Before they arrive, Andrew moves Lucy's crib back into his room and I get Lucy into her best little outfit-a little pink dress, white leggings and white cardigan, a pink bow in her soft baby hair. She looks as pretty as a picture.
The first prospective nanny, Miss Baxter, must be in her fifties. She looks a bit fierce and her sour expression makes me think she doesn't like her job though I'm sure she has a lot of experience. My heart sinks. Surely, Andrew won't leave Lucy to this woman. But Miss Baxter is hardly inside the house before she's checking out the bedroom.
"I'm used to bigger houses than this," she says. "In my last place, I had my own wing, an apartment attached to the main house. It made it very convenient for looking after the children while maintaining my privacy and that of my employers. I'm afraid that room will not do at all."
"Not quite the Mary Poppins type I had in mind," Andrew says when she leaves two minutes after her inspection of the room. "I thought I was supposed to interview them." He runs his hand through his hair, clearly not expecting the task of finding a nanny to be so hard.
"Maybe you need someone younger who doesn't expect a mansion," I say, though the first nanny would have suited me better than someone young, someone Andrew might fall for. There's no way I could imagine Andrew getting together with nanny number one. But then, what does it matter really? I'll be gone on my travels by the time the nanny moves in.
Andrew and I have a coffee and play with Lucy while we wait for the next appointment. Lucy is getting a bit fractious so I give her a bottle to calm her down. I have her over my shoulder patting her back when the second nanny, Miss Jamieson, arrives.
"Oh, this is Lucy?" she says. "Delightful. I always think they're best when they're babies. So much easier to manage than a toddler. And you only have one? Excellent. No more on the way?" A barrage of questions follows. The woman talks like a runaway steam engine, asking and hardly waiting for an answer. After half an hour of not getting a word in edgeways except when the woman paused for breath (a seemingly rare event), Andrew thanks her for her time and shepherds her out of the door.
"I think it was nerves," I say.
"Hers or mine?" He laughs. "I thought she'd never shut up. And she only likes babies. Is she going to leave as soon as Lucy takes her first steps?"
"I hope the next one is better."
"Me too or I'll definitely be looking for another agency."
But when Helena arrives, I want to change my mind about hoping for a better nanny. She seems perfect. Too perfect. She's young. She smiles. She's pretty with long, smooth, very fair blonde hair and blue eyes. Straight out of Scandinavia I think, but her English is perfect too. She asks the right questions. The bedroom is fine for her. She's friendly.
I hate her on sight.
She takes Lucy from me, and the baby, the traitor, gurgles up at her and gives her a big toothy smile.
"Would you like coffee?" I ask. For some reason, I want to get out of the living room. Andrew is chatting fine to Helena. He can manage on his own.
"Oh, no," she says. "Hot coffee and babies don't mix."
I think guiltily of the times I've sat with Lucy with a mug of coffee beside me on the little table in the living room or at the kitchen table. Andrew too. Of course, we're careful. But maybe we shouldn't be having tea and coffee at all. Or hot chocolate. No? All those coffee shops back home would be going out of business without the mothers meeting their friends for coffee. Maybe that's some professional nanny rule I don't know about. No drinking coffee on the job.
"I'd like a glass of water," she says and so I go into the kitchen to get it for her and while I'm there I hold my wrists under the cool water. I'm being stupid. She'll be good for Andrew and Lucy. It hurts, but I won't be here. I'll be miles away. If I say it enough I might remember that. And when I take the water back, I try not to let my heart drop. Andrew is showing Helena Lucy's bed in his room. I'm going to Paris and Amsterdam and Rome. It will be an exciting trip. My girlfriends are green with envy. So why do I just want to stay here?
This nanny seems perfect. Much as I don't like to admit it, I have to give her credit, and hell, Andrew needs someone. There's no point wishing a bad nanny on him. He has enough on his plate. But I can still hate her, can't I?
CHAPTER 20
Andrew
Melissa is unusually quiet after nanny number three drives off. She busies herself taking away the glass. I catch up with her in the kitchen cleaning things that don't need to be cleaned.
"Was there something about Helena you didn't like? Because I'm sure your instinct about these things is better than mine."
"No, nothing at all. I thought she was perfect. Even if the other two hadn't been terrible, she would still have been a great choice."
"I thought she was perfect, too. Too good to be true?"
"I don't think so. She seemed genuine to me."
"I'll miss you when you go." Somehow it seems like she needs to hear that just now. And it's true, I will. And not just in my bed. Though I will miss her there, so badly it hurts already to even think of it.
She has only been here a short time, but she has been a breath of fresh air in my life. I've smiled again. We've laughed. We have routines. Lucy is crying less, sleeping better. I'm getting a break, not just when I leave the baby with Beatrice and go shopping or run errands. I'm getting a break just to sit there, read a book, cook a meal, and I have time and energy left to play with Lucy and time and energy for Melissa. "Lucy will miss you too. But me more than Lucy and not just because you're good with her."
"I'm pleased to have been of service."
"Oh Melissa, don't be like that. You know it couldn't go on longer than six weeks. You're going away and if you don't go on your trip or you don't go back to America because of me, your dad will kill me."
"It's not about what Dad wants. Don't I get any say in it? He doesn't know what I want, what's good for me."
"Well, being a nanny isn't what you want either, is it? Unless that's what you always wanted to do but I don't think that's the case, is it?"
"No, I never thought about doing that but it seems to me you've gotten yourself a cozy little number here, a succession of girls who are good with Lucy. I bet you can't wait to take the next one to bed either."
"Melissa! It's not like that at all."
"Well, what is it then? That's exactly what you thought this afternoon, isn't it? I bet you were thinking, it worked with Melissa, so it's bound to work with the next one too. Lucy's bed will be out of your room before I even get to Paris."
"That's just not true. I care about you, Melissa. I don't want to spoil your plans. I know we shouldn't have done what we did, but I can't regret it."
"No, you're right. We shouldn't have gotten involved at all." She glares at me and the doorbell goes.
Did one of the nannies leave something behind? Fucking inconvenient right now. But when I open the door, Duncan is standing there.
"Flash visit," he says. "Last minute decision. I have a meeting in London tomorrow but I thought I'd call in and see my only daughter and old pal."
Melissa gives her father a hug. "Hey! Why didn't you tell us you were coming?"
"I thought I'd surprise you," Duncan says, "but I called from Heathrow to let you know I was on my way in the hire car and left a message. I didn't want to miss you if you were just popping out to the store or something."
Neither of us looked at our phones in the last couple of hours. We were too busy interviewing Helena and arguing.
"We've been interviewing nannies all afternoon. There's only the couch, but if you can put up with that, you're welcome to stay." I say that because Duncan and I go back a long way, and what else could I do? My old friend, Melissa's dad, over from America, wants to talk and drink beer as usual. But all the time, I'm thinking fuck! I need to talk to Melissa. I want to reassure her and make things better between us and there's no way I can do that with her father here.
CHAPTER 21
Melissa
It's good to see Dad, but did he have to arrive right then, when I was about to tell Andrew what I thought of him and his scheming ways? I can't even glower and sulk as I want to, but I can be formal, polite. He will get the message. I leave them to get dinner ready while I busy myself playing with Lucy.
When we sit down at the table, the chat is all between Dad and Andrew. I give Lucy some cereal and she smiles back at me. At least, one of us is happy.
After a while, Dad says, "What's up with you? England not suiting you?"
"There's nothing wrong with England." Crap! He knows me too well. He can tell I'm in a mood.
"Love troubles?" he asks. Could this get any more embarrassing?
"No."
"What then? There's something wrong."
"I'm fine."
"If you say so." He turns to Andrew. "You know damn well when they say fine, they're not fine. Her mother is the same."
Andrew laughs. I stamp my foot on his. It doesn't stop him.
I get up. I've had enough of this. The tortuous meal is over. "Hey, you two chat. I'll give Lucy her bottle and bath and put her to bed, then I'll turn in myself. I'm beat anyway."
"Has he been working you too hard?" Dad laughs and Andrew joins in. I guess he can't really do anything else but it doesn't improve my mood.