by Janey Fraser
‘What?’
‘Raise your eyebrows or express emotion.’
She laughed. A nice warm laugh. ‘That’s because usually when you see me I’m in work mode. Counsellors are meant to empathise but only up to a point. They can’t get too involved. But I am surprised at what you’ve just told me. It doesn’t seem to fit.’
‘I know.’ He began to shred the sugar packet out of nerves. ‘That’s what I thought. It didn’t last long. A one-night stand. Or so she said.’
‘How did you find out?’
‘A text message. Not very original, is it? She said the affair was a cry for help because I’m not very good at showing my emotions.’
Another wry smile. ‘You seem quite good at that to me.’
‘But I wasn’t before she died.’ The sachet was in shreds now. ‘Don’t you see? I only learned to do that afterwards but it was too late. She was right. Before, I was one of those men who wasn’t good at showing their feelings. Sally and I met quite late – in our early thirties. She got pregnant with Lottie almost immediately and we found ourselves getting married. It wasn’t the greatest of starts.’
She shrugged. ‘I did the same except that I was very young.’
He was fascinated. ‘Really?’
‘Yes.’ She looked as though she was going to say something but then decided against it.
‘What happened?’ he asked, unable to stop himself.
She coloured slightly. ‘Let’s just say that I know what it’s like to be betrayed. I then brought up my daughter on my own from the age of four. She’s now seventeen and hoping to go to university.’
He was still trying to take all this in. ‘But you wear a wedding ring.’
‘It makes life simpler. Especially my job. It’s easy for clients to fall in love with a counsellor – after all, they know more about them than anyone else.’
He nodded. ‘I can see that.’
‘Let’s go back to you.’ It was as though she was in counsellor mode again. ‘Is that why you felt guilty, as you said in our sessions? Because you feel responsible for Sally’s death?’
‘I know it’s daft but if she hadn’t been so unhappy, she might not have had an affair. If she hadn’t got so stressed as a result, she might not have fallen ill.’
‘So many ifs!’ She took off her glasses and stared directly at him. Although he wanted to look away, Matthew was unable to. ‘Do you know what I think? You’re taking Sally’s guilt on to your own back. It’s a classic response. But you’ve got a double whammy because you’re coping with betrayal and bereavement at the same time.’
‘But why do I still wear her cologne if I’m angry with her?’
‘Because part of you will always love her, even if you weren’t suited and even if she betrayed you.’ Christina smiled warmly. ‘You had a child together. That binds you for life. If you want my advice, as a friend rather than a counsellor, it’s to put the past behind you. Put it all in an imaginary box and lock it up or else you’ll get stuck in the old pattern of “what ifs”. Then you can concentrate on what life has got to offer. Not what you’ve lost.’
She paused, and then gave him a curious look. ‘How’s your admirer at work, by the way?’
He flushed. ‘She’s started calling me Matt. Only really close people do that. And I didn’t even invite her to do so.’
‘If it makes you uncomfortable, remember what we said before about boundaries.’ She pushed back her chair abruptly. ‘Now I’m sorry but I’ve really got to go. Take care, Matthew.’
And before he could thank her, she was gone.
Somehow Matthew managed to keep going through the meeting with the client although he had to work hard to concentrate. Christina’s voice kept floating in and out of his head. Yet her calm reassuring words had miraculously taken a huge weight off his chest.
He needed to thank her, properly, he thought, taking a free evening paper on his way back. Maybe a bunch of flowers and … what was this?
There was a big headline: SECOND AU PAIR FOUND DEAD IN PARK. Below, was a picture of a stunning Brazilian girl from Kent who had been found strangled. Then there was a picture of Sozzy with a caption underneath:
Did this girl come to England to meet her Facebook lover?
Stunned, Matthew read on.
It is now believed that Sozzy Psuzki came to the UK to join a man she met on the internet. She got a job as an au pair in order to obtain a visa but then left her job immediately. Police are working on a connection between the two murders.
So it hadn’t been his fault, or indeed Lottie’s for messing up her room. He felt a flush of relief, but at the same time, an urgent need to check that both his daughter and the new au pair were all right. He had to warn Genevieve, thought Matthew as he raced along the platform just in time to catch the 6.07 back, about going up to London alone.
If no one spelt out the dangers to these au pairs, he told himself, walking briskly up the hill from the station towards home, they wouldn’t know. On the other hand, he didn’t want to scare her off. It was such a fine line!
‘Hello?’ Wow. There was an amazing smell from the kitchen.
‘I am performing Bolognese,’ announced Genevieve brightly. She was wearing a tea towel around her waist like a sarong and wielding a bright red plastic stirrer thing that he didn’t recall seeing before. ‘Lottie is my assistant.’
‘Wonderful!’ Matthew hugged his daughter with relief. Not only were the two getting on but the girl could also cook! Maybe the safety conversation could wait until after dinner. ‘I’ll just go upstairs and change.’
As he went through the hall, he opened the bureau drawer to get the money he’d taken out to pay Genevieve. What? It had gone. Perhaps it was at the back. He pushed his hand in and wiggled around. Nothing apart from some dust.
‘Lottie!’ he said uncertainly, going back into the kitchen again. ‘I put some money here yesterday. Have you seen it?’
‘No, Daddy.’ Lottie was shaking her head, tomato sauce around her mouth. He could tell from her eyes that she wasn’t lying.
‘What did you do today, by the way?’ Matthew asked faintly.
‘We proceeded to shopping,’ trilled Genevieve. ‘We enjoyed a fantastic time, did we not, Lottie?’
Lottie nodded, her plaits flying vigorously. ‘Yes we did. We bought loads of stuff. It’s really fun having Genevieve around. Thank you for asking her here, Daddy!’
EVEN MORE USEFUL PHRASES FOR AU PAIRS
I think you need a new washing machine
I cannot work today
Your car has been in an accident
I let the gas man in
I forgot to lock the front door
Please can you lend me some money?
I am twelve weeks late
Chapter 16
‘IT’S JUST NOT on, Jilly! Birgitta lies in bed until gone nine o’clock. And she never gets her work done before going off to her language class. She won’t use deodorant even though I bought her one. Just as a subtle hint, you know. Then I caught her using the landline to ring her boyfriend in Berlin without asking permission!’
Oh dear. This was exactly why she didn’t have an au pair herself. Fat Eema, who was getting bigger by the hour, didn’t really count. It was they who were looking after her, rather than the other way round.
But Jilly had supplied Birgitta to the Miller family and it was her job to sort it out. Just as she’d sorted out Heidi and the dodgy reference. In the end, she had gone directly to the girl and asked her for the truth. Heidi had burst into tears.
‘Ja, it is true. I am so sorry. But my reference did not arrive in time from my teacher. So I make it up myself. My family, they is very pleased with me. Please do not inform them.’
Unsure, Jilly had rung Heidi’s host family, explaining this was a courtesy call to check all was well. ‘She’s brilliant,’ enthused Bill Banks, who picked up the phone. ‘We’re more than happy with her.’ So Jilly made the rather dubious decision to let sleeping dog
s lie, hoping she was doing the right thing.
The Miller family, however, was a different story. ‘These sound like the sort of issues that can be sorted out calmly,’ she began.
‘Are you saying I’m making a fuss?’ The voice rose indignantly. This could be awkward. Joanna Miller was chairman of the PTA and not someone to get on the wrong side of.
‘Not at all. HarryandAlfie, don’t do that!’ She glared at the boys who had come tearing in from the kitchen, hitting each other with remote controls from the PlayStation sets that Jeremy had given them for their birthday.
‘I beg your pardon?’
Phew! They’d gone out again. ‘Sorry.’ She put on her you-know-what-it’s-like voice. ‘Roll on the new term.’
‘Actually,’ came the icy reply, ‘I enjoy spending time with my children in the holidays, which is exactly why I got an au pair from you so she could do the housework and allow me to concentrate on them. Presumably you have help too?’
‘Yes,’ blurted out Jilly. Just at that point, her mother’s dog took a leap from his basket straight on to her lap and began licking her madly as though sympathising with her situation. ‘I have … er … Bruno. Look, I think the best thing to do – Bruno, please, not now – is for me to have a word with Birgitta myself.’
‘Very well. But frankly, Jilly, if you can’t sort this out, I will have to let Birgitta go. I have to say that this won’t really help your reputation. And it goes without saying that I expect a full refund.’
Her reputation? Was Mrs Miller threatening her? As for a refund … well, she couldn’t afford one! The agency was only just breaking even – the business insurance had cost much more than she’d bargained for. And even though she’d always considered herself a ‘people’ person, it was impossible to please all her clients.
If only she could pick out the good bits from each au pair (and their families) and roll them into one! Life would be so much easier. You could do the same to husbands too while you were at it! If only Paula wasn’t being so prickly. It would be comforting to talk this over with her. At some point, she’d have to find the time – and the courage – to talk to her about it.
‘Jee-lee. I am hungry.’ Fat Eema was waddling in, her hands clasped over her stomach. ‘It is time for dinner yes?’
Fat Eema was always hungry! It was costing them a fortune. But however hard she tried to persuade the girl to contact her family, it was no good. ‘My father, he will keel me,’ she kept saying over and over again. ‘I can never return to my homeland.’
‘But maybe he will understand,’ Jilly had tried.
The girl’s eyes had fixed on her mournfully. ‘No. I think it is you who do not understand. I am too ashamed.’ Her eyes had filled with tears again. ‘So very ashamed.’
Jilly hadn’t been able to press her further. Of course, David was right. They couldn’t afford to take on another mouth to feed. Yet she couldn’t, in all conscience, allow Fatima to end up in some lonely bedsit or be taken in by social services.
‘But what will happen to her after the baby is born?’ questioned her husband, not unreasonably.
‘We’ll sort that one out when it happens,’ Jilly had replied vaguely before pointing out that although she was eating them out of house and home, Fat Eema had proved herself to be a godsend in other areas.
Not only was she a whizz at the twins’ maths holiday homework but the other day, she had also pointed out that the supermarket’s bill was incorrect, which meant Jilly had been able to get a refund. Just as valuable was Fat Eema’s ability to deal with the boys – clearly it was just full-grown men she was allergic to – and could magically calm them down with what David called ‘the Look’, which she also directed at him from time to time.
‘Your man is not good husband to you,’ she had proclaimed the other morning after David had stomped off for work in a rather grumpy mood. ‘You find new one, I think.’
‘He’s not that bad,’ Jilly had said, both astounded and bemused. But the words had niggled at the back of her mind. In the past, she’d considered that she and David had a good marriage. But since starting the agency, it was as though someone had turned on a pair of taps allowing hidden niggles and irritations to come flooding out on both sides.
It was the same with Paula, who hadn’t returned any of her calls since that horrible disagreement about Antoinette. If only they could make up! Tell each other that maybe both had spoken out of turn. Get together for a coffee like the old times. Maybe take the kids to a film while they had a good gossip in the back row.
Still, there was no time to fret about any of this stuff. Not when she had a difficult phone call to make.
‘Birgitta?’ Jilly steeled herself as the girl answered. ‘I gather there have been a few teething problems with Mrs Miller.’
There was a sniff at the other end of the phone. Oh dear.
‘My family, she says I can only have ten minutes in the bathroom before brake fast,’ the voice rang out in indignation. ‘I am permitted only to drink the cheap instant coffee while she retains the best for herself. And she insists I perform a time sheet before I am paid. If she is not content with it, my money is reductioned.’
That didn’t sound very fair. ‘Tell you what, Birgitta. Perhaps we ought to meet up for a little chat. How about the coffee shop down the road? The one next to the library. Yes. Library. It’s where you borrow books. You don’t read much? Well, do you know the other coffee shop next to the pub? You do? Great. See you in about an hour. OK?’
An hour! That should just about give her time to sort out the boys, take Bruno for a walk and … not the phone again!
‘Hello? Yes, I remember. Oh dear. Actually, Mrs Thomas, Margit is right. Au pairs shouldn’t have to work on bank holidays. Yes and au pairs should be given adequate time off for religious services. She says she’s a Christian and a Buddhist? Bruno, not on my knee. Sorry. Bad line. She won’t wash windows? Well, I’m afraid she is right on this one as you’ll see if you check my guidelines. Yes of course I will have a word with her if you like …’
AAAArgh! One more job to do! Jilly surveyed the mess around her in the kitchen: dirty footprints and paw marks and a dishwasher which hadn’t been put on even though it had been loaded for two days. Bruno was still clawing at her ankles. She’d have to take him with her. ‘Boys!’ she called out. There was the sound of the PlayStation roaring from the top of the stairs. ‘I’ll be back in about half an hour. OK?’
Such a relief to get out of the house! She actually envied David for being able to drive away and go into an office. It would be a doddle just to deal with work and not three children and a dog on top.
It was only when she reached the coffee shop that she realised Bruno wouldn’t be allowed in. Birgitta, she could see through the window, was lounging at one of the tables, iPod in her ears, texting and talking to some other girls at the same time. They were probably all having a good old moan about their agencies and families!
Jilly motioned through the window to tell Birgitta that she was outside but the girl merely beckoned back – what a cheek! – to signify that she should come in to her.
‘I can’t,’ she tried to say, pointing down to Bruno who was pawing away at the glass, able to sniff out a biscuit from miles away. One of the other girls was getting up now and walking towards her with a broad smile. It was Marie-France!
‘Bonjour, Madame Jilly!’
The girl was kissing her on both cheeks and Jilly felt a rush of relief. At least she’d managed to place one girl who didn’t give any trouble.
‘Birgitta says you are here to talk to her!’
‘Yes but I had to bring the dog with me and we can’t come in. Could you ask her to come here?’
‘I will look after him outside if you like.’ Marie-France was sitting on her haunches, stroking Bruno, who seemed to remember her from the airport.
Jilly hesitated. ‘He’s very strong.’
‘I am used to dogs. My mother’s boyfriend, he has one.’ Her f
ace dropped and her eyes grew watery. ‘I miss him although he makes me sneeze sometimes.’
Oh dear. Not another case of homesickness! ‘That would be very kind of you.’
What a nice girl, reflected Jilly, bracing herself for the pep talk with Birgitta who was now looking at her sullenly through the window. If they could all be like that, her life would be so much easier!
Gratefully she handed over a black bag. ‘You might need to pick up, I’m afraid.’
‘Pick up?’ Marie-France’s eyes widened. ‘I do not pick up boys. I am not that kind of girl.’
‘I didn’t mean that! The bag is in case Bruno does his business.’
‘Ah! I see!’ Marie-France giggled. ‘English, she is a very strange language.’
Just like German and French and any other which wasn’t your own, thought Jilly, heading through the door. In fact it was incredible how a country’s border could create such enormous divisions in culture. And confidence too. Jilly began to feel rather awkward as she approached the table of loud au pairs, all of whom swivelled round to glare at her as though she was the enemy. Margit was there too so maybe she could kill two birds with one stone.
‘Hi, Birgitta!’ She made herself put on a bright voice. ‘How are you getting on?’
Mrs Miller’s au pair said nothing, glancing instead at the small fiery-looking dark-haired girl in a glossy pink coat who was sitting next to her. Scowling, the girl said, ‘Her family is not treating her right.’
Her heart sank. It was Antoinette. ‘Hello!’ Jilly forced herself to smile. ‘I’m Paula’s friend. I didn’t realise you and Birgitta knew each other.’
‘We meet at school.’ Antoinette hammered her fist on the table. ‘Birgitta’s family is no good. I tell her. She must leave.’
This girl was acting like a one-woman au pair union! ‘Perhaps she might like to tell me herself about some of her problems,’ said Jilly firmly, looking her straight in the eye. ‘I believe you find it difficult to get up on time.’
‘I am tired because she makes me work too hard.’