Someone to Love

by Jenny Frame

  Trent shook the thought away and went to Noah’s side of the car and unbuckled him from his seat.

  “Do you live in a car park, Trent?” Noah asked.

  “No, this is where we park the car—my flat is above here. We’ll take the lift.”

  The car park attendant walked over and said, “Can I help you with any bags or anything, Ms. Trent?”

  “No, Jack, but thank you. I’m having my cousin’s children to stay for a while, and I will be employing a nanny, so I would be grateful if you could assign me another parking space for her,” Trent said.

  “Of course. We do have a few extra at the moment. I’ll get that organized for you.”

  Once Jack walked off, Trent went around to open the door for Alice. She held out her hand to help the girl down, but Alice just slid out herself, holding on to her teddy bear. Trent felt hopeless—she couldn’t even give comfort to her own goddaughter.

  There was something in Alice’s quiet grief and pain that made Trent uncomfortable and meant the limited words she said to Alice were awkward and difficult. “The lift is across there. Just stick beside me because there could be cars coming and going.”

  Trent held on to Noah’s hand tightly but just kept an eye on Alice as she walked a pace behind her. She led them into the lift and touched her key fob to the panel, then pressed the button for the top floor. If it wasn’t for Noah jabbering away insistently, then the lift ride would have been silent as Trent and Alice said nothing.

  The doors opened and Trent led them to her front door and opened it up. “This is where you’ll be staying for a few months.”

  Noah walked right into the middle of Trent’s large open-plan living room and twirled in a circle. “Whoa. This is big, Ali. Bigger than Daddy’s flat.”

  Trent looked at Alice, who scanned the whole room, then put her head down into her teddy again. Trent had no idea what she should say to her and didn’t want the responsibility. After she chose a nanny tomorrow, then she could give this pressure to someone else.

  Noah ran for the glass balcony doors.

  “Noah, don’t,” Trent said sharply.

  He didn’t listen and tried the handle on the door. Trent hurried over and pulled him away. “No, you are never to go near this door, okay?”

  Noah’s expression fell from his usual smiley face, and he ran over to Alice, who held him in her arms protectively.

  Trent let out a frustrated breath. She walked back over and Alice looked her in the eye for the first time since the hospital. Alice was her little brother’s protector—that was obvious.

  Trent held up her hands in apology. She hadn’t meant to come over so harshly. Clearly she was failing with these kids already.

  “Listen, I’m sorry. There are some rules we need to go over. You are never to go near the balcony. We are very high up and it’s dangerous. The door will always be locked, but just in case, I don’t want you near it, okay?”

  Noah nodded. “Sorry, Trent.”

  “That’s okay.” Trent pointed to the open-plan kitchen and said, “Help yourself to anything in the kitchen—juice, snacks—but we’ll be having a nanny start work soon, so I’m sure they will get you anything you need. I’ll show you your rooms.”

  Trent led them down the short corridor to the bedrooms. She stopped next to one door and opened it. “This my office. Rule number two—don’t go in my office. I’m a lawyer and I have important files and computer equipment in there.”

  “What’s a lawyer, Trent?” Noah asked.

  Trent was shocked when Alice said, “She breaks up families, Noah.”

  She had no idea how to respond to that. Alice must have googled her name, and that was her own impression of what a family lawyer did.

  Trent gulped hard. This was not going well. She decided not to respond and led them to their bedrooms. “These are your bedrooms.”

  She handed Alice her bag. “Unpack your things and get settled in.”

  Noah ran into Alice’s room and jumped on the double bed. “It’s huge, Ali.”

  “Your room is next door, Noah,” Trent said. Noah stopped jumping on the bed and went quiet. “What’s wrong?”

  Alice sat on the bed beside Noah. She kept looking down as she said, “We’ve always shared a room.”

  “Well, now you’ll have some space. Both rooms are the same—I know they aren’t decorated for children, but they are very comfortable. I’ll let you settle.”

  Trent hurried back into the living room. She needed a drink. Forgetting her drinks cabinet had been moved, she walked over to the table bedside the balcony. She loved to get a drink and sit out on the balcony of an evening.

  When she remembered her drinks were now housed in a high cupboard in the kitchen, she pulled down her bottle of malt whiskey and poured out a glass, frustration growing in her chest. Moving her drinks was just one of the many concessions she was forced to make by social services.

  Social services instructed Trent that she couldn’t have drinks on display with young children about, and her cutlery drawer and other kitchen cabinets now had child locks on them. Of course she forgot every time she went to get something from them. Her adult penthouse—where she gave cocktail parties, entertained women, and worked on her clients’ cases—had now turned into Fort Knox.

  Trent took a gulp of whiskey, leaned against the kitchen worktop, and closed her eyes. How was she going to survive this?

  She opened up her eyes and saw Noah and Alice standing there, watching her. She’d never even heard them approach. Their sad faces said they were screaming out for reassurance, but Trent didn’t know what to do or say. Her mind was blank.

  All Trent could think of was to distract them. “Let me show you the TV and how to get the channels you’ll like.”

  She led them over to the large, comfortable couch. The TV was on the wall opposite.

  “It’s like the cinema, Ali,” Noah said.

  Trent put it on and showed Alice the menu system. “Look—there’s all the children’s channels.”

  Noah jumped up and down on the seat. “You got the Disney Channel, Trent!”

  Trent thanked God she had thought of getting the children’s channels added to her TV package. She was sure it would keep them well occupied and let her get on with her own business.

  She handed the controller to Alice, who looked her up and down silently. She felt Alice knew she hadn’t wanted them there, and it made things feel extremely awkward between them.

  “You two enjoy the TV. I’m just going to work on my laptop there, okay? I’ll get you both a drink.”

  Trent went to the fridge and got some orange juice. She prayed she could find a suitable nanny tomorrow. The children had only been here a short time, and Trent already felt trapped by the responsibility.

  * * *

  Wendy sat at the kitchen table with her iPad and studied the job details the nanny agency emailed. It was a live-in position, which solved her housing problem. She looked up when she heard a key in the door.

  Kira walked in and said jokingly, “Hi, honey, I’m home.”

  Wendy laughed. “Don’t get comfortable having me as your housewife, I’ve got a job interview. Besides, you’re not my type.” Wendy got up to make Kira a cup of tea.

  Kira laughed and put her bags on the table. “True. So you got an interview?”

  “Yeah, it’s a live-in post too. It’s a single woman with two kids. One eleven, one six.”

  “Sounds good. Where is the job?” Kira asked.

  Wendy gave Kira her tea and sat back down. “It’s one of those posh blocks of flats overlooking the Thames.”

  Kira took a sip of tea and said, “Oh, single woman with money. Sounds good. What’s her name?”

  Wendy checked her email again and said, “Davina Trent, it says.”

  Kira screwed up her eyes trying to think. “I know that name. Davina Trent, Davina Trent…” Then Kira snapped her fingers. “I know, she’s that divorce lawyer. She does all the rich people’s divorc
es. Do you remember, last year that famous sixties singer—erm…Joe Donald—divorced the glamour model with the boobs?”

  “Yeah, I remember. Funny how you remember the boobs,” Wendy joked.

  “Oh, shut up. Yeah, Davina Trent was the lady with the boobs’ lawyer. Only married a year, and she got a hundred million in settlement. It was all over the news.”

  “Interesting. She must be really good at her job, I suppose,” Wendy said.

  Kira took Wendy’s iPad and said, “Let’s google her.” A moment later she said, “Wow. I might not be your type, but rich boob lawyer will be—look.”

  Kira turned the iPad around and Wendy saw Davina Trent in all her delicious butch glory, standing beside her famous client addressing the media. She looked like an older woman too, going by the silver streaks through her hair. Over the last few years, Wendy had developed a secret fantasy about older women, and the suit only made Davina Trent look more distinguished and mature.

  “Wow is right. Looks a bit stiff, though, and suave, too suave. Anyway, I doubt I’ll get the job. I bet she’d want one of those nannies in a tweed suit and a bun in her hair.”

  “Nah,” Kira said, “I think she’d like some eye candy to come home to.”

  Wendy stuck out her tongue at her friend. “Stop it.”

  * * *

  “Where are they now?” Becca asked Trent over the phone.

  Trent sat down on the couch and looked around at the trail of destruction these two little people had wrought on her beautiful penthouse. There were half-empty glasses of juice, crisp packets, and pizza boxes all over her glass coffee table.

  Trent sighed and put her hand down and recoiled. There was some sticky substance on her beautiful leather couch, and crumbs everywhere.

  “In their bedrooms, getting ready for bed. There are crumbs everywhere, Becca. How can two kids make so many crumbs?”

  Becca laughed. “Kids are messy, Trent. They can’t help it. You know I’ll help you however I can. Bring them out to the vicarage. Jake and Gracie would love to play with them.”

  “Maybe.”

  That would mean letting them into her family, and she didn’t know if she wanted to let them get too close.

  “I’m interviewing nannies tomorrow, so she’ll be in charge soon,” Trent said.

  “Don’t just pick the most attractive woman, like you usually do. Pick one that interacts with the children and gets on with them,” Becca said with an edge to her voice.

  “I don’t always do that,” Trent replied.

  “Your secretary looks like she walked off a Paris catwalk.”

  “India is very efficient, actually,” Trent said sharply. Although she had noticed her secretary’s looks first at the interview.

  “I’m sure. Just remember what those two poor children have been through,” Becca warned.

  “I will. I promise.” Trent heard Noah crying. “Something’s wrong with Noah. I better go, Becca. Thanks for calling.”

  “I’m always at the end of a phone if you need me. I’ll always care about you, Trent. You know that.”

  Trent gulped away the emotion she felt at that moment, as she was reminded again what she had lost. If this had happened while she was still with Becca, Becca would have gathered Alice and Noah up and mothered them the way she never could or wanted to.

  “Thanks, Becca. Goodnight.” Trent hung up and walked to the children’s bedrooms. Alice’s was empty, so she opened the door to Noah’s. Noah was in his pyjamas on top of the bed, being held by his sister.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “He misses Dad,” Alice said.

  The siblings were so different. Noah laughed, cried, showed his emotions so easily, and Alice wore her sadness like a blanket and hid behind it.

  “Daddy always gave me bed biscuits,” Noah said through his tears.

  “Bed biscuits? What’s that?” Trent asked Alice.

  “Dad gave us biscuits and warm milk before bed. Noah can’t sleep without it,” Alice said.

  “Okay, don’t cry, Noah. I’ll see what I can do.”

  Trent hurried to the kitchen and got the milk out of the fridge. She poured it into two glasses and put them in the microwave. How long was she supposed to heat them for?

  She ran her hand through her hair and pressed the timer for five minutes. Her mobile rang and she saw it was the client she was meant to call back, Mr. Anderson. He had completely slipped her mind.

  “Mr. Anderson—”

  “Where the hell have you been, Trent? Your secretary said you’d call me back this afternoon.”

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Anderson, but the good news is I spoke to your wife’s lawyer yesterday, and they’re ready to deal. I’m having a meeting with my opposite number on Monday afternoon. I’ll give you a call after that.”

  “Okay, try and get this thing hurried up, Trent. I need out of this marriage quickly,” Mr. Anderson said.

  Trent heard a bang behind her that made her jump. She spun around and saw through the glass door on the microwave that the glass of milk was half empty. She pulled open the microwave door, and the smell of burnt milk hit her in the face. The liquid poured out of the microwave onto the kitchen counter.

  “Jesus,” Trent said under her breath.

  She grabbed kitchen roll and tried to stem the flow of liquid, but it was now dripping onto the floor.

  “What did you say, Trent?”

  Trent had to get off the phone. “Sorry, I’ll call you on Monday. I have to go.”

  She hung up the phone and stuffed kitchen roll into the microwave.

  “Jesus Christ,” Trent shouted.

  She threw some onto the floor and mopped with her foot while wiping up the microwave. Trent was so angry. She couldn’t even take a basic business call without the chaos ensuing. If this had been a few days ago, she would have made that call this afternoon and be out wining and dining somewhere.

  “I’ll be lucky if I’ve got a business left by the time these kids go to boarding school.”

  Chapter Five

  Wendy got out of the taxi, carrying her guitar case. She thought she’d bring it, as a song might break the ice with the children, if she got that far in the interview. Wendy paid the taxi driver and looked up at the very tall apartment building.

  “Oh God. Please say she lives on the first few floors,” Wendy said.

  The email with the interview details said she was to give her name to a concierge at the reception. She walked up to the front door and it opened automatically. There was an older gentleman sitting behind a desk in a wine-coloured uniform with peaked cap.

  Wow, this is posh.

  “Can I help you, miss?”

  The surprised look that he gave her suggested that he didn’t see many women who looked like her in front of his desk.

  “Yes, I’m Wendy Darling. I have an appointment with Ms. Trent,” Wendy said.

  The man looked down at a clipboard on his desk and said, “Ah, yes. That’s right.” He walked around the desk. “My name’s Victor. You need a fob to use the lifts. I’ll take you over.”

  “What floor is she on?” Wendy asked.

  “Ms. Trent is on the top, ten floors up.”

  Wendy sighed internally. “Actually, I’d rather take the stairs. I’m not great with lifts.”

  Victor screwed up his eyes. “Really? Oh, well, if you insist.”

  He led her over to a door at the back of reception, beyond his desk. He held open the door and she walked through. She looked up, and all she could see was floor after floor continuing up into the building.

  “Good luck with your interview, Ms. Darling,” Victor said.

  “Thanks.”

  Wendy took the first few steps. Looked like she’d be getting fit, then.

  * * *

  Trent sat at her office desk listening to her latest interviewee and growing ever more frustrated. This was the fourth interview today, and none had been suitable. Either too young, too inexperienced, or—like this one—too o
utdated. Mrs. Cod reminded her so much of her own nanny, who had scared her beyond belief. She was a nanny lifted out of the past with bun in her hair, tweed jacket and skirt, and bony, sharp features.

  Mrs. Cod had spent the last five minutes explaining what she wouldn’t do.

  “I don’t clean, or any other kind of housekeeping. I retire to my own room when you return from work, and I go to sleep early, so I don’t like to be disturbed.”

  As Mrs. Cod rattled on, all Trent could think about was getting her out of her flat. The problem was there was only one more interview after this, and Trent was getting desperate. She assumed that she’d pick one of the many candidates the agency sent.

  But if this last candidate didn’t work out, then it would be a disaster. Trent would either have to work from home or take the children into the office and let India take care of them while she worked. Both options were disastrous.

  “Ms. Trent?” Mrs. Cod said.

  Trent realized she had gotten lost in her own panicked thoughts. “Sorry, Mrs. Cod?”

  “Is that acceptable to you?”

  “Well, I have a few more people to see, and then I’ll let you know.” Trent got up and opened the office door for her.

  Mrs. Cod picked up her handbag and said, “Please make it before twelve tomorrow because I have other interviews to attend.”

  The bloody cheek of the woman. “Yes, of course.” Trent ushered her through the living area. Alice and Noah were on the couch watching cartoons, and Mrs. Cod just walked right past them. She’d done the same thing on the way in. In fact, every one of her interviewees had done that. Not a great omen for a childcare provider. Even with her limited experience, she knew that wasn’t right.

  Once she got Mrs. Cod safely out the door, she walked over to the couch. “Everything all right? You need anything?”

  Alice shook her head and Noah said, “Nuh-uh.”