nothing like your mother's cuppa."

Jo smiled, and they drank their tea in silence.

That night, Jo and Shaun were separated by a pink tablecloth, matching candle, matching candlestick, and matching single rose. They drank their wine, then took another mouthful of heavy French food, then another sip of wine.

Shaun looked like he was in shock. There was no other way of putting it. When Jo had told him that she'd been offered a job in London and had accepted it, his body actually did a little jerk, like a puppet whose puppeteer had just hiccuped.

"I'm not finishing with you!" she gabbled. "I still want to go out with you-if you still want that."

"So what the f.u.c.k are you doing?" he asked, seemingly incredulous. "You think long-distance will improve things?"

"I just need to get away, think things through."

Shaun kept his voice low. "If you're moving to London because you haven't got the b.a.l.l.s to finish with me," he said. "I-"

"I am not finishing with you," said Jo firmly. "Shaun, listen to me. I can't see me ever wanting to be with anyone else. I'm as confused as you are as to why I..." She struggled to find the right words. "Can't say yes."

Shaun took a deep breath and looked out of the window. Jo continued.

"I think I'm just not happy generally. About my life, about so many things. My parents, my job, even Sheila-they're all driving me mad and making me feel...depressed, unhappy...I'm low, Shaun. Very low. I have been for a while. I've only just admitted it to myself. I think my birthday made me confront it properly for the first time."

She sat back in her seat, feeling as if she'd just done a very bad first striptease. What would Shaun think of her now? Would he think she was mentally unstable? Would he want out?

"And what about me?" he asked, still staring out of the window.

She stretched out toward him, but couldn't reach him, so left her hands on the table.

"Shaun, you're the one thing that's keeping me sane. You have to believe that. But I need to get away so I can work out what it is that's confusing me."

"Confusing you?" he sneered. "I thought you said you were depressed?"

Jo struggled to make herself clear.

"I'm confused because I don't know why I keep getting depressed. I mean, I have everything a girl could want. Don't I?"

Shaun gave her a look.

"Do you?"

"You know I do," said Jo, putting conviction in her voice. "Which is why I don't understand how come I'm not feeling...lucky."

"Maybe you just expect too much from life."

"Don't say that."

"It's true," said Shaun. "You think too much, that's your problem."

"I can't help it."

"Course you can."

Jo sighed.

"What if you find out that this is happiness?" asked Shaun.